by Simon Sellars

‘Subterrain #2: An Introduction’ was originally published in Subterrain magazine #2, July 2007.

Subterrain is a magazine that provides an opportunity for homeless and marginalised people, primarily those using the services at Ozanam Community Centre (see opposite), to tell their story. That’s about it as far as mantras or mission statements go. We’ve already published one edition, in November 2005, and that was a great success, relaying stories from Melbourne’s real ‘underground’ with candour and wit. We didn’t pull any punches and the feedback we received was that most who read it were moved by the emotions and intelligence on display. With that encouraging start behind us, we were grateful to the City of Melbourne’s Community Community Cultural Development program, which supplied us with further funding to publish a second edition.

And here we are, with some returning contributors plus a whole flock of new participants. As before, what strikes me is the honesty and the willingness of people to tell the story of their lives. There’s no shirking, no blaming others, no looking for a ‘free ride’, no denial of responsibility – none of the negative clichés that seem to stick to homeless people like mud or even shit, propagated by the mainstream media and smug members of the general public who think they know it all. No, in its place is simply that raw, naked willingness to get to the heart of the matter: ‘This is wrong; this is broken. And this is what I’m going to do about it.’

The theme of the first edition was the ways in which artistic and recreational projects can make a difference to the lives of ‘homeless and marginalised’ people. We profiled theatremakers, sportspeople, writers, poets, filmmakers and musicians who’ve worked with disadvantaged people, and we interviewed the participants themselves. The result was a compelling body of work and a clear message for the politicians to chew over: ‘The arts can, and have made a difference to people’s lives, and what the hell are you doing trying to cut funding?’

For this edition, an equally important theme began to emerge: that public housing and crisis accommodation in this country is woefully inadequate. It’s not that we consciously set out to document this issue, simply that in all the interviews we conducted – and in all the poetry and writing submissions we received – this was the central, crucial concern of people ‘living the life’: how do you find a safe, stable roof over your head when you are struggling with mental-health issues, or drug and alcohol issues? Where are the safety nets?

The stories and articles we present to you in this edition are straight from the horse’s mouth, with minimal interference from myself or my editorial team, save to record the stories and edit them in consultation with the clients. There’s no preaching here, but simply, again, that desire to tell it like it is. Because there’s nothing more annoying or frustrating or simply more wrong than a stable person from a good upbringing pontificating that all people living on the streets have it in their power to get off the streets, because apparently it’s ‘a level playing field and fundamentally we’re all the same’. But what if you do suffer from depression, or you’ve been sexually abused, or your family doesn’t give a stuff about you and kicks you out when you’re young and raw and scared, or you have a learning difficulty and you can’t break things down into simple, manageable chunks like looking for a place and paying the rent? Then, chances are, you’re on the streets, or you’re jammed into roach-infested dens not fit for dogs, presided over by standover men and predators of every stripe.

Do you think I’m being dramatic? Exaggerating to score lefty points? Stealing the voice of marginalised people to score street cred? In the course of putting together this edition I’ve been accused of all this (sometimes violently; I was actually threatened at one point) by certain people who can’t seem to accept that the facts are all that matters. OK, believe me, I’m no bleeding-heart liberal. I am what you might term a terminal cynic, but I’ve interviewed enough people for this edition to have had my eyes opened so wide I resemble Alex in A Clockwork Orange, eyelids permanently jammed open, unable to remove the ghastly truth from my line of sight.

In short, I never realised how bad the state of rooming houses and crisis accommodation is because I’ve never had to use these services, but more crucially because you just don’t hear about the conditions and squalor and abuse that goes on in these places. Sure, we can have celebrities blathering on in the papers about kicking their heroin addiction and ‘fighting their demons’, but as soon as ordinary people try to express themselves similarly the finger wagging starts.

But if a UN representative can come to this country and say we have some of the worst housing conditions he’s seen in the Western world, and that the government is not doing enough to house marginalised people in a dignified and humane manner (see p20), then it’s time for the rest of us to sit up and take notice. So let’s take this moment to thank everyone who contributed their story this time around because what we now have is another compelling body of evidence, and this time the message to politicians is still exactly the same as it was last edition: ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing cutting off funding?’

I want to end with words from some of our contributors, so you can judge for yourself:

‘I used to live in boarding houses, real shit holes, cockroaches in the kitchen – a real no-go zone. There’s plenty of violence at these places. Your room might get broken into or the owner might give you heroin on credit, and if you can’t pay then they stand over you.’ (Peter, p. 4)

‘Sometimes there would be blood and needles everywhere from people shooting up. Two blokes died in their rooms.’ (Phil, p. 14)

‘They were using drugs in their room, goes on for three months. I ring up the managers, ‘If I get stabbed or beaten up, what are you gonna do?’ And she said, ‘We have to warn three times and you have to come to the court.’ I said, ‘I’m not coming to the court. These guys, they’re looking at me like they’re gonna eat me. The eyes – the way they’re looking at me.’ (Chris, p. 16).

‘There’s not enough cheap, affordable housing, and as for rooming houses – well, if you live in a rooming house you’re classified as homeless because they’re that unsuitable. Some of them are really dangerous and nasty. I had someone pour fire accelerant under my door and light it.’ (Tojo, p. 22)

‘I’m living in Holland Court, the housing-commission building in Flemington. It’s too rough. The other night they tried to steal my neighbour’s car ’cause he hadn’t paid the money or something. I’m trying to get out of there. In the time I’ve been at Holland Court, two people have jumped out from the eighth floor.’ (Karen, p. 76)

And so on and so on.

Just telling it like it is, people. Still, it’s not all gloom, because once again we are including a healthy arts section: poems, lyrics and stories from those in the ey of the storm. Plus interviews with creative individuals who work with marginalised people – and conversations with the marginalised people themselves who are in turn creative individuals.

So, let’s get real reductive, then: Subterrain is all about two basic necessities of life – to develop a healthy, active mind and to secure a stable roof overhead. Along with food, that’s about as base as it gets. Why then, is the supply of these basics so low down on the government’s checklist? Search me: I don’t pretend to understand politics. However, after working on Subterrain I’d like to think I know a little bit more about life. And that’s the humble aim that we aim to impart to anyone reading this, too.

What’s the future of Subterrain? I don’t know. We’ve come to the end of our funding agreement. Once again, my sincere thanks to the City of Melbourne’s Cultural Development unit for all its help and encouragement. But if there’s any rich people – any corporations – out there, with a social conscience who’d like to see this magazine continue, well, you know where to find us: www.subterrain.org. If Jamie Oliver can swan into town and start up a restaurant with the aim of training homeless people, then surely a third edition of Subterrain is not too distant a prospect.