Illustration: The Local StoryLab
“You Get Imprisoned by the Work Permit”
2023

By The Local StoryLab

Jhoey, a former migrant caregiver from the Philippines, arrived in Canada as a temporary foreign worker. Now an organizer with the Caregivers Action Centre’ and Migrant Workers Alliance for Change, she says her experiences as an in-home childcare provider have made her passionate about ensuring caregivers know their rights, and fighting for permanent status for all. This is her story in her own words.

Before I came to Canada in 2016, I worked in Hong Kong for nearly 16 years as a nanny. I wouldn’t have become a caregiver, but back in the Philippines there weren’t any good jobs, especially for mothers. It was about necessity. I stayed in Hong Kong not just to send money home, but because it was only two hours’ travel if I wanted to go home to my kids.

My friend who had come to Canada told me the employers were better here and that, with my work experience, my life would be better too. I came as a temporary foreign worker under the in-home childcare provider program. That’s a closed work permit, so you can only work for your employer. If you need to change your employer, or if your employer changes their mind about hiring you, you go through the whole process again. Processing takes too long, even before the pandemic. My first time, it took five months for the work permit and another one or two months for the Labour Market Impact Assessment, the form that my employer filled out to hire a foreign worker. The LMIA is supposed to take a maximum of eight weeks to process, but I’m hearing it’s now taking four or five months. You’re not allowed to work during processing, but many caregivers will work for their employer for cash while they wait. What else are you going to do? But that’s how you get exploited.

I met my first employer over Skype, and when they were interviewing me they seemed nice. But they didn’t pick me up from the airport. They didn’t have my room ready when I started. I had to sleep on a folding cot in the basement, and I didn’t have a quilt or a pillow. I felt insulted and belittled and I wondered, is this how low they think I am? Just because I came from a third world country?

I thought when I came to Canada that being a nanny was a profession — when they hire you from outside the country, you have to have at least one year of postsecondary education and previous experience working with children. But here, I was a nanny to two children and a teacher and a cleaner and a cook all in one. I worked 13 to 15 hours a day, and I only got paid for seven, which is a common problem for live-in caregivers. My employers were also taking the costs for the LMIA and my plane ticket out of my salary. Other live-in nannies would earn $1,700 a month; I was receiving $1,100. But I was sending money home for my two babies and to put my brothers through school. I didn’t want to lose the job.

As a care worker, you’re only allowed four years in Canada to finish the 24 months’ work experience you need to apply for permanent residency. If you haven’t applied by then, your experience expires and you have to start over. And the government caps the number of permanent residency applications it accepts every year from childcare and elderly care workers at 2,750 each. Last year, the government reached the maximum applications for childcare workers in four months; this year, it took 17 days. A lot of care workers stay with their employers even in an abusive situation. You get imprisoned by the work permit. You’re worried that you have this timeline to follow and you just wait while inside you’re breaking down.

 

You’re bringing people to Canada with the promise of work and better working conditions, so why not just give them permanent status and remove all the exclusions?

After three months in Canada, I had learned more about my rights from my friends in the country and from Facebook groups for caregivers, so I asked my employers why my salary was so low and referred to the contract I signed. They said nobody follows a contract. They started shouting at me, and I pushed back. They kept telling me I was just an expense to them, but I knew I was giving them the support they needed to do their own jobs. After a few more months, I couldn’t take it anymore and I quit.

It took me eight months to find another job taking care of school-aged children. My employers were a bit better, but they were verbally abusive, and then during the pandemic, my work just doubled and there was no time for rest. Before, I had to prepare breakfast and dinner, but suddenly I had to prepare lunch as well, and clean everything, and disinfect all the groceries. I wasn’t allowed to socialize with anyone. We were all in the same space, and they would throw tantrums at me.

I’m a tough cookie: I wasn’t lucky with my employers, but I would fight back when I had the chance. But not everybody has that ability, and a lot of care workers have experienced much worse. I want caregivers to know their rights. My friend encouraged me to join the Caregivers Action Centre and Migrant Workers Alliance for Change. We do casework and education with care workers, but we’re also trying to create communities so that care workers can help each other.

The only way you can prevent abusive situations is if caregivers have landed status in Canada. We have labour rights, yes. But even though caregivers pay taxes, they often cannot get employment insurance and access to healthcare when they need it. You’re bringing people to Canada with the promise of work and better working conditions, so why not just give them permanent status and remove all the exclusions? Not everyone wants to be a citizen, but everyone wants equal rights.

As much as we’re taking care of Canada’s children, we couldn’t take care of our own. I can’t buy back the lost years with my children, but at least the work I’m doing now could give that chance to other people.

I got permanent residency last year, and now I work as an organizer with the CAC and MWAC. Having permanent residency gives caregivers better access to education, and the ability to choose the work we want to do. A lot of people who went through the childcare stream go to school to become personal support workers, nurses or nannies. There’s a labour shortage in healthcare right now, and while the government opened up a special pathway to permanent residency during the pandemic, it was still so exclusionary: the 1.7 million workers who are either undocumented or haven’t reached their 24 months of work experience weren’t allowed to apply.

Permanent residency has given me the opportunity to sponsor my children to come to Canada. Family reunification is so important. Part of the reason caregivers break down is that we’re working away from our families without support. As much as we’re taking care of Canada’s children, we couldn’t take care of our own. I can’t buy back the lost years with my children, but at least the work I’m doing now could give that chance to other people.

This story is part of a special series focused on the issues the Metcalf Foundation’s Inclusive Local Economies program has supported over the last 10 years.

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