The more I read about poverty and homelessness, the more it hits me just how bad things have gotten. For a long time, I kept a strict “no news” policy. My overactive imagination and anxiety make it impossible for me not to fixate on bad news until it consumes me. If I’m going to be homeless, I might as well keep up with the news, the way the homeless do, right? But, of course, I don’t take it as seriously as some—those who rely on half-hearted graffiti splattered across downtown for their daily headlines. Recently, though, I decided to lift the no-news ban. I figured it was necessary. I’ve tried to filter what I read, focusing mostly on political and social service-related issues about poverty and homelessness, with some other topics like government policy, mental health, substance abuse, and funding sprinkled in.

The Ontario government has officially declared war—not on crime, drugs, or systemic inefficiency, but on the most vulnerable group in our society. The recent legislation forcing supervised consumption sites across the province to close their doors is a direct attack on the street community. It’s a decision that will lead to continued suffering and countless deaths, exposing a disturbing lack of foresight and compassion in public policy. I just hope the government is prepared for the backlash and the destruction this decision will cause. 

It seems to me that everyone expects overnight solutions to problems that are deeply embedded in society—problems so convoluted that they can’t be undone with a snap of the fingers. It’s crazy to me that now, as these issues begin to affect more of the “common people”—or as I like to call them, the “casuals”—people are finally opening their eyes. They’re coming forward with stories and complaints about what they’re seeing on the streets. But here’s the problem: all these people are tuning into this major social crisis already in progress. People who are just now speaking up, are only making things worse because they can’t seem to move past their narrow perspectives and look beyond their own front lawns to see the real issues.

Winter in Ontario and Quebec isn’t a season—it’s a weapon. It creeps under doors, lingers in your lungs, and turns park benches into deathbeds. For some of us, winter is a seasonal inconvenience: slippery roads, annoying shoveling, cold toes. For others, it’s a gauntlet that can and will kill them. And here’s the thing: it doesn’t have to. People aren’t freezing to death because the weather is bad. They’re freezing to death because society has decided it’s not that big of a deal.

Let’s talk about language. Specifically, let’s talk about how certain media outlets weaponize it. When Brian Passifiume referred to safe injection sites as “shooting galleries” in the Toronto Sun, he didn’t just toss out a flippant metaphor—he trivialized life-saving services, fanned the flames of stigma, and reinforced the damaging narratives that keep people struggling with addiction on the margins of society.

Ottawa, a city that prides itself on progressive values and cultural inclusivity, has a dirty little secret: it’s a masterclass in legitimized stigma. We’re not talking about blatant, red-faced bigotry here; no, this is the socially sanctioned, policy-driven kind—the kind that comes dressed in a suit, signed in triplicate, and rubber-stamped as “for the public good.” It's a stigma with a PR team and a taxpayer-funded ad campaign, and it’s tearing our communities apart.

Alot of people hesitate when it comes to handing over change to someone on the street. The thought process usually goes something like, What if they spend it on drugs? On alcohol? Isn’t that just enabling bad behavior? And just like that, the opportunity for a small, human moment of kindness is snuffed out by a moral debate that never needed to happen.

All over this capital city of ours, where concrete meets creativity, a silent battle unfolds. This battle shapes our behaviour, influences our interactions, and defines our shared spaces. It's one we are all subliminally affected by, one waged through design in the form of hostile architecture.

In The Heart of Ottawa, approximately 1,200 individuals sleep rough each night, according to the City of Ottawa's 2022 Point-in-Time Count. Yet, their stories often remain untold. The media plays a crucial role in shaping public perception, and when it comes to homelessness, the representation is often flawed. To foster a society rooted in equality and empathy, it is imperative to confront the significant gaps in media portrayal of the homeless and unstably housed individuals in Ottawa.

It was an ordinary morning at the Somerset West Community Health Center’s supervised consumption site. Yet, in the midst of what should have been a routine day, something extraordinary unfolded—a demonstration of raw humanity and the power of teamwork that I will never forget.

It’s no secret that the streets are dangerous places. Homeless people face many risks. From exposure to insomnia and every vulnerability in between, it’s a wonder any of us survive at all. Trust me, I know, and I live it every day as a woman too! So you know, between the hours of 8 and 8, every car that passes is one trying to get me into their car, thinking they can drive me someplace where they can’t hear me scream. Get lucky for 40 bucks. Well, I’ll tell you, those find themselves sorely mistaken. Here are some risks we face: the underbelly that tourists don’t Instagram. You see, this city isn’t all beavertails and tulips, and let’s not forget the shawarma! Nope, it’s got its own set of urban survival challenges, and they’re not for the faint of heart.