In June, the Migrant Workers Alliance for Change (MWAC) received a call from a hospital asking them to translate information from English to Spanish for one of their patients, a migrant farm worker who was in critical condition after contracting COVID-19. In a recent report, MWAC described how, before putting the man on a ventilator, the hospital needed his verbal consent, prompting their call to MWAC. Rather than using a qualified medical interpreter, a doctor had tried using the Google Translate app on his phone to communicate vital medical information to the patient. “When we spoke to the worker informing him about his choices and that he may not wake up again, he confirmed that no interpretation had been provided in the previous days,” said the report.
This incident highlights how crucial it is to have access to reliable translation services in medical settings, especially during COVID-19. Without access to translation and interpretation services, patients cannot be properly informed of their medical choices and are unable to give medical workers the information they need to provide the best treatment.
In Southwestern Ontario, where many migrant workers from Spanish-speaking countries work and live in close quarters, major outbreaks have cropped up on several farms due to unsafe conditions and inadequate access to care. On June 1, about 18 per cent of all COVID-19 cases reported in Windsor-Essex County were from migrant workers. Despite this, MWAC still received complaints from some workers who said that they were not able to access translation services in Spanish and English.
In the U.S., where the Hispanic community has been extremely hard hit by the virus, the need for translators is especially important. According to the CDC, people who are Hispanic and Latinx have a hospitalization rate that is over four times higher than non-Hispanic white people in America.
Though the connection between language ability and health is complex, research has shown that inadequate language accommodation could be linked to poor health outcomes overall. A study that tracked new immigrants across many different language backgrounds between 2000 and 2005 found that those with persistently limited official language proficiency reported higher incidences of poor health over a four-year period compared to new immigrants with more advanced language proficiency.
Other interrelated factors affecting new immigrants, such as housing access and education level, were also linked to the health outcomes reported. But because Canada’s health system is built for English and French speakers, new immigrants can be left out — especially during their first years in Canada. As researchers pointed out, language proficiency could directly impact a new immigrant’s ability to access health services, and therefore result in poorer self-reported health.
Medical translation seeks to bridge this health care gap by facilitating accurate communication between health-care workers and patients. During a pandemic, when the volume of sick people is greater and conditions for COVID-19-positive patients can change quickly, medical translators are especially important to ensure that patients can communicate their symptoms and understand their diagnoses.
As Natalya Mytareva, executive director of the US Certification Commission for Health Care Interpreters told Time magazine, “any good doctor is only as good as how they are understood by the patient.” Even the best medical treatment will be made ineffective without a full understanding between patient and doctor. “If the doctor is basing the diagnosis on the wrong information because they didn’t have an interpreter, then what good is that doctor?” said Mytareva.
As physical distancing measures continue to be put in place in hospitals, the family members and friends that might typically do the translation for people with limited official language proficiency are unable to accompany them to the hospital. Though patients should ideally not need to rely on family member’s assistance for translation, their absence in medical spaces has only further increased the demand for interpreters.
At the same time, interpreters’ ability to do their job is hampered during COVID-19. Many medical interpreters are now forced to do their work over the phone rather than in person, which can reduce the quality of translation they can provide to patients, like their ability to pick up on some of the non-verbal cues present during a conversation. Some interpreters have also described the trauma of doing their work during COVID-19, especially when they themselves are among the communities being hardest hit by the virus.
As the pandemic continues, governments should be making sure that no one in the country is left out when it comes to accessing essential services. And those essential services may not necessarily be limited to the health-care sector. Undocumented migrant workers fearing legal issues should be made aware that they are able to access health care if they contract COVID-19; new Canadians protesting in recent anti-racism and police violence demonstrations should be made aware of their legal rights if they’re arrested; and Canadians with limited language ability should not fall into the estimated 3 per cent of workers who did not know they were eligible for Canada Emergency Response Benefit payments.
Though offering translation services isn’t going to fix all of the systemic inequalities facing racialized communities — many of whom may come from immigrant backgrounds with limited language proficiency in English — they are essential to ensuring that everyone is able to access the services they need.
Meet Canoo member Janega Boltiador-Gallant. She immigrated to Canada from the Philippines, and currently, she resides on the East Coast in Prince Edward Island, her favourite place in Canada, with her husband. Janega chose to move to Canada because it is her “dream country” and to “have a better life.”
“What I love most about Canada is that it is a very productive country,” says Janega, “And it’s the place where I met the love of my life! I am looking forward to many more years here spending our lives together with good health and more happiness.”
Janega typically visits Canoo venues with her husband. The places she’s enjoyed visiting most using the Canoo app are the Anne of Green Gables Museum at the Green Gables Heritage Place and Skmaqn–Port-la-Joye–Fort Amherst National Historic Site, PEI.
“I went a few times to the Anne of Green Gables heritage site with my family,” says Janega. “I love learning about how the story was made. We went walking on the trail — it was a pretty good experience. We saw all the stuff that makes up the story at the Green Gables House, and we got to get dressed up in Anne’s clothes. We even took some pictures. It was very cool.”
Janega agrees that cultural spaces, such as heritage sites and parks, are important experiences for building a sense of inclusion and belonging for new citizens in Canada. “Cultural places will let you share your culture from where you’re from,” says Janega, “And to be included in social gatherings with a bunch of people from different countries allows you to learn about, and experience, their cultures. This kind of inclusion means I can be part of the success of this country.”
Janega highly recommends that all new Canadian citizens download and use the Canoo app! “It will give you more information about lots of wonders in this world and the beautiful places that you can visit,” she says. “It is very helpful!”
The COVID-19 pandemic has forced many Canadians to take a deeper look at some of the things they may take for granted, such as having a safe place to find shelter, having access to healthcare services, and — after reports of empty shelves due to panic-buying at the start of the pandemic — even the availability of healthy food to eat.
Though food supply chains have remained steady so far and shelves are now restocked, for some Canadians, accessing food for themselves and their families will nonetheless become an issue as food insecurity increases, according to recent reports. Though there have always been Canadians who have gone hungry at home, that number has noticeably grown during COVID-19.
In a study conducted in May, Statistics Canada found that almost one in seven Canadians reported having some degree of food insecurity at home — an increase from around one in eight before the pandemic between 2017 and 2018. Food insecurity is defined by Health Canada as the inability to consume a diet of sufficient quality or quantity, “or the uncertainty that one will be able to do so,” and is typically linked to a lack of income available to spend on food.
COVID-19-related food insecurity may continue to rise; experts report that the price of food could further increase as pandemic-related costs (like PPE and physical distancing) cause food suppliers to charge more.
Like so many aspects of the pandemic, racialized groups and low-income households will be among the hardest hit when it comes to food insecurity. Black households in Canada are over three times as likely to be food insecure as white households. And according to the 2019 First Nations Food, Nutrition and Environment Study, almost half of First Nations households in Canada experience food insecurity in some way.
Newcomers to Canada are also vulnerable. A 2019 study of food insecurity among new immigrant and refugee children in Saskatchewan found that half of the households studied experienced food insecurity. The reasons that some newcomer families struggled included overall low-income levels, prescription drug and hygiene product spending that cut into their food budget, and the need to repay transportation loans from the government that bring refugees to Canada.
Now, the economic impact of COVID-19 — which has had an effect on all Canadians — could have disastrous implications for food security across the country. Statistics Canada data shows that Canadians affected by business closures and layoffs have higher rates of food insecurity than Canadians who are currently working. In June, the unemployment rate reached 12.7 percent in the country, decreasing just slightly after a record high of 13.7 percent the month prior.
A TD Bank survey released in July found that BIPOC communities were among the most likely to be impacted financially by COVID-19. In 2019, the unemployment rate for immigrants who had lived in Canada for less than five years was 4 percent higher than the unemployment rate for those born in Canada, suggesting that new immigrants could also face additional hardships when it comes to finding work during the pandemic.
Though Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) payments have helped alleviate some of the economic pressure on families in Canada, not everyone is able to claim them. An analysis done by the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives found that more than 800,000 unemployed people in Canada would not be eligible for either CERB or EI benefits. And as the CERB program begins to be phased out in the fall, even more families could be at risk of food insecurity.
Early on in the pandemic, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau promised $100 million worth of funding for food banks across Canada in an effort to address food insecurity in Canada. In 2019, food banks had more than a million visits from people across Canada. About 13 percent of all food bank users are immigrants or refugees, according to a 2016 HungerCount report.
However, food banks are only a short-term solution. In fact, experts argue, the idea that they are the final solution to the problem of hunger in Canada is actually not supported by data. Valerie Tarasuk and Lynn McIntyre, researchers at the food security research program PROOF, argue that providing basic income directly to individuals — not relying on food banks — is the best way of addressing the issue.
By choosing not to confront the full picture of food insecurity in Canada, governments are putting the health and welfare of Canadians at risk — particularly vulnerable BIPOC communities and new immigrants. Food insecurity has serious impacts on health, including higher rates of iron deficiency anemia, hypertension, and diabetes among those affected. It’s also linked to higher healthcare costs and, in the most severe cases, can reduce life expectancy by nine years.
The solution, say Tarasuk and McIntyre, is to address the root cause of the issue by providing further financial support directly to Canadians. And, as the pandemic continues to drag on, to do so quickly. “Without effective responses to the additional hardships brought on by COVID-19, the number of people affected by food insecurity and the levels of deprivation they face are going to get a whole lot worse,” they write in an article for Policy Options. “So, mounting an effective response now is critical.”
In a recent poll conducted by ICC and Leger, respondents were asked the following question: “Compared to before COVID-19 began, do you feel more or less connected with your family, friends, colleagues, neighbours, community, city, province, country?” Responses were mixed. Overall, 29 per cent of Canadians said they felt more connected to their family, but they also felt less connected to friends and their broader community since COVID-19 began.
These results make sense as more people remain indoors, many with their families, and engage less often with those outside their home. But they also seem to suggest that the COVID-19 pandemic has weakened the social bonds that connect Canadians to one another, which could have a lasting impact not only on individuals but on society as a whole.
In his book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Harvard political scientist Robert D. Putnam uses the term “social capital” to describe the process by which networks of people work together to accomplish shared goals or pursue shared interests. Putnam argues that our ability and willingness to gather in groups can have an effect on things like civic engagement and democratic participation. Coming together is a way to build trust, strengthen social ties, and advance community needs, and could include group participation in anything from parent teacher organizations to churches to Scout troops.
By some measures, Canada fares relatively well in this area. Before the pandemic began, a 2019 report from the World Bank found that Canada ranked high in terms of social capital compared to other countries. And 2013 data from Statistics Canada found that social capital had stayed relatively stable over the 10-year period between 2003 and 2013, with 65 per cent of Canadians participating as members of a group, organization, or association, and nearly half participating in group activities at least once a month.
At the same time, other research has shown that loneliness has been on the rise in Canada and voter turnout has also declined since the 1970s, suggesting that social ties and civic engagement are not quite as strong as they could be.
When it comes to COVID-19, existing social capital can be an important asset to individuals and communities. Research has found that it is especially beneficial during disasters, since social networks become more important when our lives are strained by economic hardship, illness, or widespread disruptions.
Recent protests may point to a positive shift when it comes to social capital in Canada, as thousands of people gathered all over the country to work toward the shared goal of combating racism, systemic discrimination, and police violence. Despite the risks involved in congregating in large groups during a pandemic, the World Health Organization has come out in support of the protests. Many public health officials have acknowledged that the protests represent an “essential” form of public gathering; they are directly related to the structural racism putting Black, Indigenous, and racialized groups at greater risk during the pandemic, resulting in significantly higher rates of COVID-19 related infection and deaths in these communities.
In this way, social capital is at once strained and more focused in this particular moment as people are forced to watch the inequalities already present in their country continue to widen. Frank Roberts, an NYU professor and expert on U.S. social movements like Black Lives Matter told the BBC: “You have a situation where the entire country is on lockdown, and more people are inside watching TV…more people are being forced to pay attention — they’re less able to look away, less distracted.” In a sense, this is exactly what social capital is about: turning attention away from individuals and toward social systems and group needs.
Another question asked in the ICC/Leger poll was whether Canadians believed that the COVID-19 crisis would “bring diverse communities in Canada closer together.” The poll found that more Canadians felt that the crisis would bring together diverse communities (43 per cent) than those who did not (32 per cent), with the remainder stating that they were unsure. Canadians of colour agreed more frequently with this statement than white Canadians, and younger Canadians were more hopeful than older Canadians.
The widespread protests from St. John’s to Vancouver in support of anti-racism action can be considered a positive indication that the desire to come together to pursue shared goals remains strong among Canadians. Meanwhile, thanks to physical distancing measures and high adherence to shutdown rules, Canadians have managed to flatten the curve of COVID-19 infections and new cases across the country remain relatively low.
In the coming months — and, perhaps, years — communities will likely face even greater challenges as the economic fallout and disruptions to our day-to-day lives continue. But if the past few months are any indication, we have plenty to be hopeful for when it comes to the state of social capital in Canada.
During COVID-19 shutdowns, Canadians were told that they needed to stay at home in order to reduce infection rates. In late March, as the pandemic first began to take hold in the country, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau told Canadians in a televised address to “go home and stay home.”
But for many, these public health guidelines proved to be more difficult to follow. Countless Canadians continue to struggle to access safe and affordable housing, putting them at even greater risk during the pandemic.
A lack of affordable housing and low wages have been at the core of Canada’s housing problems. Nearly one in five Canadians are spending more than 50 per cent of their income on rent and 53 per cent of Canadians live paycheque to paycheque.
Though rental prices are dropping in certain cities during the pandemic, they remain high overall — especially in major urban centres like Toronto and Vancouver. This reality, combined with mass layoffs related to COVID-19, puts Canadians at risk of housing instability.
Income support through the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) and rental subsidies have been implemented in some provinces in an attempt to ease the pressure on tenants, but some Canadians are still falling through the cracks. A study conducted in April by the community organization ACORN found that out of the more than 1,000 people they polled, 42 percent did not qualify for CERB or Employment Insurance (EI) during the pandemic, and that more than a third of people said they wouldn’t have enough money to pay rent on May 1.
In particular, COVID-19 has affected Indigenous communities where crowded and inadequate housing remains a long-standing issue. A report from the Canadian Urban Institute found that, compared to white Canadians, a greater number of First Nations, Métis, and Inuit in Canada reported that COVID-19 has had a major impact on their lives.
This is unsurprising considering the conditions in many Indigenous communities. According to the 2016 census, about 23 per cent of First Nations people were living in crowded housing. For Inuit living in Inuit Nunangat (the four regions that make up the homeland of majority Inuit in Canada), that number was just over 40 per cent. Many communities also lack access to reliable sources of clean water.
Without their essential needs being met, Indigenous communities are not equipped to protect themselves against COVID-19 outbreaks. A report by the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives on housing conditions for Indigenous people during COVID-19 concluded that “asking people to wash their hands and isolate in overcrowded homes without running water is like asking people, unable to afford bread, to eat cake.”
The COVID-19 pandemic is revealing the interconnectedness of housing and health, and how having a safe place to call home can protect individuals and communities during health crises. Though we tend to think about housing and health as two separate issues, there is significant data that disputes this belief. Researchers have found that inadequate housing has been linked to everything from asthma to depression to mortality rates among seniors.
“Housing first” policies, where adequate housing is made available without qualifications, acknowledges the links between housing and health and has been widely shown to be effective at reducing, and in some cases — like in the city of Medicine Hat, Alta. — essentially eliminating homelessness when implemented thoroughly.
For Indigenous communities, the definition of housing first is expanded even further to include connections to community and the land. In a report by the University of Winnipeg and the Institute for Urban Studies, researchers looked at how to adapt housing first strategies in Indigenous communities. The report focused on Winnipeg, where an estimated 66 per cent of the homeless population is Indigenous, and made recommendations based on consultations with local Elders and community leaders.
One example of what these changes might look like was at the intake stage: the report recommended that typical intake and assessment tools may not be appropriate in Indigenous contexts and that overly clinical and invasive intake processes could risk retraumatizing individuals. Overall, the report recommended taking a more holistic view when addressing homelessness and, unlike the individualism supported by typical housing first strategies, emphasized the interdependence of communities.
The connection between health and housing was also made clear in the report. “For Indigenous peoples experiencing homelessness,” the report stated, “having access to culturally relevant, suitable, and affordable housing contributes directly to improved health, wellness, and stability.”
Though most responses to Canada’s housing and health crises have been inadequate overall, the COVID-19 pandemic has presented some positive examples of how homelessness can be addressed when governments do choose to prioritize housing issues. In Toronto, the city made around 1,200 hotel rooms available for those in the shelter system and, in some limited cases, the pandemic has made the process of finding shelter faster and safer.
A similar sense of urgency could be applied to the post-COVID-19 world, advocates argue. Naheed Dosani, a physician who works with homeless populations, argued in Policy Options that the pandemic has shown that new and transformative policies are possible when it comes to homelessness.
“When we have come through this crisis, are we prepared to push people back out to where they were, on the streets and in shelters?” writes Dosani. “Or are we ready to accept that we have the solution to homelessness in our hands? We just need the moral and political will to make it happen.”
In advance of Canada Day, the Institute for Canadian Citizenship (ICC) spoke with Joy Abasta, a new Canadian citizen originally from the Philippines, about what Canada Day means to her and how she planned to mark the day.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
ICC: How are you planning on celebrating Canada Day?
Joy Abasta: I’ve been doing a lot of reflection, with Indigenous people’s day being June 21st and it being so close to Canada Day, which is July 1st. Before, I always celebrated Canada Day because as an immigrant it feels like you can finally celebrate with Canadians. Like I’m here and everybody’s free and we are all trying to be fair and polite, and we are known from the other parts of the world as friendly, and always saying ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry.’ But when I started school in September 2019 and dived into Indigenous studies, that’s when I realized that there’s a particularly dark history in Canada. Now, I feel a bit conflicted.
My partner and I were just talking this morning…We asked ourselves how we can celebrate both Indigenous cultures and Canada being Canada, and he said that, ‘oh, you know what? We can go for a drive in Squamish because there’s a lot of history in Squamish, as well. And then we can go and find some Indigenous installation art or hikes and whatnot.’ Also, there’s an app that was created by Dr. Rudy Reimer, it’s called the ímesh app. If you open the app, it’s going to tell you which territory you’re on while you’re walking. It’s going to tell you what the name is and what their traditional work is, so for example, berry picking, or fishing and what not. So we’ll probably do that.
What initially drove you to learn about Indigenous cultures and communities?
I moved here in 2014, and when I moved here I didn’t know anything about Indigenous culture. I started to volunteer at different organizations and in 2016, I volunteered at the Vancouver Community Policing Centre in the west end. They were so big about this walk for reconciliation, so I signed up for that because I needed my volunteer hours for the month, and then I realized it’s for the Indigenous communities. I think that’s when it all really started for me, it opened up the conversation and curiosity.
Before I moved here, I had heard so much good stuff about Canada; that, ‘hey, this is better than the United States because of health care,’ and then when I landed here and found out what I did at the policing centre, I was exposed to what happened to Indigenous cultures and what has happened to them — the assimilation, the genocide. It was horrifying. It’s always hard to discuss, even with my students at school, because I’m also just learning. But we all have to talk about those difficult histories. Since then, every time I go out and discover or explore a new city in Canada, I try to make it a point to see if there’s an Indigenous installation art, or maybe a museum, or anything that celebrates the Indigenous history of the communities that live there.
What pushes you to continue this learning?
I see similarities with what happened in Canada and in the Philippines. Because the Philippines were also colonized by the Spaniards. And being in the Philippines, I’d always heard about the Philippines being colonized, but that’s basically it. I didn’t realize the weight of that term until I moved here, until I realized what happened with colonization and Indigenous people in Canada. But Canada has been my home, and maybe I’m projecting, but I also want to be an ally of Indigenous people. I can never connect with the trauma they had, but as a student of public health — and hopefully eventually to become a public health official — I think it’s really important for my career to always be thinking about BIPOC. Here in Vancouver, or here in British Columbia, there’s still not a lot of conversations happening, so I wanted to become an ally to try to scratch the surface, and try to influence the people around me to reconsider what’s happening around us. A lot of the time people can ignore what’s happening to other people around them, especially if they’re not of similar backgrounds or cultures.
How did you learn about Indigenous communities and cultures?
If I go somewhere else, like Whistler, I’ll always go to museums that include Indigenous history and culture. I think museums were my initial resource on Indigenous people. Then I started school in September of 2019, and I owe it to the professors and supervisors that I had, because I’m also a TA [teacher’s assistant] for Indigenous studies. Dr. Joyce Schneider and Dr. Rudy Reimer and Dr. Madeline Knickerbocker are very knowledgeable about Indigenous studies. Drs. Rudy and Joyce are members of the Indigenous community and Madeline is a white settler who has been doing about 10 years of work on Stó:lō communities in British Columbia. I”m really grateful I was able to have these sources.
How is celebrating Indigenous cultures part of celebrating Canada Day? How is it not?
We must celebrate Indigenous culture and Indigenous people and communities on Canada Day. I don’t know if celebrate is the correct term, but basically just acknowledging that they were here first, for at least 12,000 years before the white settlers or the colonizers. What can we do with reconciliation and other acts of decolonization every day so that we can make celebrating Canada Day worth it.
How have you been connecting with Indigenous culture and art during the pandemic?
It’s been hard, of course. There’s a ton of resources online and I was fortunate enough to still be a TA, so as I go along I still feel I’m connected to my allyship with the Indigenous people. So what I’ve done this summer so far is learning how to say specific words or terms in an Indigenous language. I think there’s about 600+ Indigenous languages in Canada, but here in Vancouver the language is Hul’q’umi’num’. I’m trying to learn how to say hello and ‘thank you, you know, very basic words in their language. Indigenous languages are dying; not a lot of Indigenous Peoples know how to use the languages, because of colonization and assimilation. So, for me, I just want to try to make an effort to learn these common terms because language is a really big part of everyone’s culture.
On April 1, the Migrant Rights Network, a group of organizations from across Canada working to promote conditions for foreign workers, wrote a letter to public officials urging them to implement guidelines to ensure the health and safety of vulnerable workers. “Failure to implement these changes will lead to devastating public health consequences…and a human rights catastrophe,” the letter states.
The Migrant Rights Network sent several letters to federal and provincial authorities that outlined the concerns of vulnerable workers, according to a recent report from the Migrant Workers Alliance for Change (MWAC). None of the letters received replies. Since then, three workers on farms in Ontario—Bonifacio Eugenio Romero, Rogelio Muñoz Santos and Juan López Chaparro—have died after contracting the virus.
Temporary foreign workers have been reporting mistreatment and low pay for years, but as COVID-19 shutdowns began, advocates knew that conditions would become even more treacherous. So far, there have been at least 17 outbreaks at farms across the country and at least 600 workers have tested positive.
Though we may not associate Canada’s workforce with foreign workers, they in fact make up around 40 per cent of agricultural workers in Ontario and nearly a third of agricultural workers in Quebec, British Columbia, and Nova Scotia, according to 2017 figures. Migrant workers are an important part of the Canadian economy, and have been essential to keeping our food supply chain functioning during the pandemic.
Despite this, they have not been adequately protected. Between mid-March and mid-May, MWAC received more than a thousand complaints on behalf of workers from across the country about loss of income, poor housing conditions, and intimidation from employers, among other issues.
The MWAC report describes the ways that exploitative employers and poor government oversight have allowed migrant workers to fall through the cracks. After first arriving in Canada, new regulations required workers to remain quarantined for 14 days in the employer-provided housing in which they live while receiving the equivalent of 30-hours per week in pay.
However, many workers complained of crowded living conditions, a lack of access to proper sanitation, and that the amount of food provided by employers was inadequate to feed all inhabitants. Hundreds of workers also reported that they were not paid according to government guidelines during their mandatory quarantine. Then, once work resumed, crowded conditions at work, combined with difficulty accessing health-care services, made workers even more vulnerable to contracting COVID-19.
But while workers feared getting sick, they also feared reprisals from their employers — placing them in a particularly precarious position. “Migrant farm workers have work permits that tie them to their employers — this means that workers who speak out or complain can easily be terminated, deported, and banned from returning to work in Canada in future,” the MWAC report states. “This makes it impossible, in practice, for workers to be able to complain about their working and living conditions.”
Perhaps the most widely-reported example of these inequities occurred at the Cargill meat processing plant in High River, Alberta. The plant became the site of one of the largest outbreaks of COVID-19 in North America with over 1,500 cases being linked to the plant, which included about 900 workers.
Most workers at the plant are immigrants or temporary foreign workers whose status in Canada — like the migrant workers in Canada’s fields, vineyards, and greenhouses — is dependent on their employment.
This precarity, combined with economic pressures, makes workers especially vulnerable to exploitative policies from their employer. A CBC investigation showed that Cargill plant workers were made to work in cramped and sometimes dangerous conditions, and that some were pressured to return to work even after contracting COVID-19.
In fact, two weeks and a day after the death of Cargill employee Hiep Bui, who had worked at the plant for 23 years, the plant reopened and resumed production despite concerns from workers and union representatives who feared another outbreak unless working conditions were addressed.
As news of the outbreak at Cargill spread, Fillipino workers, who make up about 70 per cent of the plant’s workers, reported being targeted online by residents who accused them of bringing the virus to Alberta. Some reported being turned away from banks and grocery stores because they worked at the plant.
Fears about food supply disruption from outbreaks in Canada’s meatpacking plants and farms tend to focus on the effects on Canadian consumers and less on the workers who help ensure that the grocery stores themselves are stocked with food. And despite being deemed “essential workers,” low-income new immigrants and migrant workers are often treated as disposable and do not have the same access to services as others in Canada.
Without putting strict protections in place, these workers will remain vulnerable to mistreatment from employers who push them to work in hazardous conditions. Said one seasonal worker from Jamaica featured in the MWAC report: “We’re treated like machines. We just want them to recognize that we’re still human.”
The Institute for Canadian Citizenship and Embassy of Canada in Mexico partnered on the second of a three part Mexico-Canada Dialogue series, discussing the way women* are valued, specifically as it relates to labour and domestic violence during the COVID-19 crisis. The dialogue centered around three key topics: what do we mean by “women’s work,” both paid and unpaid, gender violence as a global issue, and policy lessons for alleviating inequities and violence against women. Women have been especially impacted by the pandemic, both in terms of domestic violence and the level of risk that they face for work that is often least valued: healthcare, education, childcare, eldercare, household management, and a variety of other service industry roles.
*Anyone who identifies as a woman or non-binary femme.
Featuring
– Introductions: Ambassador Graeme C. Clark
– Moderator: Juana Inés Dehesa-Christlieb
– Speakers: Karen Padilla (Mexico), Catherine Hernandez (Canada), Ana Pecova (Mexico)
– Interpretation: Teresa Flores
Key Takeaways
While the COVID-19 virus can spread no matter what your race, gender, or class, we’ve seen that the impacts are unequal. Women are a diverse group. When gender intersects with other factors, such as race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and ability — the economic, social, psychological, and health impacts of this crisis vary accordingly. This, added onto existing systemic discrimination towards women in the workplace and in the home, compounds these impacts.
The responsibility of essential care work should not solely be on women, and the work of women should not be deemed unskilled work, or paid as such. The COVID-19 crisis has shown us how fundamental care work is to the health and functioning of our society. Essential work, including child care, elder care, and education, is skilled work, and it needs to be financially compensated accordingly.
Data doesn’t always allow us to see the full scope or extent of domestic violence. However, even the data we do have available is cause for concern. Data on domestic violence doesn’t allow us to see the full scope of the problem due to barriers to reporting, a lack of transparency, and countless instances going undocumented before a final report. According to a Statistics Canada survey, 1 in 10 Canadian women reported domestic abuse as one of their top three concerns during the pandemic. This doesn’t affect all women equally, as has been made starkly clear in repeated reports and calls to action about missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. In Mexico, there has been a 60 per cent increase in calls to women’s shelters in April 2020. This year, there have been about 10 femicides a day in Mexico, however it’s unclear if the numbers have increased since COVID-19. Domestic violence is the crime with the second highest number of formal complaints in Mexico — and that’s for a crime that is difficult to report in the first place.
More public education and awareness is needed on support systems, shelters, and justice and legal processes available for survivors of domestic violence. Processes for navigating support systems for domestic abuse can be quite opaque and inaccessible. More needs to be done to raise awareness about accessible shelters, gender inclusive safe spaces, family planning clinics, and the importance of both emotional and physical support. What systems are there for those who don’t speak the language that a support hotline is offered in, or for those who don’t have access to a phone?
Public policy changes can only go so far on issues in the home. If we want to do away with violence against women, we must address what is behind it. What happens in the life of a woman before the point of a domestic abuse report or femicide? As domestic violence occurs in the private realm, preventive and responsive actions are a collective community task. Drawing borders within our own households around toxic masculinity, valuing and protecting femininity, valuing care work, distributing labour equally, and defining clear lines around behaviour that is unacceptable are important places to start. Toxic masculinity and machismo need to be broken down and discussed to unlearn dangerous patterns of behaviour and reinforcement.
Policies addressing domestic abuse must be more inclusive of gender identity, gender expression, and sexual orientation and how these intersections impact both experiences of domestic violence as well as experiences with community support systems. These systems must be accessible not just to those who fit a clearly defined category of “women experiencing harm from men,” and be sure not to exclude or discriminate against those experiencing mental illness, alcohol abuse, or trauma.
While prevention measures should be strived for, the reality is that funding of responsive or mitigating measures is needed in the meantime. Programs that help women pay rent and give them access to a safe home allows them to get out of a dangerous situation. It should be remembered, that oftentimes the main concern is to get out of a violent situation, rather than to punish the aggressor.
Rather than simply considering new policies, address the existing policies that continue to promote inequality. We must understand how gender equity is missing is every policy area in order to change things. Instead of thinking about issues in isolation, consider how justice, housing, and decriminalization policies intersect to negatively impact women.
We must rethink the institutions and structures of justice entirely, invest in community-level support, and learn from informal systems with expertise navigating safety and support, separate from the police. We can’t continue to place our bets on the traditional justice systems — police and courts — to deal with gender violence when they have often been shown to exacerbate issues. There is lots to learn from informal systems that effectively navigate safety and support outside of traditional justice institutions. For instance, sex workers are skilled at supporting their community in these areas. We must value and respect these systems and the people working within them in order to learn from them.
