By Kelly Holmes and Jason Neufeld - Resource Assistance for Youth

By Kelly Holmes and Jason NeufeldWhat does “street culture” mean to you? What sorts of imagesdoes the term evoke? A ball cap askew, squeegee kids on thecorner, car thieves trolling dark streets, gang members moving inpacks, sex trade workers on Ellice, panhandlers with sad stories,drug-addicts skulking through back-alleys, con-artists lookingfor their next scam, or all of the above? One aspect of streetculture that is often ignored and rarely spoken of is the life ofthe traveller. You’ve all seen them. They’re easy to spot, withtheir dreadlocks and their tattered army fatigues, their tattoosand tribal piercings and their loyal dogs by their sides. They looklike they’ve stepped out of a punk-rock version of some postapocalypticHollywood movie. Living their life outdoors, theyare wind-burnt with soil jammed under their fingernails and dirtground into their calloused hands and feet. It’s as though theyhave grown out of the earth itself.Not unlike youth of past generations, these travellers are trulyanti-establishment. For one reason or another they exist on theouter fringes of society. Theirs is a culture that doesn’t judge anindividual in the way we are used to in mainstream society. Intheir world, an individual doesn’t score points for the numberof toys that they possess or the size of their house or the levelof education attained. This is a culture that values the power ofcommunity; you share what you have, you get what you need.All of them unique. All of them similar. They are a tribe of sorts.Although some may be running from their past, they fully embraceand live authentically in the present. They have establishedcomplex and varied modes of employment, communication andtravel that are uniquely part of their world and their culture—street culture. It’s a culture that transcends borders, race, religionand gender. These youth come from varied backgrounds—somefrom wealthy homes, others from abject poverty. They are asymptom of our society—our creation. How can we judge them?They choose to abandon their birth names and adopt vulgarlabels—Crusty, Barf, Spaz—names that reflect how society haslabelled them.The tattoos, the piercings, the grime and the stink all act as arepellent to those whom they cannot trust (they are continuallyhassled, stalked and interrogated by police from city to city andissued $200 fines for petty violations in an effort to “clean up”the streets—an act meant to appease tourists and suburbanites).These youth have built heavy armour to protect themselves froma society that has abandoned them. Although they are often onlyaround for days at a time, we at RaY are privileged that they havelet their guards down, even for a short time, in our presence. Weknow that we don’t often know the whole story, and sometimeswe wish we had more time to build relationships, but we hopethat even in those brief encounters we can show these youngpeople that we understand.At RaY we applaud the ingenuity and resilience of the travellers.We respect the quiet dignity they possess and their stubbornsolidarity. We have to ask ourselves, however, if this way of lifeis actually a conscious choice towards freedom or a prison theyhave created for themselves. Do we accept this way of life, or dowe actively intervene? When it comes to the travellers, it is a bitof a conundrum. While we want to be respectful of a carefullycrafted culture—one that is built as a way to be left alone—wefeel compelled to present what we feel is a healthier alternative.Because street life is not safe—this much we know. The balancebetween respecting street culture while advocating for thetravellers betterment continues to be a difficult struggle and alearning experience.“All of them unique. All of them similar. They are a tribe of sorts.”1