In the bustling heart of Vancouver’s Little Manila neighborhood, community leader Maria Santos stands amid the wreckage of what should have been a joyous celebration. Three weeks after a violent attack disrupted the annual Pinoy Summer Festival, the emotional scars remain far deeper than the physical cleanup would suggest.
“This wasn’t just an attack on a festival,” Santos tells me, her voice steady but tired. “This was an assault on our sense of belonging in Canada.”
The August 15th attack, which left 17 people injured when a vehicle drove through festival barriers, has become what community advocates are now calling a “social disaster” requiring a more comprehensive government response.
Walking through the neighborhood with Santos, the resilience is palpable. Storefronts display “Malakas Tayo” (We Are Strong) signs. Children play in parks again. But beneath this veneer of normalcy, a community is still healing.
Ernesto Balagtas, 68, who has lived in Vancouver for over three decades, sits outside his small grocery store. “In all my years here, I never felt unsafe until now,” he confides. “My grandchildren ask why someone would target our celebration. What do I tell them?”
The RCMP confirmed last week that they are investigating the incident as a potential hate crime, though no charges have been filed against the 42-year-old suspect currently in custody. The investigation has sparked renewed calls for strengthened hate crime legislation.
Provincial data reveals a troubling 41% increase in reported anti-Asian incidents across British Columbia since 2021, according to the B.C. Human Rights Commission‘s latest annual report. Filipino-Canadians, who number approximately 837,000 nationwide based on the 2021 census, have faced a disproportionate share of this increase.
Premier David Eby visited the community yesterday, announcing a $250,000 emergency support fund for festival recovery and mental health services. While welcomed, community leaders argue the response doesn’t address deeper issues.
“The province’s financial support helps with immediate needs,” explains Dr. Maria Castillo from the University of British Columbia’s Center for Migration Studies. “But what we’re witnessing is a community experiencing collective trauma requiring longer-term interventions.”
The federal government’s response has been notably limited. Despite Public Safety Minister Marco Mendicino’s statement condemning the attack, concrete federal assistance has not materialized. This stands in contrast to the $3.5 million emergency fund established following the 2022 attack on a Sikh temple in Surrey.
“There seems to be a hierarchy of which communities deserve rapid, comprehensive support,” says immigration lawyer James Chen. “Filipino-Canadians contribute billions to our economy, yet when crisis strikes, the response feels muted.”
Community organizers have established their own support networks in the gap. The Filipino-Canadian Alliance has created a volunteer security team for future events. Local counselors offer free trauma services at the community center. Small businesses have donated over $50,000 to help vendors who lost equipment and inventory during the attack.
Santos leads me to a wall of photos displaying festival memories from previous years. “Look at these faces – children, grandparents, newcomers, third-generation Canadians. This is who was attacked. This is who needs protection.”
For Vancouver’s Filipino community, the incident has prompted difficult conversations about visibility and vulnerability. Some wonder if future cultural celebrations should maintain a lower profile. Others, like community activist Joey Sanchez, argue forcefully against retreat.
“Hiding our culture is exactly what those who hate us want,” Sanchez says during a community meeting at the Filipino Cultural Center. “We’re not just fighting for festival permits but for our right to exist publicly as Filipino-Canadians.”
The city has taken notice. Vancouver Mayor Ken Sim met with festival organizers last week to discuss enhanced security measures for future cultural events. The Vancouver Police Department has increased patrols in neighborhoods with significant Filipino populations and established a dedicated liaison officer.
However, community leaders emphasize that policing alone won’t address the underlying issue. “What happened here isn’t isolated,” explains Santos. “It’s connected to rising xenophobia we’re seeing nationwide, often fueled by misinformation online.”
Social media analysis by the Canadian Anti-Hate Network found a 300% increase in anti-Filipino content across major platforms in the six months preceding the attack. These posts frequently contained false claims about immigration status and employment.
For younger Filipino-Canadians, the attack has sparked a political awakening. Twenty-three-year-old nursing student Leila Reyes has helped organize weekly community forums addressing safety concerns.
“My parents came here so we could live without fear,” Reyes tells me outside the latest meeting. “Now we’re organizing to ensure that promise is kept for future generations.”
As federal election season approaches, the community’s political engagement has intensified. All major parties have been invited to upcoming town halls focused specifically on community safety and anti-hate initiatives.
“Politicians visit when they need votes,” notes Santos with a wry smile. “We’re making sure they visit now when we need action.”
Back at the festival site, preparations have already begun for next year’s celebration. Volunteers paint new barriers with bright Filipino-inspired designs. The message is clear: this community refuses to be defined by one act of violence.
As the sun sets over Vancouver’s eastside, Santos takes one final look at the site. “Next year’s festival will be our biggest yet,” she says. “That’s not just defiance – it’s a declaration that we belong here. Always have, always will.”
