I stroll along the streets in the neighbourhood and find myself on the familiar path to the park. Parc Henri-Bourassa is sort of the gathering place of Montréal-Nord.

Around the park are other important places like the Maison culturelle et communautaire and École secondaire Henri-Bourassa. And there’s always good pizza to be found nearby.

Out of habit, I wander along the narrow dirt paths of the park. All kinds of people come here—families enjoying some sunshine in their free time, students who have snuck away from school for lunch, or friends meeting up in the evening. It’s a shared space used for many different purposes.

Many young people use the path through the park to get to the Maison culturelle et communautaire de Montréal-Nord (MCC). The building is hard to miss, and it’s a popular meeting point for local youth. It’s accessible and easy to spot.

It’s a place where we can wait inside if the weather is bad. The staff don’t bother us too much and allow us to hang around.

It would be hard to find a better cultural centre. There are many activities. Lots of people my age enjoy it and have fond memories of it. It’s a special part of the community spirit. Let’s go check it out.

Most young people go to École Henri-Bourassa. But eventually, like all young people, you graduate. And one of the schools you go to is Cégep Marie-Victorin. It’s the cégep that most teens from École Henri-Bourassa go to, and there are places where they prefer to hang out.

I approach the outside of Cégep Marie-Victorin. It’s reading week, so there are no classes. But there are still people around. Some are going inside, probably to study; others are walking on the school grounds with friends.

Near Parc Henri-Bourassa and Place de l'Espoir, at the intersection of De Laurier and Maurice-Duplessis, a large brick and concrete building dominates the area. As I walk in front of École secondaire Henri-Bourassa, I’m flooded with memories of my teenage years.

At least 2,000 young people come through here every year. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few students sprinting—probably coming back from the park, haha. If they hurry, they won’t be late for their afternoon classes. I did that sprint from the park to the classroom so many times! It wasn’t so long ago; I remember it well.

I’ve been wandering through the park for a while, people-watching. People come here from all the surrounding streets. One of these is Rue Pascal, which runs right along the park. The street has a bit of everything—houses, apartment buildings, businesses.

City streets make a special noise. The sound of cars, the murmur of people talking, combined with the wind whistling through the trees. In Montréal, it is of course accompanied by the growl of trucks and public transit. The bus was our way out of Montréal-Nord. There’s no métro in the area, so you don’t have a choice but to take a bus or two, or even three, to get out of the neighbourhood. I should know; I do it all the time. I live here, I sleep here, I exist here, but I work far away. It’s a long way to the West Island. We moved here for financial reasons, and I work there for the same reasons. So I have come to know Montréal’s busses well. The days I work—so, most days—I learn to recognize them all along the route.

The bus stops, and I get on. It takes me about two hours to get to work. But that’s OK. I can sleep a bit on the bus. It helps, between work, commuting, and school, I don’t have much time to rest. I take the opportunity to close my eyes.

…

…

…

I awaken with a start. My body knows the route, and I always wake up a little before. I thank the bus driver and walk out into the streets of this wealthy neighbourhood. I walk to the residential building where I do a bit of everything. I’m the doorman and security guard. I lock up the swimming pool and laundry room. I receive people’s parcels. To be honest, I do everything that a normal person would do in a poor apartment, but these people are just too rich to do it themselves. So I open the doors for them.

It’s Monday morning, and you’re being jostled by some passengers trying to get to where they’re going, while others push past you to get on the train. How you find yourself on the platform of Lacordaire Station in Montréal-Nord seems both fuzzy and unimportant. You know this place, and it’s holiday today. You have decided to wander around as your mood takes you.

As you watch all these people attending to their own business, you decide what direction to go in.

Click on your selection:

I come here to relax. It’s a place we have made our own, where we feel at home. It may seem contradictory, but even if we’re all close together, we can still find our own space.

The police rarely come to this part of the park. Usually, they just drive by, and they can’t really see us here. And the cameras don’t work, so we really feel free and not like we’re constantly being watched, except for the elderly people who live across the street, and all they want is peace and quiet. We just come here to chill, not to make trouble.

I see some people I know, some in one group, others in another. That’s what it’s like here. Some people know each other really well; others are just acquaintances. We’re all just here to chill, hang, and try to connect with others.

I’ve spent a lot of time in this park with my friends. I come to chill in the park during breaks at school, but always in a group. I don’t like going to certain parts of the park alone. It might sound weird, but it’s understandable if you’ve experienced it. As a woman, I don’t feel comfortable coming here. That’s why I make detours.

You sometimes see dealers. And the police are always watching and monitoring. Of course, there’s a lot less of that after the protests (after the death of Fredy), but the fact is we see them, and they see us. We avoid making eye contact, and they watch us .

I see a small neighbourhood party and head in that direction without too much thought.

But surveillance isn’t the only thing that happens in the park. It’s a place for local residents to gather. The sun is shining today, and you can feel the warmth on your skin. The nice weather attracts families, friends, and passersby, and we are gradually taking the space back. In the summer, the neighbourhood brings the park to life. There are lots of summer activities. It’s times like this that the park becomes one of my favourite places.

I clear my mind in the shade of a tree. So much has changed here. There was nothing before. These are the places of my childhood. I used to come and play with my father here at 11 o’clock at night because it was quieter. I spent my whole childhood here—playing soccer, going to the skate park. We had “territory wars,” there were tensions, some “tribal” moments where different people would take over the swings. Those memories make me laugh now.

Strangely, there’s not much crime in the park. It’s more a place where people come to hang. It has been spared that, probably because children and their parents come here, so there’s a certain respect. At least, I’ve never seen anything.

I see workers in the distance building something new in the park. I’d like to say I’m looking forward to seeing the result, but to tell the truth, it seems as though people who come up with these ideas never consult us first. They build these weird things that aren’t really for us. At Parc Carignan, they installed all sorts of things like benches for kids. It didn’t work; people don’t use them. It doesn’t fit with our reality.

It’s a missed opportunity because I know that people would like to have that dialogue, so that these new spaces are better suited to our lives, but it’s hard when there’s no trust.

We need people we can trust in important positions, so that immigrants will start to trust again and maybe start talking. That, for us, is the magnificent spirit of Montréal-Nord. It’s Parc Henri-Bourassa, it’s the local pizzeria. It’s the places that are right for you.

Sometimes it’s empty, sometimes it’s full of people, and there are days like today where two different groups want to share the space, and they just organically come together to create a larger group. People go in, sit down together, and at some point, a discussion starts, and everyone takes part.

Some people know each other really well. Others, not at all, but it doesn’t matter. It creates a connection, and that feeds into a sort of relaxed camaraderie. If two groups of young people want to hang out here, there’s sort of a natural, wordless understanding that they share the space. Either each group goes to their own spot as if the other isn’t there, or, most of the time, the group just expands, and that creates connections.

I keep walking toward the two groups that I don’t know very well. It’s a bit intimidating, and it would have been simpler to come with a friend. But I know it’s going to be OK because as long as you’re not looking for trouble, people will accept you.

I get to the two groups, who have now merged. The glass is broken, and people start to talk to me. The mood is relaxed. You can feel the camaraderie. It’s summer; it’s nice out. That’s Parc Henri-Bourassa for me.

Before, we weren’t allowed to wander around in the MCC. But over the years, they’ve done away with many of the silly rules. Now, it’s super accessible. I was in secondary 2 when it changed. Now, you can eat inside, walk around, and bring your friends. It’s a meeting place for local youth.

At one point, they even let us go in early in the morning to get a muffin and coffee. We went there on breaks, for lunch. It was the closest thing we had to a student café, which otherwise didn’t exist in the area.

Today, I can stay here without being bothered by the people outside or the police. I feel a lot safer in the halls, basement, and library of the MCC. I can be here any hour of the day. I feel comfortable here.

I spent my whole childhood here. I loved hanging around because of the books, the video games downstairs, the board games and everything. Instead of spending our time in the streets, we could come here. And we grew up. Every week there were Arabic courses, and that gave me a part of my identity. I learned how to write the language here. The place represents a lot, but not just for me. Young people can come here and chill. There are a lot of activities that are appropriate for them, for us.

Personally, I never really had any problems here. We weren’t watched. It really was “chill.” It was relaxed and super flexible for young people, and there was something for everyone. Whatever you were into, you could usually find something here.

Now, they watch you a bit more, but it’s not so bad. Once, I saw some kids get kicked out of the library because they were making noise, but they were really young. That kind of thing didn’t happen when I was little. I don’t attend many activities now. I tend to come when I need to use the internet or need to concentrate on an assignment. I use the place differently. I’ve changed since then.

The MCC never really sleeps. There’s always something going on for the locals, but it’s really a place for young people. Whatever your tastes, you’ll find something you like, or almost. There are activities like the theatre and services like the internet. But there are also more identity-oriented activities, often organized by a local community organization.

People can come here to reconnect with their culture, the culture of their parents. They can build an identity, which is not always easy to do by yourself. Young people are drawn to that, and it helps them grow at the same time. A lot of good comes out of this place.

As I come around the corner, I pass by four young people talking at a table. They are part of the Youth Council. The council is great and has a lot of motivated young people. It’s completely volunteer. It can be hard to get your voice heard at that age, but the council is one place where it’s possible. Young people want to be recognized, to show all the good things that exist in Montréal-Nord, because there are good things!

If you wander around the library, you’ll find the gallery. I had a few things showing here. It sort of spills out into the library, and you can see works by local youth. It’s cool, because the MCC isn’t just about art, it’s about art by local youth. It’s an artistic outlet where young people can express themselves.

Passing by the gallery, I come to the theatre. Lots of events are held here. It encourages young people to get on stage. If you’re not being heard outside, you can be heard inside the MCC. It’s a place where we have a voice. The room is quiet now, but it comes to life during open-mic events.

When I used to come here, young people would come to rap, slam, dance, and do other artistic things. It was a place where we could show the neighbourhood and all of Montréal what we could do. It’s important to preserve that, and based on the stuff scattered around the room, it’s still very much alive today. It may seem cheesy or kitsch, but it’s a place where young people can find their artistic voices and be heard.

It’s a big campus. Not as big as a university, but still… There’s a soccer field where most of the students go. They bring blankets and socialize and do stuff together. There are also some woods nearby where you can walk. Some of us go off the paths to explore.

The cégep is an adult world. You have more freedom. And it feels good because the bad reputation I had among the high school teachers hasn’t followed me here.

I spend a lot more time here now that I’m in cégep. If I’m not in my own department, I’m in the library. My relationship with collège is strange. For example, in class, when someone asks me where I live and I say Montréal-Nord, I get a lot of strange comments. It’s really weird. People think you live in a really bad area; people think Montréal-Nord is violent, that the people are uneducated, that they’re this and that…

But I haven’t had a problem integrating. It’s just that sometimes, like in my sociology class, when you tell someone who isn’t from Montréal-Nord that you’re from Montréal-Nord, they look at you like you’re from another planet. And yet there are a lot of people of different races in my classes.

On my way to the library, a little way off, I see a group of people I’m working with on a project.

There were rumours that if you were known to have been involved in illegal activities, if you had a police record, the administration would get on your case. It would start with registration. You would be monitored. This was mostly directed at guys. It’s always the same prejudice—people assume you’ll make more trouble because you’re a guy. Some people did get stopped, but they had done bad things. But where do you draw the line? They weren’t really given a second chance.

That shows that you’re monitored even at school . You don’t feel comfortable staying here because you feel like you’re being watched. It’s no fun, and it makes your relationship with the people here less positive. It makes you want to be somewhere else. That’s why I started going downtown more often, to the Grande bibliothèque. But even there, people have been watching the area since I don’t know when. Maybe it’s because Berri-UQAM has a reputation for having a lot of homeless people, so there’s more surveillance. I think it’s too bad.

I get the feeling they watch you less at the Grande bibliothèque than in Montréal-Nord. It’s easier to pass unnoticed, because people don’t know where you come from.

I’ve noticed that when I was younger, I’d censor myself; I didn’t say that I was from Montréal-Nord, I just said Montréal. Because if you make a connection with Montréal-Nord, say on your CV, then they automatically associate that with the protests (after the death of Fredy) and therefore with violence.

I had a sociology course that covered observation techniques, and we went to Montréal-Nord. The prof immediately made a connection with the protests and what happened with Fredy. We walked around all the neighbourhoods of Montréal-Nord.

When we went over it in class, a lot of people said they wouldn’t want to bring up kids or have their kids go to school there. They said there were more drug users, that many of the young people had no future, that the people had no class, all those clichés. A teammate from Montréal-Nord and I had to say something because the prof had mentioned that there were organizations trying to change things, but he used such a negative tone. We told him, yes, it’s not easy and there’s a lack of resources. But the local organizations and people in the area do want things to change.

We’re not valued here. When I look at the situation, it’s a problem that people refuse to look at directly, even though it’s important. I get the feeling that when you tell people you’re from Montréal-Nord, they look at you in a negative light.

I only spent three years of high school here. I remember that I didn’t like it here, but then again, I remember not liking school in general. I can see myself running outside, like those kids today, as soon as the recess or lunch bell rang. I much preferred the food at the pizza place over the cafeteria. Actually, I still like that pizza place. They make good pizza.

There were two sections of lockers—one for girls and one for boys. We hung out there in groups until the security guards kicked us out. That happened more than a few times, haha. It’s funny to think about.

The school has changed. It was more “ghetto” before. There were graffiti and tags everywhere. You don’t see that much anymore. But I can still see the school’s flower boxes everywhere, those huge wooden structures. I always notice them, because I helped build them. It was in my second year, and I had a whole day of detention. At least it was better than standing in front of the blackboard all day.

I used to walk on Rue Pascal when I was younger. I’d come here often, but out of necessity, when I had to buy food for my family.

I try not to come here often, because at night, near the lane with the shops, women sometimes get whistled at if they walk alone. That mostly happens at night. You get looked at a lot when you’re a woman. It can be intimidating. I don’t feel very comfortable when I find myself here.

Since I don’t like the atmosphere and sometimes feel threatened, I change my route and take detours. That way I can avoid areas that make me uncomfortable.

When I was younger, I noticed that there were a lot of people who needed help on Rue Pascal. It wasn’t just questionable people. There were people in need too. It must be hard for them. People help one another in Montréal-Nord, but not everyone has the means to manage.

My family lived on this street for a long time when I was young. A few minutes’ walk brings me to the familiar doors of my old apartment building. To be honest, there was drug dealing at my building. One day, someone got stabbed just below us. That caused a lot of fear in the area, and that brought control. It’s normal up to a point.

At some point, fear gives way to routine. I don’t think desensitized is the right word. I’d rather say I became acclimatized. It was just one more thing in our daily lives. We didn’t choose to live here. No one in the family thought the apartment was particularly nice and said that that was why we moved here. It was just a good fit—economically but also demographically, with all the schools nearby.

At some point, fear gives way to routine. I don’t think desensitized is the right word. I’d rather say I became acclimatized. It was just one more thing in our daily lives. We didn’t choose to live here. No one in the family thought the apartment was particularly nice and said that that was why we moved here. It was just a good fit—economically but also demographically, with all the schools nearby.

Of course, there was some trouble, but in the end, it’s still your home. As I walk along, I find myself in some “hotspots,” places that saw me grow up. Places I know and where I still feel in control because it’s all super familiar. Even today, I recognize some of the faces. Do they recognize me too? Those people watched me grow up. When you’re young, there’s a strange chemistry that happens with the people on the street. Maybe it’s because you’re a kid, and kids are protected. And over time, you protect each other. It’s like a clownfish and its anemone.

I keep walking, but off the beaten path. When you know the streets by heart, you end up knowing all the little secrets of the neighbourhood. My secret passages are still there, and I use them to travel through the neighbourhood quickly. It was, and still is, a sort of “precarious” area. When a gunshot can go off because a conversation turns bad, it’s practical to know some secret passages. You can disappear in an instant and pop up somewhere else, where it’s quieter. And I pass that knowledge on. Now, my little brother uses my secret passages. Even if we don’t live here anymore, life goes on in this little corner of Montréal-Nord.

Of course, there was some trouble, but in the end, it’s still your home. As I walk along, I find myself in some “hotspots,” places that saw me grow up. Places I know and where I still feel in control because it’s all super familiar. Even today, I recognize some of the faces. Do they recognize me too? Those people watched me grow up. When you’re young, there’s a strange chemistry that happens with the people on the street. Maybe it’s because you’re a kid, and kids are protected. And over time, you protect each other. It’s like a clownfish and its anemone.

I keep walking, but off the beaten path. When you know the streets by heart, you end up knowing all the little secrets of the neighbourhood. My secret passages are still there, and I use them to travel through the neighbourhood quickly. It was, and still is, a sort of “precarious” area. When a gunshot can go off because a conversation turns bad, it’s practical to know some secret passages. You can disappear in an instant and pop up somewhere else, where it’s quieter. And I pass that knowledge on. Now, my little brother uses my secret passages. Even if we don’t live here anymore, life goes on in this little corner of Montréal-Nord.

People live so differently here. It’s supposed to be one of the wealthiest and safest neighbourhoods on the island, but I don’t know… I feel uncomfortable here. I feel safer at home, in the neighbourhood I know so well. You get used to your environment, and I have come to understand that sometimes, white men can be dangerous. I think about it with a touch of humour, but there’s truth to it.

I’ve only just arrived, and my shift has already started. I’ll be here all night, for eight hours in all. So I have time to think. Why do I come so far to open doors? Actually, it’s not a choice; it’s a necessity. We’re in a precarious situation at home. While I lock the door to the pool, I tell myself I’m doing it for my brothers and sisters, so that maybe they won’t have to do it one day. I don’t have a social life or hobbies anymore. We learned something in economics class last week. Opportunity cost. If I go to the movies, I have to relinquish some money. If I decide to go and hang out with friends, I have to say “no” to rest. Everything has a cost, there’s no two ways about it. My math professor said that there are people who live and people who survive. I guess I have chosen to survive.

People live so differently here. It’s supposed to be one of the wealthiest and safest neighbourhoods on the island, but I don’t know… I feel uncomfortable here. I feel safer at home, in the neighbourhood I know so well. You get used to your environment, and I have come to understand that sometimes, white men can be dangerous. I think about it with a touch of humour, but there’s truth to it.

I’ve only just arrived, and my shift has already started. I’ll be here all night, for eight hours in all. So I have time to think. Why do I come so far to open doors? Actually, it’s not a choice; it’s a necessity. We’re in a precarious situation at home. While I lock the door to the pool, I tell myself I’m doing it for my brothers and sisters, so that maybe they won’t have to do it one day. I don’t have a social life or hobbies anymore. We learned something in economics class last week. Opportunity cost. If I go to the movies, I have to relinquish some money. If I decide to go and hang out with friends, I have to say “no” to rest. Everything has a cost, there’s no two ways about it. My math professor said that there are people who live and people who survive. I guess I have chosen to survive.

It sounds cynical, but it’s true. I live in two ecosystems, Montréal-Nord and this wealthy neighbourhood. It’s worth it at the end of the day. At one point, I got 3G on the cell phone of my brothers and sisters. Nowadays, if you don’t have internet, it’s a handicap, especially when you’re in school. So for that reason, and many others, I continue to study during the day and work at night.

The sun comes up as I leave the building. On the bus back to Montréal-Nord, I doze with my arms crossed on the seat and tell myself that it’s worth it in the long run.

It sounds cynical, but it’s true. I live in two ecosystems, Montréal-Nord and this wealthy neighbourhood. It’s worth it at the end of the day. At one point, I got 3G on the cell phone of my brothers and sisters. Nowadays, if you don’t have internet, it’s a handicap, especially when you’re in school. So for that reason, and many others, I continue to study during the day and work at night.

The sun comes up as I leave the building. On the bus back to Montréal-Nord, I doze with my arms crossed on the seat and tell myself that it’s worth it in the long run.

After walking to the construction site where so many people are working, I look at how the project has progressed. They’re building our pavilion. The young people talk about it sometimes. They wonder how long the work will last, or when the graffiti will start to appear. I look up a little to examine the poster beside me. A lot of money has been invested. From what you can see on the poster, the place looks really nice.

The other day, a friend told me he was looking forward to seeing the final result too. Everyone expects it to be a big success. We’ll all be happy because we’ll have another place to go, to wait inside if there’s rain or a snowstorm.

But everyone also wonders if it will stay nice once it’s finished. How long will it last? Because the city won’t maintain it. I rarely see city workers taking care of the park. The park is actually mostly maintained by a community organization and youth volunteers.

To be honest, I wish the city took better care of Montréal-Nord. Sometimes, you go out and the streets are really dirty. It’s ugly. Especially in the winter, when the snow mixes with garbage on the ground. You can’t even walk on the sidewalk. The city does maintain the area around the library and Place Pascal. They plant plants, shrubs, and flowers. They clean up a bit. But is it enough?

I spent so much time here when I was younger. I love reading, and it was easy to come here after school to get a book, find a corner to sit down and just relax. There’s a lot of volunteering here, so there were also lots of opportunities to come and help make things happen.

I’d like to be able to hang out here like I used to, but it’s not the same… It’s like in the park; They watch you more now. It seems like there are more security guards , and it’s not as simple as before. When I compare coming here now to what it used to be like, it’s weird. It’s still the MCC, but it’s different for me. I still come from time to time, but it’s not as calm and relaxing.

You go to school to learn. Here, I learned what racism was. I quickly learned that there’s a difference between what people say and what they think. Other people were always asking questions about where I came from. Sometimes I didn’t go to school because, well, y’know, I was just a kid. And I remember when I came back to class, they’d ask me things like:

“Were you at the mosque?”
“It’s Ramadan, right? Too hungry to come to school?”

No! I was just being a kid and goofing around. I wasn’t at the mosque. I was at home, relaxing and eating Doritos. But people focused on the colour of my skin and where I came from.

If I refused to do something that a woman teacher asked me to do, some would say, “yeah, it’s because you don’t think men and women are equal,” or “it’s because of Ramadan.” Everything was because of my religion. No one ever considered that maybe I was just a teenager going through a phase where you don’t give a damn about anything or what they want you to do. I don’t like those memories. It was just prejudice and stuff. Like, because I’m Arab, I don’t understand gender equality.

It was really hard most of the time, but even so, there were some really nice people. That monitor was really cool. He would come and talk to me and didn’t worry about what others thought or decided they saw. He would sometimes come and talk to me during the lunch break or after school, and he took an interest in me. He never imposed his point of view. We would just talk. He really listened to me, when everyone else would just talk at me. They would impose themselves, but also impose their perception of me.

In a way, that monitor shaped me, taught me how to think. He would come and ask me philosophical questions when I was in detention. He cared about me, and that felt good. I hope he is doing well today.

It was really hard most of the time, but even so, there were some really nice people. There was this monitor and he was really cool. He would come and talk to me and didn’t worry about what others thought or decided they saw. He would sometimes come and talk to me during the lunch break or after school, and he took an interest in me. He never imposed his point of view. We would just talk. He really listened to me, when everyone else would just talk at me. They would impose themselves, but also impose their perception of me.

In a way, that monitor shaped me, taught me how to think. He would come and ask me philosophical questions when I was in detention. He cared about me, and that felt good. I hope he is doing well today.

You casually walk north. You still don’t know why you’re at the station, but whatever… You are possessed by the need to go and explore the neighbourhood. You want to understand it, even if you know it well. Which is normal, you grew up here after all. But do you really know it?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it’s taking forever to make a decision. The wallet of someone walking by on your right falls out of his pocket, but your senses are still too dull to react. Just then, a young woman bends down to pick it up and starts walking quickly toward the person.

"HEY!"

She calls out to get his attention. Her yell jolts you out of the hustle and bustle of the station and of your thoughts.

You casually walk north. You still don’t know why you’re at the station, but whatever… You are possessed by the need to go and explore the neighbourhood. You want to understand it, even if you know it well. Which is normal, you grew up here after all. But do you really know it?

You casually walk north. You still don’t know why you’re at the station, but whatever… You are possessed by the need to go and explore the neighbourhood. You want to understand it, even if you know it well. Which is normal, you grew up here after all. But do you really know it?