Real estate is emotional. Why? Because a home is more than walls and a roof, it鈥檚 a canvas and container for our lives, our families, our communities As part of an on-going series, we鈥檝e asked local writers to share their stories on real estate and housing.聽Want to write for the Star鈥檚 Home Truths series? Email聽hometruths@thestar.ca.
The average cost of a house in 海角社区官网is $1,173,781.
Snag.
Why don鈥檛 you just live with your parents and save some money?
Rip.
There鈥檚 only contract work available, maybe you should go back to school 鈥 that might make you more competitive if/when there are full-time postings.
Fray.
Those are the sounds of The Garment being damaged.
The Garment is the generational messaging laying out the path to a successful and fulfilling life 鈥 one filled with good family, good friends and, of course, hosting them, for all of life鈥檚 special days, at the home with your name on it. But a recent (irresponsible) walk not three blocks from my home in midtown 海角社区官网has frayed more of The Garment, a part that once covered me.
From the moment we can conceptualize the future, we take our place in line for our turn to be cloaked in The Garment. Can you see it? Maybe feel it around you? Its material is made of aspiration and autonomous hard work. However, it is stitched together by opportunity.
Until recently, the Torontonian鈥檚 only job was to find a way to drape themselves in The Garment. You made progress toward that goal by getting a job in your field right after school or (gasp) buying your own home. Then, once draped in the Garment, it was just understood that with it on, you would be shielded from the cold winds of precarity and the frost bite of instability and regret.
The Garment hasn鈥檛 always been easy to obtain 鈥 I鈥檝e heard many stories, from people who look like me, proud Global South extractions, from back in the day, who encountered obstacles in renting let alone purchasing a home. However, even with those additional barriers, they managed to stretch the fabric of the Garment enough to make it work (to some degree) in achieving the quest for a good life.
Your focus, cloaked in The Garment, yielded success 鈥 end of story. It seems, however, that the 海角社区官网housing market now boasts a nasty, new surprise ending.
Recently, I had The Garment snatched off my back with such speed and precision that it took me a moment to realize how exposed I really was 鈥 or how dejected it made me feel.
I got it into my head that I should be able to purchase a townhouse in the city of my birth and residence (I am sure many of you are already seeing the error of my ways). I should point out that in my defence I had just visited some friends (of comparable income) in Virginia who had purchased a 5,000-square-foot home on three acres of land for $500,000 and change.
$500K?? Please! Some working-class Torontonians have that amount in overdraft protection.
Seeing my friends had my nervous system hopped up on false equivalencies.
There was an open house for a townhouse near my condo in midtown Toronto. I must again reiterate, I said townhouse, town house. A house with at least one other house stuck to it. A 鈥渉ouse鈥 whose backyard has the square footage of a bus shelter. It seemed safe enough to check it out (I can practically hear all of you chuckling).
The place was amazing. It had floor to ceiling windows that bounced the light all over the high-end fixtures and minimalist furniture. There were rich hardwood floors and Germanic names on every appliance. The people who staged it were seriously gifted. Everyone walking through the home had that 鈥淚 could see myself living here鈥 look on their faces 鈥 including the silly author of this piece.
I cannot tell you where their love affair with this property ended, but I can tell you where mine did.
I heard the real estate agent rattle off her cell number to a potential buyer. It began with a five. The area code for the greater Windsor area is 519. 鈥淲hat an industrious agent,鈥 I thought, 鈥渄riving all the way to the T-dot to clinch a sale. Wow, she is on her hustle, well done.鈥 I was halfway through this (imagined) inspirational tale in my head when the potential buyer asked something about the yearly taxes. Even doped up on my 海角社区官网housing market denial I knew that people didn鈥檛 ask about taxes after hearing a cellphone number. Windsor was not being 鈥渞epresented鈥 here. The number the realtor provided was the price of this townhouse, which was five million and something odd dollars.
No one else could see it, but in that moment, I was practically naked. I felt naked. I had cloaked myself in aspiration and hard work, but none of that was getting me near this purchase opportunity.
As smoothly as I could, I pivoted and with as much swag as I could muster. I left that open house and sheepishly walked home (it鈥檚 unlikely that anyone really noticed my sheepish demeanour because I was wearing wool that day so 鈥 yeah 鈥 a wardrobe choice saved me).
The truth is that as much as I am choosing to make light of this, it was (an admittedly pesky ray of) hope that led me into that open house that day. Secretly, I had hoped that somehow, somehow, my investment into the mythos of upward mobility and fastening The Garment, would make purchasing this townhouse work.
It is true that aspiration and faith can survive on very, very little. But, at some point, it must be honoured by a tangible outcome.
The 鈥渉eat鈥 of the 海角社区官网housing market is burning through not only quality of life, but people鈥檚 belief that they could have one. Short-sighted, purveyors of predatory capitalism, who reap record profits while still pushing to extract more, are forgetting that exploitation requires something to exploit. While I personally don鈥檛 understand why anyone would want to exploit another, for those for whom this serves as motivation, I would invite you to consider this: your success is also tied to a collective faith in the system of possibility.
Profit margins rest firmly on the collective Torontonians鈥 hope of home ownership and while they are willing to stretch and bend for that dream, they are not willing to be broken by it. Constant encounters with inflated prices and reduced value will invariably shred the part of The Garment that covers even you. I doubt highly if consumer apathy is a solid recipe for a bidding war.
As for this author, there have been no further open-house visits since that day. I have shelved those ambitions for now. I haven鈥檛 completely surrendered it yet 鈥 but understand if others have.
Alyson Renaldo is a hybrid artiste/academic. She teaches in the faculty of liberal arts and sciences at Humber College. She also serves as producer, actor and writer for film and theatre. Alyson has written for Now Magazine, The Root and The Huffington Post.
To join the conversation set a first and last name in your user profile.
Sign in or register for free to join the Conversation