In this issue
Nearly 100 of Ontario’s embattled care homes are run by third-party operators—a management arrangement often invisible to the families of residents. Now, analysis by The Local has found that COVID-19 death rates at facilities outsourced to Extendicare, the largest operator in Ontario, are 81 percent higher than the industry average.
What good is public health information if nobody hears it?
The devastation in seniors homes during COVID-19 was the predictable result of decades of indifference and neglect. From Victorian poorhouses to sites of mass death—the shameful history of our long-term care system.
Temporarily housing homeless people in hotels was supposed to protect them during the pandemic. Why are residents overdosing and dying in the isolation of their own rooms?
The parishioners at San Lorenzo are a tight-knit group of Latin American immigrants and refugees. When the pandemic forced the church's doors to close, Father Hernan Astudillo decided to bring faith and community to them.
The problems in Toronto’s schools didn’t start with COVID-19—our underfunded education system has been in a slow-motion crisis for decades.
In many immigrant families, elders are the pillars of the household. With COVID-19 revealing flaws in the way we treat seniors, what can society learn from how different cultures value aging?
In a city of immigrants, non-English language newspapers play a critical role in the fight against COVID-19. Can they survive the pandemic?
Throughout the pandemic, temporary foreign workers have worked in cramped quarters under unsafe conditions to keep our pantries stocked. Is it time they were given a pathway to permanent residency?
How Canada’s secretive, byzantine, Cold War-era stockpile system left us unprepared for COVID-19.
In this issue
Toronto’s anti-noise movement began in the 1930s. Ever since, noise policing has been inextricably linked with issues of race, class, and power.
The constant beeping, talking, and overhead paging aren’t just an annoyance—they can lead to delirium, longer recovery times, and even sleeping pill addiction.
As someone who’s half-deaf, I’ve always moved between two Torontos—the surface city and the muted, shadowy one beneath it.
Fights around Toronto’s unofficial music venues reveal a stark reality—there is noise this city values, and noise it doesn’t.
Overlapping Zoom calls, fights between siblings, enraging neighbourhood pool parties—the maddening, unending sounds of a stay-at-home crisis.
In this issue
What a bus route reveals about race, class, and social vulnerability during a pandemic.
We don't usually think of Toronto as a travel destination. But when the tourism industry imploded overnight, the effects rippled across the city.
When my father died, heading downtown was a way to escape my grief. Now, under lockdown, I see him everywhere.
COVID has amplified social issues that have long existed at Jane and Finch. It’s also revealed the resiliency of the community.
For years, I’d been craving the community and intimacy of small-town life. Then the pandemic hit and I found that it had been around me the whole time.
For the millions of Torontonians with family overseas, COVID has meant not just navigating our own lockdowns, but living through theirs as well.
I never thought I’d own a car. Now I’m stockpiling groceries and driving through the zoo, locked safe inside my vehicle like the Pope.
The ferry is empty. Beavers and mallards rustle through the bush. Without visitors, life on the Toronto Island is quiet and peaceful. It all feels terribly wrong.