The morning Sandra Davidson opened her mail to find a $920 monthly rent increase notice, she sat stunned at her kitchen table. After seven stable years in their Vancouver Island housing co-operative, she and her husband Paul suddenly faced a 63% jump in housing costs—with barely a month’s notice.
“I thought there was a mistake,” Sandra told me when I visited their modest two-bedroom unit in Nanaimo last week. “We’ve always understood co-ops as affordable housing alternatives. This feels like we’re being pushed out.”
The Davidsons represent a growing cohort of Canadians caught in an unexpected affordability crisis within co-operative housing—a model long celebrated for offering stable, community-oriented living at below-market rates. But as operating costs surge across British Columbia, many co-ops are making difficult decisions that challenge their foundational principles.
Their co-op board cites skyrocketing insurance premiums, deferred maintenance costs, and the expiration of a CMHC operating agreement that previously subsidized their mortgage. The board’s treasurer explained they postponed increases during the pandemic, creating a financial gap that now requires dramatic action.
“We’ve hit a perfect storm,” said Marcus Chen, the co-op’s board president. “Our insurance doubled in three years, our building needs critical repairs, and we lost federal support. We’re not corporate landlords—we’re residents ourselves facing impossible choices.”
The situation highlights a larger crisis unfolding across British Columbia’s co-operative housing sector. According to the Co-operative Housing Federation of BC, approximately 240 housing co-ops in the province house around 15,000 households. Many were developed decades ago under federal programs that provided mortgage assistance with agreements now expiring.
“We’re seeing similar scenarios play out across the province,” said Thom Armstrong, executive director of the Co-operative Housing Federation of BC. “When these federal agreements end, co-ops must become self-sufficient overnight, often without adequate reserve funds or transition planning.”
For the Davidsons, both seniors on fixed incomes, the situation feels particularly precarious. Paul, 72, recently recovered from heart surgery. Sandra, 68, manages their household budget meticulously. Their combined pension income of $3,200 monthly means the increase would consume over half their income for housing alone.
“We’ve looked at apartments, but there’s nothing close to what we could afford,” Sandra explained, showing me rental listings on her tablet. “Even basement suites are going for $1,800 now. We might have to leave the island altogether.”
What makes their situation particularly distressing is that co-operative housing was designed specifically to prevent such housing insecurity. Created as an alternative to both market rentals and homeownership, co-ops typically operate at cost, with residents becoming members who collectively own and govern the property.
BC’s Residential Tenancy Act doesn’t apply to co-ops, as members are technically shareholders rather than tenants. This means co-ops can set their own policies regarding housing charges, governance, and subsidy programs—flexibility that has historically benefited residents but now leaves some vulnerable.
The provincial government recently announced a $500 million investment to develop new co-op and non-profit housing. However, critics note this funding doesn’t address the immediate crisis facing existing co-ops struggling with expired federal agreements.
“We need emergency bridge funding for co-ops in transition,” said housing advocate Jill Atkey of the BC Non-Profit Housing Association. “Building new affordable housing is crucial, but we’re losing existing affordable units faster than we’re creating them.”
Data from Statistics Canada shows the average one-bedroom apartment in Nanaimo now rents for approximately $1,450, a 25% increase from just three years ago. For seniors like the Davidsons, relocation options are increasingly limited.
“We’ve contributed to this community for decades,” Paul said, gesturing toward the garden he’s maintained for the co-op since 2016. “Now we feel disposable.”
Some co-ops have managed this transition by gradually increasing housing charges over several years, developing internal subsidy programs, or securing financing for capital improvements. However, these approaches require long-term planning that many co-ops lacked.
After speaking with several residents and board members at the Davidsons’ co-op, I found a community divided. Some members feel the dramatic increase is necessary for the co-op’s survival, while others believe it betrays their founding principles of affordability and security.
“We’re supposed to be looking out for each other,” said longtime resident Eleanor Kwon, who serves on the finance committee. “I understand the financial reality, but we need to find solutions that don’t displace our most vulnerable members.”
The co-op’s board has since called an emergency meeting to discuss potential compromises, including phasing in increases over 18 months and establishing an internal subsidy fund for seniors and low-income members. But with limited reserves, their options remain constrained.
For now, the Davidsons wait anxiously, unsure if they’ll be able to remain in the community they’ve called home for nearly a decade. Their situation highlights how quickly housing security can unravel, even in models designed to protect residents from market volatility.
“Co-ops were supposed to be different,” Sandra reflected as we concluded our conversation. “If even co-operative housing can’t remain affordable, what hope is there for anyone just trying to keep a roof over their head?”
