Trapped Outside

A City’s Silent Crisis

Montreal wears its homelessness like a scar—sometimes hidden, often ignored, but always present. The reasons people end up on these streets are as varied as the cobblestones of Old Montreal: fractured families, evaporating jobs, the slow unraveling of stability. Some are pushed out by rising rents; others by addiction, mental illness, or simply the merciless churn of an economy that has no room for them. 

A psychiatrist from the Montreal General Hospital put it plainly in a letter to The Gazette: what’s needed are teams—multidisciplinary, proactive, relentless—to bridge the gaps between hospitals, shelters, and the streets. But for now, the city’s unhoused navigate a patchwork of neglect and half-measures. 

"Sorry, Sir, You Can’t Come In Here"

Along Sainte-Catherine Street West, where the glow of AMC Theatre marquees washes over the pavement, security guards turn away those deemed "unfit" for polite company. Here, between Atwater and Guy, a community of unhoused Indigenous people—elders, youths, entire families—finds refuge in doorways and alleyways. They are a reminder that homelessness is not a monolith. It is young and old, sober and struggling, invisible and inescapable. 

Paul Walker, who calls himself "Dis" (short for disrespect), knows this duality well. At 37, he’s been panhandling downtown for five years. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs—"I can’t afford it." Yet the world treats him like a nuisance. "Fuck you, get a job!" strangers snap. At night, drunk men stumble out of bars, itching for a fight. "But I don’t react," Paul says. "I’m Black and homeless. If the cops come, I’m guilty."

A System That Fails Its Most Vulnerable 

The police keep no official tally of violence among the homeless. Why would they? The stories slip through the cracks—like that of Jean-Pierre Lizotte, a man beaten to death by transit cops in 2002. His crime? Causing a "disturbance" in a café. His cause of death? Bronchial pneumonia from a broken spine. The officers were cleared. The city moved on. 

For those without shelter, even abandoned buildings offer no sanctuary. "If someone sees me, they call the cops," Paul says. In 2001, squatters occupying the crumbling Lafontaine House were promised a new start—a city-owned building, rent-free, if they turned it into a community hub. Then the mayor reneged. Free didn’t mean free, after all. The dream collapsed. The squatters returned to the streets. 

The Myth of the "Lazy Homeless" 

Paul’s story defies easy stereotypes. He once worked at a plastics factory. He tried selling drugs when jobs dried up. Now, welfare gives him $500 a month—enough for a dingy room, if he’s lucky. He takes clothes from the Salvation Army but refuses food. "You never know who’s tampered with it."

At Christmas, he expects generosity. Instead, he gets scorn. "Just spare change," he mutters, "and even that’s too much to ask."

Counting the Uncountable

How many people sleep on Montreal’s streets? No one knows. Statistics Canada guesses 13,797 use shelters nightly, with over 250,000 Canadians experiencing homelessness each year. A quarter of them are children. But these numbers are ghosts—shifting, incomplete. The true tally is in the faces we avoid, the hands we don’t shake, the stories we refuse to hear. 

What Comes Next?

The solution isn’t just shelters. It’s housing with support—medical, psychological, financial. It’s recognizing that homelessness isn’t a choice but a cascade of systemic failures... And it’s understanding that behind every sign that reads "Hungry, anything helps" is a person like Paul: 

A man who once had a job. 

A man who still has pride. 

A man who, despite everything, keeps asking for nothing more than a little “change”.