Walking tour introductory remarks: in front of the Milton Park Community Land Trust, 3516 Parc Avenue

We now stand in a space that represents a story of interrupted gentrification processes. Milton Park is home to the largest concentration of housing co-ops in Canada. Despite this, a substantial portion of the neighbourhood remains outside the co-op system, making it an area of keen interest for private developers. While it is a vibrant community and a hub of innovation for social democracy, tensions do exist between long-time residents and students, as well as between private developers and grassroots organizers. The properties in this neighbourhood offer a visual representation of a series of critical junctures that are both historical and ongoing.

The neighbourhood has a rich history of citizen activism. In the early 1900s, it was a wealthy neighbourhood. Following World War II, wealthier residents moved to other areas in the city, like Westmount or Outremont. At this point, it became a low- and middle-income community. In 1968, residents learned about a developer’s plan to evict locals. This is a characteristic feature of gentrification, which is a type of neighbourhood change that typically leads to forced displacement, discriminatory behaviour by landlords, and a general feeling of lack of belonging amongst long-time residents. Classic definitions of gentrification focus on class change, but it significantly impacts minorities and immigrants.

This could have been the neighbourhood’s fate starting in 1968, but it wasn’t: Citizens began mobilizing. Over time, the buildings the developer had purchased came under the governance of a co-ownership. Under this model, residents are tenants, not owners, and the buildings are held in trust and owned by the cooperatives and non-profit housing corporations. The dwellings cannot be resold without the consensus of the coops, which helps to prevent market speculation and keep rents affordable today. At the same time, private developers are also active in this area, which means Milton Park is not immune to the pressures of market forces.

Figure 1: Corner of Park and Milton. All photos by the author.

Stop #1. Vacant lot, corner of Park and Milton

This street corner reveals a layered history and present, encapsulating the complexities of urban transformation. The lot behind the fence was once a gathering place for individuals experiencing homelessness, many of them Indigenous, offering shelter from the sun and a space to convene. In 2020, a private developer erected the fence, sparking public outcry and demands for its removal. The lot remains vacant as the developer, restricted by current regulations to building a six-story structure instead of the desired eight stories, waits for more favourable conditions to proceed. Efforts by the community to pressure the city into purchasing the property have stalled due to the owner's inflated asking price, leaving the space in a state of unresolved tension.

Meta-Commentary

Developing a walking tour of Milton Park reveals the complexities of visually and contextually representing layered histories, spatial dynamics, and forms of exclusion. Some elements, like spatial exclusion, are straightforward to capture. In contrast, others, such as the possible appropriation of vintage aesthetics and subtle acts of agency amidst struggle, require a deeper contextual understanding, which is difficult to present in a walking tour without losing the participants in theoretical concepts.

The multiple urbanisms and the production of space were easy to capture at the corner of Park Avenue and Milton Street. The fence is a clear sign of slow violence, with homeless individuals pushed out to other corners nearby. The occasion for in-the-moment juxtapositions of a walking tour medium proved fruitful at this intersection: contrasting scenes—police monitoring the homeless individuals on the nearby streets and a joyful group of daycare children passing by—underscored the juxtaposition of social tension and fleeting glimpses of hope for a better future.

However, it was still difficult to demonstrate visually how rising rents can produce homelessness and how it is connected to speculation processes. I don’t feel like my tour adequately represented these pervasive struggles. Ordinary forms of suffering often escape recognition as an "event" under neoliberal frameworks (Povinelli in Kern, 2016), and homelessness can unfortunately now be considered an ordinary event that is rife with suffering. Yet congregating in public spaces can be an expression of agency. As a social worker explained before our tour for the geography class, for some, these spaces offer opportunities to reconnect with friends and family despite systemic exclusion, and some of the people hanging out on the corner are not actually unhoused but rather choose to come here from other neighbourhoods.

I faced tensions between documenting such struggles and choices while respecting individuals' dignity. I didn’t know whether to photograph the individuals who appeared to be facing homelessness without dehumanizing them. Would my camera’s gaze make them feel like they belonged in a zoo? Such a choice came up when a man who appeared to be facing homelessness approached me with a thumbs-up, inviting me to photograph him while I took a picture of the corner. In the end, I choose not to.

Another challenge is that capturing arrhythmia and rhythmic processes can be difficult, particularly when both sides leverage a similar aesthetic. Kern (2016) highlights how vintage aesthetics play a dual role in gentrification, appealing to gentrifiers while complicating attempts at inclusivity. For instance, the Moo Choo clothing swap featuring eclectic designs and found objects might symbolize community but also align with the aesthetic tastes of first-wave gentrifiers, who foster exclusion through cultural capital (Zukin in Kern, 2016). Indeed, according to Zukin, alternative consumption spaces, such as farmers' markets (Kern, 2016), create conditions conducive to gentrification, require and promote specific forms of cultural capital and socialization techniques, and operate within an aesthetic code that favours White, middle-class, young residents (Kern, 2016). In this way, it is important to provide background about the business model during the walking tour to help people understand that spaces like Moo Choo are designed to include everyone, not just those with the means to participate.

Despite these challenges, the walking tour revealed Milton Park as a dynamic time-space where layered histories, spatial tensions, and competing temporalities intersect. The past and present continually shape the complex social and material realities of the neighbourhood.