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International Students: Old Fears and New Scapegoats

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


An artistic rendering of immigration via figurines walking across stamped passports while pushing suitcase trolleys.
An artistic rendering of immigration via figurines walking across stamped passports while pushing suitcase trolleys.

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.


As Canada faces a cost-of-living crisis, politicians are reviving a long history of blaming newcomers—this time, targeting international students. 


In 1869, the Canadian Immigration Act discriminated against immigrants on the grounds of class and disability. The federal government enacted further measures to restrict Chinese immigration, including a head tax and the Chinese Immigration Act of 1923. Additional racial and national restrictions were introduced after the First World War: Under a revised Immigration Act in 1919, the government excluded specific groups from entering the country, including Communists, Mennonites, Doukhobors, and other groups with particular religious practices, such as Judaism, as well as nationalities whose countries had fought against Canada during the First World War, such as Austrians, Hungarians, and Turks. 


Via The Canadian Encyclopedia: Southeast Asian refugees at CFB Griesbach Military Base in Edmonton, August 1979. Photo: © Murray Mosher. Courtesy of The Canadian Immigration Historical Society.
Via The Canadian Encyclopedia: Southeast Asian refugees at CFB Griesbach Military Base in Edmonton, August 1979. Photo: © Murray Mosher. Courtesy of The Canadian Immigration Historical Society.

Until 1976, it seemed immigration in Canada was largely an “open door” policy privileging whiteness and interest in Western Canada settlement. Changes to prior immigration policies occurred to address severe labour market shortages and adjust to shifting global demographics. As Canada’s economic goals expanded, immigration policy evolved to include multicultural policy embedded in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms in 1982 and again in 1988 via the Canadian Multicultural Act. Both have promoted economic growth by increasing the labour supply while promising strong human rights and safety guarantees for newcomers from diverse backgrounds. Over time, the demographics of immigrants arriving in Canada shifted from largely British and Western European to Asian (Indian, Filipino, Chinese).


Over thirty-five years later, 2024 saw the highest levels of immigration in over a decade. 483,390 new permanent residents arrived in Canada, and approximately 292,970 new international students received permits. At the same time, housing and healthcare issues within the country came to a head. 


Long wait times in hospital emergency rooms and the shortage of family doctors are among the many issues the Canadian healthcare system faces, which have led to worsening patient outcomes. Similarly, rent prices in Canada rose 5.9 percent in 2024 compared to 2023. The Toronto metropolitan area, in particular, saw an overall 5.1 percent increase in rent for two-bedroom units, from $2,560 in the first quarter of 2019 to $2,690 in the first quarter of 2025. 


Canadians have raised concerns about the cost of living and quality of life with their members of parliament. During Canada’s last federal election and in its wake, both Conservative and Liberal politicians have used these pain points as campaign guideposts. This isn’t unusual, but something is different this time: Several mostly Conservative leaders and MPs have positioned international students as the main reason for their concerns. 


Immigration Minister Marc Miller and Ontario Premier Doug Ford have both placed blame for the rapid growth in international student enrollment on private colleges, with the federal Liberal Party going so far as to announce a cap on international student enrollment from 2025 to 2027. Further, according to the Centre of Excellence of the Canadian Federation, there has been a sharp rise in anti-immigration sentiment across all age groups in Canada. Online rhetoric, such as from notable TikTokers, is stoking anti-immigrant views. 


The Eye Opener, a Toronto Metropolitan University Newspaper, interviewed South Asian international students about the rise of xenophobia in Canada. Aasim Ul Haq Khwaja, a second-year business technology management student, said the first thing his family asks him when they call is whether he feels safe. Priyanka Prakash, a third-year food and nutrition student, and Harshi Shah, another third-year nutrition and food student, both said phone calls back home predominantly consist of family members asking about their safety in Toronto. 


Between 2020 and 2023, police in the Waterloo region logged 387 race-based hate crimes, with a significant increase in incidents targeting South Asians as international student numbers simultaneously surged. In 2023 alone, South Asians accounted for one in six reported race-based hate crimes, up from one in ten the previous year. Most of these crimes involved threats or graffiti, but 12 percent escalated to physical assault.


Via Waterloo Regional Police Service
Via Waterloo Regional Police Service

Meanwhile, in Ontario—the province with the second-highest cost of living—the Conservative Party plans to remove rent control, has expanded funding for private clinics to 300 times that of public hospitals, and has changed OSAP policies in favour of loans rather than grants, reducing post-secondary affordability. Politicians and government officials have yet to take accountability here. Hypothetically, if the influx of international students and immigrants is too great for our healthcare, living, and education systems, then there’s still a vital distinction to make: This is most likely a government policy failure, not necessarily the fault of international students and immigrants.


Whenever a country faces systemic failures, it’s easy to use immigrants as a tool to either bolster the economy or excuse governmental failures. Canada is no different, despite the “goodwill” pedestal it tends to stand on, courtesy of its proximity to the more overt anti-immigration practices in the US. International students have long been used as “cash cows” for underfunded public and private universities and colleges, especially in Ontario. They’ve worked jobs no one else wanted, particularly under-the-table jobs, which frequently resulted in unfair treatment and abuse in the workplace. Yet, amid rising housing prices and the cost of living rising exponentially each year, politicians seem more desperate, and therefore, more apt to use international students as scapegoats instead of repealing harmful policies. 


Currently, the federal government is looking to launch a new cap on international students by 2027. These sentiments were reinforced by King Charles and Prime Minister Mark Carney. As Canada continues to dismiss or ignore systemic issues within its society, the blame is bound to shift to another. 

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.


Searching for a Voice in Politics: Youth are Citizens Now, Not in the Future

by Lillian Currie for The 44 North, Guest Writer


Youth activists at a protest holding yellow signs with red letters.
Youth activists at a protest holding yellow signs with red letters.
"If political institutions want greater youth participation, they must stop treating young people as future citizens and start treating them as citizens now." 

Young people are constantly criticized for being “too disconnected” from politics. Headlines often describe Generation Z as apathetic, distracted, or uninterested in civic engagement. Older generations frequently argue that young people spend more time scrolling through social media than paying attention to elections, policy, or democratic participation. Yet, this narrative ignores a much more important question: Why do so many young people feel disconnected from politics in the first place?


The issue is not that youth don’t care. In fact, young people are among the most vocal advocates for climate action, racial justice, affordability, education reform, mental health awareness, and human rights. Across the world, youth-led protests and online movements have demonstrated extraordinary passion and concern for social issues. What many young people struggle with isn’t not caring about politics, but believing politics genuinely cares about them in return. 


Increasingly, young people feel alienated from political systems that seem distant, performative, and unresponsive to their realities.


This growing divide between youth and politics has been shaped by several interconnected factors: Broken political promises, polarization, inaccessible political language, the overwhelming negativity of political discourse, and the influence of social media. Together, these forces have created a generation that often feels powerless rather than empowered. However, despite these challenges, youth disengagement isn’t inevitable. Young people consistently show that when they feel represented, informed, and valued, they’re willing to participate. Authentic leadership, civic education, grassroots activism, and meaningful representation can help rebuild trust between youth and political systems.


One of the largest misconceptions about young people is that they’re entirely uninterested in politics. In reality, many statistics show the opposite. According to Statistics Canada, 67% of Canadians aged 15 to 30 reported searching for information on a political issue online, while nearly half had signed an online petition related to social or political causes. Additionally, 37% reported boycotting or choosing products for ethical reasons. These numbers reveal that youth are not disconnected from issues affecting society. Instead, they’re engaging with politics in ways that often fall outside traditional systems like voting or party membership.


Young people have repeatedly been at the forefront of major social movements. The global climate movement, led in large part by youth activists, has pressured governments and corporations to take environmental concerns more seriously. Movements advocating for racial justice, Indigenous rights, LGBTQ+ equality, and mental health awareness have also been heavily driven by young organizers. According to a 2021 study from the Pew Research Centre, younger generations were significantly more likely than older adults to attend rallies, volunteer, donate, or contact officials regarding climate change. These actions demonstrate not apathy, but deep concern for the future.


However, while many youth care passionately about issues, they often feel ignored by political institutions themselves. One major reason for this disconnect is performative politics. Politicians frequently speak about supporting young people during campaigns, promising action on affordability, education, housing, or climate change. Yet many youth feel those promises rarely result in meaningful change. Rising tuition costs, increasingly unaffordable housing, and economic instability continue to impact younger generations. As a result, politics can begin to feel less like a system designed to represent people and more like a cycle of empty slogans repeated every election season.


This frustration is intensified by the fact that many young people feel their concerns are treated as secondary compared to the interests of older voters. Older generations historically vote at higher rates, making them a more reliable political demographic. Statistics Canada found that voter turnout among Canadians aged 18 to 30 was consistently lower than turnout among older adults, especially in municipal elections. Because political parties prioritize groups most likely to vote, young people may feel politically invisible. This creates a damaging cycle: Youth feel ignored, which discourages participation, and lower participation then leads politicians to focus even less on youth concerns.


Another major factor contributing to youth alienation is the increasingly polarised and hostile nature of political discourse. Politics today is often framed as constant conflict rather than collaborative problem-solving. On television and social media, political discussions frequently appear aggressive, divisive, and emotionally exhausting. Instead of encouraging participation, this environment can push young people away.


For many teenagers and young adults, politics is introduced not through meaningful civic education, but through online outrage. Social media platforms expose users to endless cycles of scandals, arguments, misinformation, and anger. Every day, young people encounter headlines predicting environmental collapse, threats to democracy, economic crisis, or attacks on human rights. While awareness is important, constant exposure to negativity can create emotional burnout. Politics begins to feel hopeless rather than empowering.


Growing up in the digital age has dramatically shaped how young people experience politics. Platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and X allow political information to spread rapidly, but they also reward emotional intensity and conflict. Algorithms often prioritize content that provokes anger, fear, or outrage because those emotions generate engagement. As a result, many youth are exposed to politics primarily through emotionally charged clips, arguments, or misinformation instead of thoughtful discussion or education.


This online environment can make politics feel performative rather than constructive. Politicians increasingly rely on viral moments and social media branding to connect with younger audiences. While some digital outreach can make politics more accessible, young people are often highly aware when attempts at relatability feel forced or insincere. Memes, trends, or simplified slogans cannot replace meaningful action. Young people want authenticity, not marketing strategies disguised as activism.


At the same time, schools often fail to provide strong civic education that explains how political systems actually function. Many students graduate with a limited understanding of how laws are passed, how local governments operate, or how ordinary citizens can influence change. Without this knowledge, politics can feel inaccessible and confusing. Complex political language, legal terminology, and institutional processes may seem intentionally designed to exclude ordinary people.


This educational gap leaves many young people feeling powerless. They are told voting matters, yet they’re rarely taught how broader civic engagement works beyond elections. Consequently, some youth conclude that individual participation cannot realistically create change. Feelings of powerlessness are especially common among marginalized youth who may already feel excluded from institutions due to race, class, gender identity, or economic barriers.


Personal lived experiences also shape how youth understand political and social systems. Throughout middle school, I often overheard predominantly white preteens casually calling their Black friends racist names such as “monkey” as a joke. At the time, I never had the courage to say anything, but those experiences stayed with me. They revealed how normalized prejudice and ignorance can become when people are not educated about the harm of their words. More importantly, it demonstrated why conversations about racial justice and political responsibility matter. Those preteens eventually enter high school, workplaces, and broader society, carrying those attitudes with them unless they are challenged. Silence around these issues only allows harmful behaviour to continue.


Experiences like these help explain why many young people care deeply about social justice issues while simultaneously feeling disconnected from formal politics. They see problems affecting their communities every day, yet political systems often appear slow, reactive, or unwilling to address them meaningfully. This disconnect creates frustration because youth are constantly told they are “the future,” while their present concerns are frequently dismissed.


Despite this alienation, there are many signs that young people are not giving up on democracy altogether. In fact, youth participation often increases when young people believe their voices genuinely matter. According to Elections Canada, voter turnout among Canadians aged 18 to 24 rose significantly in recent federal elections compared to earlier decades, showing that young people are more likely to participate when political issues feel urgent and personally relevant. Although youth turnout remains lower than that of older generations, the data suggest that engagement is possible when young people feel represented and believe their voices can create meaningful change.


Young people are also more likely to participate when leaders speak with them instead of talking down to them. Authentic representation matters deeply. Youth want leaders who understand the realities of student debt, housing insecurity, rising costs of living, discrimination, and online culture because they have experienced those challenges themselves. Younger candidates and grassroots organizers often generate excitement because they appear more relatable and connected to everyday concerns.


Community involvement and grassroots activism are especially powerful tools for rebuilding political engagement. Many youth feel more motivated to participate in local initiatives where they can directly see the impact of their actions. Volunteering, organizing community events, participating in protests, or advocating for local issues can make politics feel tangible rather than abstract. Research highlighted by organizations like Simon Fraser University’s Centre for Dialogue suggests that young people are often highly engaged civically, even if they don’t always participate through traditional political channels.


Improving civic education is another essential solution. Schools should teach not only how governments function, but also how students can participate in shaping their communities long before they’re old enough to vote. In Ontario, students take a “Civics and Careers” course in Grade 10, but civic engagement should be woven throughout a student's education rather than confined to a single class. Young people should learn how to contact elected officials, advocate for policy changes, evaluate sources critically, organize community initiatives, and contribute to local decision-making. These experiences help students develop a sense of belonging and show them that their voices matter before they reach voting age. As a teenager myself, I’ve seen and felt how empowering it can be when young people are given opportunities to contribute to conversations that affect their schools and communities. Civic education should encourage participation and confidence, rather than simply require students to memorize facts about political structures, history, and figures.


Additionally, political spaces themselves must become more accessible. Political discussions shouldn’t rely so heavily on complicated jargon or exclusionary language that alienates ordinary citizens. Young people should feel invited into conversations about policy rather than be made to feel uninformed for not already understanding every aspect of government. Democracy functions best when participation is encouraged, not gatekept.


Most importantly, young people need proof that participation can create real change. Trust cannot be rebuilt through slogans alone. Governments and political leaders must demonstrate accountability by following through on promises, listening to youth concerns, and creating opportunities for genuine participation. When young people see policies directly improving affordability, education, climate action, or mental health resources, political engagement begins to feel worthwhile.


Ultimately, the idea that young people are simply “too disconnected” from politics ignores the deeper reality of youth alienation. Young people are not apathetic because they’re lazy, uninformed, or incapable of caring. They are navigating political systems that often feel distant, performative, inaccessible, and overwhelmingly negative. They care deeply about the future, but many are still searching for evidence that their voices truly matter.


Rather than blaming youth for disengagement, society should ask why so many young people feel unheard in systems supposedly designed to represent them. If political institutions want greater youth participation, they must stop treating young people as future citizens and start treating them as citizens now. Through authentic leadership, stronger civic education, community engagement, and meaningful representation, politics can once again become something young people feel part of rather than excluded from. Only then can the emotional and social divide between youth and politics begin to close.


Bibliography & Further Reading


Lillian Currie is a creative and compassionate high-school student with a strong interest in helping others and making a positive impact in her community. She is passionate about pathways involving children and youth, including social work and pediatric healthcare, and enjoys studying topics such as criminal law, history, and sociology.


Outside of school, Lillian is highly involved in her community. She is an active Youth Steering Committee Member for the Women in Leadership Foundation and also serves on the youth council for Harmony Movement. In addition, she works closely with the Glocal Foundation of Canada, contributing to the writing and research of academic papers. Through all three volunteer opportunities, she has accumulated nearly 200 volunteer hours.


Beyond academics, Lillian is passionate about dance. She has been dancing recreationally for three years and competitively for two, already achieving notable success in her dance journey. She is known for being kind, hardworking, and dedicated to supporting the people around her while continuing to grow both personally and academically.


Writers Room | Pride Month for Seniors & Elders: Weeping Willow

by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North, Senior Editor


Artwork by Logan Brewer
Artwork by Logan Brewer

The willow tree’s branches stroked the living room window, causing the setting sun to twinkle across Raven’s prom dress. Carefully propped on a hanger, it was hooked to the top ledge of the swinging door separating the kitchen and living room. For a moment, Grandpa Wood—as Raven always called him—blended the music of the gentle window tapping with the door’s inability to be still or closed. He was fiddling with the dress’s delicate corset back, stringing the tie through with practiced hands.  


“Did all the sauce wash out?” Raven asked jokingly, as she skipped down the stairs in her slip and stockings, hair still in curlers.


“Most of it. But you’ll never forget to toss the spaghetti on the wall before adding the sauce, will you?”


Raven laughed, shaking her head. 


“I didn’t make the loopholes big enough to easily take the ribbon out and thread it back through. You’re lucky I’m good at this.” Grandpa Wood chuckled. “Okay. Arms up!” 


“Careful of the curlers!” Raven said, giggling. She stepped towards Grandpa Wood as he tenderly lifted the dress off the hanger and slid it over her head. 


“Turn around,” he said, motioning to lace up the corset. “How tight?” 


“Well, I want to be able to breathe, but make it pretty.”


Grandpa Wood winked, knowingly. “So when does Sari get here? Her flowers for the tux are in the fridge.” 


Raven blushed. “In twenty, I think.”


Grandpa Wood tied and arranged the bow, then turned Raven to face him. His smile said all she needed to hear. 


Raven’s dress was a shade darker than her near-black hair, but shimmered amber in the light like her eyes. The sleeves were black lace, the corset ribbon amber, and the hand-stitched bodice detailed tiny raven feathers and moths. Grandpa Wood, who hadn’t stitched a dress in over twenty years since he retired, had completely outdone himself. He’d even tucked a few bits of wild bergamot into the corset, the aroma of which filled the doorway between the living room and kitchen. 


“You better get those curlers out.” 


“Would you help me? Just like mom would have?”


Grandpa Wood smiled through the sadness that emerged first, but it showed in his crow’s feet. “Only if I can tell you a story.”


Raven nodded, taking a careful seat on her grandfather’s soft blue armchair. She needed something to distract her from feeling nervous. 


“Don’t worry. The dress fabric is pretty resilient. You’ve got to be able to dance, right?” He cleared his throat before beginning the story and started unfastening the tiny curlers nestled in Raven’s thick hair. 


“Since it’s your prom night, how about a story with Theo?” 


Stories about Theo were Raven’s favourite. Theo was Grandpa Wood’s high school and university sweetheart, and Raven liked to imagine that, if possible, they’d be together today. But Theo died from HIV/AIDS at just twenty-one. Somehow, though Raven had never met him, it felt as if he was still alive—just somewhere out of reach. Grandpa Wood’s stories were that vivacious; he loved Theo that much.  


“On our prom night…well, I’m sure you can imagine. Our folks didn’t know we weren’t going to the prom. We dressed up all right, suit and all, but said we were meeting some friends there instead of picking up a date. Theo and I had other plans.” He winked for effect. 


“An hour from here, near the reservation where I grew up in Southview, there was a lagoon with a weeping willow. It’s unusual for ours to be here, let alone more that far North, so someone must have planted it in the little park. Just like your mom planted ours. We’d hung lights the night before and packed the back of Theo’s rusty truck with snacks and beer—courtesy of your uncle Art. It was warm that night when we arrived around 8:30 p.m. Nearly dark but not quite. Warm enough to swim—without clothes, I might add.”   


“Grandpa!” Raven laughed, though not surprised. Her grandfather wasn’t shy. 


“Hold still! Or these will turn into burs!”


“Okay, okay. Continue.” Raven settled herself into the chair and held still.


“Well, I won’t tell you the rest, but we had a great time. Don’t you get any ideas! That swamp by the market isn’t a close second to our little spot back then. It’s contaminated with goodness knows what.” 


“I can imagine,” Raven said as Grandpa Wood took the last curler from her hair and fluffed the curls. “Did your friends want to come with you?”


“You know, I don’t know. I was afraid to ask, to be honest. Theo and I weren’t exactly an item for public viewing. To tell you the truth, I’d be afraid to ask those same people now, even though we’re grown.”


Raven looked sad and fiddled with her dress. 


As if reading her mind, Grandpa Wood replied, “I tell you this story, though, to remind you that our pain is so often centred as the only valuable thing we have to give. That much hasn’t changed between my generation and yours. Maybe it has visibility-wise. But for folks like us, our romantic joy is sacred, resistance, and just as important. In context, were Theo and I sad to be making-shifting our prom, alone? Sure. Theo’s ashes are there, you know? I scattered them across that little clearing by the water. Haven’t been back since. But we were immensely happy that night. It was the happiest evening of my life. And that’s worth something—a story worth telling, don’t you think?”


Raven nodded, an idea foaming like little waves on the shore of a lagoon. The doorbell rang just before the kettle for Grandpa Wood’s tea whistled. 


***


“Where are we going?” Grandpa Wood asked a few days later, a kitchen towel covering his eyes in the front seat of Sari’s parents’ Honda Civic. They’d fastened the towel at the back with a clothespin. 


“You’ll know soon,” Sari said, fingers strumming the steering wheel to the tune of RAYE’s song, “Joy,” blasting from the radio. The sun was nearly down, but it made Sari’s brown skin and purple blush pop. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Raven in the back seat and winked. 


Raven smiled, clapping her hands silently with excitement.


In a few minutes, they turned onto a soft dirt drive, stopped the car, and climbed out to help Grandpa Wood. When Raven opened the passenger door, he was shivering.


“What’s wrong?” Raven asked, concerned, as Sari came to her side. 


Grandpa Wood half-smiled. “There’s a hole in this rag, my dear.”


Raven’s heart felt like a boulder resting on her stomach. He knew where they were. 


“But it wouldn’t have made a difference if it were brand new. It seems my body remembers how cold the water was when we jumped in.” 


Sari and Raven helped Grandpa Wood out of the car and unpinned the dishcloth. He took both of their hands, one on each side, and smiled. 


“Thank you. This is very thoughtful.” But he seemed sad, and in a way, hurt, as if his loneliest memory had appeared before him and he hadn’t wanted to face it again. Sari and Raven exchanged glances, unsure of what they were about to do next. From where they stood by the car, the top of the weeping willow was just visible, its full body standing in a small valley.


Carefully avoiding rocks and tree roots, they walked past a playground toward the gentle slope that smoothed into grass. When they crossed the curve’s threshold and looked down the hill, the sound ceased to be protected by the bowl of earth where the lagoon was nestled. Grandpa Wood’s mouth opened nearly as wide as his eyes. 


Beneath them, at the bottom of the hill, were Raven and Sari’s high school friend group and at least twenty seniors from the area where they lived—some Grandpa Wood’s old friends, some soon-to-be new friends. 


“We asked around at homes and senior centres, and invited as many folks from the 2SLGBTQIA+ community as we could,” Sari said, grinning. A huge glittering banner waved from a nearby maple, reading “Happy Pride Prom!” Three picnic tables were covered in food. The high school tech team had set up small speakers, which played 50s hits. And, once again, fairy lights hung from the bows of the weeping willow. 


Raven finally spoke. “I remember you saying that sadness and grief aren’t the only things worth feeling. Joy is right there beside them, often in the same place.” 


Grandpa Wood wrapped his arm around Raven and kissed the top of her head. “You’re absolutely right.” He reached over and hugged Sari, too. 


“Can I show you something else?” Raven asked.


“There’s more?” Grandpa Wood replied, genuinely surprised.


Raven nodded, offering her hand. They walked down the slope, past the small party, to the other side of the weeping willow. 


“We were going to pick wildflowers to decorate. But I don’t think we need to. Is this the spot?”


Grandpa Wood stared, his eyes scanning a bloom of forget-me-nots about the size of two people, scattered across the little clearing. He nodded, eyes welling with tears.


Raven reached up, adjusted his periwinkle tie, and hugged him tight. 


“They move us forward, too,” Grandpa Wood whispered after a few shaky breaths. “Grief and joy together. We can only survive and live when moved by both. That’s how the past keeps living, too. What can’t be alive itself survives inside us.”


“Is that why grief and joy feel so heavy? Theo is alive inside you?” 


“Yes, love. And that’s why what you’ve done for me today feels so much like rest; he’s alive inside you now, too.”


Resources for 2SLGBTQIA+ Seniors & Elders


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