The Future of Work: What does the workforce look like for young people years from now?

by Catherine Mwitta for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics

This article is the second in a series addressing four key challenges the next generation of Ontarians will face: Climate catastrophe, education reform, the housing crisis, and career opportunities.

Photograph by mana5280

Editor's Note:

The following article reflects the views & analysis of the author. As with all opinion and essay submissions, the piece has been edited for clarity and reviewed carefully for factual accuracy, but the interpretations & arguments are the author’s own. The 44 North publishes an array of perspectives & voices to encourage and ensure thoughtful engagement with complex social, political, historical, and cultural issues.

In 2022, youth unemployment rates hit a record low. By 2025, 437,000 people aged 15 to 24 were unemployed and looking for work, up 57 percent from 290,000 in 2022. Today, Canada's unemployment rate is at 6.5 percent, up 0.1 percent from Aug 2026. The Canadian economy lost 68,000 jobs in September, 48,000 of those lost among youth aged 15-24. Young people remained unemployed the longest, with teenagers hit hardest.

Such drastic changes could be attributed to government policy shifts, including Parliament raising immigration quotas and loosening restrictions on international students' work weeks. The Fraser Institute argues that an influx of Canadian residents and higher wages have led employers to hire more qualified workers. In 2026, competition has increased as more experienced workers laid off by U.S. tariffs—along with tech companies replacing employees with artificial intelligence (AI)—reenter the job market.

Other factors behind this large loss of youth jobs include reduced entry-level hiring. Many roles labelled as "entry-level" now demand two to five years of prior experience, transforming them into mid-level positions at junior-level pay. 

Via the Fraser Institute

Dispelling myths 

It’s false that artificial intelligence is the main contributor to rising youth unemployment. No current evidence shows that adopting AI in the workforce has caused extensive job losses in Canada. 

A Statistics Canada survey found that 19.2 percent of Canadian businesses used AI to produce goods or provide services. 25.2 percent of businesses plan to use AI over the next 12 months, up from 10.6 percent in Q3 2024, while 22.1 percent of businesses are unsure about future AI adoption and 52.7 percent do not plan to use it. Only 8 percent of businesses use AI significantly in core operations; 50 percent use it to a low or moderate degree.

AI use in the workplace is still rapidly developing and may have a greater impact on the early-career squeeze in the future. However, the general public’s thoughts on AI at the moment mirror preconceived notions of what society would look like after the Industrial Revolution.

The history of labour in Canada 

In the early 19th century, the fur trade and exploitation of Canada’s other natural resources, such as logging and fishing, were the main sources of work besides agriculture. The second industry, the apprenticeship system, accounted for 10 percent of the urban labour force. After the Industrial Revolution, work shifted from producing life’s staples to earning a living; demand for unskilled and skilled workers grew rapidly. 

With the rise of factories came the rise of the working class. Boys and girls were expected to work; women and children were paid less than men; long hours were often the primary complaints of factory workers; dangerous working conditions and beatings from employers were commonplace.

During this time, Canada had approximately 165 labour organizations. They campaigned for better working conditions, and workers organized many strikes to improve their rights. By 1956, the Canadian Labour Congress was founded through the merger of two major labour bodies: The Trades and Labour Congress of Canada and the Canadian Congress of Labour. The merger created a single, unified national voice for Canadian workers. 

Canada's labour laws have continued to improve since, but some argue the government’s current efforts are not enough. 

https://youtu.be/wgprVI62ckc?si=0gvyrJWu9xKmI_f7

The future of the job market

Labour unions and the Canadian government may misunderstand Canadians' frustrations with the job market—it’s undergoing another revolution similar to the Industrial Revolution. As such, it feels impossible to guess what the economic landscape will be in a decade. What will “work” look like in the future of transnational employment, labour globalization, and AI integration in the workplace? What shifts will be needed to rebalance the entry-level jobs available to youth, and bring the workplace into equilibrium? Thankfully, the forecasts aren’t hopeless, though change might be a few years away.

The 2025 World Economic Forum Future of Jobs Report predicts a decline in cashiers, ticket clerks and other clerical roles, including postal service clerks, bank tellers and data entry clerks. Some existing industries expected to grow the most are farmworkers, delivery drivers, construction workers and salespersons. “Baby Boomers,” the largest and oldest generation of our population, will drive demand for care economy jobs such as nursing, social work, counselling, and personal care aides, which are also expected to grow significantly over the next five years.

World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Survey 2024

Technical, environmentally friendly, and AI-integrated positions will become commonplace on job boards like Indeed. Likewise, the gig economy will replace traditional roles; temporary, freelance, and project-based contracts will allow people to have flexible careers across multiple industries.

In the near future, youth applying for jobs could consider roles in healthcare as personal support workers, nurse practitioners, and mental health professionals. The second industry to expand in the coming years is tech. In post-secondary school, teens could consider specializing in Cybersecurity and AI for long-term career security. Lastly, Natural Resources Canada projects 130,000 additional job openings in electricity and renewable energy between 2028 and 2050, such as solar and wind power, which will be another industry for young people to look for work stability. 

The most positive shifts in the job market will hopefully be workplace flexibility, which shapes how, when and where people work; skills-based hiring, which connects workers to more opportunities based on their abilities rather than traditional credentials; and lifelong, continuous learning for long-term career growth.

In part three of this four-part series looking into the future, I’ll be diving into Canada’s environmental future and how climate change will impact young Canadian’s livelihoods.

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Catherine Mwitta has a bachelor’s in creative writing from Kwantlen Polytechnic University and a certification in Journalism from Langara College. She is an editor at Augur Magazine and INKspire. Likewise, bylines at Stir Vancouver, SAD Mag, This Magazine, C Magazine and Bluffs Monitor.

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From Feeding Tube to Paramedic: Your Body Is Not Your Enemy

by Fernn Eastman for The 44 North, Guest Writer

Artwork by Logan Brewer

To every young person who feels like your body is failing you—no matter how hard your mind fights:

I see you. I was you.

I aged out of foster care with no parents to call, no safety net, and a body that had stopped telling me when I was hungry, thirsty, or even where I was in space. For a decade, I lived with trauma and an eating disorder. I was good at surviving through my intellect. I could think my way through almost any problem—I didn’t realize how steeply my body was failing. Trauma and my eating disorder stripped away basic sensations I didn’t know were missing: Hunger, thirst, the urge to pee, and where my body was.

Soon after, in Vancouver for paramedic training, I failed my CPR exam. Not because I didn’t know the material—I knew it cold—but because my body couldn’t save a mannequin. I was terrified: How could I call myself a paramedic if doing compressions put me at risk of cardiac arrest? I took a medical leave with no one to call. This felt like my last chance.

My doctors hesitated to recommend physical movement, but no other treatment options remained. As a last resort, I turned to exercise. I called gym after gym. Most saw only a liability. No gyms were willing to work with me while I had a feeding tube. 

A single yes saved me.

Courtesy of Fernn Eastman

BPM Fitness was the only place willing to work with me while I had an NG feeding tube. Brady Alexov met me where I was, seeing a person, not a liability. Equipped with a degree in kinesiology, he helped me rebuild my body and my trust—one session, one movement, one small victory at a time. He worked with my care team. He taught me that food is fuel, not punishment. He helped me feel my body again. He explained why certain movements target specific muscle groups, how my nervous system responds to different stimuli, and what hunger and fatigue signals actually mean. He taught me to recognize the early warning signs of a neurological episode—the subtle tremors or weakness—and how to breathe through them. I no longer feel like my body is a foreign, hostile place. I am learning to listen to it, trust it, and care for it.

Through that training, my body started waking up. Proprioception returned: I can now feel tightness before pain and know when a movement is safe. Interoception returned: I feel real hunger, thirst, and the need to pee.

For the first time in my adult life, I can say “I’m hungry” and eat with pride, knowing the food builds my muscles for the work I trained to do.

I went from atrophy to muscle, from starvation to pride in my meals, from an NG tube in a hospital bed to standing on my own feet. My ability to focus, regulate emotions, and trust my body all came back through physical movement. That journey cured a part of me I didn’t know was such a root cause of my distress.

Now, I’m a paramedic—pushing the stretcher instead of lying on it, holding patients’ hands the way I once needed mine held.

That’s the part people miss.

Addiction, mental illness, and physical health aren’t separate. They’re often the same wound wearing different masks. Trauma silences the body. It steals interoception—the ability to feel hunger, thirst, safety, exhaustion. It steals proprioception—the sense of where you end and the world begins. When you cannot feel your own signals, you reach for something outside yourself to feel okay. Food. Restriction. Substances. Numbing. Control. Anything to survive feelings too big for words.

That’s not weakness. That’s a nervous system fighting to stay alive.

Courtesy of Fernn Eastman

And you cannot talk your way out of a body that has forgotten how to feel safe. You cannot medicate away a disconnection that lives in the muscles, the breath, the gut. Healing has to include the body. That’s why movement, when it’s safe and trauma-informed, is not just exercise. It’s mental health care. It’s addiction prevention. It’s physical health care. It’s rebuilding the bridge between brain and body.

Research confirms what I lived. Eating disorders have the second-highest mortality rate of all psychiatric illnesses, surpassed only by opioid use disorder. Approximately 50 percent of individuals with eating disorders also struggle with substance abuse, compared to roughly 9 percent of the general population. Both conditions are driven by similar mechanisms: The desperate attempt to regulate overwhelming emotions, to numb unbearable feelings, to exert control when everything else feels lost. Both are, at their core, disorders of coping—and both are fueled by untreated trauma.

This matters because Canada’s drug crisis cannot be solved without also addressing eating disorders. The person restricting food and the person using substances are often the same person, trying different methods to survive the same pain. A system that treats these crises separately will continue to fail people who live at their intersection.

Healing the body through trauma-informed movement addresses both. When I rebuilt my interoception and proprioception at BPM Fitness, I wasn’t just recovering from an eating disorder. I was rebuilding the foundational brain-body signalling that addiction disrupts. The same pathways that had been silenced by trauma began to wake up—for hunger, for thirst, for safety, for self-trust, for life.

The evidence is overwhelming. A 2026 umbrella review of 63 meta-analyses involving 79,551 participants found that exercise significantly reduces depression and anxiety, with the greatest benefits for emerging adults in supervised settings. A 2025 meta-analysis of 26 randomized controlled trials found a large effect on depression and a moderate effect on anxiety. A 2023 grounded theory study of 46 trauma survivors found that weightlifting healed trauma through the felt sense of the mind-body connection, creating a healthier, more empowered survivor. For eating disorders specifically, research confirms that interoceptive disruption is a core feature, and that safe, intentional movement can directly address this in ways talk therapy cannot. Personal training delivered by qualified, trauma-informed professionals is increasingly recognized as a legitimate mental health support. In Germany, physiotherapists have an active working group for psychiatry, trauma, and mental health. In Canada, organizations like the Centre for Trauma Informed Fitness are professionalizing trauma-related competencies for personal trainers.

Courtesy of Fernn Eastman

British Columbia already has precedent for recognizing unconventional services as mental health supports. The Canadian Mental Health Association’s EDGE program in BC explicitly covers personal training for youth with psychosis—not as exercise, but as targeted mental health rehabilitation. The BC Ministry of Mental Health and Addictions also funds mental health continuing education for certified personal trainers. Extending similar recognition to trauma-informed fitness providers is the logical next step—Canada-wide.

I almost didn’t survive to write this. But I did.

So if you’re in care, aging out, or just fighting to stay here—please hear me:

Your body is not your enemy. It’s trying to survive trauma the only way it knows how. Healing doesn’t always come through words. Sometimes it comes through movement. Through a coach who sees your worth. Through one person who says, “Let’s do this.”

You deserve care before you’re dying—not only once you are. You deserve a system that treats the whole you: Mind, body, and spirit. You deserve a resounding ‘yes.’

Don’t give up. Recovery exists in forms you may not have tried yet. Keep reaching out. Keep fighting. Your body can become a home again.

From patient to paramedic—if I can, you can. And you shouldn’t have to walk the ledge of death to get there.

To policymakers across Canada:

Please help make physical movement and personal training available sooner. Here in BC, as a vital example for the country, the Federation of BC Children and Youth have the power to enact this under the MHC benefit. I believe it directly falls under the definition. The MHC benefit currently covers services provided by “unregulated mental health service providers.” The barrier is not regulatory; it’s cultural. BPM Fitness, while not a traditional counselling service, delivered trauma-informed mental health care of a kind that directly addresses the conditions the MHC benefit was designed to treat.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration identifies six key principles of a trauma-informed approach: safety; trustworthiness and transparency; peer support; collaboration and mutuality; empowerment, voice, and choice; and cultural, historical, and gender issues. BPM Fitness embodied every one of these principles when I was most vulnerable. They didn’t hand me a medical intake form only to decline me as soon as I checked a box. They sat down with me for a long, honest consultation—learning about my needs, my goals, my health concerns, and how to build a plan that worked around them. They recognized that behavioural patterns can be symptoms or coping strategies, not compliance issues. They allowed me to move at my own pace, listen to my body, and stop when needed. They asked permission before physical contact. For a trauma survivor who had experienced profound bodily disconnection, this restored a sense of agency that no medication could reach.

BPM Fitness isn’t offering exercise—they’re offering evidence-based, trauma-informed mental health care. Please, from policymakers to loved ones, help make that ‘yes’ available sooner for youth who cannot wait.

—A former youth in care, now a paramedic

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References

• BC Coroners Service. “Another 150 Lives Lost to Toxic Drugs in B.C. in January 2026.” BC Government News, Jan. 2026.

• Canadian Institutes of Health Research. “More than 1.4 Million Canadian Youth Have an Eating Disorder—But Better Data and Early Interventions Are Fighting Back.” CIHR, 2025.

• Canadian Mental Health Association, BC Division. “EDGE Program: Early Intervention for Psychosis.” CMHA BC, 2022.

• Centre for Trauma Informed Fitness. About CTIF. traumainformedfitness.ca.

• Government of British Columbia. “2024/25–2026/27 Service Plan Report.” Province of British Columbia, 2025.

• Kenkhuis MF, et al. “Exercise effects on symptoms of depression and anxiety vary by patient, clinical, and intervention characteristics in cancer survivors: Results from pooled analyses of individual participant data of 26 RCTs.” Supportive Care in Cancer, vol. 33, no. 7, 2025, p. 647.

• Munro NR, Teague S, Somoray K, Simpson A, Budden T, Jackson B, et al. “Effect of exercise on depression and anxiety symptoms: systematic umbrella review with meta-meta-analysis.” British Journal of Sports Medicine, vol. 60, no. 8, 2026, p. 590.

• National Eating Disorder Information Centre. “Eating Disorders and Substance Use.” NEDIC, 2024.

• Nowakowski-Sims E, Rooney M, Vigue D, Woods S. “A grounded theory of weight lifting as a healing strategy for trauma.” Mental Health and Physical Activity, vol. 24, 2023, p. 100521.

• Physio Deutschland. Arbeitsgemeinschaft Physiotherapie in Mental Health (AG PTMH).

• Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. SAMHSA’s Concept of Trauma and Guidance for a Trauma-Informed Approach. HHS Publication No. (SMA) 14-4884, 2014.

• Wood L, Stanton R. “Weight Lifting as a Trauma-Informed Intervention: A Grounded Theory Study of 46 Survivors.” Journal of Trauma & Dissociation, vol. 24, no. 3, 2023, pp. 312–29.

• Zucker N, et al. “Interoception and Eating Disorders: A Systematic Review.” Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, vol. 125, 2021, pp. 501–15.

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About Fernn Eastman

At 27 years old, I am a proud survivor and a dedicated paramedic. My journey has been anything but conventional. Entering the foster care system at age seven and moving out on my own at sixteen, I learned early on that survival requires grit, adaptability, and a fierce determination to write my own story.

While navigating the world as a young person was far from easy, I refused to let my circumstances define my future. I focused on my education, graduated, and found my calling in emergency medicine. Today, I am proud to serve my community as a paramedic—a role that allows me to turn my hardship into healing for others.

When I am not on shift, I reconnect with the world that keeps me grounded. I am an avid hiker and a lover of nature, music, and animals. I also have a passion for the unique and the intricate; I breed dart frogs and specialize in creating bioactive terrariums, building tiny, thriving ecosystems that mirror the resilience I see in the natural world.

Above all, I am an advocate. My passion lies in fighting for justice and speaking up for those who feel voiceless. I can proudly say that I am not just surviving—I am thriving, and I am incredibly proud to be alive.

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“Be a villager…just for your people”: Why friendship isn’t the antidote to young people’s loneliness

by Grace Dada for The 44 North, Contributing Writer - Politics

Via Bumble BFF

The loneliness crisis needs new messaging.

“Be a villager.”

“Find your people.”

“Be a girl’s girl.”

“The price of community is inconvenience.”

This kind of incisive discourse has permeated the public sphere and digital landscape since the pandemic. Initially, like many of my peers, I lapped it up eagerly, adopted each new phrase and the sentiments behind it, and embraced apps for friendship and weekly dinners. They delivered on their promise to introduce me to friendly faces and proved to be solid options for moving to a different city or entering a new life stage: University, postgraduate, and working life.

Several years later, connection discourse has become debate fodder for social media platforms, fuelling short-form video content and best-selling books alike. Friendship experts like Danielle Bayard Jackson, for example, have amassed audiences of hundreds of thousands on TikTok and Instagram with tips to help break down the skills and complexities of building and sustaining friendships.

That this kind of content resonates is no surprise. It offers a welcome oasis from the hamster wheel-adjacent society many young people feel they’ve been unwillingly ushered into. It also marks a shift from the clear-cut, vertical path for happiness—which was perhaps once more strictly defined by academic prowess, upward career trajectories and nuclear families—and refocuses attention laterally, towards those within our inner circles.

With today’s housing prices skyrocketing (mortgage payments in Toronto are up 56 percent since 2014, according to Fraser Institute) and wages remaining stagnant, young Canadians may never be able to afford their own houses. Potentially locked out of traditional markers of success, setting their sights on the relationships around them is one way to rearrange the texture of their lives and reclaim agency. 

But these days, friendship-centred discourse is more likely to earn a suspicious eye from me than an eager buy-in. 

I’ve grown dubious of the overly neat packaging it often arrives in, the way that it doesn’t quite seem to answer all the questions it promises to. Friendship alone cannot mend young Canadians’ deep, infrastructure-sized loneliness, and proposing as much is the equivalent of the flimsy, cherry-coloured ribbons we ripped through on Christmas Day as children.

When it comes to loneliness and its far-reaching harms, the data is clear. The human body can endure situational hardships; social disconnectedness doesn’t appear to be one of them. Its effect parallels smoking 15 cigarettes a day, according to a 2023 US Surgeon General Advisory report, and it increases the risk of depression and heart attack.

A 2024 Stats Canada survey reported that young Canadians are lonelier than older generations, with nearly one in five (17%) aged 15-24 admitting they always or often feel lonely. Yet in the same report, 82% of that age group reported that they always or often had people to count on. Paradoxically, this suggests that the high-support role of a solid inner circle of friends and family is already being filled for a significant portion of youth.

Where like-minded, shared interest groups fall short

Heard from social media, the solution to young people’s loneliness is simply stronger friendships and like-minded social interest groups. However, trends show young people are already joining sports and hobby groups, and at higher rates than pre-pandemic times.

2023 research from the Canadian Leisure & Reading Study found the percentage of online and in-person book club attendees rose from 13% in 2020 to 22% in 2023. The subsequent 2024 report showed it sitting around 34%, and adults aged 18 to 29 were the most likely to attend reading groups.

Yet, the data still shows a lonely day-to-day reality for many young Canadians. A 2025 YMCA survey showed three out of four (~74%) of young Canadians aged 18-34 say they don’t have a sense of community, and the same demographic of people believe a decline in “third spaces” is to blame. Those in the later half of their youth seem to face the worst of it, as 77% of those between 26-34 report a lack of sense of community.

As someone for whom reading groups, sports clubs, and music events have technically “worked”—as in, they’ve placed me in the same rooms as the people who have since become my dearest friends today—I’ve found there are still chasms even the bosomest of buddies cannot bridge. Our friends know, love, and understand us well. But they can’t quite scratch the itch of partaking in a wider group where your presence alone entitles you to care and support. This is a key difference between friendship and community.

I didn’t have the words to explain it at the time, but this is what I cherished so much about my early school days and the classroom environment, which slotted me into a community that felt greater than myself and my inner circle. Whether I “belonged” enough to receive the same education as my peers didn’t depend on what interests I shared or whether I was well-suited to everyone in the room. It came with enrollment. 

School's reliable, somewhat indiscriminate social infrastructure mirrors what one commenter on Tashawn Dragovan’s Instagram describes below—a community built only on shared spaces, interests and identities and community meant as committed care. I’m convinced that proposing the former (finding compatible people) as a fix for loneliness caused by the latter (developing a wider supportive and structured network) only keeps the wheel spinning in the wrong direction. 

Via Tashawn Dragovan's Instagram Post

Fighting young Canadians’ loneliness starts well before the hobby group or friendship forms; it should already be baked into the architecture of Canadian society. The groundwork for true community is commitment, where members’ perceived similarities aren’t the benchmark for belonging, and needs, values, and differences don’t exempt them from the right support and consideration. Simply participating is enough.

This type of care structure once came easily in religious spaces and between next-door neighbours, for example, and now takes work and intention to create. Mutual aid networks—peer-to-peer communities that exchange and share resources, and allow participants to disclose vulnerabilities, strengths, and receive support outside of a capitalist system—are a close comparison. But without the same daily or weekly care structure, they still may not quite bridge the gap.

Loneliness-washing: The newest marketing angle

In April 2026, an Inc. Magazine article by Stephanie Cartin declared community as the future of marketing. Her rationale is that it helps brands take ownership of consumer relationships. Let the profit generate itself.

Apps like Bumble BFF and Hinge also have subscription costs and paywalls for their premium products. Newer competitors like TimeLeft and RealRoots offer monthly memberships, with the latter charging hundreds of dollars for several “facilitated” in-person meetups behind their “Make New Friends Guaranteed!” slogan. 

What money-hungry multinational corporations have observed is that the promise of connection makes for a compelling product, which you can turn around and sell to lonely people, gatekeeping what was once and should remain widely accessible. 

For brands, they can strengthen their staying power by moving their followings offline and avoiding the game of maintaining digital audiences altogether. Consumers, on the other hand, get…connection sold back to them with interest.

Once again, young people are watching a movement, initially intended to centre and unify them, co-opted for profitable gain and used as a business model. 

Be a villager for your favourite people.

The good news is that developing the kind of robust social framework needed to ease young people’s loneliness is possible, even without overpriced social clubs or membership-tiered friendship apps. It starts smaller, with a reprioritization of Stanford sociologist Mark S. Granovetter’s weak ties, or the friendly, familiar faces with one step in and one step out of our world. This includes hairdressers, baristas, next-door neighbours, and acquaintances—people with whom we interact consistently, but not necessarily deeply. 

Granovetter’s research finds that prioritizing weak ties impacts several spheres of your life, even increasing one’s career odds. Alongside weak ties, intentional moves towards interacting with strangers, which is something younger generations may be less likely to do, can also help abate the loneliness crisis.

Pete Bombaci, founder of The GenWell Project, an organization that researches and advocates for Canadians’ social health, says, “For decades, we have been told not to talk to strangers, and for young kids that’s some safe advice. As we get older and a little more worldly, though, the positive effects of connecting with those we don’t know can be pretty powerful—both for you and the person you’re talking to.” The organization conducted a national survey in partnership with the University of Victoria and discovered that Canadians who greeted strangers were three times more likely to be happy than those who did not.

When we advise young people to be better villagers, there’s an additional unspoken message that keeps the sense of responsibility and commitment safely confined to the individual’s close inner circle. There is less room for/or accountability to strangers. That’s what led Canadian TikTok content creator Michelle Skidelsky to post a video saying, “I am horrified by the amount of people who genuinely think they don’t owe anyone anything,” speaking to the decline in general politeness and decorum she perceived.

Online life largely suggests that younger generations may be underestimating their first line of defence against loneliness—connecting with and showing up for strangers, and remembering how we’re all in relationship with and to one another. Including those we’re not close to. 

As a child, I remember puzzling at the way my Nigerian father raved about conversations with helpful cashiers and delivery drivers, or kind deeds from a neighbour more often than even his closest friends. Years later, I see his argument: Connection is a currency worth exchanging every single time it’s offered, regardless of depth.

The dental assistant, grocer, and transport driver may not be the same people we’ll be sharing our deepest, darkest woes or celebrating our brightest days with, but they don’t have to be. They’re still on the other side of the table, holding up their end and comprising the backdrop of the cities and neighbourhoods we call home. And we must not forget: We are these people to someone else, too.

In Granovetter and The GenWell Project’s research, we find an invitation to expand our concept of the village. Be a villager for your friends and your family and your children, yes. 

But what about everyone else?  

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Grace Dada is a writer and editor from Western Canada. She's written across fintech, wellness, and independent media, and previously founded Sorella Magazine, a digital media company for and by Black women. Her work has been published in outlets like ByBlacks.com, Shape and The Financial Diet. She holds an HBA in English and Writing & Rhetoric from the U of T. Connect with her on Instagram.

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