top of page

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


OSAP changes have been implemented, and they're hurting Canadians in more ways than one. 


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


Students protesting the Ford government's OSAP changes. Via Evan Mitsui/CBC.
Students protesting the Ford government's OSAP changes. Via Evan Mitsui/CBC.

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.


Doug Ford’s changes to the Ontario Student Assistance Program (OSAP) came into effect on Aug. 1: The maximum portion of provincial funding provided as non-repayable grants dropped from 85 percent to 25 percent. The remaining 75 percent (or more) is now distributed as repayable loans. But there hasn’t just been a change to OSAP; the seven-year tuition freeze for publicly assisted colleges and universities has also ended. Schools are permitted to raise tuition rates by up to two per cent annually over a three-year period. 


The direct impact of these changes


Via CSA
Via CSA

Students are not only navigating a higher loans-to-grants ratio—they’re also receiving less OSAP funding for 2026/2027. This often means taking on side jobs to pay for the rest of their tuition, let alone other cost-of-living expenses. In addition to tuition fees, students must pay out-of-pocket for ancillary, technology, lab, exam, and administrative fees, which can add up to hundreds of dollars each year. The list of costs grows to include course materials such as textbooks, kits, required software, phone plans, transit fares, and housing and food if students aren’t living with parents/guardians. 


The cost of higher education is increasing in more ways than one, and those most affected are private college students, middle-class families and returning adult students. Students attending private colleges will receive all of their provincial funding as loans. While the OSAP grant was specifically designed to help middle-class families, changing the grant-to-loan ratio will profoundly affect students who don’t quite meet the threshold for social assistance but also lack sufficient funds to support their postsecondary education without government support. Lower-income students can still benefit from Ontario's enhanced Student Access Guarantee (SAG), a bursary designed to help cover the gap between OSAP and direct program costs (tuition, books, and mandatory fees). If lower-income students receive SAG, they don't need to repay the grant.


Via CSA
Via CSA

How students and the government are responding  


Shortly after the announcement of these changes to OSAP in February 2026, many Canadians protested the policy change at Queen's Park. However, unlike when the Ford government faced harsh backlash for introducing Bill 60—a proposal that would have replaced evergreen month-to-month leases with fixed-term alternatives—which ultimately led them to withdraw it, the OSAP changes have remained in place.


The Ontario Undergraduate Student Alliance (OUSA) and College Student Alliance (CSA) surveyed students about the new OSAP changes. “Surveyed students reported that 43 percent of those pursuing an undergraduate degree rely on OSAP funding to cover more than half of the costs of completing their education. [...] 63 percent of university students stated that they were concerned about the accumulation of debt and being burdened with long-term debt after graduation.”


Ford stands by his decision, citing in an early August conference,“[T]he auditor said what we [were] giving [in grants] before was unacceptable, unsustainable.”



What does this mean for Canadian youth? 


In North American culture, education has long been recognized as the safest path to upward economic mobility, yet today, the price of a degree seems to be lifelong debt. Furthermore, while postsecondary tuition rises, entry-level roles are disappearing due to the current job shortage and companies' increased use of AI to automate tasks like data entry. Statistics Canada found that the average rate of unemployment in Canada was at 10 percent for those with Bachelor’s degrees, and nine percent for those with graduate or doctorate degrees. 


Education has also always been an avenue of opportunity for first-generation immigrants like me. My father didn't earn his engineering degree until his late 50s. My mother became a personal support worker in her early 40s. Both were in different industries before their career transitions, and those transitions wouldn’t have been possible without government support. As someone considering returning to college to complete a Master's in Fine Arts, the change in the distribution of OSAP funds would balloon my existing undergraduate loans. I don’t know if I’ll ever pay them off. 



Higher education was once seen as the solution for Canadians to gain economic stability. The Ford government’s divestment from postsecondary tuition funding sends a clear message to those living in Ontario that a cultural shift has occurred. If access to education is slowly becoming a privilege available only to the wealthy, what does that mean for young Canadians from lower-income backgrounds who want to improve their living circumstances? 


When barriers to postsecondary schools—which offer networking, training and internships—are created, this affects not just disenfranchised Canadians. Our education system needs reform, but I fear this won’t happen without a change in government and its priorities. I can only hope that the effects of this policy won’t be irreversible by the time we see these changes.


Stay tuned for the second part of this article series, which will dive into the current state of the job market and how young Canadians are finding their footing in the workforce as the U.S.-Canada trade war continues and AI replaces entry-level jobs.


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.


by Farhaan Batchkhan for The 44 North, Guest Writer


A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.
A sneak peek of our live event, Beyond Words. Please stay tuned for the event recording, photos, and more! Photo above by Cal Campos (The Quiet / Cal Campos Media). IG: @calvin.campos.

"Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language." 

We’ve all heard it. 


The quick deflection after a slur slips out, after someone mimics an accent for laughs, after a name is butchered one too many times and met with giggles instead of correction: 


“Relax, it was just a joke,” or “Chill out, it wasn’t that deep.”


But there’s something we don’t say: Those words aren’t light. They’re heavy. They’re tiny cuts that accumulate until belonging feels conditional, until you begin editing yourself before you even speak.


As a Grade 11 student in Pickering, Ontario, I’ve watched this scene rewind and repeat in our hallways, cafeterias, and classrooms. A classmate from Tunisia once told me that he stopped introducing himself with his full name after hearing that someone turned it into a meme. Another friend, whose family immigrated from Jamaica, said she learned to laugh along when people called her hair “wild” or “unprofessional,” not because it didn’t hurt, but because calling it out felt riskier than staying silent.


Silence, I’ve realized, is its own kind of language.


When teachers allow racist comments to slide—to “avoid tension”—they’re teaching us what’s tolerable. When students shrug off microaggressions as “not a big deal,” they’re reinforcing a hierarchy of whose dignity matters. Language doesn’t exist in isolation; it shapes what we normalize, what we challenge, and ultimately, who feels safe enough to show up as themselves.


Addressing racist language isn’t just about individual slurs; it’s about how anti-Black language functions systemically, whether embedded in jokes, nicknames, assumptions about intelligence, discipline disparities, or who’s labelled “disruptive” instead of “passionate.” I’ve witnessed Black students reprimanded for raising their voices in debate while others are praised for the same energy. I’ve heard phrases like “ghetto” or “acting Black” tossed around like harmless slang—never questioned. 


For a long time, I told myself I wasn’t part of the problem because I never used those words nor the tone that most often accompanies them. But neutrality isn’t innocence. There were moments I remained quiet when I should’ve spoken, not out of malice, but fear. I was afraid of being labelled “too sensitive,” afraid of making things awkward, and afraid that my voice wouldn’t change anything anyway. That’s the trap: We wait for someone braver, louder, more “qualified” to step in, while harm continues unchecked.


Real courage, I’ve learned, isn’t just confrontation but rather curiosity. It’s asking why certain words are used so casually in some spaces and not others. It’s wondering who benefits when we dismiss pain as “over-sensitivity.” And it’s having the humility to admit when we’ve been part of the problem—even when unintentionally. Vulnerability means saying, “I messed up,” or “I didn’t know, but I want to learn.” It means listening when someone says, “That hurt,” instead of rushing to defend your intent.


This work doesn’t just fall on students. Everyone holds responsibility.


  • Teachers must interrupt harmful language in real time, not days, weeks, or months later. Not vaguely, but clearly: “That word carries pain. We don’t use it here.”

  • Administrators must ensure disciplinary policies don’t punish Black students more harshly for the same infractions.

  • Peers must move beyond passive allyship (“I’m not racist”) to active co-conspiratorship (“I won’t let racism happen in front of me”).


But accountability without repair is empty. What happens after the harm? Too often, nothing. The student who was mocked goes home carrying shame. The student who spoke the slur faces no consequence—or worse, becomes a martyr for “free speech.”


I dream of a school where repair is built into our culture. Imagine if, instead of detention slips, we have restorative circles after harmful language is used—spaces where everyone can share how they’re impacted and collaboratively decide how to rebuild trust. Imagine student-led workshops where we unpack the history behind certain slurs or explore how language shapes identity across cultures.


Belonging shouldn’t be a poster on the wall; it should be the air we breathe when we walk into class.


Building that world requires structural change, but it also starts small. It starts with one person choosing to interrupt a “joke” with “Actually, that’s not funny.” It starts with a teacher pausing mid-lesson to say, “Let’s talk about why that word carries pain.” It starts with students like me admitting when we’ve stayed silent alongside a commitment to do better.


Words shape worlds. And if we believe schools should be places where every student feels seen, valued, and safe—especially Black students, whose joy and brilliance are too often policed by language—then we have to treat words like the powerful force they are.


The future I’m fighting for isn’t perfect. People will still stumble, misunderstand, and hurt each other. But in that future, we won’t hide behind “It was just a joke.” We’ll choose courage over comfort, vulnerability over defensiveness, and repair over silence.


And maybe, just maybe, that’s how we build a world worth belonging to.


Farhaan Batchkhan is a Grade 11 student, aspiring physician, and community leader from Pickering, Ontario. With more than 1,000 volunteer hours, he has been actively involved in tutoring, youth mentorship, sports coaching, healthcare, and student leadership. His experiences as a youth advisory member for multiple non-profits, a volunteer, and an advocate have strengthened his commitment to helping others and promoting educational opportunities for young people. Fluent in French and English, Farhaan is passionate about medicine, community engagement, and empowering the next generation through service and leadership.


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.


bottom of page