Canada's voice of the voiceless

Catholic New Times, Dec 19, 2004 by Christl Dabu

Do not cross: police line.

This fiercely chilly Friday, Cathy Crowe looks back at the ambulance and the car accident before entering a downtown coffee shop. She buys a steaming cup of vanilla bean latte and slips into a booth facing the window.

Crowe sighs. In a brief interlude from her marathon schedule, she can at least see something being done to help the victim. She can even relax. No politicians to lobby. No late-night plotting with fellow activists. No rallies and vigils and funerals to attend. No one needs her attention--yet.

Then, a woman recognizes Crowe as the street nurse. She" tells her that a homeless woman may have been the accident victim. Crowe's face turns ashen. After she rummages for her card and gives it to the police, she cranes her neck towards the TV blaring CP24 news. Crowe's cup of latte, still full, goes cold.

Crowe isn't a stereotypical nurse in a flawless starched uniform. The 51-year-old is a nurse beyond the clinic, and on an exhausting mission, now more like an obsession. "I hate to use military metaphors" she says, " but we're waging war for people's health and lives and human rights" .

Shy and quiet as a youth, this Kingston, Ont.-native has become so passionate about the homeless cause in Toronto, she has been transformed into a media-savvy advocate. She is outraged because, from the front lines, she has seen the government's languid response while the homeless problem has worsened. Along with her idealism and fiery conviction is a personal connection with the homeless. In her eyes, the homeless don't simply fit the labels of drug addicts, alcoholics and bums. She sees how the same fate can befall anyone hit by hard times and unjust government policies.

Homeless-making processes

Some policies are catalysts for what she calls the "homeless-making processes." The problem snowballed with the removal of tenant protection laws, the reduction of social assistance rates, tighter requirements to obtain disability benefits, employment insurance or social assistance and a job market affected by globalization. The nail that sealed the fate of homelessness for many was the federal government's cancellation of its national housing program in 1993.

Crowe was crucial in getting the country and the United Nations' attention when the big city mayors and the UN declared homelessness Canada's national disaster in 1998. That's when she compared the problem to disasters like the ice storm in Quebec and Eastern Ontario. Homelessness, Crowe believes, is a preventable, man-made disaster. She and the Toronto Disaster Relief Committee (TDRC), a housing and homeless advocacy group she co-founded, exposed the country's secret shame to the world. Crowe and the TDRC have especially been working to get all governments to commit one per cent more of their annual budgets to housing. They are far from reaching the goal, but the TDRC says that an increasing number of housing projects and services have been created nationwide.

"Cathy Crowe does things many of us would not think of doing--most importantly, as an advocate speaking on behalf of people who would be neglected and completely helpless," says federal NDP Leader Jack Layton. Since 1986, Layton has stood by Crowe's side.

Her mentor and former co-worker, Dr. Michael Rachlis, says he always thinks of Crowe when he sees a poster above his desk, with these words by Tommy Douglas, Canada's founding father of medicare: "Courage my friends, 'tis not too late to make a better world.' I think without her, the homeless issue would have a much lower profile in the country," he says.

Ernie Lightman, social policy professor at the University of Toronto, also admires the fact Crowe walks her talk. "Cathy goes out in the not-so-pretty parts of Toronto's streets and gets her hands dirty, while the rest of us make sad sounds about how bad homelessness is," he says. "She's a true hero."

Fueled with her nurse's instinct to care for the helpless, Crowe became one of the pioneers of street nursing after joining Street Health in 1989, an organization of nurses, social workers and mental health professionals who provide health care for the homeless. It is, in her words, unfathomable that in a wealthy country like Canada, there are places that resemble "a refugee camp," or "disaster zone."

The injustice in many Canadian cities, though, didn't leave Crowe speechless. The fight has made Crowe a persistent presence with a fearless tongue in public. Some politicians have given her the cold shoulder, including former Toronto Mayor Mel Lastman. Councillor Brad Duguid, the city's former chair of the Community Services committee, admits that right-leaning politicians label her a radical activist because of TDRC's ties with the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty, a group that has little credibility in council because of its questionable activist tactics.

Long-term solutions

Even with a strained reputation in Council, Crowe says that they are continuing to work towards a long-term solution. The first critical step is to make affordable housing widely available. There is a need for shelters and supports, such as street health clinics, to address the immediate situation. Crowe, however, is worried that volunteers will eventually burn out as they can't just keep feeding people and giving them money. The fact that TDRC's tactics are less effective now in commanding City Hall's attention also makes her sense the threat of defeat. She says what they need is more diverse voices taking the extra step to put pressure on politicians.