Everything sucks right now. I don’t say this to be a pessimist—I say this because it’s the elephant in the room. Globally, we are witnessing once-in-a-lifetime horror after once-in-a-lifetime horror; locally, climate stresses and the cost of living are creating an environment where we’re so run down we barely have time to react. I don’t mean to belittle the joys we have to celebrate or the progress that we’ve made, nor do I want to make light of the intense suffering of the past. That being said, watching the news these days just leaves me feeling grateful that I wasn’t alive during the Justinianic Plague, when the sky blacked out from volcanic ash, everyone’s crops died, everyone got sick, and humanity was very literally nearly wiped out, because sometimes it feels like things can’t get much worse today.
How on earth are you supposed to be a student in the face of this? How is it that we manage?
In this story, I’m going to be talking about the realities of living with financial hardship while attending school, but I can’t only talk about that because that doesn’t exist in a bubble. Moreover, when I find myself grasping for solutions to the problems that come up from personal financial crises, I can’t help but dismiss suggestions that aren’t holistic. If my problem is coming from multiple sources, it’s hard to feel comforted by something that doesn’t acknowledge all of those sources. To find real change in our lives, we have to accept the interconnectedness of our struggles.
Before I venture further, I need to be upfront about where I’m coming from when I talk about the subject: I have found myself pretty far up the creek financially, and I will not be talking about any resource that I haven’t used personally. From food banks and buy-nothing groups to emergency funding and community-centre freebies, I’ve done it all. Having been a student on and off for the last eight years, I know there’s a huge amount of shame and stigma that people feel around the use of these resources. However, I can also speak personally to the dignity gained by helping each other and allowing yourself to be helped.
Let’s unpack how we might be able to let ourselves do that.
First of all, what does it actually mean to be a student experiencing financial hardship? While every school is going to have its own definition of what qualifies you for financial aid, financial hardship itself (divorced from being a student) is something that can be hard to pin down. Each person is going to have their own, personal line in the sand. On the spectrum of feeling totally worry-free about monthly bills and daily costs to being completely crushed by panic and debt where it feels like a fire you’re constantly fighting, when does the pressure prompt you to find help?
Nowadays, I’m pretty quick to seek out the resources available to me as soon as a bill starts to eat into my grocery budget, but I used to be a lot more stubborn. In 2019, I got hit with a surprise bill due to a mixup in the withdrawal of my rent and found myself holding an eviction notice saying that unless I could pay two months of rent at once, I had to be out in 30 days. With no family to move back in with, it took everything I had to pay it off, and I had nothing left for anything else—food, phone, medication, nothing. So many of us are one mistake or disaster away from the same situation, but I had been unwilling to admit to myself that I needed a backup plan. There are a few reasons for that.
I found myself thinking a lot about a guy I had known during an earlier attempt at a degree, at a different school. I had still been living with my parents, and as such I had a little more money I could spend. He, on the other hand, was struggling with basics and I knew it. We were at a pub and I asked if I could buy him some food, but his reaction was one I’ll never forget. He looked pained, and he rejected my offer with a certain amount of venom. Not understanding, I pushed and told him it really wasn’t a problem at all. He threatened to leave. I couldn’t understand then what offence he might have taken.
As I faced down my own crisis I didn’t quite agree with the stance he took, but I finally understood where the hurt came from.
It’s an overused joke that those of us who are struggling are just “temporarily embarrassed millionaires,” but the joke comes from a place of shame. In a world where money is equal to power, capability, and value in the eyes of others, why would we want to admit to lacking it? I was burning up with humiliation when I started telling my friends about my financial state, sure that they would think me incompetent, irresponsible, or stupid. I wasn’t even reaching out for help, just declining invitations to go out and wanting to assure them they had done nothing wrong when I said “no” for the fourth time. What do you say when the student discount rate is still too high?
Their response, when I eventually fessed up, shocked me.
My friends rallied. While it took some time for me to let them pay my way for meals or event tickets, their support came in 100 small ways I couldn’t have dreamed up, like offering me food that they had too much of from their kitchens, giving me gift cards that had been gathering dust, and passing on news to me when they heard about free classes or financial-assistance programs. The community I felt was almost overwhelming.
In all honesty, I had been hesitant to reach out for help for more reasons than my shame. It was in part because during the summer prior I had suffered a severe mental-health break, and many of my friends had made themselves scarce. Having spent a few years mulling over how to explain the difference in support for my crises, I think the answer lies in the actionability of the support. My mental health on its own presented problems which weren’t materially solvable, and in turn many of my friends felt powerless to respond. How could they know what actions they could take to be there for me when the monster I was facing down lacked a clear edge on its influence? Here, my obstacles were clearly visible: food, rent, medication, and entertainment, and with that came direction on how they could show up. The presence of community support, in turn, eased the burden of my depression.
Here we find the ways that shame around finances and shame around mental health meet. This is the crossroads where asking for help in a crisis intersects with a multitude of pressures that can’t help but run into each other; in turn, all struggles experience some relief when we help each other with any of them. We don’t know how to help each other with everything, but by leaning into the interconnectedness of these problems we are able to feel empowered by what we can help each other with.
This is the framework of the world I had to adopt to survive, and it has carried me far. Now, having found some level ground again, I try to use this framework to be aware of my communities. I don’t have an exact answer for how we get out of this mess of a world we’re in, and I don’t know how each individual can solve the myriad problems that make bigger problems in their lives. But I do know one thing: the only way through is together.
It took me a while to figure out everything available to me when I needed it, so here are a few suggestions to get you started:
Community centres are your friends
No matter what neighbourhood you’re in, you’ll find some sort of community centre. This could be somewhere with a gymnasium and a pool, open to the general public, but there are also places of worship, women’s centres, youth centres, neighbourhood houses, and culture centres. All of these places exist because it’s a recognizable necessity for humans to have a place where they can come together and hang out.
If you’re struggling at all, community centres are the first place you should go, because (as the name implies) they know what’s happening and available within the community. We’re extremely used to spaces where you need to continually pay to be there: coffee shops, movie theatres, malls, even a lot of spaces on the internet are pay-to-play. Community centres, in their many forms, exist to sustain the community, and that includes you.
From just going up and asking at a variety of different centres, I’ve gotten free toiletries like toothpaste, a free winter coat, and vouchers to thrift shops. I’ve also been granted access to the free program to use their amenities and been made aware of free events, workshops, community meals, and lectures.
When you’re broke, its easy to want to wallow inside alone in shame. Believe me, I’ve done it. But I’ll tell you now, it’s not a great idea for your mental health or your sense of pride. The power of community centres is that they create connections, and you are worthy of those connections just by wanting to be in the community in the first place.
Buy-nothing groups
I love buy-nothing groups. As a global initiative based on the understanding that we have enough stuff to go around, these Facebook groups are extremely regional and encourage connection with your neighbours. The idea is that if you have something you don’t need, you simply offer it up for free, with the understanding that if you need something in turn you can ask for it, and if someone has it to share they’ll give it to you for free.
This isn’t just limited to things and stuff, though. At one point I was going to pick up a really nice immersion blender someone had offered me, but I missed the pickup because I suddenly had to go to the emergency room. After explaining myself, the woman not only brought me the blender but put together a care package of snacks with a fresh salad to help lift my spirits. Another time, someone shared fresh rosemary from their garden when they got too much, and I’ve even heard of people offering up rides to doctors’ appointments, used wedding dresses, and language exchange lessons for free. This isn’t the magic of this particular group, it’s the magic of treating each other like neighbours.
We’ve really been sold the idea that the only way to solve problems is by buying things, but something I love about this model is that it shows the human kindness that can be found when we stop basing every interaction around a monetary exchange.
Camosun College Student Society
The Camosun College Student Society (CCSS) is an incredible place to find all sorts of connections, not the least of which is free entertainment. With lots of easy events to access, being a student makes it a lot easier to have a fun night out without breaking the bank. While I could go on and on about everything they have to offer, the easiest way is to connect with them yourself and ask. Tell them about some of your needs or your interests, and I can guarantee they’ll have something that can lighten the load.
One thing to note in particular is their emergency fund. If you’re suddenly hit with hard times during your semester, for whatever reason, you should investigate this fund, where you can potentially get some financial help to keep you afloat. Check out camosunstudent.org for more info on the CCSS.
Instructors and Camosun staff
While the Student Society isn’t technically part of the school itself, Camosun has a lot of its own structures that are hugely helpful to students. They’re easy to find, but many people miss them as things get drowned out by the main event of the education we’re here for. I mean, you’ve probably noticed a few of them since you’re stopping to read the student newspaper, so good on you for keeping your finger on the pulse, but there’s another group of people who know this school better than anyone: teachers and staff.
One-on-one conversations with the people supporting your education is one of the greatest things that a post-secondary school can give you. We are here overtly asking for their knowledge on a variety of topics which means, implicitly, that we trust they have some ability to know what they’re talking about. Not every teacher or staff member is going to be knowledgeable about everything you could possibly find and put to use at Camosun, but I guarantee they’ll know something that could help.
It’s also worthwhile to let your teachers know, ahead of time, when you’re facing a crisis in your personal life. I can’t promise they’ll all be sympathetic, but they can’t accommodate for what they don’t know about, and, hey, I’ve had a few teachers point me in the right direction to find paid opportunities in my field. It’s always worth a shot.
Foundry and other community groups
If you’re under the age of 25, the resources available to you are triple. I strongly encourage you to use this as much as you can. When you’re in search of youth resources, the best place to go is Foundry.
Foundry is an incredible collection of resources and can be found across BC. From clinics to support groups to individual counselling and youth workers who can connect you to all sorts of special assistance, this is one of the best organizations I can imagine for support. If you’re struggling with anything you can think of, and you’re 25 or younger, this is the place.
I used Foundry for four years until I aged out, and I owe it so much. Spending so much of my life as an at-risk youth, I often felt that I was simply a problem to be solved or a box to be checked for the people who were assigned to help me. The reason I speak so highly of this organization is not because one person went above and beyond for me, but rather because no matter who was working with me, the system itself was designed to make me feel heard. I cannot recommend them enough.
Food banks
I remember, with a shocking amount of clarity, the first time I used a food bank. It was a Wednesday morning (the regular time for weekly food pick-up) in late September 2019, and there was a nip in the air. I knew that when I went, I didn’t want to look foolish, or reckless. I could imagine the volunteers analyzing me, either deciding I was some pitiful slob who couldn’t be responsible with their finances or, the opposite, that I wasn’t deserving enough and they’d turn me away. I put a great deal of care into how I dressed. I wanted to look clean, and like I was someone who could handle themselves. I picked a red sweater my grandma gave me and braced myself for judgment and, simultaneously, for a crowd of stereotypes I had been so scared of being cast as.
What I found instead was a group of people who looked an awful lot like me. Not dressed in anything new or flashy, but with obvious care in how they arrived—the way you’d try to look running any errand. Most were women, most were older than me, and many were so excited to see each other. What shocked me the most was the number of them who were excited to see me. I was so afraid being in this new space, feeling both desperate and like an imposter—and they knew how I felt. They offered to show me around and showed me where in the space I could find what I was looking for, even pulling up a seat for me when they finished the errand with a cup of free soup. The volunteers didn’t ask any questions or demand any paperwork, they just got me signed up and helped me inside. In the weeks that followed, the people I had talked with welcomed me back with a smile. No questions asked, and community offered.
My main experience with a food bank is from North Vancouver; every neighbourhood will have a different culture and different ways of distributing food. My introduction was with a system where you pick up food once a week, but I know the CCSS offers an ongoing food bank where you pick up a few items at a time.
What I learned that Wednesday morning, though, was that where people come together in need, there is the opportunity for kindness and understanding.
A safety net is not a single line—it’s a thousand points of connection. We can’t help that crisis will come into our lives, especially as we face the rising cost of living and stagnant wages, and in the background, the world grows more volatile every year. What we can control is how we face it, and I, for one, would rather face it together.