Red Cedar

It’s a difficult topic to segue into with your partner. I mean, you can’t just introduce it over the phone when they are on holiday or in the midst of a cuddle session. And you know when you do bring it up (however awkwardly that you do) it’s going to result in some alarm. Some upset about the past invading the present and reminding him (and hell, myself) that there’s dark stuff back there somewhere before him. Before us.

(Oh honey… by the way…. I forgot to mention that the man who raped me when I was 19 is now living in the east end. You know, about 20 blocks away from my house. And he hangs out at a place that I walk by every day on the way to work. Just thought you should know.)

And so it took me a few days to tell Brian. A few days before I could write about it. Not so many though, I only found out last Friday that S. has moved into the DTES halfway house and is hanging out in a particular coffee shop where the girlfriend of an old friend works. He may have been there for months already, I have no interest in finding out how long ago he ended up not that far away from me – but I have long known it was a real possibility given the lack of halfway houses for sex-offenders elsewhere in BC. Where else was he going to end up as someone with long-term transition needs and a limited number of options for service?

But you can expect something, even suspect something and manage to keep it out of the forefront of your mind. Becoming fact means breathing life back into that which I had hoped was long dead in me. A small, nagging fear re-awakened. And it’s frustrating because until yesterday I had spent the past fourteen years walking through the downtown eastside on any number of errands, without any real fear at all. During Woodsquat, I routinely walked home at four in the morning after a security shift. On and off for years I have taken the early morning stroll to get to work, sidstepping needles and the sprawled bodies of those who had used them without giving it too much thought (beyond the human tragedy of it). No fear in particular. No worries. This is despite the fact that the halfway houses which ring the neighbourhood are literally a last dumping ground for some of the worst offenders turned out of the Canadian prison system. Despite the fact that scores of women from the sex trade have gone missing and been murdered in this very place.

But that violence wasn’t directed at me and so I’ve always known I could interact with and in the roughest parts of the neighbourhood without worrying too much. (Looking over my shoulder sometimes yes, but not afraid to go there). You can be in a dangerous place and feel no fear if you don’t feel that the danger is focused on you. If someone else is the target the worst that might happen is being caught in the cross-fire which is simply bad luck anyways.

And now an email tells me that I may too face violence in this neighbourhood if I’m not careful. Perhaps not physical violence – I highly doubt he would challenge me in this way – but any interaction between us is violence to me. Even a friendly approach I could only run from. Because he is dangerous. If not now to me, to others. He is dangerous because he feels no remorse and in fact believes himself victimized by the women who went to court against him. He is dangerous because prison does no favours to anyone.

And so now, this neighbourhood that until Friday felt like my own, presents itself this week as a narrow obstacle course through which I must race. A place to pass through unseen, hoping that perhaps I’ve changed enough in appearance that I wouldn’t be identifiable from across the street to someone who knew me 15 years ago. But I don’t know I can rely on that. All I can do is be ready, I suppose, and look over my shoulder a little bit more often. I don’t want to change my routine – walking to work, spending time in the neighbourhood…. these things are important to me…. and there’s a good chance anyways that he’s in the east end to stay so what am I going to do move away? (Already moved once partially because of his initial release from prison. I’m not nearly so scared now as I was five years ago).

But more than afraid, I’m annoyed. That after sixteen years this still comes up periodically as something I have to pay attention to. That my current partner has to think about it saddens me (who wants to know about the violation of their loved one? no one – though I will say that Brian is incredibly loving and supportive about all things including this). That I feel the need to warn my community away from any person by that name exposes me again as someone whose life was very different a decade and a half ago than it is now.

It’s not that I wish any ill harm to come to him. But I sure as hell hope that if he sees me, he just leaves the past alone.