Park People’s Executive Director, Erika Nikolai, has been honoured with the Distinguished Individual Award from World Urban Parks—an international recognition that celebrates her leadership and the growing national movement Park People has helped build here in Canada.
Why are events in parks important? How do grants fit into Park People’s larger goals for creating change in city parks?
The InTO the Ravines Champions program offers people living near ravines training and support to learn, explore, and celebrate Toronto's one-of-a-kind ravines system.
A reflection on the BEING BLACK IN PUBLIC Survey Report, exploring how Black communities experience parks and public spaces, and what fosters joy and belonging.
For years, Geri and Gary James drove an hour outside Toronto to find nature — not realizing one of the…
How do we build a healthier, greener, more joyful Toronto? We start at the park. Discover how communities across the city have transformed their green spaces over the past fifteen years. Then roll up your sleeves and help shape what comes next.
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Decolonization of park practices, according to Rena Soutar, begins with the recognition that “there is no such thing as a culturally neutral space that’s been touched by human hands.”
On the first day of the 2022 Park People Conference, three of Canada’s leading Indigenous park professionals, Lewis Cardinal, Rena Soutar, and Spencer Lindsay directly addressed how colonialism plays out in park practices and how we can work to embed reconciliation and decolonization into the places we call parks.
Lewis Cardinal’s ceremonial name sîpihko geesik means “blue sky” and was given to him with the understanding that his ultimate purpose on Earth is “to build relationships between two worlds that don’t understand each other.”
In Edmonton, Cardinal is living up to his ceremonial name by devoting his work to building understanding between settlers and Indigenous communities. This lifetime of effort culminated in the recent opening of kihciy askiy, or sacred land, Canada’s first urban Indigenous ceremonial site in Edmonton’s River Valley.
In his presentation at The Park People Conference, Cardinal made it clear that the foundation for the 2022 opening of kihciy askiy was laid eighteen years earlier in 2004, when Aboriginal communities and the City of Edmonton co-created the Edmonton Urban Aboriginal Accord Relationship Agreement. The Agreement’s guiding principles established a new relationship between the two groups, which is best reflected in the statement:
“We believe all people in Edmonton are served well by positive relationships between the City and Aboriginal communities.”
Indigenous approaches to positive relationship-building such as mutual exchange and partnership, listening and storytelling, ceremony and celebration were, according to Cardinal, integral to the process of creating kihciy askiy. Over the long process of seeing the project to fruition, conflicts and challenges, of course, arose. However, Cardinal believes that the Agreement and the practices it codified helped “tamp down the darker forces of humanity” that can undermine visionary projects like Edmonton’s kihciy askiy.
Cardinal emphasized the importance of codifying the tenets of relationship-building in Agreements like the one in Edmonton. Once put in writing, these tenets set an intention for relationships that can be returned to again and again. In fact, one of the core principles of the Edmonton Urban Aboriginal Accord Relationship Agreement is a renewal, which includes the principle of “acknowledging this Agreement as a living document to be reviewed on a periodic basis to maintain accountability, transparency, inclusiveness, and responsiveness.”
Like Cardinal, Rena Soutar, Manager of Decolonization, Arts and Culture, and Spencer Lindsay, Reconciliation Planner, both from the Vancouver Board of Parks and Recreation, consider the act of engaging in difficult conversations as the pathway to decolonizing park practices.
The Colonial Audit, which will be released in December, uses conversation as its central tool. In fact, for the audit, Soutar and Lindsay conducted 21 interviews over 5 months across 7 departments. As Soutar and Lindsay see it, only meaningful conversations can reveal the deep-seated colonial assumptions, beliefs and approaches underpinning the organization’s colonial park practices. In the audit, they identified 27 stories that illustrate the current effects of colonialism.
One story of embedded colonialism that Soutar and Lindsay shared at the Conference is the development of Vancouver’s NorthEast False Creek Plan. NorthEast False Creek is a prime downtown waterfront area in Vancouver that was set for redevelopment. Consultations with Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations and Urban Indigenous communities revealed that “access to water” was a top priority for the park’s redevelopment. However, when preliminary plans for the site were shared, it was clear that this critical piece of First Nations’ input was lost in translation.
The Park Board hit ‘pause’ on the project to take the time to understand how, after so much consultation with local First Nations, the park’s design could miss the mark. The conversations that ensued helped highlight the importance of “cultural translation” in park design.
As Soutar and Lindsay shared, for the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh Nations “access to water” in the park’s design meant the individuals would have direct access to the shoreline- in an intimate and immersive way. However, colonial mindsets dictated that “access to water” meant enjoying beautiful vistas of water from a distance. In other words, for settlers, access to water means a beautiful vista from which to gaze at nature from a god-like vantage point. For local First Nations, it meant fishing, conducting ceremonies, and placing their hands and feet directly in the water.
As Soutar and Lindsay highlighted, the Northeast False Creek Plan reveals the consequences of unexamined colonial perspectives. The conversation that centered First Nations’ perspectives instead of settler ones, as Soutar says, “turned the narrative upside down to show the embedded colonial perspective.” These conversations made invisible colonial worldview visible, which then opened up the opportunity to “unlearn.”
Cardinal, Soutar, and Lindsay all underscored that decolonizing colonial relationships with nature is an urgent imperative. As Cardinal put it, “we are living in sacred times.”
Decolonizing our relationship with nature means, according to Cardinal, “understanding the connection between ourselves and the natural and spiritual world that surrounds us.” Cardinal shared that reciprocity with nature requires settlers to recognize that humans are not at the “top of the food chain” or at “the center of the universe,” but rather occupy but “one seat in this great circle of life.” As he puts it, “being in a relationship uncentres individuals as the focus,” and helps people view themselves in “a bigger context of family, community, and nature.”
Like Cardinal, Soutar and Lindsay emphasized that decolonization is the only path forward if we are to protect ecological diversity, which is essential for humans to survive. As their presentations underscored, the future of humans is bound up with our relationships with each other and with the rest of nature. As Soutar shared, “plenitude, abundance—that was already here” before settlers arrived and declared Vancouver’s unceded territories ‘parks’ that are ‘for everyone.’
As Soutar, Lindsay, and Cardinal make clear in their presentations on decolonizing parks and relationships, if we are to collectively move in the direction of decolonizing our parks, we must “forget everything we know” about our relationships to each other and the rest of nature. But, before we can forget or unlearn, we need to render the too often invisible colonialist practices visible. The learning, which is the focus of the audit, moves us in the right direction since, as Soutar reminded attendees: “decolonization is a direction, not an outcome.”
Let’s Hike TO is a thriving Toronto organization that intentionally extends a warm invitation to people of colour, newcomers and young adults to join in engaging group hikes. Take note: The hiking group’s name is not just Hike TO, but Let’s Hike TO. The Let’s in the organization’s name signals both the group’s warm and welcoming nature and its core ethos that getting comfortable walking outdoors is best done in a safe and engaging community setting. While anyone can attend their walks regardless of their age or identity, the group has made an intentional effort since its inception in July 2021 to become the city’s diversity-focused hiking group.
In her latest book, Michelle Obama says: “For every door that’s been opened to me, I’ve tried to open my door to others. And here is what I have to say, finally: Let’s invite one another in.”
Speaking to Camara Chambers, one of the four Founders of Let’s Hike TO, it’s clear that her group’s commitment to inviting others into nature underlies the group’s success. To date, Let’s Hike TO has led over 100 hikes attended by 1,300+ attendees. The hikes regularly fill beyond capacity, a phenomenon that’s been fuelled by widespread media attention in outlets ranging from BlogTO to the Guardian UK.Park People played an important role in the group’s early success by providing funding and training through our InTO the Ravines and Sparking Change programs. Now, with the group having recently secured non-profit status, we spoke to Camara to dig deeper into what it really means to invite communities into nature.
Growing up in London, Camara had a decidedly urban upbringing. Nature-based activities like camping, fishing, skiing and hiking were not, as Camara shared, in her family’s wheelhouse. Just to put a fine point on the subject, she tells me, “I definitely did not in any way identify as an outdoorsy person”.
In fact, Camara moved to Toronto as an adult to find a slower pace of life. And, while it may seem surprising that someone would turn to a big city like Toronto for a sense of calm, Camara assures me that the Canadian city is much slower-paced and less intensely urban than her bustling home city of 9 million residents.
As Camara was settling into her new home and career, an older colleague invited her to join her for a hike at a local hiking club. Camara had never heard of the club and had never hiked before. But, that initial invitation led Camara to “immediately fall in love” with hiking:
“It was calm, it was relaxing. I felt at peace with myself, I was immediately addicted.”
On that very first hike, Camara was so smitten that she made the decision to become a volunteer hike leader. Right away she started designing and leading hikes that reflected her own interests and the kind of hikes she’d be keen to join.
“We’d start at a TTC station and we’d end up at a craft brewery,” she tells me. “But, all along the way, we’d hike through lush ravines and green spaces. And, more and more people started coming out.”
Even though her hikes were well attended, Camara noticed that the people attending the club’s hikes tended to be older, long-time hikers and established Canadians. “The demographic was just not anywhere near as diverse as the city,” says Camara.
At the time, Camara was enrolled in a community organizing leadership course at Harvard. She thought the course’s practicum would provide a perfect opportunity to address the hiking club’s lack of diversity. Camara started small, writing a proposal to help the club attract young adults to their hikes. Ultimately, her proposal was rejected by the board.
Speaking of the hiking club, Camara shares: “There was a strong resistance to change and a general feeling that enough was being done already, but I could see so many untapped opportunities and ways to involve more diverse people.”
As academic and outdoor enthusiast Jacqueline L. Scott said in a recent article:
“Many people see nature as a neutral space that’s open to everyone. And while it’s true there isn’t usually any barbed wire preventing racialized people from accessing it, our findings show there are quite a few societal barriers they face.”
Frustrated by the inertia and keen to kickstart a practical solution, Camara decided to work with the three people who became her Co-Founders to create a new grassroots organization focused on inviting new communities into hiking in Toronto. “My colleague invited me to join on a hike, that’s how I got started,” says Camara.
“It’s important to invite people and welcome them into nature. Without that invitation, some people just don’t see themselves there. I know I didn’t.”.
By establishing Let’s Hike T.O., the three Founders set out to invite-in communities that had been systemically left off the hiking invitation list. In so doing, Let’s Hike T.O. sought to redress the embedded racism and exclusion in the hiking community and deliberately connect communities to the benefits of nature.
The iconic phrase ‘build it and they will come” proved to be true for Let’s Hike T.O. When the group extended an invitation to join hikes, a diverse community of hikers showed up.
“To be honest, the barriers didn’t really exist,” says Camara. “People just needed someone to show them that they could hike. To make it feel safe and accessible to them. It’s just that no one had asked them directly.”
How did Let’s Hike T.O. do it? Here are some of the strategies they use to extend the invitation to a new and eager community of Toronto hikers.
Like Camara, not everyone who eventually falls in love with hiking identifies as an “outdoorsy person.”As Camara freely confesses:, “I don’t know that much about like the flora and the fauna and I don’t know if I’m that interested to know that much about it.”
This may sound shocking to a die-hard naturalist, but Let’s Hike T.O,’s approach is:
“There are many ways to hook people on hiking, so why not be creative? There is nothing you can’t pair with hiking. Literally, you can do hiking plus anything.”
The groups’ “hiking + anything” approach has resulted in sold-out hikes on topics ranging from foraging to photography.
Hikes often feature an issue expert who leads the hike alongside the volunteer guide. That means that volunteer hike leaders don’t need to be experts on every topic under the sun and that the hikes always feature fresh content.
Using this approach, Let’s Hike T.O, has hosted hikes that feature equity groups, including hikes on Indigenous knowledge, Jewish history, and Black history. Camara has found this to be a great way to encourage equity-deserving groups to attend hikes.
For example, Park People’s InTO the Ravines program supported a hike in and around Toronto’s Little Jamaica neighbourhood. The hike was called “Walk Good”: after the Jamaican patois expression used to wish a departing traveller good fortune before a trip. The 5km hike led by two Black Torontonian hike leaders introduced participants to Little Jamaica’s Black history, featured Caribbean snacks like plantain chips, and engaged hikers in a 30-minute facilitated discussion about how racial identity impacts experiences in the ravines.
“A lot of people think they have to buy a lot of gear to go hiking and a lot of clubs insist that you need to have hiking boots. Particularly if you’re hiking in Toronto in the summer, you can get away with hiking in running shoes, or whatever shoes you feel comfortable walking in.”
As Camara points out, if people think they need to invest in expensive equipment to participate, they are much more likely to be intimidated and opt-out. Also, equipment costs can be a significant barrier to participation.
If the goal is to encourage people to opt-in, then it’s important to prioritize showing up over gearing up. While Camara emphasizes that people may eventually want to invest in simple gear like crampons during icy winter days, it’s best to solidify buy-in first.
Every Let’s Hike T.O. hike begins and ends at a TTC station or bus stop. The built-in assumption that participants have access to cars not only favours those with the greatest economic privilege but inadvertently punishes people who are choosing a more sustainable mode of transportation. Finally, making all the hikes TTC accessible helps people recognize that they don’t need to have a car to participate in hiking.
Also, as Camara points out, if you organize an event at 2 pm on a Tuesday, anyone who works typical office hours or a day job is automatically unable to attend. So, to reach a broader base of young prospective hikers, Let’s Hike T.O. schedules most of their hikes on weekends. Hikes start at 10 am or later, a time that says “we get it, you want to sleep in on the weekend.”
And, after hikers get their much deserved beauty rest, they don’t need to worry about falling behind because a number of Let’s Hike T.O.’s hikes happen at the comfortable pace of 3-4km per hour. This pace is slightly slower than the average adult walking speed. That means that participants of different ages or beginners don’t need to struggle to keep up. Instead of feeling bad about lagging behind, participants can focus on the positive experience of being in nature together, at any speed.
From the get-go, Let’s Hike T.O. has exclusively used familiar social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook to attract new hikers.
Rather than relying on people finding them on the web, Let’s Hike T.O. spends its time where their audience is already hanging. Using a visual platform like Instagram allows the group to profile diverse participants having fun in nature. Pictures help curious types see themselves as potential hikers. It seems to be working as they’ve already secured over 2,000 followers.
Once they’ve been invited into hiking, Camara wants Let’s Hike T.O. participants to get hooked on the benefits of spending time outdoors.
“We’re definitely not the gatekeepers of nature. I always hope that people leave our hikes with an understanding of how they could do it themselves.”
The hikes are designed to build participants’ confidence in several key areas.
First, Camara emphasizes that through hiking, many new hikers build up their confidence in their body’s ability to carry distances. Hiking outdoor terrains gives people the opportunity to explore their body’s capacity and limits, and get hooked on the endorphins produced through physical fitness and activity.
Hiking also helps participants see their city differently. Toronto ravines, in particular, can be hidden in plain sight.
“The hikes give people an opportunity to learn about the natural spaces around them. Particularly if you live in a very urban part of Toronto, you might not have access to natural spaces like the ravines.”
Finally, the hikes provide an opportunity for participants to experience the benefits that come from spending time in nature. As highlighted in Park People’s 2022 Canadian City Parks Report feature on nature connectedness: “When we tune ourselves into the natural world, we feel more positive emotions, like vitality. We also ruminate less and act kinder and more generous to those around us.”
Camara’s own experience of becoming “totally addicted” to hiking happened because her time in nature provided her with the sense of calm she had been craving. She’s watched gleefully as she’s been able to spread this sense of calm and wonder to a new community of hiking participants since the group started only 18 months ago.
While it was a serendipitous invitation that inspired Camara to start Let’s Hike T.O., this inviting spirit underpins everything the organization does. By employing a strategy deliberately designed to invite people of colour, newcomers and young adults into hiking and reduce the barriers to participation, Let’s Hike T.O. has succeeded in connecting new communities to the benefits of spending time in nature. They’ve not only succeeded in redefining what it means to live in the city, they’ve redefined what it means to be an ‘outdoorsy person.”
The UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has released its latest report. In response to the report’s finding, UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres said, “In short, our world needs climate action on all fronts — everything, everywhere, all at once.”
Terrible, alarming climate change news makes it difficult to know how to inch forward in any direction and to decide if our actions even matter.
This Venn diagram, created by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, a marine biologist and co-founder of the Urban Ocean Lab is a useful tool to answer the question, ” What should I do about climate change?”
It’s featured in her TED Talk How to find Joy in Climate Action where she says:
“People often ask me what they can do to help address the climate crisis. But what they usually mean is what’s one quick, easy, simple thing they can do. Well, that particular ship has sailed.” She adds:
“All too rarely are we asked to contribute our special talents, our superpowers, to climate solutions. And what a failing. For that would actually enable the radical changes we need.”
Maggie Dunlop, a 2022 InTO the Ravine Champion, has many superpowers. She’s an education researcher and mother of two children under five who joined the program because she believes: “I have to be able to look them in the eyes in 2050 and tell them I did everything I could.”
About a minute into talking with Maggie, she sort of casually says:
“I was thinking, you know, we are just on a runaway train, and I can’t do anything to stop it. And I came to the conclusion that I just have to do a little thing. And that little thing is probably to make people a bit more connected to our place – the world around us.”
I paused and circled back, “The runaway train you mentioned?” I asked. And Maggie verified that yes, she was talking about that runaway train. The runaway train where it feels like you are a strapped-in passenger, most certainly not in the driver’s seat, with the train hurtling toward climate catastrophe.
Living your Venn diagram can feel small as climate change looms so very (very) large. But, at the same time, when a recent New York Times headline posed the question “Do You Have to Be an Optimist to Work Toward a Better World?” this answer resonated with me most:
“It’s important to imagine a positive future for a positive future to happen.”
In short, there is nothing naive about optimism. And, there’s nothing naive about Maggie who says: “It is not easy doing something new. There is a reason why things aren’t already being done.”
The new thing that Maggie is doing is helping her community dip into and see the green spaces and ravines in her community. That’s what connects her to her Venn diagram.
Access to amazing green spaces is what drew Maggie to her Toronto Rockcliffe Smythe neighbourhood. Rockcliffe Smythe was mostly farmland until the 1920s when it became home to a significant gravel quarry. The gravel pit was converted into Smythe Park and gifted to the community. The park is at the end of the Black Creek watershed, about 70 metres from the Humber River. It’s a growing and densifying community situated in a delicate river valley on active flood plains where homes regularly experience flooding. It’s also home to wood ducks, beavers, opossums (North America’s only marsupial), snakes, lizards and a greatly reduced population of frogs, raccoons, squirrels, chipmunks, fish, and turtles.
As an InTO the Ravines Champion, Maggie and her neighbour and fellow mother Francine Brunet received a little bit of funding, and some critical support to make a meaningful difference in connecting their community to the green space and biodiversity Maggie desperately needs them to notice.
You can hear Maggie’s frustration when she tells me: “People are “just buying stuff, and spending money and just not really thinking about how it’s all connected.”
Maggie’s a regular visitor to High Park where she takes her children to play and attends events when she can. It was in High Park where she was trained as a Turtle Protector. With a stipend to host an event in the park, Maggie and Francine hired a retired science teacher that Maggie met at an event in High Park. Maggie invited the teacher, and his box of caterpillars, to Smythe Park on a sunny summer afternoon.
Oh, and about 100 people showed up.
That’s the simple version.
The less simple version is that Maggie stopped people on her commute to work, with pockets full of flyers and her three-year-old daughter in a bike seat to joyfully tell passersby about the caterpillar event. She and Francine also strategically hosted the workshop on a day when families were hosting barbeques and gatherings in the park. They strolled over to families and invited them to come on over.
Later that summer, in a quiet corner of Smythe Park, stretching their stipend even further, Maggie and Francine hired an artist to lead a clay turtle-making workshop with families. They divided the group, with half heading to the water’s edge to learn about the turtles that live in the community. Prior to the event, most of those in attendance knew little or nothing about the turtles that live in the community and didn’t know that two species of turtles are provincially designated as of “special concern.”
This issue is of special concern to Maggie:
“When we don’t know that we’re among turtles when we don’t know what a red-winged blackbird looks like, we’re kind of walking through the world a little bit blind.”
Maggie grew up in England and was very disoriented by the varied species she encountered in her new Canadian home. “When I came here. I didn’t know what the trees were or the birds or the flowers. And, I felt illiterate as a result.”
So, Maggie is determined to build up ecological literacy – not just her own, but her community’s.
“If they know what a starling is, and they don’t see them so often anymore…when they notice that the animals that they’re used to seeing and whose behaviour they know, are acting differently….If they notice that the berries that this animal eats are not growing at the right time anymore, then it starts to make sense that we should be concerned about this.”
Maggie hopes to create a guide that translates common species’ names into Spanish, Portuguese, and Somali – the languages of parents of young children in her community. Because, “It’d be much easier for people to understand, to remember, if they knew what local animals, flowers and trees are in their own language.”
Maggie is planting seeds – seeds of knowledge, joy, literacy, awareness, building a better world, using her own two hands. Make no mistake about it: this is climate leadership. As Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, the creator of the Venn diagram, says:
“There is so much work to be done, Please, do not choose something that makes you miserable. What we need is a change in every sector and every community. The solution shouldn’t be ‘What can I do to address the climate crisis?’, but ‘What can we do together?”
Alexandre Beaudoin, Founder of Montreal’s Darlington Ecological Corridor, is a biologist with two Master’ degrees in environmental sustainability and socio-ecology. The Darlington Ecological Corridor puts both disciplines into action by enhancing ecological connectivity between Mount Royal and Montreal. The project simultaneously addresses biodiversity, food security and climate resilience.
In this interview, Alexandre Beaudoin discusses the socio-ecological approach that guides this project. Alexandre will also give a Keynote presentation at the 2023 Park People Conference.
I was a Conservation Assistant with Les amis de la montagne, and we witnessed the foxes disappearing from the mountain. Foxes are one of the biggest mammal species in the city and a symbol of Mount Royal. The fact that they were vanishing was tragic.
Three years later, the foxes began returning to the mountain. We asked ourselves: “What can we do to help foxes cross the city to get back to the mountain? That question was the genesis of the Darlington Ecological Corridor. We knew animals used the train tracks north of the Mountain to cross the city. We wanted to establish a corridor to connect the railway tracks to the mountain.
At the time, I was working at Invest in Montreal* and as a biodiversity consultant at Université de Montréal. We saw an opportunity to connect parks, public lands and greenspaces to link The University of Montreal’s new MIL science campus to the mountain.We presented the idea for the corridor to the Director of the Côte-des-Neiges-Notre-Dame-de-Grâce borough in 2014, and they were very enthusiastic. Together, we put 44 large plant pots along major streets so people living immediately adjacent to the corridor could start to connect to the project at a community level and participate in it by gardening in their community.
Your question is at the heart of every effort to create nature in the city. It’s the same challenge faced by Mount Royal. The mountain is a forest that supports biodiversity, but it has more than 5 million visitors a year.
It takes a socio-ecological approach. The city is an ecosystem, but a very disturbed ecosystem where we can create a habitat for species to thrive. But the ecosystem is also full of people with connections to the places they live. A socio-ecological approach balances people’s attachment to the places they live with the needs of ecosystems and creates new connections between both for the benefit of both.
In the beginning, I was entirely focused on the ecological needs in the corridor. But, my thinking has shifted. The corridor is in an urban environment that is incredibly hot and poses a risk to people’s health in the summer. At the same time, 77% of the people living proximate to the corridor are lower-income newcomers to Canada. There is widespread food insecurity.
We’ve been working with Multi-Caf*, a much-loved food security organization that’s been in the borough for 32 years. They want to support ecology, but they are committed to serving people first. That helped us evolve our mission and strengthened the “socio” side of our socio-ecological approach. Here, people don’t have the luxury of giving their time to gardening without anything in return.
We’ve built out a new part of the corridor focused only on food. The President of a rehabilitation hospital is excited to cultivate the connection between food and health and provided us with land for the community to use for gardening. The borough has also provided space for community gardens in the park.
If we had talked about this project a year ago, it would’ve been much really focused on ecology and forestry. Now, we’re also focused on the community, and that’s a big difference.
Last September, I started a Ph.D. focused on how the corridor can shift people’s mindsets around their relationship to nature and biodiversity. This summer, we’re creating a mico-forest with 400 trees. It’s a visible orchard in the park. When people see something like the orchard, they feel a sense of momentum and say: “something is happening.” People on the team wear our t-shirts, and people walk up to them to talk about the project. They’re not going to our website or calling us. They’re meeting us in the community. So, how can we make it easier for people to recognize us? How can we position how we talk about the project to transform people’s mindsets?
These bigger, more visible projects change both landscapes and minds.
Parks are the first places to change mindsets. People are connected to places, and we must retain those connections while supporting ecology. That’s what’s at the heart of the socio-ecological approach.
Montreal’s Planning and Sustainable Development Department was the first partner to come to the table. They wanted to enhance the quality of life in the city while reducing runoff and addressing the urban heat island effect. This project helped them meet their goals.
The corridor also helped the borough fulfill its social and ecological development goals. Now, there’s a new person in the borough that is focused on Darlington. So now we have a strong, dedicated connection with the borough.
Initially, our focus was on governance and building institutional relationships and building deep relationships with engaged community members living immediately adjacent to the corridor. Later, we broadened our reach and relationships in the community. I think this was the right approach.
Being part of Invest in Montreal and the University of Montreal certainly helped open doors with the borough. I was able to sit in two chairs – I had credibility as part of Invest in Montreal and as part of the community. These two roles were mutually supportive.
Part of our success is attributable to the fact that our project helps partners achieve their goals.
The University of Montreal is happy because the project helps them serve and be connected to the community. There are 19 master’s students working on this project so it serves the University’s academic mission.
The open-mindedness of the borough has made a huge difference. The municipal staff who work in Cote-de-Neiges are committed to making a difference. Cote-de-Neiges isn’t a stop on municipal staff’s career journey. If they choose to work and stay here it’s because they’re committed to this community. If things aren’t possible this year, we will collaborate on how to create policies that open new opportunities next year.
Each partner has helped bring a new lens through which we see the corridor a little differently. It’s helped bring new, valuable perspectives that have reshaped the project and the space.
You may know Park People from one of our microgrant programs, such as the TD Park People Grants. Through these programs, we provide small amounts of funding to community groups and NGOs to organize activities and events in their local parks.
That all sounds great – but why do we do this? Why are events in parks important? How do grants fit into Park People’s larger goals for creating change in city parks? This post explores these questions and shines a light on some of the tensions and challenges of providing microgrants.
City parks have unrealized potential to promote human wellbeing, biodiversity and climate resilience. Too many people living in Canadian cities cannot easily access high-quality green spaces with amenities and activities that enrich their lives. Neighbourhoods such as my own (in the ward of Davenport in Toronto) are very vulnerable to the increasing heat waves we face because of a lack of trees and green space. The parks that we do have are precious, but they are not neutral spaces. For many reasons, they do not feel safe or promote a sense of belonging for everyone.
One of Park People’s early tenets was that when communities get involved, parks get better. Communities are full of people with energy, ideas, and talents. They understand the opportunities to improve their local parks and the challenges specific to their community. With the right resources, their work can be much more sustainable and responsive than an initiative led by an outside group like Park People. So, our guiding question is: How do we support community leaders in realizing the potential of their local parks?
Our network’s community groups have varied goals, from growing food to promoting biodiversity and supporting mental health. Regardless of their focus area, park events are a great way to build strategic support and awareness for their initiatives. They are joyful and fun, providing an enticing entry point for engaging city staff, fellow community members and local politicians to talk about a vision for the park or the wider community.
Events also have a lot of inherent value, even when they don’t tie into a bigger plan. Our research and program evaluations show that park events build a sense of social connection and belonging, making people feel happier and less isolated. In 2024, these social ties are critical to addressing the pandemic’s mental and physical health repercussions and preparing us to support each other through the ongoing climate crisis challenges, such as urban heat waves and floods.
The diversity of events that groups organize is inspiring. They range from programming to support families with neurodiverse children in Toronto’s Thorncliffe Park to hands-on mushroom-growing workshops in Ville de Deux-Montagnes outside Montreal. These events tell us the rich story of what is happening in Canadian city parks so that we can make the case for more resources and support from governments and other stakeholders.
Through microgrants, we can fund groups too small or new to have non-profit status. Although the amounts are small, they help offset the costs of volunteering, especially in lower-income communities. By keeping our application processes simple and removing traditional fundraising barriers (such as the need for non-profit status), people can spend their limited time bringing their ideas to life, trying out new things, and cultivating other support like help from their local city councillor. And at a systems level, we are doing our part in a small way to try to redistribute resources and power within the parks sector.
Offering grants also encourages groups to get in touch with us. Once we are in touch, we can offer other types of support, such as training workshops, coaching, and peer connections. We learn so much about what’s happening and what folks need and dream of doing through applications and conversations. In 2023, we offered phone call applications for smaller grant amounts. There was a groundswell of new groups that stepped forward.
In our annual survey, park groups tell us that their number one need is more funding. Microgrants are a way for us to respond to this need. They also help us build group capacity and relationships to set grantees up to access larger funding in the future.
Park People has been providing microgrants or small honoraria in some form since 2014. We have learned a lot over the years and are still learning.
We are inspired by trust-based philanthropy, which ‘seeks to transform the relationships between philanthropic organizations and non-profits by identifying systemic inequalities and addressing inherent power imbalances,’ as Jennifer Brennan and Shereen Munshi define the term in this article on Indigenous philanthropy. Even though we are a very small-scale funder relative to others, the key principles of identifying systemic inequalities and inherent power imbalances in your ways of working are very relevant. That is why we are continually reflecting and working on:
Providing funding creates an unequal power dynamic between Park People and the groups in our network. This can make it more challenging for groups to provide us with honest feedback on our programs. We do our best to mitigate this by keeping our granting process separate from our evaluation activities, but that introduces another challenge.
Groups that are very engaged in our other program activities, such as our network gatherings, training workshops, conferences and other events, can be particularly disappointed when they don’t receive a microgrant from us. It doesn’t feel great when you have put a lot into engaging with Park People to receive a no on your grant application.
How can providing funding be part of a reciprocal and not transactional relationship? We are excited about exploring more participatory approaches to granting that centre decision-making in the hands of community members, which could allow us to navigate this tension better.
Park People supports community park groups and NGOs following a tiered support model. Microgrants are intended to help groups get started or get established in their community, but in some cases, groups evolve to a stage where $1500 or $2000 is too small to be worth applying for. This is a success story, but it means that the microgrants Park People has available to offer do not match the needs of many groups.
We do our best to connect these groups to larger funding opportunities through fundraising workshops, tailored sessions to support groups in applying for specific grants like TD Friends of the Environment Foundation, and our funding web page which features links to dozens of grants. These activities are well-attended and valued by participants and are consistent with our goal to build the capacity of groups rather than engage in local parks ourselves. But they are more complex than providing a microgrant. ‘Success’ becomes harder to define and talk about.
As Park People’s network grows and as parks became more central to people’s lives during the pandemic, the number of people applying for grants has increased significantly. This means we are saying no to more people every year. There is an ongoing tension between wanting to encourage many people to get engaged in parks and not wanting to waste people’s time participating in grant application processes where their odds of success are low.
We are currently reflecting on the pros and cons of trying to expand the availability of our microgrants versus building up other types of support for the groups in our network. There is probably no perfect answer. In the short term, we are finding creative ways to meet this demand. For example, some of our recent and planned changes to our microgrants include:
2021-2023:
2024:
In the longer term, Park People does not envision a permanent role for ourselves in funding park groups. We believe that larger institutions like municipalities should review how decision-making and power-sharing work in their parks and public spaces. They have the resources to provide more systematic and continuous support for community-led initiatives. Ultimately, we dream of the groups in our network being able to spend more time enriching their communities and parks, and less time fundraising. Systemic changes, such as reforming park permitting processes or dedicating staff to community engagement on an ongoing basis, are critical.
Returning to our guiding question – how do we support community leaders in realizing their local parks’ potential to enhance well-being and resilience? Microgrants that fund events and activities in those parks are one tool in our support toolbox for community leaders. As you have read in this post, they are not the be-all and end-all of support for community leaders, and they don’t meet the needs of every group.
Engage and learn with us
Are you a non-profit that provides microgrants or has in the past? What did you learn? Are you a community member who has accessed or tried to access Park People’s grants? Tell us your thoughts on microgrants – the good, the bad, and what Park People can do to improve.
Nawal is a busy person. She has a full-time job helping newcomers settle in Canada. When she isn’t working or spending time with her family, she volunteers in her local Flemingdon, Toronto community. Flemingdon is a community rich with new immigrants that now call Toronto home. However, many need help navigating a new city and making ends meet. Understanding these challenges herself and driven by a passion to help, Nawal co-founded Flemingdon Community Support Services.
This volunteer-led organization helps the community access food, housing and employment. After months of serving the community, something became clear to Nawal. She began to recognize one crucial gap, a persistent need that wasn’t being met: loneliness. So many of her neighbours felt incredibly isolated and alone.
Nawal approached Park People with an idea.
Flemingdon has vast and beautiful parks. Despite it being a dense area of high and low-rise apartment buildings where most residents don’t have a backyard, this neighborhood off the Don Valley offers sprawling, public greenspaces for everyone to share. But they are underused. Some people don’t feel safe in the parks, while others struggle to find the time or a reason to use them.
Fueled by a passion for community and connection, Nawal worked with Park People to start a weekly Health and Wellness meet-up in her local park. Every week, members of her community gather to explore topics of conversation, ranging from sharing nutritious recipes to engaging in storytelling, learning a dance, or simply taking a walk together. The group is inclusive, consistent and caring. Over time, the gathering evolved into a community hub, where new friendships are forged, and people discover a deep sense of belonging.
Recently, a community member told Nawal she was initially nervous about attending, but now she can’t imagine her life without the weekly meet-up at the park, a mental health refuge for her and a bright light in her week.
Read other community leaders’ stories with Marie-Pierre from Vancouver and Geneviève from Montreal. Their stories feature the incredible work being done to foster social connection and community resilience in parks and green spaces across Canada.
Marie-Pierre is a visionary and advocate for creating green oases in the heart of concrete jungles. Her passion is understanding the challenges and the important role of accessible green spaces. These spaces foster community connections, a sense of place, and an appreciation for histories and practices woven from the land. This vision led to the inception of the Vancouver Urban Food Forest (VUFFF).
Formed amid the pandemic, VUFFF addressed the challenges of isolation and food accessibility in a community of 34,000. Recognizing the need, and with support from Park People, VUFF envisioned a food forest as a haven for urban indigenous communities and low-income residents, championing the belief that access to green spaces and the right to cultivate food are fundamental human rights.
They established Vancouver’s first Indigenous food forest, Chén̓chenstway Healing Garden, in Oxford Park, Vancouver. VUFFF’s ongoing efforts at the Burrard Park View Field House are a testament to their resilience.
With the support of Park People, VUFFF has been able to host community herbal garden workshops and other events to support, connect, and empower their community. Those once disconnected or hesitant about gardening have discovered a nurturing community, valuing their stories and experiences. Through herbal gardens, arts and crafts, and open dialogue, VUFFF has ignited a wave of positive change across the community.
In the concrete jungles of modern cities, Park People supports VUFFF to plant seeds of connection, empowerment, and transformation, reminding us that parks are more than mere spaces – they are the heart of community growth, healing, and prosperity.
As we dream of vibrant cities, we at Park People acknowledge and support the crucial role of community organizations like VUFFF. They are not just sowing seeds of change but nurturing the bonds connecting us to nature and each other.
Read other community leaders’ stories with Nawal from Toronto and Geneviève from Montreal. Their stories feature the incredible work being done to foster social connection and community resilience in parks and green spaces across Canada.
During the first year of COVID, Geneviève learned that rates of food insecurity were skyrocketing in Montreal. Motivated to make a difference, Geneviève envisioned a sustainable response to address hunger in her community: a living and educational agriculture ecosystem composed of three urban gardens.
In this place, people could co-create and participate in planting and growing vegetables together. Living in an urban area of Montreal called Milton Park, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Despite being next to Mount Royal Mountain, the neighbourhood needs more public parks and sufficient green spaces. She knew it was not a matter of improving pre-existing greenspaces to suit her community’s needs; she had to create them.
After months of knocking on doors, she successfully negotiated three areas for raised garden beds, one even for a greenhouse. She transformed these spaces into communal lots and encouraged community members to take part in the growing process — from planting seeds to weeding, harvesting herbs and vegetables to take home but also empowering people to cultivate their very own pharmacy.
As community interest grew around the gardens, Geneviève learned about post-covid deeper issues. Beyond food insecurity, residents struggled with profound challenges like isolation, stress, and depression. Geneviève recognized the need for more holistic solutions and approached Park People with an idea that could improve the well-being of her neighbours.
She wanted to create a sense of connection and trust among community members. In addition to food access, it creates a supportive environment promoting mental well-being and social connection.
With help from Park People, Geneviève created a series of workshops that wove together plant education with mental wellness and meaningful connection to the land. The first event was in Notman Urban Gardens, an overgrown, green oasis prohibiting public access. There was a meditation workshop, followed by an Indigenous-led teaching on the medicinal properties of the plants. 40 people attended the event and learned how to see the garden as a medicinal pharmacy. Together, they learned how to soak lemon balm with orange peel in water to improve mood, sleep quality and digestion. They touched, tasted and smelled herbs, sparking conversation and discovery.
A community member recently told Geneviève that the workshop helped her feel a sense of belonging and created a sense of connection to her neighbours and the environment she hadn’t experienced before. She learned about plants and their properties, opening up new ways of knowing and seeing the world around her. The workshop inspired her to become a weekly volunteer at the garden, and now she can’t envision her life without it. In the midst of Montreal’s bustling urban landscape, Jardins Pour Tous has become more than a garden but a haven of wellness and connection that she eagerly looks forward to every week.
Read other community leaders’ stories with Nawal from Toronto and Marie-Pierre from Vancouver. Their stories features the incredible work being done to foster social connection and community resilience in parks and green spaces across Canada.