Mrs. Denise is sitting at the same computer station as usual; she has been looking for a new place to live for several months now. Luckily, her lease was past the 1ster July. Her concern was legitimate and palpable, recently. It is that in addition to renting their homes at exorbitant prices in order to make their mortgage expenses profitable within five years, the owners prefer to respond curtly to her emails rather than call her back. The situation is absurd for someone who does not have access to a computer at home.
Mrs. Guylaine is sitting right across the table. Looking for a job, she has to upload her resume to different platforms, each with their own requirements, their own peculiarities, and their own complexities. She has to pay to print papers. Sign papers. Scan papers. Return papers. Then wait for a miracle.
Mr. Roger, who occupies the third available position, wants to register for online courses. He initially tried to do it in person, on site, but the receptionist insisted that he go through the Web. Last year, he had taken basic computer courses with us so that he could use a keyboard and mouse, at least minimally. In all likelihood, he was forward-thinking.
Abandon
In addition to their high level of distress (as an article by Jessica Nadeau highlighted at the end of June in The duty), these people represent above all in a concrete way the abandonment of the general population by the different levels of government.
Let me be clear: this is no longer just about the political class abandoning the most vulnerable. It is about the abandonment of anyone who is not white and wealthy.
And if you were wondering where the majority of this population abandoned by the leaders they trusted is, look no further. It converges at the public library.
Teens take advantage of our spaces and our public Wi-Fi. Young people struggling in a school system held at arm’s length by teachers come to do their homework after school. People who struggle to eat three times a day come to read without breaking the bank. Parents take part in our activities with their children, having failed to find a place in daycare. Women come to discuss the unpunished attacks they have experienced in feminist reading circles. People from LGBTQ+ communities come to discover voices that resemble them. University students escape from their three roommates, looking for a little peace and quiet in our home. Immigrants, full of goodwill, come to borrow methods to learn French, late at night, when the children are in bed.
The list is still long, of course, but the essential is there: libraries represent one of the rare social safety nets still in place in Quebec. The too many Liberal, PQ or CAQ axe blows of the last few decades have got the better of all other infrastructures.
Social isolation and precariousness are phenomena that are currently taking on catastrophic proportions. But the scapegoats (read here: trans people and immigrants) pointed out by men in power are not fooling anyone.
So all is not over. We have the numbers, the books and the solidarity on our side. For Mrs. Denise, for Mrs. Guylaine, for Mr. Roger and for all the others.