The Silent Crisis on Parksville’s Streets: When Survival Means Selling Your Dignity in the Cold

By a Concerned Oceanside Resident

In the picturesque coastal community of Parksville on Vancouver Island — known for its sandy beaches, retiree-friendly vibe, and quaint downtown — a dark underbelly festers unchecked as winter grips the region. While tourists flock here in summer for Rathtrevor Beach sunsets, a growing number of locals face nights of unimaginable desperation. With no permanent overnight shelter and extreme weather protocols that activate only in the most dire conditions, vulnerable people are left to fend for themselves in freezing temperatures. The result? A hidden epidemic of “survival sex,” where bodies are traded not for luxury or choice, but for a few hours of warmth in a motel room, a car, or a stranger’s home.

Women and young men—the most targeted demographic groups in this crisis—bear the brunt. Outreach workers and those with lived experience whisper of a grim reality: to escape the biting cold, many offer sexual favours to strangers circling the streets in vehicles. These predators — opportunistic locals or travellers passing through on Highway 19 — know Parksville’s vulnerabilities all too well. No overnight help means easy pickings. They prowl parking lots near the community park, the beach access points, or along the Alberni Highway, watching for silhouettes huddled in doorways or tents. A warm car seat, a motel key, or even a shared blanket becomes currency.

It’s not “sex work” in the empowered sense; it’s survival sex— a term used in studies across Canada for trading bodily autonomy to meet basic needs like shelter. Victims don’t advertise; who would admit it publicly? Shame silences them. They sell themselves for warmth, not safety, stepping into vehicles or rooms with people who could harm them further. Assault, robbery, or worse follow too often, yet reports stay low because trust in systems is eroded. No wonder many turn to drugs — methamphetamine, fentanyl, whatever numbs the cold and the trauma. Substances dull the chill seeping into bones and quiet the fear of the next approach. But they also heighten risks, impairing judgment in already perilous situations.

This isn’t unique to Parksville, but our small-town isolation amplifies it. In Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, predators have long trolled for vulnerable women, leading to infamous cases like missing-persons inquiries. On Vancouver Island, surveys of unhoused women reveal rampant sexual violence due to lack of safe spaces. In Victoria or Nanaimo, similar stories emerge: youth trading favours for a couch, only to face exploitation. A McCreary Centre Society study on street-involved boys in Western Canada highlighted how young men, often overlooked, face sexual exploitation too — coerced or desperate in ways society ignores because it challenges stereotypes.

Yet in Parksville, with its affluent image, the silence is deafening. Community “not in my backyard” resistance has stalled permanent solutions for years. As of this winter 2025 season, Parksville has no scheduled overnight shelter, according to statements from BC Housing and local reports. Past efforts, like church-rotated cold-weather mats or temporary warming centres, have been inconsistent or closed amid community pushback over location and funding. Thankfully some churches do step in heroically during cold snaps, like Oceanside Community Church, opening as a warming spot, but it’s patchwork. Extreme-weather shelters — those rare lifelines — open only when temperatures plummet to near-freezing with rain or wind, or during severe alerts. In recent years, these shelters have activated sporadically, often too late or with limited beds, leaving dozens on the streets even during arctic outflows.

How bad must it get before a door opens without bureaucracy? This lack of response isn’t just inconvenient — it’s lethal in its indifference. Point-in-time homeless counts in the Oceanside area (Parksville-Qualicum) hover around 90-100 people, many of them long-term residents who’ve lived here for years but fallen through the cracks of soaring rents, mental health crises, addiction, or job loss. Daytime warming centres exist in some seasons, but come nightfall, options vanish. No motel-voucher programs, no reliable emergency beds. Citizens can’t afford $150+ for a room when minimum-wage jobs barely cover food. The Regional District and task forces talk, but nights pass without action.

And so, the horrors unfold after dark.

How can we, as a community, face ourselves knowing this happens blocks from our warm homes? Tourists sip coffee at cafes while, nearby, a young woman negotiates her body heat against frostbite. A teen boy, after couch-surfing fails, accepts a ride that could end in horror.

Parksville prides itself on compassion — beach cleanups, food drives. But for the unhoused at night, compassion is absent. Predators thrive because vulnerability is guaranteed. Women and young men pay the highest price, their dignity eroded one freezing night at a time.

It’s time to demand better: year-round low-barrier shelters, expanded supportive housing like the successful Orca Place model, and real extreme-weather responses that prioritize lives. Meanwhile, Manna Homeless Society is doing its very best searching the Parksville streets at night trying to locate these vulnerable people and offer them warmth and safety.

This crisis shames us all. If we ignore it, the streets will claim more than warmth — they’ll claim lives, one desperate transaction at a time. Parksville, wake up before another winter buries our humanity in the cold.

Thanks for your kindness and compassion.

Robin Campbell

Manna Homeless Society

Monetary donations can be made by e-transfer to:

MannaParksville@gmail.com

Or cheques can be sent to:

Manna Homeless Society

PO Box 389

Errington BC VOR 1VO