Browsing Category 'Migrant'

An Op-Ed by Joyce Valbuena (Centre d’appui aux Philippines/Centre for Philippine Concerns) 

First appearing at Montreal Serai and reproduced with permission

Illustration by Oleg Dergachov. Oleg Dergachov is a Ukrainian painter, graphic artist, cartoonist and sculptor who works and teaches in his cozy Westmount studio in Montreal.

Illustration by Oleg Dergachov. Oleg Dergachov is a Ukrainian painter, graphic artist, cartoonist and sculptor who works and teaches in his cozy Westmount studio in Montreal.

Montreal | One of the biggest challenges of migrating to another country is leaving your family behind. In most cases the reason is economics. If you are from a developing country, it becomes inevitable for at least one person in the family to go abroad to generate enough income to send kids to school, pay hospital bills, pay loans or land mortgages, be able to build one’s own house, or even just to be able to feed one’s family.

Being away, a migrant learns to cope with everything on his own. During times when a migrant faces dilemmas and prejudices, the love for the family gives him/her strength. When the strong typhoon Haiyan hit the province of Leyte in the Philippines, many of the migrants here in Montreal felt very anxious and worried about their families and friends back home. I felt heavy-hearted seeing photos and videos in the news of the devastation caused by such a catastrophe in my homeland. I was dismayed that the government had not done enough to protect the communities affected by the typhoon.

Also, when you migrate to another country, you bring some aspects of your culture and tradition that are as important to you as  your family. However, what if these cultural values are suppressed in the new country where you have chosen to work or live? If wearing or displaying religious symbols, such as hijabs and turbans, are restricted, will you feel that you are being respected?

As a migrant, your ethnicity is usually considered by other people as coming from an inferior root – the smell of the food you eat, your hygienic practices, the accent as you speak, or when you communicate with a compatriot in your own language. Worse, you feel deprived of your rights to access basic services if only one language is used in social institutions such as hospitals, police stations and other public offices. How else can you seek help when abused by your employer or during an emergency if you cannot speak the prescribed language in the province where you live and cannot be accommodated in any other language?

More so, a migrant from a developing country does not have equal opportunities because his/her educational and professional experiences are mistrusted. For instance, even after having completed two-year contracts as domestic caregivers, migrants are often unable to practice their professions because their college diplomas are not recognized, despite the fact that they have worked as nurses or teachers in their native lands. Generally, most Canadian companies prefer employees with training certificates from Canada.

Meanwhile, many women migrant workers settle for jobs that are largely considered unskilled or low-status such as domestic care work. They are poorly-paid and compelled to endure exploitative working conditions. It is even more emotional for migrant mothers who leave their own children to look after those of their employers. Since domestic care work is not even considered a “real job” caretakers are excluded from benefits such as CSST [La Commission de la santé et de la sécurité du travail] and coverage and maternity benefits.

All these prejudices do not give relief and comfort to the worrisome migrants whose main intention is to provide a better life for their families.

The discriminating migration policies, such as the temporary foreign worker program in Canada, deny migrant workers their right to family life. Migrants should have a right to family life and to be reunited with their children. However, in this policy, temporary workers that Canada hires for specific work are sent back home to their country after four years. They have small chance to apply for permanent residency, and later on sponsor family members, because the selection requirements are stiff. The temporary foreign worker program is set up to bring cheap labor in to Canada where these workers are hired for low wages and no benefits. Because of their temporary work permits, they are often threatened and mistreated by their employers.

The number of temporary foreign workers has been steadily increasing in the past few years. In 2011, there were over 300,000 temporary foreign workers in Canada, and in fact, more temporary foreign workers were accepted into the country than immigrants.

During the launch of the Temporary Foreign Workers Association (Association des Travailleuses et Travailleurs Etrangers Temporaires) in Montreal (November 2013), there were several stories that were shared of what is happening throughout Quebec and Canada. An article by BASICS Community News Service mentioned that an employer of one group of farm workers paid them an average of two hours of wages per day for over six years. Several workers complained about being tied to a single employer. One worker, whose company had laid him off for three months, explained that his work permit restrictions did not allow him to apply for other jobs, or for employment insurance.  A group of workers also shared stories about their employer forcing them to rent apartments in his building or else be fired. Workers also shared stories of being told to apply on “single” status despite being married and having children back home placing their future plans to apply as permanent residents in jeopardy. Other workers shared stories about language barriers. They could not take French courses, nor could they access translation services within hospitals or some unions. These workers came from a range of occupations, and were employed across different cities in Quebec as farm workers, butchers, machinists, welders, translators, and lab technicians.

The need for genuine development in our homeland

In dire need of money to send back home to their families, many migrant workers succumb to multiple discriminations and precarious employment. They become vulnerable to unfair labor practices simply to ensure that they have enough money to meet their financial goals.

According to IBON International, remittance inflows to developing countries in 2012 were estimated to have reached US$401 billion. Top recipients of recorded remittance inflows were India ($69 billion), China ($60 billion), the Philippines ($24 billion) and Mexico ($23 billion).

In the Philippines, the overseas Filipino workers are dubbed as modern day economic heroes because their remittances save the local economy.

Whereas, in fact, the increasing diaspora of workers is a reflection of poor economic condition of the labor exporting country where migration is often touted as a catalyst for development. While migrant remittances can improve the local economy, it deprives the country from benefitting from the skills of its own labourers and professionals. The increasing exodus of labor weakens domestic economic foundations leaving very few opportunities for the people to improve the living conditions in their own country (IBON International, October 2013).

Migration becomes a global trend because of the increasing demand for cheap labor. Migrant workers are treated as cheap commodities with human rights being often violated because oppressive labor laws are tolerated by both governments of the sending and receiving countries.

While a migrant worker can give temporary relief to the economic situation of a family, in the long run this does not address a genuine development of the country because family members who are left behind continue to be dependent on remittances, or on other family members who, in the future would also migration to another land.

In the home country, there is a need to ensure sustainable employment and livelihood opportunities for everybody through national industrialization and genuine agrarian reform. Every family member should have free access to education, health care and other social services to ensure that the family is not placed in financial distress.

At the international level, governments must ensure to protect the human rights of all migrant workers, including their rights to safety, to express their own beliefs, to practice cultural traditions, and to access basic services amidst language barriers. Because, in the end, while migration can be a tool for development, one can question the kind of development it brings where labor exporting countries become increasingly poorer, and where migrants continue to face greater exploitation.

Joyce Valbuena is the coordinator of the Centre d’appui aux Philippines/Centre for Philippine Concerns, a Montreal-based solidarity group of Filipinos and non-Filipinos in Quebec who are concerned to end the situation of repression and exploitation in the Philippines. Joyce is a graduate student of Public Relations at McGill University.


M. Cooke. November  2013.  Basics Community Service. Temporary foreign workers in QC launch their own association.

IBON International. October 2013. Migration and Development: A matter of seeking justice.

Declaration of the fourth International Assembly of Migrants and Refugees (IAMR). October 4, 2013. New York, NY, USA.

agence fantome

By E. Humanez

Stories about the abuse of immigrant workers abound. Today we want to share the story of Lila Montana, a Colombian woman who was victimized by a delinquent agency owner.

Photo by Thiên V.

Photo by Thiên V.

Lila Montana arrived in Quebec in 2004 from Colombia. In 2004, she lived in Sherbrooke, one of Quebec’s regions selected by the provincial government to relocate Colombian refugees.

Lila was a specialist in the field of sewing; however she could not find employment. Most textile and clothing companies previously located in the Eastern Townships had closed or had moved to southeast Asia. A wave of outsourcing saw the movement of the manufacturing sector to other countries at the end of the 1990s.

In search of better opportunities, Lila moved to Montreal in the summer of 2007 where several of her friends had already settled.

Eager to work, she began the search for formal employment, but without success. Eager to find a job quickly, she started talking to people she knew. One day, a friend brought her a phone number that a friend of a friend had given them. It was the phone number of an employment agency run by Mr. Phantom.

Immediately, she called. He gave her an appointment the next day at 7 am, at Saint-Michel metro.

However, he said in advance that it was a moonlighting gig because it would pay “under the table”. As she was desperate and wanted to work, she accepted. She thought that maybe it could open doors to a real job.

She worked for two months and she received her pay every two weeks at a different metro station each time.

The third month, Mr. Phantom disappears.

Twenty women working for him searched everywhere. They knocked on the door of the director of human resources. And there they learned that Mr. Phantom no longer dealt with the company where they worked. They were told that he was paid for their work and that company does business with him for the management of staff. He stated that their real boss is Mr. Phantom and not the company. Having heard this explanation, powerless, Lila went home.

Four months later, Mr. Phantom returns. He called Lila and told her a sad story: his agency had failed and he had problems with the government.

Lila believes him, because she thinks everyone has problems. After finishing with his story, Mr. Phantom gives her an appointment in a metro station. However, he warned her not to tell anyone about their appointment.

Arriving at the rendezvous, Mr. Phantom apologizes again and puts an envelope with $700 in her hands. He asks a service: to return to work for the same company she had worked in the past. He promises to pay her what was due the next payday.

The first two months, Mr. Phantom pays punctually, but he has not yet paid what he owes (she is missing $300). The third month, Mr. Phantom disappears again with the pay of about 20 women, including Lila.

In the group, there were at least 12 women who were fooled by him in the past. Lila then referred the matter to the manager of the company. The woman said that she felt outraged by the behavior of Mr. Phantom, but she says they cannot a thing.

One day, Lila asked him to repay what he owed her. Mr. Phantom says he has no money and that because of her complaint to the company he lost the contract.

The next day, when Lila came to work, she was told she was no longer part of the group of people working for Mr. Phantom. She was owed over $2000 and does not know where to get it. She calls and a prerecorded track said: “the phone number that you are trying to call has not yet been assigned or is disconnected. Please confirm your number and call again.”

One day, one of the women still working for the agency Mr. Phantom called to tell her where to find him.

Lila asked her friends to help her; they all went to see Mr. Phantom. He was surprised to see her. He asked her to leave and to meet the next day in McDonalds at Cote-Vertu station. She firmly refused. A discussion started.

When things were degenerating, Lila threatened to call the police to report him. It was then that Mr. Phantom told her: “If you call the police, you will lose too, because you worked under the table, honey. Accept what I have here and leave, because otherwise the company that will call the police and we will both lose. “

He gives her an envelope with $ 1,200. Lila takes the money and leaves with mixed feelings.

One day, she met by chance in a Jean Coutu, one of her former coworkers. She asks if she had heard from Mr. Phantom. They told her that he had disappeared for good without paying them $1500 that they were owed.

Note: To preserve the anonymity of the person who lived these events, we have used a pseudonym.



Las historias concernientes a este tipo de abusos abundan en el medio de los trabajadores inmigrantes. Hoy queremos compartir con ustedes la historia de Lila Montaña, una mujer colombiana, que fue víctima de un propietario de agencia de espíritu malhechor.

Lila Montaña llegó a Quebec en 2004, proveniente de Colombia, su país de origen. Entre 2004 y 2007, Lila vivió en Sherbrooke, una de las regiones de Quebec seleccionadas por el gobierno provincial para relocalizar a los refugiados colombianos, que por esa época apadrinaba el gobierno canadiense. Especialista en el ramo de la costura, Lila no consiguió trabajo en Sherbrooke. La mayoría de las empresas del sector textil y de la confección basadas en el Cantón del Este habían cerrado sus puertas o se habían mudado al Sud-este asiático, luego de la conocida oleada de deslocalización y relocalización geográfica de las empresas del sector manufacturero en América del Norte, a finales del década de 1990. Después de ese momento, los empleos en este sector de la industria se volvieron raros en Sherbrooke.

En busca de nuevas oportunidades, Lila se trasladó a Montreal en el verano del 2007. En ese momento muchos de sus amigos llevaban ya cierto tiempo de estar instalados en esa ciudad. Deseosa de trabajar, Lila inicia la búsqueda de empleo formal. Como no había tenido éxito en su exploración y estaba deseosa de comenzar a trabajar cuanto antes, Lila comenzó a llamar a sus conocidos para hablarles de su necesidad de encontrar empleo. Un día, uno de sus amigos le dio un número telefónico, que un amigo de un amigo le había dado. Este era el número de teléfono de la agencia de empleo del señor Fantasma.

Lila llama. El Señor Fantasma en persona le responde. Luego de unas cuantas palabras, el tipo la cita el día siguiente, a las 7 de la mañana, en el metro Saint-Michael. Antes de concluir la conversación el hombre le advierte –sin dar muchas vueltas– que éste es un trabajo por fuera de las normas legales: por debajo de la mesa; o sea clandestino, por lo tanto el pago se hará en efectivo. Como estaba desesperada y necesitaba trabajar, Lila acepta. Dentro de sí, ella espera que ese trabajo le abra las puertas a un verdadero empleo.

Los días se sucedieron unos a otros sin contratiempo. Sin romper la rutina cotidiana, Lila trabajó durante dos meses dentro de un ambiente normal. Lo único curioso para ella era que el Señor Fantasma la citaba en una estación de metro diferente cada quince días para pagarle. Un día, al tercer mes, el señor Fantasma desapareció sin dejar huellas, llevándose con él tres semanas de sudor y fatiga de Lila y sus compañeras. Las 20 mujeres que trabajaban para el desaparecido comenzaron su búsqueda. Sin saber qué hacer, las mujeres tocaron a la puerta del director de recursos humanos de la empresa. Allí les contestaron que el Señor Fantasma ya no tenía, después de cierto tiempo, ningún tipo de trato con la empresa. Cuando preguntaron por sus salarios, les dijeron que la empresa se los había cancelado al diligente Señor Fantasma, porque la empresa hacia negocios con él para la gestión del personal supernumerario. En conclusión: el verdadero empleador de ellas era el señor Fantasma y no la empresa.

Luego de escuchar esa explicación, que a sus oídos sonó aparatosa, Lila regresó a su apartamento. Cuatro meses más tarde, el señor Fantasma apareció de nuevo. Su contacto con Lila se produjo a través del teléfono. Para calmarla le contó de entrada una historia triste: su agencia de empleo había quebrado y por eso él había tenido problemas con el gobierno. Lila le creyó, pues siempre ha sido del parecer que en este mundo todo el mundo tiene su cuota de problemas que rumiar. Luego de haber finalizado su relato, el Señor Fantasma le propuso un encuentro en una estación de metro. Mientras acordaban la hora, el Señor Fantasma le advirtió que no podía hablar del asunto con nadie.

Para no faltar a la cita, Lila se desplazó rápidamente. El Señor Fantasma le debía casi 1000 dólares. Cuando llegó al lugar acordado, el hombre le colocó entre las manos un sobre con 700 dólares, suplicándole nuevamente de excusarlo. Después de darle el dinero y de presentarle sus disculpas por haberle quedado mal, le pidió un favor especial: ir a trabajar al día siguiente a la misma empresa para la cual ella había trabajado en el pasado. Antes de despedirse le prometió de cancelarle el faltante en el próximo pago.

Al día siguiente, Lila madrugó con el fin de llegar a tiempo a una estación de metro bastante alejada de su casa, donde un emisario del Señor Fantasma debía recoger a las personas que trabajaban para la agencia y llevarlas a la empresa donde les correspondía cumplir turno. Los dos primeros meses el Señor Fantasma le pagó puntualmente el salario de la quincena, pero no le cumplió la promesa de saldar la deuda de 300 dólares que tenía con ella. Como cosa curiosa, al tercer mes el Señor Fantasma volvió a desaparecer, llevándose con él el pago de por lo menos 20 mujeres, entre ellas Lila. En el grupo había otras 12 mujeres que habían sido víctimas en el pasado de las tretas tramposas del tipo. Con el propósito de recuperar su salario, Lila fue a hablar con la responsable de la empresa. La señora le dijo sentirse avergonzada por el comportamiento indecente del Señor Fantasma, pero afirmó no poder hacer nada al respecto.

Tres meses más tarde el Señor Fantasma reapareció de nuevo y, como la primera vez, repitió la misma historia triste: “yo tuve que cerrar mi agencia. Toma 700 dólares y dame una espera razonable para pagarte lo que te debo”. El asunto se volvió a repetir en tres ocasiones y la  explicación y el proceder del Señor Fantasma siempre fue el mismo. En el vaivén de la puerta el Señor Fantasma había acumulado una deuda de 1500 dólares con Lila. En situación similar se encontraban 20 compañeras de ella.

Un día Lila le exigió que le pagara lo que le debía.  El hombre le dijo que él no tenía dinero. En tono enojado la acusó de ser la responsable de que él perdiera el contrato con la empresa donde ella había trabajado inicialmente, por haberse quejado por los retardos en el pago ante la directora. Según él, desde entonces la compañía no había vuelto a requerir sus servicios.

El día siguiente, cuando Lila llegó al trabajo el responsable del taller le informó que ella ya no hacía era parte  del personal de trabajo, que trabajaban para el Señor Fantasma. La noticia la tomó por sorpresa y la impotencia se apoderó de su espíritu. El Señor Fantasma le debía más de 2000 dólares y ella no sabía dónde buscarlo. Siempre que lo llamaba, una voz pre-registrada le contestaba: “el número de teléfono que usted acaba de marcar no ha sido aún atribuido a ningún usuario o ha sido desconectado. Por lo tanto le solicitamos que revise su número e intente la llamada de nuevo”.

Un día, una de las mujeres que aún trabajaba para la agencia del señor Fantasma la llamó para informarle que esa semana, el propio Señor Fantasma estaba transportando el personal a las fábricas. Una de las personas que transportaba a su lugar de labores a los trabajadores de la agencia se había marchado a Toronto. Como no había conseguido aún quien lo remplazara, el Señor Fantasma había tenido que ocuparse del asunto. Para enfrentar con seguridad al espantajo, Lila pidió ayuda a dos amigos para que la acompañaran en su diligencia. Cuando llegó al lugar donde se hallaba el sujeto, el hombre se sorprendió al verla. Nunca imaginó que ella iría a buscarlo allí.

Cuando Lila se dirigió a él, el Señor Fantasma le pidió en tono rudo que se retirara del lugar y que fuera a verlo el día siguiente al McDonald de la estación Côte-Vertu. Ella se negó rotundamente. Una discusión escabrosa comenzó. Cuando la situación comenzaba a degenerar y la tensión subía,  Lila amenazó con llamar a la policía para denunciarlo. Al darse cuenta que Lila no bromeaba, el Señor Fantasma le dijo: “Si usted llama a la policía, usted perderá también, porque usted ha trabajado de manera ilegal mi querida señora. Por eso yo le aconsejo que acepte esto que yo tengo aquí para usted y aléjese rápidamente del lugar, porque si no será la empresa quien va a llamar a la policía y en ese caso vamos a perder los dos”.

De manera precipitada y brusca, o tal vez al revés, el Señor Fantasma le entregó un sobre con 1200 dólares. Lila tomó el dinero y abandonó el lugar mitad frustrada, mitad serena. Un día, que se encontraba mirando promociones de cosméticos en una sucursal de Jean-Coutu se encontró, por azar, con una de sus antiguas colegas de trabajo. Como quien no quiere la cosa, Lila le preguntó si ella tenía noticias del señor Fantasma. Con un tono entre amargo y resignado, su colega le contó que el tipo había desaparecido definitivamente sin pagarle más de 1500 dólares.

Al final de la conversa las dos coincidieron en un asunto: el negocio del Señor Fantasma consistía en cerrar su agencia cada tres o cuatro meses, esconderse por cierto tiempo en la manigua, para regresar y desaparecer de nuevo tres o cuatro meses más tarde. Como él jamás le dijo a Lila su verdadero nombre, lo hemos llamado –por simple trámite- el Señor Fantasma.

Nota: para preservar el anonimato de la persona que vivió estos hechos hemos usado un pseudónimo.

Death threats issued to Toronto priest for commemorating Hugo Chavez

by Steve da Silva

One of Toronto’s inner suburbs has become a focal point in the ongoing struggle in Venezuela between the Bolivarian transition to socialism and the fascist resistance that has been developing over the last month.

With its face to the bustling city moving past it on Dufferin, just a little south of Lawrence, the quaint little church of San Lorenzo appears as a modest sight to unwitting passersby.  But the small church, and its Latin American Community Centre to the rear, are more than simple sites of worship.

Since its establishment in 1997, the San Lorenzo parish has become a beacon for  many in the Latin American community who have fled fascist dictatorships and military juntas over the decades from places like Chile, El Salvador, and Guatemala.  But its message and ministry amount to more than a salve for the restless migrant soul, more than a home away from home.  In the words of the Church’s patron saint, San Lorenzo: “The poor are the treasures of the church.”

That this church actually treasures the poor (as opposed to seeing the poor as a source of its treasures) can be seen in the day-to-day activities that drive the vibrant community organization that has built up around San Lorenzo.  Its community centre is home to Radio Voces Latinas 1660 AM, Canada’s only 24-hour Latin American radio station and a key alternative to commercial news, views, and music that dominate the spectrum.

Ambulances on the Caravan of Hope decorated for their trip to El Salvador.

Ambulances on the Caravan of Hope decorated for their trip to El Salvador.

San Lorenzo is also the organizer of the annual “Inti Raymi – Festival of the Sun,” which draws thousands into Christie Pits under the summer sun to to mark the celebration of the summer solstice in the tradition of the Andean region’s Indigenous peoples.  The festival routinely raises thousands of dollars for the church’s solidarity missions and charity drives.

Among those programs include fundraising drives for disaster relief in Haiti, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, and Venezuela; as well as the community centre’s Caravan of Hope,” which drives decommissioned ambulances and wheel-trans buses to El Salvador annually.

However,  over the years, San Lorenzo and its priest Hernan Astudillo, have courted more controversy than one may think such acts of humanitarianism would invite.  When charity becomes solidarity — when one proceeds from charitable handouts to morally and materially supporting  struggles to emancipate people from their class oppression — some hearts simply stop bleeding for the poor.

As the old proverb has it, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” But what if this man is violently dispossessed of his fishing rod? His family chased away from his lake-side community and into the urban slums?  What if the rivers are being poisoned by large corporations?

It is the understanding that such social inequalities are the basis for poverty and suffering that drives San Lorenzo’s and Hernan Astudillo’s theology, which is part of the liberation theology tradition in Latin America that has prioritized the poor and their emancipation and which is seen as reflecting historical Jesus’s lived practice.


This past March 9th, San Lorenzo held a mass to mark the one-year anniversary of the death of former Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez — a tradition in keeping with past ceremonies held by the church for Latin America’s champions of the poor, with masses marking the deaths of various fighters for freedom, from the assassinated Che Guevera to the murdered Archbishop Oscar Romero.

Romero was the Catholic bishop in El Salvador who was assassinated in 1980 in wave of terror that targeted thousands of leftists, including many clerical elements. Romero is also a key figure in Latin America’s liberation theology tradition.

“I did the mass in honour of Hugo Chavez, who I consider with all humility, a very holy man,” priest Hernan Astudillo told BASICS. The result was predictable and sadly not unfamiliar to Astudillo and the church.

“I received a fax saying they would ‘eliminate’ me personally… basically, a death threat, they will kill me. We have received death threats over the phone. We have received two messages: One sent by email from an anti-communist organization insulting our people who work on the radio station, saying that they are going to take out our [radio] antenna.”

On March 6, the church received a letter from an organization calling itself “Contracomunistas” in which the Radio Voces Latinas was cited as a target.  On March 12, the fax threatening Father Hernan’s life came in.

But the threats are nothing new for Father Hernan: “This reminds me how when 14 years ago I performed a mass for Monsignor Oscar Romero in this same church, I had also received death threat letters because I was holding a mass for a ‘communist bishop’.”

If only this was all just some verbal aggressiveness from the Latin American community’s right wing, the threats could perhaps be dismissed as posturing from disgruntled elements anxious about their oligarchic families and classes losing their grips on power back home. But a history of these threats actually materializing on the Church gives great cause for concern.

In 2006, the antenna of Radio Voces Latinas was discovered to have been shot after having experienced some unknown technical problems for a period of time.

BASICS asked Father Hernan if the threats have ever translated into bodily harm: “I’ve received death threats more than ten times and on two occasions, a group has stolen money from us during our summer festival at Christie Pits park. In September 2008, they even came to my office, hit me, and dislocated my right shoulder. They were trying to instigate me to react violently, but I refused to.”

A mural of Oscar Romero in San Lorenzo.

A mural of Oscar Romero in San Lorenzo. Photo Credit: Steve da Silva / BASICS.

Father Hernan drew out the irony and hypocrisy of the attacks on his church’s concern with the poor and their social struggles: “I’ve been meditating over how during this time of Lent [the season of penance and prayer leading into Easter], I might receive even more letters like this [death threats] as I prepare mass for Jesus Christ, because he was really far stronger than Monsignor Oscar Romero and many other martyrs and prophets in the world. His actions, his life, his decisions were always with the poor people.”

BASICS asked Father Hernan if he’s seen any of this opposition or resistance to the church’s pro-poor messaging and its socialist sympathies from within his own parish: “This is from outside.  This parish knows what kind of theology we have. We don’t practice the theology of the conquerors. We follow the theology of the historical Jesus Christ, a man who gave his life for equal rights, a man who was fighting the Roman Empire.

“Jesus Christ was not a person who was faking his spirituality in his life. He was a wonderful human being with a pure and transparent identity, to rehumanize the world he was living in at the time in Nazareth and Galilee.”

Juan Montoya

Image to the left of Juan Montoya (Credit: Chris Arsenault/Al Jazeera). Image to the right is a poster for Montoya from some years ago that reads “For the complete freedom of Juan Montoya – “Juancho” – He’s not a terrorist, he’s a revolutionary” at a time Montoya was being persecuted by the Venezuelan government. Indeed, the Bolivarian government has had moments of strained relations with the independent armed organizations in the barrios that long precede Chavez coming to power.

BASICS correspondent and San Lorenzo parishioner Pablo Vivanco was also in attendance at the March 9 mass for Chávez, which brought out a single anti-Chávez protestor.

“One individual brought out a placard in the mass that stated something to the effect of honoring the ‘student martyrs’ in Venezuela,” Vivanco commented.

“Of course, the names he had on there (some of them incorrectly spelled) were of Chavistas and others killed by the violent opposition in Venezuela. One of the names this individual was hailing as a ‘martyr’ was Juan Montoya [killed in mid February], who was actually a prominent member the Tupamaros.”

The Tupamaros is a decades-old leftist guerrilla organization with a strong base in some of Caracas’ poor neighbourhoods that has been supportive but independent of the Venezuelan government.

“So it’s entirely disingenuous to claim Montoya’s death for the opposition cause, and equally dishonest to not acknowledge that the vast majority of people who have been killed in the last month are the result of the opposition and their actions,” a fact of the reality in Venezuela that is being assiduously documented by independent researchers.

An image from the March 9 mass.

“But the right wing sectors in the community unfortunately do not have this sort of tolerance,” Vivanco elaborated. “This isn’t the first time that threats have been issued against Father Hernan for his principled stances. What’s more concerning is that the violent right wing opposition in Venezuela is killing people and has also attacked media and journalists, so who knows if those allied with the opposition in Venezuela will try something like that here.”

In 2010, Father Hernan Astudillo visited Venezuela to learn about the vast expansion of popular media projects in the country and to deliver the community-generated funds to victims of landslides.

From his own experiences in the country, Father Hernan shared with BASICS his view that: “The opposition in Venezuela is fighting not because they want to help the poor people, but because they want Venezuela’s oil wealth to themselves.  They are not fighting because they want to help the poor people, like President Hugo Chavez did. That finally poor people have hope is beautiful.“

The evidence of the threats against San Lorenzo and Hernan Astudillo are now in the hands of Toronto Police Services. BASICS contacted 13 Division’s Criminal Investigations Bureau on the morning of March 19, but the assigned detectives were not available at the time of publication for comment.

With the legitimacy that the Canadian government has given to the violent opposition and the blame for violence that is has misattributed to the Venezuelan government, we shall see if the threats against San Lorenzo will be treated with the same severity that such threats would be met with if they threatened a corporate leader or a Canadian politician. Updates on this investigation will be made here.

The Jesus represented here is seen by liberation theology as reflecting the historical Jesus of Nazareth more closely than "the conquerors" Jesus.

The Jesus represented here in a mural at the front of San Lorenzo reflects liberation theology’s view of the historical Jesus of Nazareth, a stark contrast with the Jesus brought by the “the conquerors” Jesus. Photo Credit: Steve da Silva / BASICS

Welcome to Canada: Growing up Latino in Toronto

This is an interview by Camila Uribe-Rosales of BASICS with Oscar and R (who prefers to remain anonymous), two Latin American youth who migrated to Canada from El Salvador and Mexico, and their experiences in the Canadian education system.



O: I was born in El Salvador. My parents migrated here.  I didn’t speak the language at all as a youngster, and I remember I was about 7 years old.  You definitely feel outcasted. I remember feeling that the only people that really knew me and the only place where I felt safe was at home amongst my family. I would go to the classrooms.  Kids would laugh at me.

R: The first school I went to, there was no ESL program at that school. There was one Latina.  Actually she was from Spain, she wasn’t Latina, and she refused to speak to me.  I remember very clearly that she said she would be considered low class if she was to speak Spanish to me.


O: There was one particular incident where there were these two girls that were speaking and they were talking about my skin colour. Something along the lines that “We shouldn’t judge him because of his skin colour, like it’s not his fault.”  And I was like “Really? Like why is that even a problem?” I didn’t even know that that was an issue.

R: I remember being picked on a lot. People would come to me and sing Daddy Yankee songs, like that was cool or that I would feel at home or something, and people bullying me.  It was very hostile. A lot of people tried to fight me and I didn’t really know why.

At one point, I went to Mexico to celebrate Christmas. And so when I came back, the teacher had a set-up with chunks of desks, like she had four here, four there, whatever. And when I came back, my desk was at the corner closest to the door. And everyone else’s was at the opposite corner, packed away from me. And so when I walk into the classroom the teacher says to me, “Look, we just really feel you shouldn’t be here, because you’re Mexican and we don’t want to catch swine flu. And so we wanna ask you not to come back to school.”  I got completely bullied.  I was harassed.  People wrote this on my Facebook and made videos about it.


R: I got kicked out of the school because, well, I was in a classroom and the priest walked in and he started to ask people the commandments. And so I didn’t know them in English and so he threw a set of keys at me. And I picked them up and I walked to him and I gave them back to him in his hand. I mean, he was a priest and I was just coming from Mexico. And so he once more asks me for a commandment which I don’t know how to say. And so he throws the keys at me for the second time, and I pick up the keys and I throw them at him. And so I was like arrested [sic] by a teacher, and they took me to the office and they were just screaming at me.  Like I understood what they were saying.  They were saying I was stupid or I was gonna burn in hell, that Mexicans were violent, that it was all because I was Mexican. That Mexican people were horrible.

Then I arrived at Downsview which is where I completed my high school. There was a lot more Latinos at Downsview and things were a lot more enjoyable in the sense of students. I remember at one point we had a group of like 30 friends and we would help each other out. But as soon as I got there I was told by the principal that I would never be able to go to university, and that I would never achieve to graduate high school, because I would never be able to pass Grade 12 English.

And I was bashed out of many classrooms by teachers because I was called a communist, simply because I wanted to speak about things. I remember one time, this teacher wanted to give us a lot of homework for Thanksgiving. And I said to him, “No, this is a holiday.” And he started to argue to me and I said, “Look, this is not a dictatorship.  You’re not an ultimate power. You are in a sense elected by somebody and if we all work as a collective and decide to walk out on you, you will be fired.” And he bashed me out of the classroom.  He called me very nasty things and started to relate me to a lot of nasty characters in Latin American history. He started saying “Oh, don’t call Pablo Escobar on me,” and stupid things like that.

O: I remember this one professor, he was white, but I remember one of the first slides.  He showed a little caricature, and he said, “Oh its scientifically been proven that those students that wear hats backwards, there is a correlation with lower grades.” So I purposely would bring in a cap.  I wouldn’t always put it on backwards, but I would always bring it in, as a form of resistance. And you know, that’s bigotry right to the end because it’s based on absolutely nothing, and yet you’re claiming it to be scientific evidence, as a professor.  I don’t know if he was joking but even if he was, like who jokes around about that? Why, out of everything, pick that? And I think that’s definitely targeting racialized groups. They don’t understand the culture that it even comes out of.

R: I was incarcerated [sic] by a principal. It was in high school and the teacher said we could do whatever we felt like doing, but our teacher had written on the board that we had to do a shitload of work, like a crazy amount of work. He had been absent and he hadn’t taught any of the material he wanted us to do, and so I was like “Wait a second, this guy never comes to class, never teaches the material and expects us to perform like a super student.” And so I said to the students “Look, if we all walk out of this classroom, the teacher can’t fail us all. If all of us get up and walk out right now, he’s screwed.” And so, we all got up… Well it took some convincing, took me a little more convincing. And so we all got up and started walking out, and the principal grabs me. Grabs me by the shoulders and yells, “Everybody get back into the classroom!” Everybody gets freaked out.  Everybody started heading back in.  And he says, “You’re coming to the office with me!” By the way, that class was very crucial to me.  That was Grade 12 English and if I didn’t pass I wouldn’t graduate. And so he took me to the office and made me sit in a corner of his sketchy office. And so I said, “No, I’m an adult.  You’re not gonna treat me like this.  You’re not gonna segregate me, you’re not gonna outcast me because I was speaking about my rights.”  And he was literally like, “Shut up, I don’t wanna hear you, go in your corner.”  And so he locked the door and locked me in. And he left me in that office for two hours, just sitting there. And I remember kicking the doors and getting angry and screaming.  I started writing step by step how I was segregated, and comparing it to acts of genocide which have happened in our society.  Like I was locked in an office as a student for fighting for my rights! And I drafted this to the director of education. He looked at the paper and said, “Oh yeah, this is a good principal, don’t worry about it.”

At one point in my life, I was like, “Fuck this.  These guys are all racist.  I’m never gonna win against them.  There’s no one like me.  I’m a nobody.  I’m not gonna go to university,” and I started believing it. And it’s really hard without teacher support, it’s really hard as a student. And it’s quite frustrating because you don’t have control over them. If a teacher wants to be racist to you, he will be racist to you. And to know that you can’t do anything about it, that you report it to the Director of Education and he does nothing about it. It’s frustrating.  It’s heartbreaking.

You don’t feel like you belong in the school, all your teachers are white, and they talk about white behavior, and they’re all racist towards you, and it’s like well, what am I? A fucking alien? Am I the weird one? We talk about why there is so much violence in youth, why there is so much anger…fuck, what do you think this frustration builds to?


O: I feel like a lot of times we have to resort to those things [violence], or fit into the stereotype that was being projected onto me. As a young Latin American male, you’re like cholo, gangster, like you have to do that. You have to be a drug dealer, beat people up, treat women like shit, be a scumbag, machista.  Even with all the bullshit that we have to go through, I imagine it’s much, much more difficult for a Latina.

R: My girlfriend was told to take parenting classes five times because she was told by a guidance counselor that all she needed to do was go to university to find a husband. And that once she found a husband that what she would do for the rest of her life was be a mom, so she might as well take a lot of parenting courses. And so it took her two extra years to graduate high school because of that, because the courses she was supposed to take were not given to her because she didn’t need to be smart. All she needed was to find a good husband, so she was given almost a semester and a half of the same subject.  Just because she was Latina.


R: There was definitely a lot of pride in the land where we came from and I never wanted to turn my back on mi gente and my community. I was blown away by the lack of community that I experienced here. Coming from a little colonia back home, it was all like one family and that was something that I lost.  Every time you try to explain to people who we are as Latin Americans, we aren’t listened to.  Like I feel that we are a minority and not even recognized…things like the constant need to remind people that we’re not Spanish but Latin American, and the constant need to remind people that we’re not all Mexican.  We’re not all the same.  It’s important for us to come together; I remember one of the chants in El Salvador that is used all over Latin America. “El Pueblo unido jamás será vencido” [The people, united, will never be defeated] and I truly believe that.

Proposed changes to Canada’s Family Reunification Program to exclude many
'Family Separation'- An art mural by Migrant Youth BC

‘Family Separation’- An art mural by Migrant Youth BC


by Jesson Reyes

In December 2013, the newly appointed Chris Alexander, Minister of Citizenship and Immigration Canada, announced that the handful of proposed changes within the Family Reunification Program will be effective as of January 2, 2014. Together with this announcement is the assurance to the applicants of its main motives:  to decrease processing time (currently averaging 4 years) and to clear backlogs in the application pool.

Most of the changes constitute an additional burden to what is already a challenging process to begin with: Citizenship Canada has been quoted as saying they are doing everything to reunite ‘families’ as quickly as possible. But the CIC defines a family as per the nuclear family model — family members that can come with you when you immigrate to Canada are your spouse, dependent child and the child of a dependent. Grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles are not allowed to be sponsored unless they are streamed into a particular program.

Also, an applicant who does not declare their “dependents” when they  initially apply for the permanent resident form, will not be able to “add a dependent” in the future. This may not appear to be an issue for most applicants but it certainly affects those who may come from a particular situation where reasons for not claiming their children may come from the fear of persecution from either family members or their government.

The CIC’s definition of the family actually contradicts Statistics Canada’s, which in 2002 broadened its definition of family to include couples of any sexual orientation, with or without children, married or cohabiting, lone parents of any marital status, and grandparents raising grandchildren.

In addition, the age of who would be considered as a “dependent” will be changed from 22 to 19. It is important to remember that this particular change was considered to “better the economic integration” of dependents coming in to the country.

In 2012, Canada’s Economic Action Plan was released where the Government cited its immigration priority goals: to fuel economic prosperity, transition to a fast and flexible economic immigration system, and select immigrants that have the skills and experience required to meet Canada’s economic needs.

Research has demonstrated that older immigrants (age 19+) have a more challenging time fully integrating into the Canadian labour market, and so the policy is meant to promote immigration only of those deemed economically useful. The policy does not give consideration to family unity.

But one of the major barriers that those above the age of 19 face in finding jobs remains with the employers’ inability to recognize their working experience and/or their professional credentials. The Ontario Human Rights Commission even considers this requirement for ‘Canadian experience’ to be a violation of human rights. But the prevalence of such requirements leads to deskilling or deprofessionalization of well-qualified immigrants.

Clearly, Canada or at least its current government has demonstrated with its immigration policies that it is not willing to acknowledge and engage in the issues of transnational families.  This is reflected in its reluctance to sign the United Nations Convention to Protect Migrant Workers and their Families.  Canada has contributed to separating families through strict laws regarding migrant workers, since the 1920s with the Chinese railroad workers up until the introduction of the live in caregiver program in 1993.

All that matters is what is economically expedient, not family values! Statistics indicate that family class decreased from 43.9% of all immigration in 1993 to 21.5% in 2010.

Grassroots community organizations such as Migrante Canada, Filipino Migrant Workers Movement, Justicia 4 Migrant Workers, No One Is Illegal, and Migrant Workers Alliance for Change are all at the forefront of migrant struggles in Canada.

These groups are fighting both the injustices on foreign soil and against the systemic displacement of people through what countries like the Philippines call their ‘Labour Export Policy.’ Imperialist interventions and systematic underdevelopment provoke people to look for work abroad. The most important thing to keep in mind is that the struggles of migrants start way before they land on Canadian soil.


by Muriam Salman

Rogerio Marques DeSouza, an undocumented worker, died an untimely death. However, the discrimination he faced due to his immigration status did not end with his passing.

At 49, Rogerio, the father of three teenage children, had been fighting colon cancer for over three years. As an undocumented migrant from Brazil, he was denied access to health care and had to hide his illness.

When his bosses discovered he was coming to work with a colostomy bag, they fired him.

Unable to keep up with his rent on top of the $100,000 he incurred in medical fees, he began working in a bakery and moved in with his children to save on rent. Shortly thereafter his condition quickly worsened and Rogerio quietly passed away at Toronto Grace Health Centre on January 18 earlier this year.

“We got a call from Rogerio’s relatives asking for support. They had been trying to get [the City of] Toronto to fund the funeral, as they didn’t have the resources themselves but were being denied because he didn’t have status,” Syed Hussan of No One Is Illegal – Toronto told BASICS.

“We wrote the city a strongly worded letter giving them 24 hours to resolve the situation, but they responded with an offer that was starkly inhumane.”

Using his immigration status as an excuse, the City of Toronto denied Rogerio’s low-income family the City’s funeral subsidy and instead offered to quietly burn the body. As Barbara Steeves, guardian of Rogerio’s three children, explained in an interview with the Toronto Star, “They said we must sign the release of the body to the city, so they can bury him in an unknown spot. And that’s the only way.”

Adding insult to injury, the treatment of Rogerio’s remains and his family come just in advance of the one year anniversary of Toronto City Council reaffirming its commitment to providing services without fear to undocumented residents on February 21, 2013. The reaffirmation was the result of two decades of community mobilization, and caught Toronto up to over 50 American cities with longstanding “sanctuary city” laws of the sort.

But as we mark this date, we must also step back and reflect on the work that has yet to be done.

“Seeing that the City bureaucrats weren’t going to live up to the promise of a Sanctuary City, we released the details of Rogerio’s case in a Toronto Star story and planned a delegation to Metro Hall,” added Hussan. “Minutes before heading in, we received a call from a private organization that wanted to pay for the funeral.

“After much deliberation the family accepted the offer, but insisted that we can’t always rely on charity. The overall structure must change.”

Rogerio with his family.

Rogerio with his family.

No One Is Illegal has since launched a petition calling on the Ontario government to make its services accessible to undocumented peoples.

A report released by the Solidarity City Network in December recommended that the City identify key city-funded services accessed by undocumented residents and develop department specific policies to ensure full access. Test-calling to hundreds of city agencies showed huge numbers of undocumented people being turned away and the city has still shown little sign of upholding its promise to make Toronto a fully functioning sanctuary city in practice, not just on paper.

Immigration status, for those fortunate enough to receive it, is becoming much more temporary and easier to lose. Sponsoring family members, getting refugee status, and going from temporary worker to permanent resident are all being choked off by the federal government. Systematically, racialized immigrants and refugee workers remain insecure, while paying income, sales and property taxes for services they are not entitled to use and to subsidize tax cuts for the wealthy in a climate of increasing income-inequality.

Poor health, isolation and repeated displacement are made worse with the criminalization of migrants through indefinite detention, raids, and surveillance in our communities. The result is that an entire section of our communities is living in fear — the same fear Rogerio felt three years ago when he first began experiencing symptoms, afraid of being reported to immigration authorities by the hospital. This indignity followed him into death, when his family found out the City hadn’t implemented its own policy.

Rogerio’s story sheds light on the high cost of denying our friends, neighbours and coworkers access to basic services based on immigration status. While it is the federal government that determines citizenship, the actual result of that denial would be far less dangerous were it not for provincial and municipal policies that place citizenship requirements on accessing basic services. Both the city and the province can enact changes to fill this gap and resist such blatantly racist and exclusionary Federal immigration policies, by refusing to deny health care, social housing, medical services, post-secondary education, and other important services to people based on citizenship.

Although the government does not keep track of its undocumented residents, estimates hover around 200,000 throughout the country. Every day, people like Rogerio resist the forces that seek to criminalize them. Enrolling their children in school, feeding their families, and accessing basic services  - the day-to-day struggle to survive carries the ultimate risk. And in Rogerio’s case, surviving as an undocumented worker can carry the even greater cost of one’s own life.

Those of us working and living with status have nothing to lose and much to gain by standing alongside people like Rogerio. Let’s end these divisions imposed amongst working people and struggle for “Status for All.”

Son of Filipina caregiver fights for right to stay after mother dies

by Lesley Valiente and Sarah Salise

Kenneth Aldovino stood in the brittle cold after receiving an envelope from the mail this past 21st of January. The letter was disheartening: it was from Citizenship and Immigration Canada letting him know his permanent residence application had been denied, and he was asked to leave the country before the end of the month.

Aldovino has been in Canada for just six months. Edna Aldovino, his mother, had learned she had terminal cancer back in February 2011.  Since her diagnosis, she had longed for her son, to be with him in her last days. But she was a live-in caregiver, faced with the choice of returning home or staying in Canada working to complete the requirements of her program before her son Kenneth could be eligible to join her.  Mother and son spent only a week together before Edna’s passing in July 2013. And now Kenneth is being told to leave. Read more…

5 Years Later, Noé  Arteaga Is Still Without Justice (STÉFANIE CLERMONT, Coop Média de Montréal)

5 Years Later, Noé Arteaga Is Still Without Justice (STÉFANIE CLERMONT, Coop Média de Montréal)

by Alessandro Drago

Montreal | “For temporary foreign workers there are a lot of injustices,” Noé Arteaga told a room of supporters and journalists. “We want justice, not just for me… but for everyone”.

Arteaga had organized a press conference at the Immigrant Workers Centre on December 17 to draw attention to his struggle for justice. Five years ago, he was unjustly fired after organizing a work stoppage to protest the maltreatment of a fellow employee.  Arteaga is in the process of filing a complaint against his former employer.

Arteaga first came to Canada through the Temporary Foreign Worker (TFW) program. He was hired to work for an agricultural company in Shawinigan, Quebec.

One day, a co-worker of Arteaga’s was tasked with using pesticides despite never having being trained on the use of pesticides. That day the worker was exposed to the pesticides and required medical attention. However, the employer refused to take him to the hospital. The employer claimed that the worker’s symptoms were pre-existing.  To make things worse, the employer forced the sick employee to keep working.

The employer came up with excuses as to why they would not take him to the hospital. After a few weeks of preventing the worker from seeking medical attention, Arteaga and his fellow co-workers decided on a work stoppage to force the employer to take the sick worker to the hospital.

For his role in this work stoppage, Arteaga was fired and then deported to Guatemala.

But Arteaga did not accept this injustice and he returned to Canada shortly after his deportation to file a complaint against his employer.  His complaint is currently in its fifth year. He is seeking several weeks of severance pay (which he is owed by the employer) and payment for the airplane ticket (which the employer is contractually obliged to pay).

Joining Arteaga at the press conference were 3 former TFWs who spoke about their experiences in Canada. Arteaga was also joined by groups such as Mexicans United for Regularization, Solidarity Across Borders, PINAY (Filipino Women’s Organization in Quebec) and several others who were there to show solidarity and support for Arteaga.  Kathy Pescador of PINAY stated that the solidarity of multiple groups for Arteaga is beneficial as “the more we unite… the stronger our voice.”

Some of the other TFWs spoke of their experiences and work conditions which included working long hours, sometimes without overtime pay, being insulted by their managers, being threatened with deportation and general exploitation as many workers have to pay expenses that in reality the employer must cover.  Racism is another hardship that TFWs face. For instance, Arteaga and his coworkers were forbidden to speak Spanish while working.

“Most workers remain in silence because of their vulnerability” explained Carmelo Monge of Mexicans for Regularization, who was referencing Arteaga’s strength for pursuing his complaint.

Mohammed Ali Ben Dellej, a former TFW himself and a member of the Temporary Foreign Workers Association, spoke about how most such workers do not have enough courage or are too scared to speak out against their bosses out of fear of punishment or losing their jobs.

The number of TFWs in Canada has increased to nearly 300,000 and the conditions they face have not improved. As Mostafa Henaway explained, “Noé’s case… sort of exemplifies a situation that no longer are these people are on the fringe… but that they have become the unfortunate norm.”

The discrimination faced by TFW is codified in Canadian law.  Henaway further expressed, “If we want justice for Noé… then there has to be fundamental changes to the labour and immigration policy of Canada.”

As International Migrants’ Day was celebrated December 18th, it serves as a reminder of the continuing struggle and hardships faced by temporary foreign workers all over the world. Their increased vulnerability often leads to maltreatment and it is also difficult for them to seek justice afterwards.

Arteaga’s case is important as an example to all temporary foreign workers that there are ways to fight back against injustice.


Community seeks to organize against inequality

by Noaman G. Ali

“It’s shocking! I am shocked!” said a parent attending a community meeting in Thorncliffe Park held last Sunday, December 22.

Sadia Khan, a teacher and organizer with the Thorncliffe Reach-Out Teach-In group addresses parents and students about education inequality. (Photo: Azfar Zaheer)

Sadia Khan, a teacher and organizer with the Thorncliffe Reach-Out Teach-In group addresses parents and students about education inequality. (Photo: Azfar Zaheer)

She was responding to a presentation by Sadia Khan, a teacher and community organizer, about educational inequality between public schools in Thorncliffe Park and those in neighbouring Leaside—schools that are about ten minutes apart by car.

Over 30 parents, students and other community members attended the meeting, organized by Thorncliffe Reach-Out Teach-In (TRT), about the causes of educational inequality and building community power through solidarity in order to address the issues that face the community.

Read more…

Implications of the Supreme Court Ruling on Canada’s Prostitution Laws (RADIO BASICS INTERVIEWS)

RB ButtonOn this edition of Radio Basics, we explore Canada’s Supreme Court ruling this December 2013 that struck down Canada’s laws around prostitution.

We interview two long-time organizers around the issue, whose positions though not necessarily contradictory somewhat reflect the long-standing debate between those pushing for “decriminalization” and those advocating “abolition”.  We speak to Chanelle Gallant from Maggie’s-Toronto, a Toronto-based sex workers action project; and Suzanne Baustad, co-founder of  Grassroots Women – an anti-imperialist women’s group that was active in Vancouver between 1995 and 2010 and worked to address the systemic marginalization of working class women. Baustad also wrote in to with an Op-Ed that you can read here.

Skip to minute mark 8’38” for the interview with Chanelle Gallant of Maggie’s Toronto. Skip to 21’52” for interview with Suzanne Baustad, formerly of Grassroots Women in Vancouver.