Jenna Rizvi was spending a significant chunk of their time organizing naloxone training workshops and fentanyl testing strip distribution events. But this isn’t what they do for work; they were volunteering during their first year as a student at the University of British Columbia (UBC) in Vancouver.

In the 2021/22 school year, students at UBC relied on student groups like the Social Justice Centre (SJC) and the Alma Mater Society (AMS), the university’s independent student union, for drug- testing supplies. Rizvi, now a third-year UBC student and member of the SJC’s harm reduction working group, says the university was not widely providing these resources to students at the time.

Now, two years later, UBC offers drug testing supplies to students. But Rizvi says issues remain, particularly around harm reduction policies in student residence. Despite the start of a new provincial decriminalization program earlier this year, residents in collective living situations in B.C., like students in UBC dorms, could be subject to a range of drug policies, including some that severely restrict their use.

In January 2023, the B.C. government launched a three-year pilot program to decriminalize the possession of small amounts of certain drugs to help address the province’s ongoing toxic drug crisis. Under the new program, adults over the age of 18 cannot be charged or arrested for possession of 2.5 grams or less of opioids, crack-cocaine, powder cocaine, meth, and MDMA. Instead, law enforcement is supposed to offer information on local health services and, if requested, treatment options.

“The Province decriminalized people who use drugs to fight the shame and stigma of addictions. Breaking down these barriers will help create new pathways to life-saving services and care, so more people will feel comfortable reaching out for lifesaving supports,” a media relations spokesperson from the B.C. Ministry of Mental Health and Addictions wrote in a statement to This.

But, according to the ministry, drug use on private property may continue to be prohibited in many cases. For people living in collective housing, this could mean they are subject to different policies depending on where they live.

More than 15,000 student residents live on campus at the two biggest universities in B.C.—UBC and the University of Victoria (UVic)—and they are subject to stricter policies. According to the UVic 2023/24 residence contract, the possession, use, or trafficking of illegal drugs could result “in eviction from your Accommodation and/or referral to the Office of Student Life, and/ or the Saanich Police Department.”

In a June statement, a UVic spokesperson said “UVic’s housing policies are adapted every year to ensure the best possible experience for students living on campus. We make changes based on our expertise in creating a safe and healthy university residence community, as well as evolving provincial and federal laws.”

The spokesperson said it was too early to tell how the decriminalization program would affect UVic’s policies, but that the university will continue to monitor and adjust as necessary. When asked if UVic believed this policy followed a harm reduction approach, the spokesperson said all UVic residence staff take such an approach.

Meanwhile, UBC changed the language around the consequences for drug possession and use in its 2023/24 year-round and winter session residence contracts following student advocacy.

Previously, possession, use, and trafficking could result in eviction and referral to the police. Now, possession and use could lead to “the application of Residence Standards points (which could result in an Eviction) or discretionary sanctions,” while the consequences for trafficking remain the same.

“Given the decriminalization of some drugs for personal use in B.C., we are currently working to update the language in our housing contracts to reflect that change,” Matthew Ramsey, director of university affairs at UBC’s media relations department, said in a statement.

“Regardless of the evolution of the language in the contract, our practice will continue to be what it has for some time in these situations—to focus on the wellbeing of our residents.”

Ramsey added that only one student resident has been evicted over the past three years due to illegal drug use that had “repeated and significant impacts on other residents.”

Kamil Kanji, the vice-president academic and university affairs of the AMS, says the new language is a step in the right direction, though more needs to be done.

But Rizvi says the tone of the housing contract remains the same, despite the new language. “The idea that [the housing contract] is based in is the same which is, ‘We’re anti drugs and we’re not trying to help you,’” they say. Rizvi acknowledges the low number of evictions resulting from UBC’s housing contract, but they say the inclusion of such policies creates stigma regardless, reinforcing the idea that it’s okay for people who use drugs to be unhoused and have barriers around education.

In contrast, those at temporary and long-term shelters for unhoused people could potentially expect more lenient rules than those in residence. B.C. Housing, which partners with non-profit shelter operators across the province, follows the Housing First model that emphasizes housing as a basic need and doesn’t impose barriers to access, according to a statement sent to This in June. However, they noted that it is ultimately up to individual non-profit operators to set their own shelter policies.

Of the four Vancouver shelter operators that responded to This by press time, two, Lookout Society and PHS Community Services Society, have open drug use policies. The other two—Directions Youth Services and the Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre Association—will not turn away or kick out those who use drugs.

Directions Youth Services, a division of Family Services of Greater Vancouver, offers shelter for people aged 13 to 25. “Our primary goal is to help youth access the services they need to stabilize so they can start to figure out what’s next for them,” says director Claire Ens.

In the meantime, public health researchers and advocates across the province are celebrating the start of the decriminalization program, but say additional measures are needed— particularly as some B.C. towns are trying to bypass the program through new bylaws and Conservative politicians criticize the program.

At UBC, Kanji and AMS president Esmé Decker say the AMS is continuing to work with the university to expand existing drug safety resources on campus, including increasing access to fentanyl and spectrometer testing and creating information campaigns on drug use. Fentanyl testing relies on strips (think pH test strips) to detect traces of fentanyl in a given sample, while spectrometer testing uses infrared light to detect up to six substances in a sample.

Rizvi says UBC should adopt a medical amnesty policy in student housing— something she says the SJC and the Canadian Students for Sensible Drug Policies have called for. A medical amnesty policy would allow students to seek help during an overdose without facing repercussions from the university or law enforcement.

Whether it’s around housing or policies that affect campus more broadly, Rizvi says UBC should adopt a more neutral stance on drug use that encourages learning and reduces stigma.

“Let students adhere to what is provincially and federally the law and aside from that, [UBC] doesn’t really have a place, as I see it, in enforcing anything beyond that.”

Image courtesy of Dopamine Montréal.

A pride flag flaps defiantly in the wind above a welcoming front porch. A basket of free naloxone kits hangs on the front door. On the wall upstairs, a poster reads “Activities to avoid dying sad/to make you happy” and lists acupuncture, bowling, and picnics.

This is the home of Dopamine Montréal. Just like its namesake, Dopamine uptakes and releases a rush of essential resources to those who use illicit drugs. But the organization operates under the spectre of the law: Clients, many of whom are low-income or houseless, struggle to access employment, housing, and security as long as drug use is criminalized.

Montreal is considered a progressive urban centre, located in a province with relatively strong social services like universal daycare and subsidized college programs. When it comes to tackling the overdose crisis, though, the city is in traction. According to the Public Health Agency of Canada, 541 people died from an opioid-related drug overdose in Quebec in 2022, an increase of nearly 20 percent from the year before. Emergency interventions in the city of Montreal were reportedly four times as frequent in 2022 as they were before the pandemic. These numbers paint an incomplete picture, however. CACTUS Montréal, another harm reduction organization that serves the Gay Village, recorded a 350 percent increase in overdose deaths in the city from 2019 to 2022—about one per day. According to their numbers, as of this January, the rate has jumped to two per day.

Harm reduction groups such as Dopamine and CACTUS are filling the gaps in community care. Established in 1994 amid the HIV/AIDS crisis, Dopamine serves the Hochelaga- Maisonneuve neighbourhood through a day centre located in a converted home and a supervised injection site (SIS) a few streets over that operates from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. After what CACTUS says was a decade-long bureaucratic process involving loads of paperwork and city approval, the SIS opened in 2017 alongside CACTUS Montréal’s.

Dopamine was founded on three core values: humanism, accessibility, and solidarity. The words reinforce that Dopamine is part of a political struggle against the conditions that create poverty and lead to people being incarcerated for drug-related crimes.

Executive director Martin Pagé knows how the cycle works; he’s seen it firsthand through his personal experience and through Dopamine’s staff, several of whom used or continue to use their services. “We are par et pour,” he says, both by and for the community. Criminalizing drugs pushes the market underground, where products are cut with riskier substances, such as often-deadly fentanyl or carfentanil, at variable concentrations. Once someone’s drug use is made legible through a criminal record, barriers to housing and employment get even taller. “It’s the exact opposite of what they should be doing,” Pagé says. Without safe, controlled injection sites that provide sterile tools, the risk of contracting HIV or Hepatitis C grows significantly.

At Dopamine, academic experience and lived experience are both valued and essential to fostering trust with clients. Intervention coordinator Yanick Paradis has worked at Dopamine for 18 years, with 12 years of street work experience. Many staff and casual employees are users themselves, Paradis explains. “We involve the people who visit the organization at different levels,” he says. “We will compensate people for their work, no matter what kind, whether it’s lawn mowing or a service offer…Ideally, our group is led by the community.”

As the organization has a history rooted in the AIDS epidemic, an integral part of their community mandate is to make health services accessible. Dopamine runs a drop-in medical clinic every Tuesday for their regular clients. Though it’s not a totally effective alternative to Quebec’s crumbling health-care infrastructure, the clinic focuses on preventive care and follow-ups for those who face barriers to access. “We reflected on how we could bring community health closer, and have health care that gives people positive experiences,” Pagé explains.

Pagé says the pandemic exacerbated every problem the community group sees. Clients are in increasingly precarious housing situations; the social safety net is eroding and organizations like theirs represent the last threads. And sex workers, immigrants, and trans people all find themselves at the intersection of socioeconomic instability and government negligence.

As paramedics administered naloxone a record high of 291 times in the city in 2022, according to Radio-Canada, drug testing has become one of the most crucial services Dopamine and CACTUS have to offer. Data gathered by CACTUS reports that Montreal’s Gay Village is at the epicentre of the overdose crisis in Quebec. But municipal and provincial governments are not treating it that way, though there’s precedent to do better. British Columbia was granted a federal exemption to decriminalize possession of illicit substances weighing less than 2.5 grams in January of this year, while the city of Toronto began the process of applying for the same exemption in 2021. Long-progressive Edmonton, often subject to Alberta’s conservative political lean despite its ability to operate separately, tabled a motion to decriminalize drugs within the city. Over 100 harm reduction groups across the country support the Canadian Drug Policy Coalition’s proposal to make all drugs legal for personal use nationwide— but fierce opposition from some premiers, municipal governments and lobbyist groups makes it unlikely to move forward.

In the summer of 2022, Mayor Valérie Plante told the CBC that she supported the idea of decriminalization in Montreal. Her administration has yet to apply for the same exemption.

The municipal government’s vague response illustrates just how easy it is to shirk responsibility for a manufactured crisis. “We are actually in a worse situation than we were [in] the HIV pandemic,” says Jean-François Mary, CACTUS’s executive director. “Because actually, in those days, there was a real partnership between public health and community organizations.” In the 1990s, a Quebec coalition representing 31 community organizations gave presentations to a federal committee to advocate for increased funding and support. Now, Mary says that public health officials are detached from the reality of intervention on the ground, hindering their approach to resource allocation.

“They talk, we die,” is the slogan CACTUS and Dopamine jointly rallied behind at a protest in early April. They are pushing for decriminalization, increased funding from Quebec’s public health division, and a non-prohibitive approach to the overdose crisis. “And Valérie Plante is talking,” says Mary. “But what are they doing? What have they done?”

CACTUS provided the municipal government with the paperwork to apply for the exemption, according to Mary. In an email to This, the city’s media relations office referred to a non-partisan motion adopted by city councillors in 2021, asserting that they were in favour of decriminalizing simple possession and calling on the city to apply for the exemption. But they did not confirm that an application was in the works. They did say the “[police] will continue to apply the law.”

People working on the ground know that prohibition won’t help those already pushed to the margins. “An important saying in harm reduction is if you can’t help, then at least try to do no harm,” Pagé says. Whether Montreal’s policymakers will heed this duty of care remains to be seen.