“What Am I Supposed To Do?”

As Toronto’s wealth skyrockets, the city’s most vulnerable populations are being punished. Inside the homelessness crisis in Canada’s biggest metropolis.

- Nicholas Hune-Brown

The Rosedale Valley is a ribbon of calm winding through the bustling centre of Toronto, a natural buffer of Manitoba maples and Japanese knotweed separating the mansions of South Rosedale from the crowded towers of St. James Town. It’s also one of the few places downtown where someone can set up camp, just minutes from churches that serve hot meals, without fear of being moved along by city workers or police.

On a grey and rainy afternoon late last fall, Greg Cook headed toward the ravine on one of his regular walks. He’s a 39-year-old outreach worker at Sanctuary, a Christian charity run out of an old church near Yonge and Bloor streets that hosts daytime drop-ins and community meals for the homeless. Cook has worked with Toronto’s homeless for more than a decade, handing out sleeping bags and socks and trying to find people space in shelters. Sometimes he just goes out to talk, showing a friendly face to people who are often ignored.

The valley felt secluded, the only noise the distant whoosh of commuters driving past. There were encampments beneath every overpass—mattresses and garbage bags of possessions next to small firepits, a wheelchair sitting stranded in the mud.

People have always camped in the ravines, but there are more doing so now than ever before. One night in April 2018, city staff roamed Toronto’s ravines, parks and underpasses and counted 533 people sleeping outside.