When “Access to Justice” Doesn’t Feel Accessible: A Woman of Colour at the Landlord and Tenant Board

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from entering a system that, on paper, is designed to protect you — only to leave feeling unheard inside it.

As a woman of colour, and as a healthcare professional trained to observe patterns in human behaviour and systems, I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on an experience I recently had at the Landlord and Tenant Board in Ontario.

I walked into the hearing believing that, regardless of outcome, I would at minimum be allowed to speak, explain my position, and participate meaningfully in the process. Instead, I left feeling silenced.

The adjudicator — occupying a significant position of institutional authority — controlled the interaction in a manner that felt deeply dismissive and unequal. Attempts to clarify or provide context were cut off. I was not given the same space to articulate my concerns that I observed being afforded elsewhere in the process. Whether intentional or not, the impact was profound: I left feeling small, emotionally dysregulated, and acutely aware of how power operates inside institutional spaces.

To be clear, systemic racism is not always overt. In fact, most of the time, it is subtle.

It is not someone using a slur.

It is being interrupted more frequently.
It is your emotional responses being interpreted as irrational rather than human.
It is being perceived as “difficult” for advocating for yourself.
It is watching professionalism and authority attach more naturally to certain bodies than others.

Research in Canada has repeatedly shown that women of colour experience institutions differently — including healthcare, courts, housing systems, and workplaces. Not always through explicit hostility, but often through credibility gaps, tone policing, unequal assumptions, and reduced psychological safety.

And this matters because access to justice is not simply about whether someone is technically allowed into the room. It is also about whether they are meaningfully heard once they get there.

One of the most psychologically destabilizing parts of these experiences is that they are so easy to deny. Each individual interaction, in isolation, may appear minor. But cumulatively, they create an unmistakable pattern: a felt sense that your voice carries less weight.

As women of colour, many of us learn to second-guess ourselves in these spaces:
“Am I overreacting?”
“Maybe I’m being too sensitive.”
“Maybe this is just how the system works.”

But acknowledging the possibility of systemic bias does not make someone irrational or divisive. It makes them observant.

I am not writing this piece because I believe every negative interaction is racism. I am writing it because too many women of colour quietly carry these experiences alone, often while trying to remain composed enough to still be perceived as credible.

The emotional labour of navigating institutions while simultaneously managing how one is perceived inside them is real. And until we are willing to speak honestly about that reality, “access to justice” will continue to feel unequal for many Canadians.

What stayed with me after the hearing was not only the emotional experience of feeling dismissed, but the practical reality that followed. In order to seek a review of the decision, I was required to invest approximately $1,200 in filing costs and paralegal assistance — a significant amount for many Ontarians already navigating housing instability and institutional stress.

The review process ultimately resulted in corrections to the original decision. While I recognize that procedural systems are designed to allow for reconsideration and human error, the experience left me reflecting on a difficult question: how many individuals lack the financial, emotional, or psychological resources to continue advocating for themselves after initially feeling unheard?

For marginalized individuals, particularly women of colour, the burden of repeatedly proving one’s credibility inside institutional systems can become its own form of exhaustion.