Elizabeth Neufeld turns a scandal into a way to help the immigrant community around Central Neighbourhood House.
A brand commission for the Myseum of Toronto.
I didn't know much about Elizabeth Neufeld when Wattpad first approached me about their partnership with Myseum of Toronto and asked me to write about her as one of pioneering women who have changed the social and political landscape of Canada for the better. But, excited to learn, I began my research deep-dive and soon discovered Elizabeth is someone I'd want to be best friends with. Her tenacity and hard work supporting Toronto's immigrant settlement homes arguably laid the foundation for what went on to be Canada's welfare system. I wrote this story from the point of view of one of Elizabeth's roommates, living and working alongside her in Central Neighbourhood house, and the many adventures (and possible scandals) they got up to together. If you're interested in seeing any of my research for this story, or have questions, please let me know, I'd be happy to share!
You can find our more on Elizabeth and learn about other pioneering Canadian women in this awesome online walking tour put on by Myseum here!
The following story is based on real people and true events that have been creatively expanded upon by the author. The content of this story is not intended to be a historically accurate resource.
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The Central Neighbourhood House (CNH) had just opened in the heart of Toronto's immigrant settlement known as The Ward, the first democratic meeting place for all people regardless of race or creed, to find support in becoming their best selves. Which I took as a sign that in 1911 we were finally progressing as a country. The eight of us women who worked and volunteered at CNH were headed out, dressed in our Sunday bests to canvass the surrounding communities for donations. Elizabeth Neufeld, the newly hired Headworker of CNH, led our march past the last of The Ward's busy streets to the rich surrounding neighbourhoods. Considering most of our neighbours didn't shy away from expressing their concern that The Ward was overcrowded, unsanitary, and uncivilized, we expected them to be as excited as we were about CNH.
Our excitement quickly faded when we knocked on the first up-towner's door.
Elizabeth was halfway through her introduction when they shut it firmly in our faces. We probably should've known by the ornate marble cross in their front garden that they wouldn't support a settlement house that didn't preach Protestant values, especially one that had the audacity to hire a Headworker who dared to be both Jewish and woman.
We hadn't walked that many streets past The Ward, yet it was like being in a different country. The people who lived here had spaces between their houses, grass on their lawns, garages. In The Ward, we lived stacked on top of each other like chicken coops, nothing but asphalt and decaying brick for our parks.
