"Soon, we'll be the minority": What’s Driving Canada’s Immigration Policy Shift?

"Strong Border"  // It's been years since Canada was celebrated as a global leader in refugee resettlement, its policies a beacon of hope for the displaced. But lately, the narrative is shifting. What once felt like a proud commitment to diversity now echoes with rising concerns—anti-immigrant sentiment creeping into public discourse. The same country that relied on immigration to fuel its economic growth is now facing an increasingly polarized debate about the strain on public services, housing, and jobs.

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The cold that morning wasn’t sharp enough to hurt, but it lingered. It settled into my coat and the thin space between my gloves and wrists, patient and unmoving. I stood in line at the Tim Hortons on Gerrard Street, just east of Broadview Avenue, counting the seconds between the hiss of the espresso machine and the soft thud of cups landing on the counter. I tried to warm my hands by clenching my fists, then spreading them apart, listening to the faint cracks of my knuckles as they thawed in the warmth of the coffeeshop.

The man in front of me seemed restless.

Late forties, early fifties. Thick black parka with the zipper pulled all the way up, brushing his chin. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, checked his phone, then the counter, then the door. Every few seconds, he exhaled sharply through his nose, like the room itself was testing him.

I assumed he was just being impatient. Everyone had been lately. The city felt like it was waiting for something to snap.

Behind the counter, employees moved with the kind of precision that only comes from repetition under pressure. One reached for lids without looking. Another wiped the counter in smooth, practiced arcs. Someone apologized for the wait, her voice warm, unforced, as the line edged closer to the door.

Their accents overlapped when they spoke to one another — soft, layered, efficient. Words passed quickly, then disappeared back into the noise of the machines.

All four employees in my view were immigrants. You could hear it in the way their English bent gently around their native tongue. The overwhelmed cashier turned toward the back and called out softly, “Ateh, can you help me on cash for a second?”

Ah-teh. Filipino, I thought.

The man, soaked in disappointment, leaned over just enough to catch the attention of another patron that might have been with him— another white man, slightly younger, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“So many Ind...” his voice drifted to a whisper, before regaining confidence following what sounded like a chuckle. “Very soon we’ll be the minority.”

It didn't matter where she was from. His heart had already decided what it needed, and specificity only complicated things. In a country where anti‑Indian sentiment had been growing louder and lazier by the week, his frustration found the nearest available shape and settled there.

When it was his turn to order, he hesitated, studying the menu as if it had personally inconvenienced him.

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