A volunteer working behind the scenes at Carleton University food bank. Photo by Neeharika Saha
On Tuesday, Asma stood at the entrance to the Parkdale Food Centre food bank on Hamilton Avenue North.
The 33-year-old first arrived in Canada from Bangladesh in 2018 with her son, who is now 12, and she works as a lunchtime supervisor at a local school, three hours per day, five days a week.
“Fifteen hours is not enough to meet our needs,” she said.
She is not earning enough to sustain both herself and her son and relies on local food banks for assistance. She declined to share her last name.
The groceries she gets from the food bank cover one week, and she has to buy food to cover three other weeks herself. She prefers to purchase long-lasting, non-perishable and frozen products.
“They are helpful,” she said. During the pandemic, Asma could call the food bank and arrange the delivery of groceries to her building. The food bank never turned her away, even at times when stocks were low.
“If they don’t have much food, they can still give some food. And if they have more food, they give more food,” she said.
On Tuesday she arrived to pick up groceries and was told to submit an advance request. But, after a few minutes, Inaya Siblini, the coordinator of the food bank, came out the front door, bearing a paper bag with what Asma needed.
Asma is one of Ottawa’s many hungry people. Some rely on the kindness and generosity of others to put basic food on their table and use local food banks to supplement other sources of food. Food prices are rising, as are housing costs, and the winter is expected to drive this increase even further up. In these conditions, food banks in Ottawa are a support source of last resort for an increasing number of people.
Parkdale Food Centre welcomes people in need at 5 Hamilton Ave. North in Ottawa. Photo by Dennis Kovtun.
Most food bank users live in rentals and almost half worry about facing eviction or defaulting on mortgage payments, according to a 2020 report by Feed Ontario. In 2020, more than half of those who used food banks in Ontario were under the age of 30, and more than 60 per cent relied on social assistance, such as disability payments or Ontario Works.
With food prices rising, food banks are feeling the squeeze.
“Everything is getting so expensive,” said Inaya Siblini. “We do have a certain budget for every item and the increase in prices is affecting our budget.”
Siblini said her food bank saw a significant rise in demand over the last two years. Since the beginning of the pandemic, Parkdale Food Centre has been serving twice the number of clients as it had previously.
“When you have the increase in the number of people you are serving, that definitely will be hard for you,” Siblini said.
She expects the number of people who come to the food bank to continue going up. “Things are getting expensive, a lot. And there are more and more people who need food, especially when they do not have much income,” she said. “We will make sure to do our best to serve everyone who seeks our help.”
Food is stored and sorted inside the Parkdale Food Centre food bank. Photo by Dennis Kovtun.
‘A paycheque away’ from needing help
Government income support programs during the pandemic helped many people avoid using the food bank, said Samantha Ingram, a communications manager at Ottawa Food Bank.
“That really did help people, it really did show us that people are a paycheck away from requiring support, because without CERB, they came to us,” she said. “However, those supports from the government, they came in and they went through the course of the last 20 months. And as it is right now, demand is up a fair bit, I think.”
Many of the individuals who use food banks are single parents, Ingram added.
“One-parent families are definitely a demographic that we see having to head to food banks. Kids are expensive. There’s a lot of expenses that come along with raising a family, especially when you’re doing it on your own,” she said.
Ottawa Food Bank is not worried about its immediate future, said Ingram, who added they would be able to absorb the increased costs of food and increased demand thanks to the generosity of the community.
“The community has been there for us. We’re truly an organization supported by the community, for the community. If it weren’t for the people who donate their hard-earned dollars, we certainly would not be able to do what we do,” she said.
Ottawa’s food banks serve some of the most disadvantaged individuals in the city. They are spread around Ottawa and usually allow anyone who needs them to use their services. Map created by Dennis Kovtun.
The increase in food bank usage is an indicator of intensifying food insecurity, said Tim Li, a research coordinator with an interdisciplinary team at the University of Toronto that investigates food insecurity in Canada.
“We’re showing that only one out of four of the food insecure households are actually using food banks, and there are a lot of different reasons for this—it’s a dignity issue. In a country as rich as Canada, a lot of people don’t want to be seen as using food banks, or they may feel that it’s something that’s not for them,” Li said.
For many people, food bank usage is indicative of real misery, said Elaine Power, professor at Queen’s University, who researches food insecurity. With winter coming, Power said the cost of living is going to increase further. Clothing and heating are additional expenses, particularly for people with young children.
“I’m not sure that there’s anything special about this winter in particular, except that everyday costs are so much higher, and the essentials are more expensive,” Power said.
While neither the Parkdale Food Centre nor Ottawa Food Bank had to turn away people, Power observed a different situation in smaller communities.
“Lots of food banks turn people away all the time. They run out of food. The demand goes up. We’re going to see more and more of that,” she said.
Power said that while food banks in big cities like Ottawa or Toronto may not be very affected, this is not true for smaller communities. There, food banks have to strictly ration how much they give out, or they risk simply running out of food.
Rice, spaghetti, lentils, canned fish and canned vegetables are some of the most in-demand items in Ottawa’s food banks. Photo by Dennis Kovtun
River Ward Coun. Riley Brockington said he believes Ottawa is doing reasonably well on the issue of hunger, though there is room for improvement. Rates of food insecurity are high in lower income neighbourhoods, like those in his ward.
“I think you can best judge a city by how well or not it treats its most needy people. If you have many people whose needs are not being met, then the city’s not doing a good enough job.”
Sonia Bustos, one of the dancers for the Juno-nominated Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra, strikes a pose after an energetic set Nov. 12 at the Bronson Centre Music Theatre. Photo by Sam Konnert.
Frontman and circus ringmaster Sebastian Mejia burst through the back door, making his presence felt to the fans at Bronson Centre Music Theatre. Dancers, brass, strings, percussion and an accordion followed him into the theatre to create the melodic chaos of the Juno-nominated Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra.
Colombian artists Carmen Ruiz and Sebastian Mejia started the Montreal-based orchestra some 10 years ago. The circus-themed band mixes Colombian and Romani rhythms, and is one of the many unique acts to grace the Bronson Centre stage.
“The thing that was amazing about the show is that, for the first time in so long, we were able to make people stand up from their seats and actually come together and move,” Ruiz said.
Scenes of dancing and world music Nov. 12 at the Bronson Centre. Video by Sam Konnert.
The almost 1,000 seat theatre is in an old high school tucked between Ottawa’s Chinatown and Centretown neighbourhoods. The tired walls and bare bulletin boards contrast with the energy-filled hall behind the heavy black doors.
These mid-sized, 800 to 1,500-seat venues provide genre-bending shows by up-and-coming and established artists alike.
They are, however, a struggling segment of a battered business. A 2020 report by the Canadian Live Music Association found that in Toronto alone, 11 venues that hosted an estimated 5,000 concerts a year and employed at least 190 individuals shut their doors forever.
The report says these hardships are not unique to Toronto, as owners like Lisa Zbitnew are also feeling the pressure.
Zbitnew owns the Phoenix Concert Theatre in Toronto and the Bronson Centre in Ottawa. She is also the former president of Sony Music Canada and BMG Music Canada.
With a bit of help, she said, she believes it won’t be long before fans can ride the rail in the front row.
Critical space in music ecosystem
Mid-sized venues are a critical space in the music ecosystem, explained Zbitnew, since artists use them to climb the industry ladder. “It’s the right size for a band that are at a point in their career where they’re still excited about touring and growing, and want a connection with an audience,” she said.
Accomplished artists looking for a more intimate setting also flock to these venues. The Rolling Stones played the Phoenix in 2005 and Bob Dylan performed there in 2004.
She pays $45,000 in monthly rent for The Phoenix on top of other costs, such as insurance, which she said have risen dramatically over the past year. “We’re into six figures for insurance annually. These costs really start to cut into our ability to have enough margin to operate,” she said.
“I’ve had to piece together three different policies just to operate,” Zbitnew said.
Concert organizer and industry veteran Yasmina Proveyer also understands the importance of margins. Proveyer co-founded Axé Worldfest, a non-profit that hopes to educate audiences about world music by organizing concerts in Ottawa.
They received a grant from the Foundation Assisting Canadian Talent on Recordings (FACTOR) to present the Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra show.
The show cost nearly $20,000 with stage plots, cleaning fees, security, technicians, logistics, paying the talent and providing accommodation all being things to consider.
“The funding was a relief since you can put on a good show in a nice venue and at the same time make it affordable and accessible to the public,” Proveyer said.
The genre-bending, circus-themed band mesmerizes the crowd at the Bronson Centre Nov. 12.Photo by Sam Konnert.
Venues facing concert backlog
Pandemic-related border closures also cut off international artists that mid-sized venues depend on to fill their calendars. “When you get to a certain size, there are not enough Canadian acts that can fill our venues,” Zbitnew said.
Larger venues like stadiums were able to cover costs through sporting events while local bars were able to feature Canadian talent to fill their lineups, she explained.
“I by no means want to suggest that small venues weren’t hit as hard as us,” Zbitnew said. “For them, the tough part is digging out of a hole when you can only accommodate 50 to 100 people.”
Another problem her venues are facing is a backlog of concerts. With so many shows being cancelled, the next year is jam packed.
This is not a good thing, according to Zbitnew. “Shows just aren’t performing as well, because fans are having to pick and choose which concerts to see. We have to recognize that the most difficult time period hasn’t even hit us. The cost of booking shows, training new staff and other barriers will rise as we start ramping back up.”
Zbitnew said she feels her sector was an afterthought for the provincial government during the pandemic. The Oct. 8 decision to allow music at bars and fill stadiums with 20,000 people, while her venues were restricted, made no sense to her.
“What’s exactly at the core of this decision making, other than big business can lobby the province more effectively than small business?,” she said.
Lobbying the federal government, however, has proven an important tool for Zbitnew. With the help of the Canadian Live Music Association, discussions are ongoing surrounding wage and rent subsidy support through May of next year.
“I have nothing but good things to say about the federal government in terms of showing ongoing support for small businesses in our sector,” Zbitnew said.
Despite the recent troubles, she’s hopeful for the decade ahead. “Live music since Mozart has drawn people, once we go from a drought of no shows to the first six or eight months of too many shows, that stuff is all going to correct itself.”
Proveyer said she is also excited for the world music scene in the coming years. “You can tell from the audience reaction [at the show], there is an appetite for it.”
Connecting with audiences
Tickets to Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra were priced between $15 and $25, which attracted new fans like Nathalie Regan, who went to the show despite not knowing of the group.
FrontmanSebastian Mejia poses and catches his breath after a particularly lively song. Photo by Sam Konnert.
She said the venue was perfect. “The shared experience of a show like this doesn’t translate well to a larger crowd,” she said.
“At Bluesfest, you’re squished in like sardines, it’s hustle and bustle. You’re having a good time but you’re so focused on the person backing into you and stepping all over you,” she said.
Carmen Ruiz is just grateful to be dancing again with Gypsy Kumbia Orchestra.
“We can connect with the audiences, make them dance, make them laugh, make them not be afraid to lose themselves,” she said.
That’s what she appreciated about the venue. “The stage is big, but you’re not that far away that you feel a big fourth wall between the audience and us,” Ruiz said.
“It’s the most important at the end of it,” she continued. “More than how good the music, or how good the choreography, is how the energy goes through in the show.”
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Fans eager to make their way into the venue queue outside the converted high school.
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Carmen Ruiz dances her way down to the stage to start the show, followed by the band.
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Carmen Ruiz twirls as Sebastian Mejia plays at the crescendo of a song.
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The group finishes the show by playing within the crowd.
A crochet cartoon character sweater made by Ella Milloy and inspired by @artbykaraleez. Photo taken by Ella Milloy.
When the COVID-19 pandemic moved life inside, students started looking for new ways to stay engaged while adjusting to online lectures and tutorials.
Emma Charpentier, a second-year economics student at Carleton University, knew she needed to find a way to stay focused while sitting in front of her computer screen for hours attending her classes.
Through Reddit, Charpentier discovered Carleton’s Yarn for Change club, a member-based knitting and crochet group that actively recruits young people to attend meetings, learn new skills and create textile projects for donation.
“I started learning,” Charpentier said. “I didn’t get very far, but I did learn and it was pretty easy.”
She soon picked up a pair of knitting needles and started her first project. Working with her hands to create a lime green square allowed Charpentier to shift her focus without missing any important information in class. She enjoyed the simplicity of the activity and felt accomplished upon completing her first project.
“For a couple of weeks, I would just sit in class and I would knit while I was watching lectures. It lets you do something with your hands,” Charpentier said.
The pandemic provided many young people with the time and resources to discover and pursue new hobbies. Knitting and crocheting, two activities generally associated with an older generation, became the source of many viral trends and provided much needed relief from the stress of the pandemic. As a result, social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram quickly turned into hubs of creativity.
Not only were young people using these platforms to share videos of their creations, but they were also using them to start conversations about fast fashion and establish their own small businesses.
Over the course of the pandemic, 21-year-old American slow fashion designer Kara Lee used her growing TikTok and Instagram followings to pursue her passion for knitting and crocheting to sell her cartoon character cardigan design, establishing @artbykaraleez in September 2020.
The #accentchallenge is a popular TikTok trend where the creator shows a variety of images or videos of art getting progressively worse. In this case, Ella Milloy chose to show her crochet creation get progressively better. TikTok made by Ella Milloy.
TikTok became a space where many creative trends gained traction during quarantine and have lasted beyond the long months of isolation.
Videos of young creators crocheting giant bumblebees and knitting the famous J.W. Anderson cardigan sported by Harry Styles at a rehearsal for The Today Show in February 2020 filled users’ “for you” pages. More recently, British Olympic diver Tom Daley caused a stir online as fans related to his knitting as a way of dealing with his stress and pre-competition nerves.
Club offers space to connect outside virtual classes
In Ottawa, Carleton University’s Yarn for Change club welcomes growing interest in knitting and crocheting. The group charges a $5 membership fee to provide yarn for its members and make the student club more accessible. Members are encouraged to create projects such as dishcloths, mittens, hats and blankets for donation.
Like Charpentier, third–year Carleton health science student Malak Al Daraawi found the Yarn for Change club online. After coming across one of the club’s Reddit posts she decided to join, despite not having much experience with knitting.
“I didn’t have any experience, but the club is made up of so many different skill levels,” Al Daraawi said. “They gave me so many instructions and videos that could be useful. I wanted to get away from studying and because everything was online, [the club] was one of the only ways I could reach out to people and interact with them outside of lectures.”
Al Daraawi also noted that she grew closer to her mother and sister after learning about her mother’s ability to knit. Discovering this family time helped Al Daraawi manage the pressures of online school.
“[Knitting] really helped me because I got to sit down with my mother and I found out that she also knows how to knit and crochet,” Al Daraawi said. “I talked with my sister and had her learn with me. I’ve been able to find time I never thought I had to actually learn how to do it.”
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Thousands of knitters and crocheters created the J.W. Anderson cardigan worn by Harry Styles in 2020. This wool cardigan was made by Ella Milloy
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The beginning of Emma Charpentier’s first project. The finished square still hasn’t been removed from the original needles. Photo taken by Emma Charpentier.
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A crochet scarf made by Ella Milloy using the moss stitch technique and wool. Photo taken by Ella Milloy.
This program was put on hold during the pandemic, but as public health restrictions continue to ease and a new executive team steps in, the Yarn for Change club plans to restart its donations, including for ways to give directly to homeless shelters or community organizations.
Working with a group and giving back to those in need helps build a sense of purpose, said Dean Verger, a professor in the psychology department at Carleton University. Verger explained how creative outlets like knitting and crocheting can help balance out feelings of stress, anxiety and depression.
“Having a goal of any sort that channels our thinking allows us to focus on something positive,” Verger said. “Even if you’re following a pattern, that means you’re counting stitches and all that processing is filling the space available for thinking, so that there’s no space left for worrying.”
In addition to alleviating feelings of stress and anxiety, knitting and crocheting also provide numerous other mental health benefits.
“There is a product that comes out of this activity that is tangible,” Verger explained. “They’re then going to give the finished product to somebody for a good cause. There are so many practical, mental and social benefits and the whole idea of doing something for someone else and doing something as a group for someone else is what makes us human.”
‘It feels good to give back’
At Carleton, the Yarn for Change club provides a space for young artists and designers to come together to socialize, create and give back to the local community. On a larger scale, the Ottawa Knitting Guild established a similar space for knitters across the National Capital Region in 1994.
The knitting guild sees the participation of up to 200 knitters every year. The guild’s community knitting group creates a variety of items to donate to local organizations such as the Mission, Shepherds of Good Hope and Warm Hands Network.
Jean Grundy, the guild’s current president, hopes more young people get into knitting and crocheting. Grundy sees an opportunity for collaboration and knowledge sharing between members as more young people get involved in the organization.
“The guild wants to serve Ottawa knitters,” Grundy said. “We are a community of Ottawa knitters and if we are not involving all groups, and that includes students, then we are not representative or inclusive. We want to bring in new ideas and new techniques. We want to pass on this knowledge.”
After learning how to knit as a child, Grundy picked the hobby back up when she attended Concordia University in Montreal and has continued to knit ever since.
Similar to Charpentier, Grundy uses knitting to relax and to keep her hands busy during work meetings.
“Your mind is free when you’re knitting and yet you have to be present in the moment because of what you’re doing.” Grundy said. “Ultimately, it feels good to give back to people.”
Nicola Steeves hard at work at Umbrella Bar. Photo by Hafsatou Balde.
During the summer, there were days when Nicola Steeves would walk up to 40,000 steps during a shift at Umbrella Bar, the sunny Dow’s Lake patio where she works as a bartender and server. At the end of those long days, she would often soak her sore feet and keep Advil and Voltaren nearby.
“You need to buy a new pair [of shoes] like every two months because they fall apart,” the 26-year-old Ottawa woman said, adding the cost of sneakers alone is enough to appreciate the tips she receives.
But Steeves fears those hard-earned tips could soon take a hit when the province raises the minimum wage for liquor servers.
Starting Jan. 1, 2022, Ontario will join Alberta and British Columbia in raising the minimum wage for its liquor servers to match the province’s general minimum wage. Liquor servers, who currently earn $12.55 an hour, will soon be making $15 an hour. As wages and the cost of living in Ontario go up, people in the hospitality industry – everyone from consumers to experts – wonder what the future of tipping entails.
Although tipping is a voluntary act, it’s a large part of the dining culture in Canada. Consumers may choose to tip because they received great service, but they’ve also learned it has become what is expected when they’re out at a restaurant or bar.
Different approaches to sharing tips
Steeves earns around $350 to $400 in tips on a good day before pooling tips. Six per cent of every customer’s total of the bill goes into pooling tips. Not all establishments function this way, but at Umbrella Bar, the pooled money is then redistributed among the support staff whether tips are made or not.
“If people don’t tip us, [servers] end up paying six per cent out of their own pockets,” Steeves explained.
The act of pooling tips or tip outs is when employers withhold or make deductions from the servers’ tips and then redistribute them among some or all the employees at the workplace who wouldn’t otherwise benefit from tips.
Ben McMurray. Photo by Adam Brooking.
On a busy evening, Benjamin McMurray could earn between $35 to $40 an hour at Taproom 260 in Orléans, where the 20-year-old worked until recently when he left to focus on his studies.
“You would only have to tip out if you sold over $200,” McMurray said.
Meanwhile, on Friday or Saturday nights, which are the busiest at the Works Craft in the Glebe, Jessica Stewart, 24, said a server and a manager on duty makes anywhere between $100 and $150 in tips per shift. Stewart pools her tips to the kitchen and the host. The host receives one per cent while the kitchen receives 1.5 per cent of the tips.
Restaurants and bars have different rules on tipping and tipping pools, but no matter the arrangement, servers rely heavily on the tips left over to make a living.
Bruce McAdams, an associate professor at the University of Guelph who researched tipping culture and is a strong support of the abolition of tips, argues the increase in the liquor server minimum wage will have a big impact on restaurants, forcing them to increase their pricing.
“Server hours make up over 50 per cent of the hours of labour in a restaurant,” McAdams said.
There’s the additional concern that consumers will frequent restaurants less because of the price increase, which will in turn reduce servers’ shifts. “They’ll actually make less money,” he added.
Welcome sign in front of Banditos Nov. 16, 2021. Photo by Hafsatou Balde.
Many servers on social media and in restaurants are not happy with the idea of scrapping tips simply because their minimum wage is increasing. Servers in Ontario make an average of $30 an hour, according to McAdams, which is twice as much as the proposed minimum wage, resulting in the possibility of them earning less if tipping disappeared.
“Minimum wage would have to jump up a lot so that someone would be able to support themselves, especially in Ottawa with the high cost of living,” McMurray said. The liquor server minimum wage and its increase on Jan. 1 will not reflect the inflation rates. The annual rate of inflation reached its highest level since 2013 in October 2021, according to Statistics Canada.
The difference between paying the rent or not
The act of tipping helps servers support themselves. “It’s the difference between being able to pay rent or not – or being able to treat yourself to something you usually wouldn’t,” Steeves said.
Steeves took her sister out to a nice dinner after receiving a generous tip. A man and his two friends were dining at her restaurant.
“He tipped 150 per cent and I had to go to the kitchen because it was so unexpected,” Steeves said. Since her tips were pooled, the kitchen staff would have benefited from that 150 per cent tip as well.
In Stewart’s case, cash tips are key because tips included in electronic payments can take weeks to materialize. “I have a regular come in and he tips really well. He always tips cash too,” Stewart said.
“He gets a meal that’s 25 bucks and gives me 70 bucks.”
Almost all the money McMurray was making was going towards tuition. “A birthday group of 10 people ran up a $400 tab and they ended up leaving an $80 tip, which was the most I’ve ever made,” McMurray said. “It was nice to be able to see that the hard work I’m putting in would result in a good pay for school.”
But McMurray said he is aware some consumers believe the service should be included in the price when they pay for their meals.
“I can understand where tipping is an issue for some people because they feel like they’ve paid for the product,” he said.
If tipping as we know it were to stop, McMurray said he believes it would discourage a lot of servers from continuing in the job.
Steeves agreed.
“You would not keep quality people in the industry because we don’t do what we do for minimum wage.”
Although the tips can be great at times, a lot of servers are in the business because they enjoy serving and providing an experience to their customers. “Serving is a love language for me,” Steeves said.
A lot of the people she served over the summer were getting together for the first time since the beginning of the pandemic, so Steeves said she tried to ensure they had a good experience at her restaurant.
Customers dining at Umbrella Bar Nov. 16, 2021. Photo by Hafsatou Balde.
The downsides of tipping culture
McAdams argues tipping should not be a part of restaurants and bars. Through his research, McAdams found there is some animosity between servers and cooks.
“If you’re a cook making $15 an hour and you know servers make tips and now you hear they’re making the same amount as you plus their tips, you may feel disenfranchised about the work you’re doing,” he said. Although a lot of places pool tips, servers are the ones benefitting the most.
One of the main reasons for McAdams’ strong belief in tipping abolition is the sexualization of servers. “You walk into an upper casual restaurant and unfortunately, women are wearing heels, makeup and their hair is done up because they’re asked or they know they will make more tips because of it,” McAdams said.
Steeves has not experienced being sexualized herself, but she agrees it is common in certain types of bars. “It’s an industry where you’re expected to look a certain way,” she said. “No one wants to eat somewhere where your server looks like they don’t bathe.”
To further his point, McAdams recalls a first-year undergraduate student came to him after a class on tipping and shared with him that at her campus bar – where she doesn’t wear makeup and her hair is always up – her female trainer told her that she would make more tips if she put on makeup, wore her hair down, and undid a few buttons.
“This is an 18-year-old woman. That’s why we should stop tipping,” McAdams said.
Research on tipping has evolved since McAdams’ work was published in 2017.
Researchers at Dalhousie University published a study in June that found more people are questioning the idea of tipping. The online survey of Canadians gathered attitudes and perceptions towards tipping during the pandemic, and found 48 per cent of the participants felt pressure to give a good tip more so than before the pandemic.
Back at Umbrella Bar, Steeves was taking a break during a recent shift. She said she fears the upcoming changes to Ontario’s minimum wage could create an exodus of servers out of the industry.
“If it turns out that people stop tipping and servers are just making minimum wage, I don’t think a lot of people are going to stick around.”
Social media is making its way from our phones to the tables of many restaurants, attracting the attention of Ottawa residents and tourists. Photo by Rajpreet Sahota.
Ottawa restaurants are turning to influencers to attract a younger generation of customers in the post-pandemic era.
Maddy Hadfield, opens her phone and types an email to an Ottawa-based restaurant. She offers to create and share content on her Instagram and in return, receive a free dinner from the business.
Hadfield is a micro-influencer, known as The Ottawa Diaries on Instagram.
Micro-influencers are everyday people who have a following of between 1,000 and 10,000 people and share content based on their genuine experiences.
As a micro-influencer, Hadfield built an online community by posting photos of her favourite cafés and restaurants, which, she said, eventually led to collaborations and sponsorships with many restaurants and businesses around Ottawa.
“I just wanted to share with people that Ottawa isn’t as boring as its reputation,” said Hadfield, “It was just a hobby. I just turned my personal Instagram into being about Ottawa because I found that I was already sharing a lot of things I was doing in the city.”
According to Aron Darmody, an associate professor of marketing at Carleton University, micro-influencers create trust with their audience to further their relationships with local businesses. Generally, they promote brands and in return, receive financial compensation for the customer engagement generated by their posts.
“More and more marketing tools are becoming a part of our everyday lives,” Darmody said. “Back in the day, people might look at a TV ad, newspapers or magazines. We had a great, clear understanding of what a commercial is in a way that things like social media started to change. It is blurring boundaries between the personal and commercial sides of life.”
Darmody said that it’s vital for businesses to have a social media presence as a direct line of communication with their customers.
Over the pandemic, Darmody said, many businesses have turned to influencer marketing to attract customers, largely young adults. And, according to a pair of restaurant owners based in Ottawa, social media influencers are helping to increase sales and changing the future of how they approach marketing.
A customer scrolls through Stay Gold Pizza’s Instagram before choosing their meal. Photo by Rajpreet Sahota.
Expanding their reach
Restaurant owner Puong Hoang said social media engagement has proven a great success for his business, Stay Gold Pizza on Elgin Street.
Hoang recommends other restaurants collaborate with Ottawa-based food influencers as it cost him between $150 and $300 but helped him garner a following of over five thousand people who care about what’s fresh at Stay Gold Pizza.
“Every single time we did a contest with these viral accounts, we had a bump up between a hundred, 300 followers,” he said adding that some posts would get between 5,000 and 10,000 views. “That’s huge for a small account like ours.”
With the rise of social media, some restaurants have captured an especially far reach.
“We get a lot of people taking pictures of themselves with milkshakes. It has always been a place where young people gather, especially like university students,” said Kate Rutledge, the co-owner of Zak’s Diner in Kanata. “I’ve had lots of people say, ‘Oh, I saw it on this and so we thought we’d come and check it out,’ and they’re from B.C.”
In the digital age, influencers have more power than ever to encourage others to buy or try a certain product. According to a 2016 study that gauged influencer marketing strategies, more than 80 per cent of participants found influencers to be more impactful, knowledgeable and believable than the general population.
What influencing comes down to, according to Darmody, is knowing your audience and your influence.
“If your target market is people primarily in their 20s, are you going to advertise on local TV? Are you going to pick up magazine ads?” Darmody said.
“What micro-influencers often offer is kind of smaller numbers, obviously in terms of followers, but sort of a much higher level of engagement. The idea is that if people are following these micro-influencers, they’re doing so for very specific reasons. If you just have a smaller number of followers, it’s easier to engage.”
Maddy Hadfield, also known as The Ottawa Diaries, sits in Milestones Lansdowne in February, 2021. She started her blogging journey in 2018 and has since garnered thousands of followers for her lifestyle and food content. Photo provided by Troy Curtis.
Appealing to under-40s
The importance of reaching a target audience is crucial to success as an influencer, according to Hadfield.
“If your business is on Facebook, great, but you’re only being seen by people who are 40 or up. If you want to be visible to the younger generation, you have to meet them where they are and that’s really on Instagram,” Hadfield said.
By finding the right platform, the business markets itself. This was the case for Stay Gold Pizza, which saw Instagram users advertising the Elgin Street restaurant themselves.
“We somehow caught on to this trend of people unboxing our pizzas. People are going out of their way to order pizzas and posting videos on their stories. Then it spreads like wildfire where you’re kind of getting a larger demographic,” said Hoang.
Since the pandemic, Stay Gold Pizza has extended their business beyond pizza, including selling merchandise like hats.
“We get a lot of DMs, messages and emails from people being at a random shop and people would stop them to have a conversation about how they all like Stay Gold Pizza,” Hoang said, adding the merchandise “helped people bond.”
Eric Chan, an Ottawa-based influencer who goes by the name Ottawa Nibbles, has also noticed a growing number of young adults turning to content creation as a hobby.
“When I started around 2017, there weren’t a lot of bloggers,” Chan said. “Now there are a ton of bloggers, food bloggers and photographers. People just found their hobby and they’re kind of jumping into it.”
But Darmody has questions about the future of influencer marketing, including whether micro-influencers on Instagram are shifting from trying to sell to building communities and demonstrating more empathy after the pandemic.
“Is there less of a focus on the explicit commercial side of things that people were mybe a little more accepting of two years ago than they are today?” he asked.
Hadfield said she felt a bit awkward reaching out to small businesses that may have been struggling during the first six months of the pandemic. But over time, she said, she felt more comfortable and successfully found collaborations.
“Spreading the word of different local businesses that I personally liked during the pandemic helped other people discover them,” she said. “It’s important to support your local economy. When you purchase a product from a local business, I find that it adds value to it.”
Listen and watch Rajpreet Sahota’s walking tour of Ottawa’s top Insta-worthy restaurants, including Stay Gold Detroit-Style Pizza and Zak’s Diner.
Annamie Paul, centre, resigned on Nov. 10 amid poor election results and internal party disputes. Photo by courtesy of Rebecca Wood through Creative Commons license.
For Kayne Alleyne-Adams, 20, the Green Party of Canada represented an important voice for young people to address the issues of climate change and social justice.
Like other young Greens, he is now grappling with his place in the party following allegations of racism and transphobia within many of the party’s inner circles.
“There are a lot of party spaces that are extremely unsafe for members, especially members of colour, Jewish members and members from the LGBTQ+ community,” said Alleyne-Adams, who is Black and identifies as part of the LGBTQ+ community.
In a year that saw the hottest temperatures in Canadian history, and record-breaking floods this week in B.C., the stage was set for the Greens to take command of the climate issue in the Sept. 20 federal election. However, with Parliament now set to return on Nov. 22, the Greens are arriving back in Ottawa without a leader and with a host of internal equity issues, which has many supporters wondering how the party can move forward.
Internal Green Party report details strife
On Aug. 31, an internal report detailed complaints of racism and transphobia in the party. The complaints stem from a variety of “spaces” such as campaign events and Facebook groups. Members reported the comments and remarks made by other members in these spaces to senior levels of the party, who they say failed to address them.
Some generation Z and millennial members — who represent an important source of support for the party — are reckoning with their confidence in the party’s management of discrimination.
“I can’t be part of a movement where I don’t feel as if I can bring people in … If I feel guilty bringing in a friend or bringing in a family member. I just don’t see that as a space that I want to dedicate my time to,” Alleyne-Adams said.
“And until the Green Party of Canada makes it clear that organizationally, they want to create a safer environment, it’s just not the place for me.”
Kayne Alleyne-Adams says he was initially inspired by Annamie Paul’s vision for the Green Party. He became frustrated with senior members who failed to address systemic problems of racism, transphobia, and anti-Semitism. Photo courtesy of Darcy Higgins.
Growing up as the eldest of four, raised by a single mother with disabilities, Alleyne-Adams was inspired by Annamie Paul and identified with her story as the daughter of immigrants. He felt she had a passion for integrating diverse views and youth voices into her campaign and would go on to serve as the chair of the Young Greens of Canada Council and as Paul’s debate prep coordinator.
After over a year with the Green Party, he became frustrated with the party’s senior governance in addressing problems of racism, transphobia and anti-Semitism within the party. Alleyne-Adams said he reported the incidents of racism against him to the membership review and complaints process but received no resolution.
“Oftentimes, I wouldn’t even receive as much as a reply or even an acknowledgement that they’ve received this letter in the first place,” he said.
But racism is not the only issue facing the Greens.
‘Transphobia seems to go unchecked’: B.C. Green Party candidate
The Aug. 31 internal report also describes the governance level of the party failing to address complaints of transphobia.
“I’ve just noticed that transphobia within the federal party seems to go unchecked,” said Nicola Spurling, 31, a candidate for the provincial B.C. Green Party in Coquitlam-Maillardville and a member of the federal Green Party.
Nicola Spurling says federal party leaders stayed silent and allowed transphobia to occur in the party. She ran as a candidate for the B.C. Green Party in the 2020 provincial election. Photo used by courtesy of Nicola Spurling
During the 2020 provincial election, Spurling, who is openly transgender, was harassed and doxed by a man who claimed to be a fan of author J.K. Rowling and protested at several sign-waving events for her campaign with anti-transgender signs.
Spurling said she felt supported by the B.C. Green Party following the harassment who offered to pay her legal bills and provide any support she required.
“That, to me, was really impressive to have a party that really cared about me,” she said.
Although she felt supported in the provincial party, she says trans members of the federal Greens face a significant amount of transphobia and the party has not supported them.
“If the party continues the way that it has been, sort of staying silent on these important issues… I have doubts about whether it can last,” she said.
At this time, Spurling says she is unsure whether she will renew her membership to the federal party.
‘Struggle for the soul of the party’
In the 2021 federal election, the Green Party finished with 2.3 per cent of the popular vote, down from 6.5 per cent in 2019. Former leader, Annamie Paul, finished in fourth place in her riding of Toronto Centre, prompting an internal battle over what went wrong.
Paul, who officially resigned on Nov. 10, said in her resignation speech, “there is a struggle that is going on for the soul of the party.”
Despite the decline in the national vote and internal conflict within the party, the Greens were saved from a calamitous loss in seats by Mike Morrice, who won a surprise victory in the Ontario riding of Kitchener Centre.
For Morrice, who joined the party in 2019, running for the Greens wasn’t the most politically advantageous, but he felt he needed his first choice in politics to be one he believed in.
“I wanted to start myself on a track that ensured I could stay true to who I am and focus on democracy first and foremost and give me the best chance to hold on to my integrity,” he said.
Morrice, 37, will be one of two MPs in the Green caucus and is left to pick up the pieces of a fractured party.
“Racism is systemic, and we need to be calling it out and rooting it out. And that’s an ongoing process,” he said.
Morrice is calling for the party to centre anti-racism policy in the most senior levels of government and says they need to focus on listening to racialized voices and the issues they are illuminating.
“Those are voices that the party needs to be listening to and learning from, but like I said, this is the reality of systemic racism that exists in every institution across the country,” he said.
Many of these decisions need to come from the federal council which governs the complaints and membership review process.
Maya Linsley, 19, is also grappling with her place in the party, but feels the Green Party still represents an important platform for young people.
Linsley was a volunteer for Morrice’s 2021 campaign which was the first time she got involved in politics.
Maya Linsley volunteered for Mike Morrice’s 2021 campaign. She says she was inspired by his campaign and his focus on community. She is disappointed with the senior levels of the Green Party. Photo courtesy of Maya Linsley.
Trust in new Ontario Green MP
While disappointed with how the party is handling its internal issues, Linsley said she felt inspired by Morrice’s campaign and his commitment to her community.
“When people see that their concerns are actually registering, that’s when they start caring because they really feel like they’re heard,” she said.
Linsley’s belief in the values that Morrice brings to the Greens helped her to reckon with the issues in the party.
“We trust him to represent the community, and I think a party like the Green Party, because of the way they’re set up, they bring those people forward, the people who will just represent the needs of the community, regardless of the party agenda,” she said.
The party, in her view, still has an important place in Canadian politics but needs to change.
“I think a Green Party is the thing that we really, really need,” she said. “And I wish they wouldn’t mess it up.”
For Alleyne-Adams, politics are taking the backseat for now, so he can focus on school (he’s studying sociology and creative writing at York University) and his mental health before getting involved again.
“I think there’s a necessity for parties to be inclusive, to be open, and to be willing to listen to and hear young voices,” he said.
“I don’t think the Green Party has that right now. I don’t think the Green Party has been that for a little while.”
