Toronto-Danforth Over Time

Photographs, memories and observations from the community I call home.

I have never been a typical politician.

I am highly visual. I notice patterns. I remember places, intersections, storefronts, service gaps, construction fences, changes in traffic, and the quiet signs that a neighbourhood is under pressure. I can walk past a corner and remember what used to be there, what changed, what was promised, and what people said they needed.

I also know that I am an unusual person. I think deeply about policy, healthcare, infrastructure, land use, and how people actually connect to services. My brain tends to organize the world through systems, images, data, and details.

When I see a problem, I start asking how it happened. What decision led to it? What policy shaped it? What would actually fix it? Has another community found a better way? Who is being helped, who is being left out, and what will this look like years from now?

That is how I think about cities.

A rezoning is not just a building. It is about parking, transit, servicing, professional space, employment, public safety, small-business viability, trees, schools, childcare, waste, accessibility, and whether people can actually live well in the neighbourhood being created around them.

That can make me different in public life. I am not interested in slogans that make complicated issues sound simple. I am interested in understanding the structure underneath them, because that is where better decisions begin.

I may not always read a room the way others do. I may miss when someone is irritated with me. I have never been the smoothest political performer, and I am not interested in becoming one. However, I will remember your issue. I will remember the sidewalk that does not feel safe, the bus that does not come often enough, the business being squeezed by construction, the family looking for childcare, the senior who needs services close to home, the park that needs attention, and the neighbourhood that is growing faster than its infrastructure.

That is how I see community.

I became a massage therapist because I wanted to help people. Then I became almost obsessed with understanding why my patients were in pain. Why did one person heal while another stayed stuck? Why did scar tissue create problems far from the original injury? Why did surgery, inflammation, stress, work, posture, trauma, and daily life all seem to connect in ways that were not always obvious?

“Why?” has always been my go-to question, occasionally to the great patience of my co-investigators and colleagues.

That question led me into research. I became a published researcher because I could not stop asking why. My work on scars, adhesions, manual therapy, and pain grew out of years of listening to people describe pain that did not always fit neatly into a chart. In my research, I studied how tissue changes, inflammation, movement, and the nervous system can interact long after an injury or surgery. The visible wound may close, but the deeper effects can remain.

That taught me something important: pain is not always where you expect it to be, and healing is not always as simple as fixing what you can see.

Ookwemin Minising Bridge

When I look at Toronto-Danforth, I do not just see isolated complaints. I see systems. I see the relationship between housing and transit, zoning and health, congestion and small business, public space and safety, infrastructure and quality of life. I see how today’s planning decisions will affect families, seniors, workers, children, artists, and local businesses for decades to come.

Communities also carry scar tissue.

A closed storefront, a dangerous crossing, a park that feels neglected, a transit route that no longer serves people well, a rezoning that ignores infrastructure, a small business pushed out by rising costs, or a family unable to find childcare close to home may look like separate issues, but often they are connected beneath the surface.

I use research, data, and long-term planning to make sense of what I see. Not because numbers matter more than people, but because evidence helps us understand the human consequences of decisions before the damage is done.

Since 1986, when I first moved into what is now Ward 14, I have been photographing Toronto-Danforth. Not as a campaign strategy. Not as branding. Just because this place has always mattered to me.

I have photographed events, music, local venues, public spaces, small businesses, rezonings, congestion, construction, neglect, renewal, and the everyday details that show how a neighbourhood changes over time. Some photos are joyful. Some are frustrating. Some are warnings. Together, they tell a story about a community with enormous character, deep roots, and real pressure from growth that has not always been matched with services.

Toronto-Danforth is not just a ward on a map. It is a collection of neighbourhoods, each with its own rhythm, memory, and identity. The Danforth, Leslieville, Riverdale, Blake-Jones, the Pocket, East Chinatown, Riverside, Broadview, Greenwood-Coxwell, and the communities around our parks, schools, storefronts, laneways, and transit corridors all carry stories that deserve to be seen clearly.

For me, community is not abstract. It is visual. It is physical. It is built into the way people move through their day.

Can you cross the street safely?

Can your child find care close to home?

Can your small business survive construction, taxes, and red tape?

Can seniors age in place with dignity?

Can artists, workers, families, and newcomers still belong here?

Can our sewers, roads, transit, parks, waste systems, and public services keep up with the approved density?

These are not separate issues. They are connected.

Growth without infrastructure is not good planning. Density without services is not sustainability. Consultation without action is not community building. A city that ignores the small details eventually creates big problems.

This Community page is a visual record of what I have seen over many years in Toronto-Danforth, and in cities I have visited around the world while presenting on healthcare, research, technology as a tool for urban change, and the role of public policy in shaping how cities work.

It is a place for the images that shaped how I think about public service: the beauty, the pressure, the creativity, the congestion, the celebrations, the warning signs, and the opportunities.

Wherever I go, I pay attention to how cities work. I photograph streets, public spaces, infrastructure, water systems, housing, transportation, storefronts, and the small details that reveal how people connect to services and to each other.

Those images have become part of how I think about Toronto-Danforth. They remind me that good planning is not abstract. It is visible in the daily life of a community.

I am running because I believe Ward 14 needs leadership that can see the whole system and still care about the corner, the curb, the shop, the family, and the person standing in front of us asking for help.

I may not be a typical politician.

But I pay attention.

And I remember.

Thank you for being here.

Susan