Urbanism: The Kids of Condoland

Originally published in The Local. Read the full text here.

A baby boom’s coming to Toronto’s high-rise communities, but are they built for healthy family life?

As a child in the ’70s, Berenice Villagomez grew up in an urban village: a suite of residential towers surrounding a central green space. In her hometown, Mexico City, only the super-rich owned houses. For everybody else, condo life was the norm. When not at school, Villagomez spent her days in the courtyard, while the local adults supervised from the balconies above. She didn’t distinguish between friends and neighbours or between her parents and other authority figures. “There was a sense of community,” she says. “Any mom could tell you off if you were misbehaving.” For birthday parties, the neighbourhood kids would get together outdoors, perhaps for soccer at the local pitch. Then, they’d cram into the birthday boy’s or girl’s apartment, where there’d be cake for the kids — and medias noches and beer for the adults.

In 2001 Villagomez and her husband, Eduardo Rivera, immigrated to Canada, where she hoped to raise children in an environment similar to where she grew up. The first stop was Waterloo, Ontario, where Rivera completed a master’s in actuarial sciences. A year later, Villagomez commenced graduate studies in Latin American literature at the University of Toronto, so the couple relocated to student housing near Bay and Bloor. Each month, they put money aside — the difference between their subsidized rent and market rate — to buy an apartment and start a family of their own.

In 2009, after a year of hunting, they found a flat that seemed if not quite big enough then at least workable: a 750-square-foot, two-bedroom unit near Queen and Church. In 2013, the couple had their first daughter; their second came two years later. Rivera is now an actuary, and Villagomez has an administrative job at the university, where she also teaches. They have generous smiles, dark hair, and faces dotted with freckles (in her case) and stubble (in his). Both work downtown, and neither relishes the thought of a long commute from the suburbs. Working close to home, says Villagomez, gives her more time with her kids.

An increasing number of Torontonians feel the same way — and are willing to live small if it means staying in the city. In 2016, there were 10,500 more families in Toronto high-rises than there were in 2011, and those figures will continue to rise as millennials get older but find themselves priced out of the detached and semi-detached housing market. In theory, a city like Toronto — a cultural hub with a booming economy and low crime rate — should be an ideal place to raise children. But families today find themselves up against systemic problems, including cramped quarters, insufficient green space, and spotty access to pediatric care. To maintain their children’s health, parents must work against an environment not built for them. Villagomez is determined, however, to tough it out. “When I was pregnant with my second child, people were like, ‘So when are you moving to the suburbs?’” she says. “I was like, ‘Never.’ Suburban life is not for me.”

This is an excerpt. Read the full text here.