by Shaun Michael Samaroo

I walk through downtown Oshawa and the city’s pulse quickens beneath my feet. The once-vibrant streets now pulse with a different rhythm—a rhythm of struggle and survival. Faces etched with hardship pass me by, their eyes hollow, their steps unsteady. The air carries the acrid scent of decay, mingling with the faint, lingering aroma of stale alcohol.

A man, his clothes tattered and soiled, sits on the curb, his hands trembling as he clutches a half-empty bottle. His gaze meets mine, a silent plea for recognition, for humanity. I avert my eyes, but the image lingers, seared into my memory. The defeat of dignity, a desperate plea against the denial of his basic existence, stares at the world in resignation.

The statistics stand out, stark. Upwards of 800 individuals suffer homelessness across Durham Region, with Oshawa bearing a significant portion of this crisis, 600 men and women homeless, with 300 chronic.

Crime rates further compound the challenges that the community faces. Oshawa’s crime index stands at 60.71, indicating a high level of crime, with residents expressing concerns about property crimes such as vandalism and theft, as well as violent crimes including assault and armed robbery. 

I wander through Midtown Mall, once a bustling center of commerce, now a hollow shell of its former self. Construction tape and plywood mar the front entrance, replacing shattered glass from a recent break-in. Inside, an unpleasant odor thickens the air, creating an ambiance reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic scene. The eerie silence, occasionally broken with distant echoes of footsteps, amplifies the mall’s desolation.

In the early hours of January 1st, 2025, a break-in occurs at Crazy Jack Bar and Grill on King Street West. The establishment, known for its lively atmosphere, lies in disarray. Broken glass and overturned furniture paint a grim picture of the escalating crime in our city. This New Year’s tragedy serves as a graphic symbol of the broader issues plaguing Oshawa.

As we continue this series, we will delve deeper into the lives of those affected with these challenges, sharing their stories and amplifying their voices. Through these narratives, we aim to shed light on the human side of this crisis and advocate for meaningful change in our city.

In the mall’s shadows, I notice several unhoused individuals seeking refuge from the winter cold. Their presence transforms this former temple of commerce into an unofficial shelter, highlighting the deeper crisis gripping our city. The Durham Region 2024 Point-in-Time Count reveals a stark reality: 891 people experiencing homelessness, a 34% increase from 2022. Of these, 312 individuals specifically identified Oshawa as their last permanent address.

I push against the heavy glass doors of Midtown Mall on a frigid January morning, their hinges groaning in protest. The sound echoes through the dim corridor ahead, a fitting overture to what I’ll discover inside this failing heart of downtown Oshawa. A security guard, bundled against the cold in his navy uniform, nods as I enter – one of the recent additions to the mall’s attempts at order.

The mall’s weathered beige exterior repels rather than welcomes visitors, its faded lettering barely visible above the entrance. Built in 1965, Midtown Mall once represented the optimistic expansion of post-war Oshawa, when General Motors employed over 23,000 workers at its peak. Today, it stands as a testament to the city’s industrial decline.

Inside, flickering fluorescent lights cast shadows across cracked floor tiles, creating a monochrome landscape of decline. The narrow corridors, designed for efficiency rather than comfort, channel visitors past a gauntlet of vacant storefronts, their metal gates permanently drawn. According to the Downtown Oshawa 2024 report, commercial vacancy rates in the downtown core hover at 27.3%, significantly higher than the provincial average of 12.1%.

“We’ve seen a dramatic shift in the retail landscape over the past decade,” says Myke Browne, born and raised in Oshawa. “The combination of e-commerce growth, changing consumer preferences, and the pandemic accelerated the decline of traditional shopping centers, particularly in mid-sized cities like Oshawa. The decline of this city sucks. I walk there twice a daypass the mall. I am disgusted how the city handles the street people, who linger along the creek and around the beer store. The Mayor needs to do something about this.”

A handful of businesses cling to survival. In the cramped aisles of a dollar store, shoppers rifle through discount merchandise. At the sole remaining café, regular customers huddle over steaming cups, their hushed conversations floating across empty tables. The food court stands nearly abandoned, its vendor stalls bearing the scars of neglect – peeling paint, broken equipment, and memories of busier days.

According to the Durham Region Economic Development and Tourism data, downtown Oshawa has lost 47 businesses since 2020, with only 23 new establishments opening during the same period. The net loss represents more than $12 million in annual economic activity.

“We’re seeing a perfect storm of factors – rising housing costs, inadequate mental health support, and the ongoing impacts of the opioid crisis. In Oshawa alone, average rental prices have increased by 43% since 2020, while social assistance rates have remained largely stagnant,” one man said.

The human cost of this decline manifests in ways both subtle and stark. This morning, I watched a man sitting on King Street West, his trembling hands clutching a bottle, his eyes meeting mine with a silent plea for acknowledgment. Hours earlier, police had responded to a break-in at Crazy Jack Bar and Grill, where shattered glass and overturned furniture spoke to our city’s escalating struggles.

Durham Regional Police Service statistics paint a troubling picture. In 2024’s first quarter, downtown Oshawa recorded 127 property crimes and 84 violent incidents, representing a 22% increase year-over-year. The city’s crime severity index now stands at 60.71, significantly higher than the national average of 51.32.

“We’re dealing with complex social issues that law enforcement alone cannot solve. Many of the individuals we encounter need housing, mental health support, or addiction treatment rather than criminal charges.”

Yet amidst this landscape of despair, I discover hope in unexpected places. Mary Catherine Tassopoulos operates Front Porch Mentors from a modest mall office, offering life coaching and peer support to anyone seeking change. Her team maintains a free snack pantry and provides seasonal clothing to those in need, demonstrating how individual compassion can pierce through institutional failure.

“We believe in meeting people where they are,” Tassopoulos tells me, as she arranges donated winter coats. “Sometimes, transformation begins with a simple conversation and a warm welcome. Last year, we supported over 450 individuals through our programs, and 73 of them have since secured stable housing.”

Yet amidst this landscape of despair, I discover hope in unexpected places. Mary Catherine Tassopoulos operates Front Porch Mentors from a modest mall office, offering life coaching and peer support to anyone seeking change. Her team maintains a free snack pantry and provides seasonal clothing to those in need, demonstrating how individual compassion can pierce through institutional failure.

“We believe in meeting people where they are,” Tassopoulos tells me, as she arranges donated winter coats. “Sometimes, transformation begins with a simple conversation and a warm welcome. Last year, we supported over 450 individuals through our programs, and 73 of them have since secured stable housing.”

Mayor Dan Carter, himself a recovered addict who experienced homelessness, has implemented various initiatives – enhanced lighting, increased security, daily cleanups, and business grants for safety improvements. The city’s 2024 Downtown Revitalization Fund allocated $2.3 million for security measures and aesthetic improvements. However, these measures barely scratch the surface of Oshawa’s challenges.

“We need comprehensive intervention from provincial and federal governments,” Carter emphasizes. “The city has committed $15 million over three years to address homelessness and community safety, but we require matching funds from higher levels of government to create lasting change.”

Here are three takeaways:

Urban Decay, Flickers of Hope

The Midtown Mall, once a bustling hub of commerce and community, now stands as a shadow of its former self. Its faded facade and empty storefronts whisper tales of economic hardship and changing consumer habits. The mall’s decline, a stark reflection of urban decay, serves as a reminder of the challenges facing many cities across the nation.

Yet, amidst the decay, there are flickers of hope. The Midtown Mall’s resilience is evident in the community initiatives and entrepreneurial spirit that strive to breathe new life into its aging structure. Local artists have transformed vacant spaces into vibrant studios, while community groups have organised events to bring people back to the mall. These efforts, though seemingly small, represent a refusal to let the mall succumb entirely to neglect.

The future of the Midtown Mall remains uncertain. Will it be demolished to make way for new development, or will it be successfully repurposed to serve the evolving needs of the community? The answer lies in the hands of the people of Oshawa, who must decide whether to let the mall fade into oblivion or to embrace its history and transform it into a symbol of urban renewal.

The story of the Midtown Mall is a microcosm of the challenges and opportunities faced by urban communities in the 21st century. It is a story of decline and resilience, of loss and hope. It is a story that compels us to reflect on the future of our cities and to consider how we can create spaces that are both economically viable and socially vibrant.

Qwai AI acted as a ghostwriter for this story, working with author and Journalist Shaun Michael Samaroo