The Myth of Sisyphus: The Uphill Battle Against Gentrification in West Queen West

A visit to Queen West

 

In September 2014, Queen West was ranked No.2 in Vogue magazine’s “15 coolest neighborhoods in the world. " Despite calling Toronto home, we were eager to make our inaugural visit.

 

The magazine had described the neighborhood as “a verifiable artery of indie patisseries, homegrown labels, and hidden-from-view galleries—hallmarks of hipness if ever they existed. [There’re] well-established “art” hotels [like] The Drake and the Gladstone. Soho House Toronto is nearby, as is Graffiti Alley, a block where street art is both 100 percent legal and lauded.”

 

Walking down the streets of Queen West, we were hit with a different reality. The artery of hipness wasn’t quite so verifiable–homegrown labels shadowed by popular retail chains, and Graffiti Alley stood quiet and still. As historic buildings fell and local businesses shuttered, even the iconic Drake and Gladstone hotels seemed threatened by their encroaching surroundings. To a visitor, this culture of “hipness” was long gone.

 

Where was Vogue’s Queen West? Or was it having an identity crisis?

 

The Rise of Queen West

 

While Vogue’s characterization might not ring true today, it was a perfect reflection of the old Queen West. Thirty years ago, this dynamic community stood as a testament to the collective efforts of generations of residents.

 

Surprisingly, the area initially emerged as an industrial suburb with scattered factories and storage facilities. Following the industry decline in the 60s, it transformed from a peaceful neighborhood to a slum haunted by poverty, theft, and drugs. 

 

Vacant factories were converted into affordable studios. Attracted by the low cost, artists rushed to the Queen Street West area, catalyzing its growth from slum to creative engine.

 

Community involvement has long been a marker of Queen West. Artists and locals came together to build creative, cooperative spaces like studios and theatres. The art community even galvanized local infrastructure, renovating iconic businesses, including bookstores, antique shops, second-hand clothing stores, restaurants, and bars. 

 

New Challenge: Gentrification

 

Amid this renaissance, real estate developers swooped in to capitalize on Queen West’s cultural identity. Affordable spaces were replaced with upscale condos and ironically, the artists who poured their heart and soul into cementing Queen West's culture of cool were forced to move to Bathurst, Ossington, and Roncesvalles and Dundas.

 

Gentrification, having reshaped other great cities, had bulldozed its way through Queen West.

 

Active 18:

 

As the corpses of heritage buildings gave way to highrise condos, the culture that was once the community’s heartbeat continued to be drowned out by invading construction. Creatives were swept away, leaving behind an empty husk of superficial marketing. In light of this development boom, Queen West advocates became concerned with the area’s looming identity crisis. 

 

In 2005, the development plan to demolish a series of factory-turned-living spaces and replace them with condominiums kickstarted the outflow of local artists and marked the start of the gentrification of Queen West. Franco Boni, the Former General and Artistic Director of the Theatre Centre, witnessed the impact of this exodus of artists and local small businesses firsthand. “These family-run businesses, like your butcher, your cheese shop, start to shred and move away because it’s too expensive to rent a storefront. The condominium comes in, and suddenly the rent of the storefront triples or quadruples.” With a call from Margret Zeidler, owner of the Drake and Gladstone hotels, the community joined forces to contemplate its future, and Active 18 was born. 

 

As an activist group for the West Queen West Triangle, Active 18 stood at the forefront of the battle against gentrification. When condo plans unfolded, they pushed to preserve affordable living spaces while working closely with developers, urban planners, and the city government to ensure that developments wouldn’t encroach on the activity of local artists and businesses. Their mission wasn’t to chase away developers but to act as negotiators and reimagine a neighborhood where new developments and iconic establishments could coexist.  

 

When we stumbled across Active 18’s website, the group had been inactive for almost ten years. By the time we reached out to its members, many had already moved out of the area and went on to pursue their careers elsewhere.

 

Two members of Active 18’s steering committee, Franco Boni and Sam Bietenholz, were still in Toronto and willing to talk about their experience fighting for the spirit of Queen West. Although it's been ten years since the group dissolved, their stories were lucid and detailed.

 

Boni explained that with the disappearance of factory buildings, Queen West lost yet another communal hub. “It was intense. We met once a week for many, many years… People were very interested in engaging with this concept of good design. If you’re going to tear these buildings down, we don’t want homogenous condo buildings. Now, the irony is, that’s what we got. You just have to go down the neighborhood and look, you know, it’s not inspiring.”

 

Eventually, a compromise was reached, and some heritage buildings were preserved under the Heritage Act. However, Bietenholz stressed the need to safeguard the community's heritage authentically: “Something that is very ineffective but is done a lot is you keep the skin of the building, but don't keep the interior. To me, it looks nice, but it doesn't really function.”

 

Active 18 advocated for social and community development in the design of Lisgar Park, a site that marks a minor triumph in the uphill battle against gentrification. Despite this achievement, you can sense the disappointment in his voice. Bietenholz repeatedly mentions the ever-changing nature of the city. “I understand that Cities have to change. They are living things; they're like people; they grow up, they get old, they die… They have to evolve, and we’re hoping to help the neighborhood change for the better.” With the outflow of artists, the condo boom, and the influx of retail giants, it seems like Queen West's nature is being stifled rather than given the opportunity to evolve. 

 

The battle against gentrification is reminiscent of the tragic hero, Sisyphus. Ultimately, as factories were demolished, the boulder activists had painstakingly pushed uphill, and came crashing down. Boni’s regretful tone is evident as he reflects on Active 18’s legacy: “We managed to get some things, you know, but not enough. We wanted to save the old buildings. And… we just couldn’t do it.”

 

But perhaps Sisyphus’ efforts weren’t completely in vain. In the myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus writes, "The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

 

Sisyphus of the modern world:

 

Does the fall of Active 18 imply that we should just succumb to gentrification? 

 

Ever since the 70s, when Jane Jacobs and other civil activists successfully stopped the construction of the Spadina Expressway, Torontonians have been fighting for future generations. The tireless resistance of activist groups embodies the spirit of Toronto as Sisyphus—refusing to yield in the face of gentrification.

 

Active 18’s value lies not in its action but in its spirit. It's a beacon of hope for future activists, inspiring them to continue the fight against urban development gone awry. Toronto's rebellious spirit isn't just home to Queen St. West; it extends to every corner of the city, drawing a diverse and dynamic crowd of changemakers.

 

“Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody,” – Jane Jacobs, author of The Death and Life of Great American Cities. ​