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Safety risks create ‘terrifying’ reality for unhoused woman in White Rock

End of relationship meant end of housing for Lisa Kwiatkowski
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Lisa Kwiatkowski, 56, is shedding light on the challenges that come with being one of a relatively small group of unhoused women in not only White Rock, but B.C. (Sobia Moman photo)

With headlights flashing in Lisa Kwiatkowski’s eyes periodically through the night, the 56-year-old took the third instance as a warning that she was in the wrong place.

Laying on the sidewalk on the corner of 16 Avenue and 152 Street in White Rock on a dark night in January, Kwiatkowski didn’t wait another beat when she realized it was the same vehicle that had been circling her area, before grabbing her bag and running.

“It came around a third time and that’s when I left,” she shared with Peace Arch News in White Rock, outside the city’s daytime warming centre before it closed for the season on March 8.

ALSO READ: ‘This is inhumane’: Deaths of unhoused being felt in White Rock

While she is now grateful to be housed due to the support of her best friend, Kwiatkowski is bringing attention to the experience of unhoused women and how much danger it can bring.

After the car circling her area was enough of a fright to make her flee on that night, Kwiatkowski was able to find another woman staying nearby and decided to sleep next to her.

“You’ve got to be really on top of everything and be aware of everything, especially as a girl.”

That same night, the other woman, Lindsay, had to leave the location and asked Kwiatkowski to watch over her belongings. But Lindsay did not return for hours, worrying the 56-year-old, so she grabbed all of the items and went around White Rock and South Surrey searching for her.

Hesitantly deciding to approach a group of unhoused individuals who were mostly men, Kwiatkowski asked if they knew Lindsay. This resulted in anger from one man, she recalled, who then withdrew a gun and slapped Kwiatkowski with it, she said.

“I said ‘OK, I’ll just get my bag and get out of here’ and he said ‘You don’t have a bag anymore’ holding the gun to me, so I said ‘OK’ and walked out.”

That was the first time Kwiatkowski got robbed. She is now in the second process of re-applying for all of her IDs.

Being unhoused is a relatively new experience for Kwiatkowski, who used to be accustomed to stability in her life – a stability that allowed her to leave her line of work and care for her mother with Alzheimer’s and father with dementia, while her husband worked and took care of the financial side of their lives.

All of that ceased to exist since Kwiatkowski said her husband asked for a divorce at the end of May 2023 after 14 years of marriage, in what she described as a “bad split.” For Kwiatkowski, the end of her relationship meant the end of housing, as she had no money to pay for rent.

As her life was turned on its head, the change even resulted in her experiencing a stress-related heart attack on June 8, Kwiatkowski said, while she was packing up her items from the home she shared with her husband.

What followed was a eight-day stay in both Peace Arch Hospital and St. Paul’s Hospital, but luckily in her case, no long-term damage was detected by doctors. After being discharged, Kwiatkowski was back where she started; in the same home, packing up her belongings while trying to determine her next move now that she was without housing or money.

At first, Kwiatkowski was able to live with her father, making it easier to care for him and her mother, who stays in a separate building but close by. But this stay did not last long.

“They (strata representative) just came and said one day… ‘Lisa can’t stay here anymore. She was allowed for 30 days and it’s been two months.’ My dad didn’t know and I didn’t know, so I had to leave that day,” she explained, reflecting on the September, 2023 experience.

It was “terrifying,” she said, but choices were slim as to where Kwiatkowski could go since she didn’t want to ask anyone else for help.

“I left my dad’s place and hid some of my stuff under trees, found a space under an awning at a business on 66A Avenue and 152 Street (in Surrey) and then it started pouring rain. I was covered in mud and called my dad crying saying ‘I can’t do this.’”

Kwiatkowski ended up going back to her father’s home that night, but knew she would have to brave the streets on her own for at least the next while.

Women experiencing homelessness around the province are less common in comparison to men, according to the 2023 Point-in-Time Homeless Count for Greater Vancouver. Of those surveyed, 70 per cent identified as men while 26 per cent identified as women, which was also consistent with the previous count from 2020.

ALSO READ: Surrey’s homeless population has risen by 65% since 2020

Of the women surveyed, 37 per cent said they felt safe sleeping outdoors and 33 per cent said they felt safe sleeping in an abandoned or empty building.

Kwiatkowski said she was never accustomed to asking for help from others.

Before taking on the role of caring for her parents, Kwiatkowski worked in the homelessness sector at a shelter on the Sunshine Coast for years. To go from being the one providing support to people experiencing homelessness, to then being on the receiving end of that same service, was a confusing reality for Kwiatkowski to accept.

But it did have its benefits.

“Because I’ve worked in it, I know who to call and how to find the resources, but a lot of other people don’t know that,” she explained.

During a snowstorm earlier this year, Kwiatkowski was able to stay in a transition house for women escaping domestic violence, as there was a vacancy. But, as her situation did not qualify for the intention of that home, Kwiatkowski was again, on the streets once the vacancy was filled by someone who needed that specific service.

Difficulty followed, as this shelter was the only place Kwiatkowski had felt safe.

One subsequent afternoon in February, Kwiatkowski ran into her best friend’s daughter, who noticed some changes in her appearance.

“She asked me if I was homeless and I said ‘Yes, but don’t tell your mom,’” she recalled.

That didn’t quite work, as later that day, Kwiatkowski got a call from her friend, bringing a surprising sense of relief. A car was called for Kwiatkowski taking her to her friend’s house, where she continues to live.

“She was really mad at me that first night for not telling her and we had a huge talk and a cry… She said I can stay there forever.

“Originally I was embarrassed, I didn’t want people to know but now I don’t care as much. It can happen to anybody and it happened to me.”



Sobia Moman

About the Author: Sobia Moman

Sobia Moman is a news and features reporter with the Peace Arch News.
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