The Appeal

I can’t believe it! I’ve been engrossed in a manual for over two hours now – a 200-page book jampacked with rules and regulations. So why am I finding this Toronto Rent-Geared-to-Income Administration Manual* so riveting? Initially, it was because I needed this information. I’m helping a neighbourhood family with their rent appeal – so whenever I discover a valid argument, I pounce on it and copy it out. I’m determined to win!

But it's more than just winning that keeps me absorbed. This book is giving me an up-close view of our social housing system – and I’m perturbed by what I see. No wonder that residents, caught in the thickets of such complex requirements, develop a distrust of the housing authority – a distrust that can all-to-easily spread, blighting attempts to build a healthy mixed-income neighbourhood.

The story began some weeks earlier when I met Fatima** in the park. As an immigrant woman working a low-wage job while raising four children in a cramped social housing building, she’s not had an easy life. But she’s been a friend for over fifteen years, ever since we first met in my ESL class, and I always welcome the chance to hear how things are going and to encourage her where I can.

This time, though, she was particularly distraught. Fluttering her hand over her chest, she explained in broken English that she’d been having heart palpitations, her already high blood pressure had sky-rocketed, and she couldn’t sleep at night. After more discussion, I discovered the cause – the housing authority! After failing to complete the family’s annual rent reviews for 2 ½ years, it had recently declared – in the middle of the pandemic – that the family owed arrears of $16,000!

To find out the details, I talked later with Fatima’s husband, Ahmed.** He, too, has had a difficult life. Although he was well educated and held a good job in his home country, in Canada, he ran into those barriers to employment that immigrants too often encounter – and ended up driving a taxi. Throughout our conversation, though, I couldn’t help but notice his skills: not only did Ahmed have a firm grasp of the issues, but he had also maintained meticulous records of all his dealings with the housing authority. Every email, tax form and payslip was readily available. How, I wondered, did less competent tenants ever cope with such complex rules and such detailed requirements?

With no time to lose before the deadline, Ahmed and I teamed up to request an appeal. He provided the arguments, and I polished his English. We assumed that the hearing would occur within the stipulated thirty days, but we ended up waiting and waiting – and waiting. Due to the pandemic, neither Ahmed nor his two sons, who were in their twenties, had jobs. And with the lockdown continuing and the appeal hanging over everyone, the family’s stress rose ever higher.

At last, after three months, the housing authority set the hearing. It turned out to be a mere conference call by phone. And the review panel – described in the manual as a “body with members” – consisted of a single employee assigned by the housing authority to adjudicate appeals. When I enquired about other members, she alleged that a “panel of one” was permissible. 

As the hearing got underway, my task was to present our main arguments. Quoting critical references from the manual, I explained that the housing authority could only raise a tenant’s rent after a rent review. To set rent retroactively was both improper and unjust. My second contention focussed on the housing authority’s failure to provide timely annual rent reviews. Since the tenant had done nothing wrong, why should he be forced to pay for the housing authority’s mistakes?

Once I had finished, the adjudicator interrogated Ahmed, reviewing all his interactions with the frontline worker over the past 2 ½ years. Why had he been slow in submitting his wife’s income tax summary? Why was one of his son’s payslips missing? Although Ahmed had reasonable explanations for every point, she kept accusing him of tardy responses. It was a frustrating discussion, but Ahmed remained calm. These delays, he kept explaining, were not his fault. It was the frontline worker who was remiss. 

Finally, before the hearing closed, I managed to insert a brief character reference for Ahmed and underscore the stress that this appeal had caused the family. But my words fell on deaf ears. Since we had no further comments, the adjudicator concluded the inquiry, reiterating that she would send her decision in writing – and this decision would be final! 

Afterwards, Ahmed and I commiserated on the phone. We both felt drained and defeated. Undoubtedly, we had lost. Ten days later, though, when the verdict letter arrived, the family was ecstatic to learn that $11,000 would be deducted from their arrears, leaving only $5,000 to pay. I, too, celebrated our win – though I remain angry that it was only “two-thirds” justice.

Nonetheless, I will always be grateful for the up-close view of our social housing system that this appeal afforded me. What I gained was an increased awareness of how this flawed system can all too often negatively impact the lives it is mandated to support – creating fear and anxiety, distrust and resentment. And within the vortex of these emotions, it will always be challenging to build community in a mixed-income neighbourhood!

*  https://www.toronto.ca/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/8fd8-RGI-Administration-Manual-November-2021.pdf

**  names changed to protect privacy