Vancouver’s cherished neighbourhoods hide a history of segregation and dispossession that continues to shape the city
Rishi Mittal (any/all) // Crew Writer
Ryan Coomber (he/him) // Contributing Visuals
Vancouver neighbourhoods stir deep emotion in its residents. From the wide, tree-lined streets in the west to the cosmopolitan immigrant hubs in the east. Vancouver is home to several distinct neighborhood pockets that people cherish and protect. But what makes areas like Kitsilano and Hastings-Sunrise or Chinatown and Punjabi Market different from each other? What are the residents protecting?
On July 28, 2026, the Vancouver City Council rejected the Villages Plan, which was an initiative for developing 17 areas in the city. The intention was to create “vibrant, complete neighbourhoods where people can live, shop and connect within a short five-minute walk.” But the Villages Plan had been in the works since 2022 and faced stiff opposition from residents. Critics expressed concern about the “one-size-fits-all approach” to city development, which did not consider the diversity of Vancouver neighbourhoods.
What is the neighbourhood character that critics feared would get lost in the pursuit of housing density? How did Vancouver’s neighbourhoods spring up in the first place, and what gave them their unique identities? It goes back to the founding of the city. It’s based on where and who got to own property. As a result, marginalized communities got left behind, including the Indigenous, racialized and the low-income working class.
This April marked the 140 year anniversary of “Vancouver” being incorporated as a city. But the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations have called this land home for thousands of years. They built a network of villages amongst the dense forests, marshes and rivers, living in harmony with nature for generations.
When settlers arrived in the 19th century, they saw economic opportunities. Through the Indian Act (1876) and its amendments like the Potlatch Ban (1884), the Canadian government stripped Indigenous peoples of their land rights, confined them to reserves and banned them from engaging in their cultural practices. Musqueam chief Delbert Guerin said in 1977, “in the short space of a hundred years, the City of Vancouver [had grown] up to [be] a huge monster.” And it continued to grow.
By the 20th century, colonial dispossession had led to a racial regime, visible in Vancouver’s employment and residential patterns. At the Hastings Mill, one of the biggest employers in early Vancouver, employees were segregated based on their race. Indigenous men, and later, non-European immigrants—from places like Chile, China and India—worked there for low wages.
Many of these immigrant workers found residence in nearby Strathcona, which became known as the city’s first residential neighbourhood. In its Southwest corner, a Black neighbourhood, Hogan’s Alley, soon emerged as well. The eastside was markedly different from neighbourhoods springing up on the west side of the city, like the West End and Fairview, which became home to the commercial elite. Vancouver grew in segregated bits and enclaves, marked by a confluence of race and class.
It became an unequal city, with some facing adverse effects on their health and safety. Neighbourhoods with racialized, working-class or unhoused populations, were underdeveloped and overpoliced, with fewer green spaces or investments into communal, recreational activities. These inequities continue today. An analysis written in 2024 by Hilary Horrobin, found that there is a decrease in tree canopy coverage as you move from Dunbar in the West to Grandview-Woodland in East Vancouver. Fewer trees lead to “lower air quality and higher temperatures.” This is especially dangerous in the summer months when warm air is “trapped by paved streets and plazas,” leading to various health complications.
The day before City Council rejected the Villages Plan, the Council had approved the construction of a trio of skyscrapers, including Vancouver’s largest ever hotel and British Columbia’s first “supertall” tower which promised to transform downtown. But the developer, Holburn, has a controversial history. In 2008, Holburn bought and demolished over 200 units of social housing near Queen Elizabeth Park, promising to replace it by 2010. The promise is still unfulfilled.
This summer, Vancouver hosted the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) World Cup. City officials promised increased economic activity, tourism, development and a greater presence on the world stage. There was little mention of the social cost and the disproportionate impact on vulnerable communities. These costs don’t magically disappear once the event ends. Much like in the past, with the 2010 Winter Olympics or the 1986 Expo, these events, warts and all, embed themself into the architecture of the city.
In his book, Becoming Vancouver, writer Daniel Francis says that “Vancouver becomes a new city every ten years.” What will the city celebrate when we hit the 150 year anniversary? Will the trends of differing communities facing discrimination and segregation continue? Or can we right our history, deepen solidarity and create a city for all?