Spacing

When you enter “Little Jamaica” on Google Maps, you’ll find York, Ontario coordinates that may take you along the Allen Expressway and exit off at Eglinton Avenue West. It’s unclear when the GPS will say you’ve arrived, and if you’re looking for a street sign or banner to confirm it, you won’t find one.
The vibrant storefront colours consisting of Rastafarian, Pan-African, and Jamaican flag combinations are unique traits that contribute to the authenticity of Toronto’s beloved unofficial neighbourhood, Little Jamaica. Emboldened family names of immigrants are not only landmark buildings, but they are proof of a migrated community that took all the pride that comes with the gold, black, and green flag to flourish beyond island waters, giving life to their motto — “Out of Many, One People.”
For many Toronto residents, Monica’s Cosmetics, Wisdom’s Barbershop, Rap’s, Randy’s Patties, Spence’s Bakery, Treajah, and the many longstanding local businesses that 0ccupy Eglinton West — from Marlee to Keele streets and down Oakwood Avenue and Vaughan Road — are indicators that you’ve arrived in a home away from home. These legacy establishments created a corner of Jamrock in Canada for anyone searching for a tasty pepperpot soup or succulent oxtail rice and peas.
Little Jamaica is the template of what immigrated communities look like in Canada and how many people who aspire to get a better life across the border can still have the essence of back home. Since its informal inception in the 1970s and ’80s, it has never received formal signage from the City of Toronto. The neighbourhood didn’t get its title established underneath the Eglinton Avenue West sign with gold, black, and green colours, the way residents envisioned it, or like the archaic Greek alphabets written under Greektown’s Danforth’s Street signs. Instead, the title “International Market” is surrounded by a bright orange outline, with the number 1862 marked at the bottom to recognize the old address of the York-Eglinton Business Improvement Association’s (BIA) office. The BIA says the title International Market was appointed because of the various immigrant neighbourhoods that made up the vicinity. Regardless, many elements of Jamaican culture developed from immigrant business owners became the unofficial signage for the neighbourhood, from their hand-painted bubble letters in window panes to the colourful community flyers. And its probably why the BIA’s social media profiles now acknowledge the district as the “Heart of #LittleJamaicaTO.” Calling the strip “international” instead of “Jamaica” is quite similar to responding with “All Lives Matter” when facing a “Black Lives Matter” moment.
In the 1970s and ’80s, Little Jamaica had solified itself as a local hub of Caribbean culture. Several newcomers learned the ropes of Canada and how the country operated within the neighbourhood. Former Jamaican Canadian Association (JCA) president Kamala Jean Gopie was one. She ran for the federal Liberal party in 1981, with her office located at 2400 Dufferin St., just north of Little Jamaica.
Gopie says the disconnect from formally recognizing Little Jamaica is rooted in Toronto refusing to see Jamaican culture and presence as legitimate. “Toronto brags about Chinatown, Greektown, and Koreatown, highlighting the city as ‘diversity is our strength.’ But if we’re going to be equitable, the City of Toronto should provide a positive designation to Little Jamaica, a longstanding neighbourhood since the ’70s.”
Even though Black people have been in Canada since the 1600s, from Atlantic Canada to Quebec and then to the Pacific coast, the discrimination and segregation that Black people felt once they settled in Toronto spoke volumes about Canada’s acceptance of their presence. Canada’s immigration policies until the 1960s were openly racist, preferring only White immigrants. In 1861, people of the African diaspora in Toronto were segregated mainly within York Township West. In the deacdes that followed, exceptions were temporary visas for Black students in the Caribbean (1920) or Black labourers under the West Indian Domestic Scheme (1955).
Starting in 1967, new Caribbean immigrants began to sprinkle into the neighbourhood pockets of Bathurst and Bloor, Kensington Market, but many made a home along Eglinton Avenue West, Oakwood, and Vaughan area. This new influx was thanks to a change in Canada’s immigration policy to a point system which enabled more Jamaicans to come to Canada based on their education and skill level. Later, in 1978, the policies shifted from what was once an educational requirement to occupational and employment experience.
Around this era of flowing Jamaican and Caribbean migration, the fresh, young and eager yawdies set up shop, transforming their environments to reflect their identity, helping to create one of the largest Jamaican expatriate communities in the world.

Lxxxxxxxx
During her 30s, photojournalist Beth Lesser and her husband navigated through the vibrant developing Jamaican enclave with her camera. Known as a ‘witness to reggae,’ she travelled from Kingston, Jamaica, to Brooklyn, New York, documenting the Jamaican musical influence across the borders. But her home and where she and her husband were big admirers through black and white film was Toronto, in the heart of Little Jamaica.
Lesser edited and published Reggae Quarterly Magazine, the first international reggae publication to focus on Jamaican music. Throughout its pages, the mass distributed flyers reflected the record stores, music classes, and local businesses across Eglinton Avenue West. Company ads would say “top quality art” or “Rap’s got the real Jamaican taste” with their location, clipart-like designs, or a lion of Judah reference accompanying their list of services.
She distinctly remembers record stores like Jam Can, King Culture, Gemini Records, Micron Music, and many more being important places for residents and visitors to hear the sounds of Jamaica and congregate with one another. “These were spaces for newcomers to feel comfortable and learn the ropes while connecting to their roots back home,” expressed Lesser. “ It was much more than a neighbourhood of businesses.”
During the 1970s and ’80s, artists, producers, and music lovers surrounded the record stores that had shelves overflowing with vinyl LPs. Record stores were instrumental in identifying Little Jamaica through various types of records with distributer stamps on the sticker. Each record became a souvenir for consumers who experienced the neighbourhood and the sounds of Jamaican-Canadian reggae artists like Jackie Mittoo, Webber Sisters, Messenjah, Stranger Cole, Leroy Sibbles, and more. Family-owned restaurants beside each record store had bright bubble-lettered hand-painted menu items in their windows offering cow foot soup, curry goat, and hot roti. The side-by-side signage from record stores to restaurants invited visitors to an experience of enjoying the essence of Caribbean people through music, good food, and community. It was rare, unique, and irie.
As an observer and one of the only photographers to document vintage Little Jamaica in Toronto, Lesser’s recollection of prominent signage was the plethora of bulletin board posters that promoted community events. These posters were a unique variation of signage in Jamaica, one that people could keep rather than drive by and only witness. They were four-by-six-inch coloured postcard papers with black calligraphy inviting people to enjoy music, dance, or express their community concerns. After picking up new records, people collected flyers and saved them as a weekend itinerary to go dancing, see a concert, or attend a party. The posters were a tangible representation of how the neighbourhood made one feel — that even if you were no longer there, its feeling never left you.
The flyers were unique to Jamaican identity because of the catchy slogans or phrases like “May the strong survive, so come with clean hands, pure heart to the dance of the year.” This witty marketing culture brought from yawd became imprinted in Toronto’s entertainment scene over the decades to follow. In the early 2000s, those colourful flyers with dynamic typography and clever sayings evolved into elaborate graphic designs that covered burned CDs with DJ mixes given to clubgoers outside the venue.
When there were no flyers or Share Magazines available near the grocery store counters, the sounds protruding through Little Jamaica became audible signage of the neighbourhood’s identity. Speakers blasting dub, ska, and reggae vibrated through the vehicles and out of the propped doors of businesses, rocking steady and welcoming customers. Those familiar sounds never left and continue to be heard through Jamaica Day celebrations, Caribana and even localized community initiatives like the Afro-Caribbean Farmer’s Market. Little Jamaica’s sounds throughout the city, province and country are a message of Caribbean immigrants contributing to the nation’s diversity and economy.
As Jamaican culture seeped into the city’s culture and vernacular — patties sold at TTC stations gained legendary status while reggae nights flourism throughout the entertainment district — it became clear that Little Jamaica influence was not so little. But while many celebrated the diversity and Jamaican integration, policies to legitimize and preserve Toronto’s Jamrock slipped through the cracks. And with no official sign or title for a neighbourhood, it makes it easier to erase.

LRT COMES TO EGLINTON WEST
In 2011, Premier Dalton McGuinty, mayor Rob Ford, and Minister of Transportation Kathleen Wynne announced The Eglinton Crosstown light rail transit (LRT) line along Eglinton Avenue between Mount Dennis and Kennedy subway station.
SInce the LRT construction began in 20XX, the Crosstown’s impact has been devastating to the community’s commerce and everyday culture. Those who didn’t live in the neighbourhood but frequented the area as a “home away from home” now face roadblocks, traffic diversions, and heavy consutrction. Black-owned business closures have piled up. In 2020, Black Urbanism TO (BUTO) — a non-profit organization re-envisioning Black neighbourhoods to support social, economic, and cultural advancement — reported that 140 businesses in Little Jamaica closed since the inception of the Eglinton Crosstown LRT. In the spring of 2022, legacy family business Randy’s Patties closed just days after national patty day, a celebration rooted in the Caribbean community overcoming the systemic racism against the rights to serve their cuisine.
Randy’s storefront was a staple in Little Jamaica. Its bold red signage and cursive calligraphy painted in the windows read “Tasty Jamaican Dishes” in Jamaican flag gold. The family-run business passed down from father to sons was constantly recognized in conversations about authentic Jamaican food throughout the GTA. The famous patty wars that the city joyfully participated in through viral social media videos and polls always included an original, crispy Randy’s Jamaican Patty – a longstanding recipe established since 1979. Much like a food souvenir, Randy’s long line-ups reflected Torontonians agreeing that a trip to Little Jamaica is incomplete without visiting the illuminated box sign that displayed “Randy’s Takeout, 781-5313.”
Romain Baker, Founder of BUTO and a resident of Little Jamaica said the irony of the business closing off the heels of National Patty Day put a nail in the coffin to the fate of Little Jamaica as it tries to keep its head above water to survive. “Randy’s is the legacy of Caribbean businesses that have endured its tenure in Toronto. For it to close shows that the situation in Little Jamaica is dire.”
BUTO has been a part of the conversation surrounding the evolution of Little Jamaica and its fight to gain government-designated signage and preserve its historical presence under Ontario’s law. But over the years, the battle against gentrification in Toronto across the various immigrant-based communities has been a losing one.
Toronto’s municipal government does a poor job of preserving some of the city’s signage treasures that hold memories and give character to neighbourhoods like Little Jamaica. The signs for The Record Nook, a Jamaican record store near the heart of Little Jamaica, now only exists on keychains or photo prints, much like Honest Ed’s and Sam the Record Man. But many Torontonians would prefer to keep the history and culture alive by preserving the businesses so that future generations could experience what has helped define parts of their city.
In September 2015, the City of Toronto opened Reggae Lane and unveiled a plaque mounted by Heritage Toronto acknowledging the Little Jamaica’s Reggae music legacy. In 2020, the City dedicated Jimmy Wisdom Way in honour of the community figure and owner of Wisdom’s Barbershop, established in the 1970s, along a portion of Locksley Avenue running north-south between Eglinton Avenue West and Hopewell Avenue. The sign designations were celebrated with BBQs grilling jerk chicken and live performances from Caribbean artists within the community. Residents were elated, as it was one step forward in the City of Toronto legitimizing their established Jamaican identity, yet the street signs, plaques, and beautiful bright painted murals became a part of the long list of beautiful cultural elements identify the neighbourhood as Little Jamaica.
Canada’s heritage laws focus on built architecture to qualify an area worthy of preservation and protection. These are rooted in British criteria that neglects cultural activity and nuances. Senior members of the City of Toronto’s planning department have made it clear in community meetings that analyzing the architecture and neighbourhood of Little Jamaica for protection under the law is “not a good fit.” Instead, planners believe that an option for heritage conservation will require City Council to prepare a plan and statement explaining the district’s cultural heritage value. Another option is for individual buildings to be designated “if it’s warranted.” In 2021, Cheryl Blackman, interim general manager of economic development and culture, and Gregg Lintern, chief planner, confirmed that they had no intentions or efforts to designate any of the area’s old establishments.
After an outcry from Little Jamaica residents on social media and an inaffectual public meeting, the City decided the neighbourhood would become a guinea pig for an urban renewal concept called “cultural district.” There’s no definition for cultural district, as Toronto has no existing examples. The city planning department decided it would imitate processes and tools from U.S. cities like San Francisco and Minneapolis.

A Lasting legacy?
“With all the urbanization, it would be lovely if the City of Toronto could throw some money to preserve one of the neighbourhood’s storefronts,” says Lesser, pondering on how all that she witnessed and documented over seven decades could still be kept alive for future generations. “People need to experience Little Jamaica’s legacy and culture, and even recreate the ambiance from the 1970s and ’80s with historical context.” Her wishful thinking is why she so willingly provides her images of Little Jamaica to whichever publication asks. Her photos capture the city’s influx of Caribbean diversity.
Wherever the GPS leads you to along Eglinton West today, you’re rarely met with bright shining business storefronts hanging the Jamaican flag in its window. Instead, there are vacant buildings with “for lease” signs in the windows, much different from the once colourful hand-painted displays with bootlegged CDs stacked under the windowpanes. The sounds of reggae, dub, ska, and rocksteady music are subtle, as store owners listen to cope with the changes rather than invite strollers into the shop. Instead, the construction along the Eglinton Avenue West strip makes people second guess before pulling over to buy a patty on their ride home or walk by.
Many of the figures and artists that established the culture which helped defined Little Jamaica during its booming era have passed. The neighbourhood is in flux, with second and third generation Jamaican descendants like BUTO founder Baker trying to envision the future of Little Jamaica in a digital age and economy saturated by condo developers. But still, his vision is optimistic, and his team is determined to sketch, design and create a variation of Little Jamaica that is an evolution but not lickkle more to the foundation their grandparents set in the 1970s and ’80s.
Baker says that he still sees the neighbourhood transforming in Jamaica’s image, from bars, lounges, and Afro-Caribbean music stores to performing art venues and non-profit organizations providing meaningful services to the community.
Baker and his team at BUTO envision the future of signage in Little Jamaica as metal park benches that emulate Jamaica’s independence square, engraved with ancient west African adinkra symbols, and the York BIA carefully choosing tropical plants to place on the sidewalks during summer. They want vibrant artistic murals from Caribbean artists as visitors step off the Crosstown LRT and statues throughout the neighbourhood that commemorate Caribbean-Canadians who left a legacy in Canada. And lastly, they want the sounds of reggae, ska, dub, soca, and dancehall, on the streets but this time from instruments of musicans performing along the sidewalks. Their vision is an unapologetic reimagined neighbourhood that will strongarm the City to write Little Jamaica into its urban planning policies.
“We want an ecosystem that propels our community forward — a cultural, economic and social center where people are catered to wholistically,” Baker says.
The future of signage in Little Jamaica is interrupted and unclear. The York-Eglinton BIA says the organization is going through a rebranding exercise to change their logo and replace the International Market with Little Jamaica. But, much like the boldness of Jamaican immigrants who first settled and established a community that transformed how Torontonians eat, speak, and celebrate, signs of Jamaica aren’t restricted to the buildings of Eglinton Avenue West. It will always remain a prominent corner of the world where Jamaican people planted the seed of “out of many, one.” j

updated version

Out of Many One Toronto: Signs of a black, green, and gold neighbourhood
By: Danica Samuel

When you enter Little Jamaica on Google Maps, you'll find York, Ontario coordinates that may take you along the Allen Expressway and exit off at Eglinton Avenue West. It's unclear when the GPS will say you've arrived, and if you're looking for a street sign or banner to confirm it, you won't find one.

Monica's Cosmetics, Wisdom's Barbershop, Rap's, Randy's Patties, Spence's Bakery, Treajah, and the many longstanding local businesses that make up the Eglinton Avenue West from Marlee to Keele and down to Oakwood and Vaughan are indicators that you've arrived in a home away from home. These legacy establishments created a corner of Jamrock in Canada for anyone searching for a tasty pepperpot soup or succulent oxtail rice and peas.

The vibrant storefront colours consisting of Rastafarian, Pan-African and Jamaican flag combinations are unique traits that contribute to the authenticity of Toronto's beloved unofficial neighbourhood, Little Jamaica. Emboldened family names of immigrants are not only landmark buildings, but they are proof of a migrated community that took all the pride that comes with the gold, black, and green flag to flourish beyond island waters, giving life to their motto - "Out of Many, One People."

Little Jamaica is the template of what immigrated communities look like in Canada and how many people who aspire to get a better life across the border can still have the essence of back home. Since its inception in the 1970s and 80s, it has never received formal signage from the City of Toronto, but quite frankly, there never needed to be.

The neighbourhood didn't get its title established underneath the Eglinton Avenue West sign with gold, black, and green colours, the way residents envisioned it, or like the archaic Greek alphabets written under Greektown's Danforth's Street signs. Instead, the title 'International Market' is surrounded by a bright orange outline, with the number 1862 marked at the bottom to recognize the old address of the York-Eglinton Business Improvement Association's (BIA) office. The BIA says the title International Market was appointed because of the various immigrant neighbourhoods that made up the vicinity. However, it has always been clear that the dominance of the Jamaican community is what stood out the most and is why all their social media profiles have changed to acknowledge their district as the "Heart of #LittleJamaicaTO." Calling the strip "international" instead of "Jamaica" is quite similar to responding with "All Lives Matter" when facing a "Black Lives Matter" moment.

Regardless, many elements of Jamaican culture developed from immigrant business owners became the unofficial signage for the neighbourhood, from their hand-painted bubble lettered signs in window panes to the colourful community flyers. But when a $4.6 billion transportation plan began to gentrify the area, Torontonians started to feel the importance of formally recognizing the cultural attributes of immigrant communities with policies that protect and preserve them.

In the 70s and 80s, Little Jamaica was developing and thriving. Several Caribbean newcomers learned the ropes of Canada and how the country operated within the neighbourhood. Former Jamaican Canadian Association (JCA) president Kamala Jean Gopie was one. She ran for the liberal party in 1981, with her office located at 2400 Dufferin St., just north of Little Jamaica. The neighbourhood was her crux and solidarity during her campaign.

She said the disconnect from formally recognizing Little Jamaica is rooted in Toronto refusing to see Jamaican culture and presence as legitimate. "Toronto brags about Chinatown, Greektown, and Koreatown, highlighting the city as 'diversity is our strength.' But if we're going to be equitable, the City of Toronto should provide a positive designation to Little Jamaica, a longstanding neighbourhood since the 70s."

Gopie says Little Jamaica was unique in that it was a felt presence through the many Black people greeting one another on the sidewalks and stopping to pick up a flyer or Share Magazine newspaper. "It was booming, and it had a character to it."

She distinctly remembers this energy because it was unapologetic and a silent pushback to the government's neglect.

Even though Black people have been in Canada since the 1600s from Atlantic Canada to Quebec and then to the Pacific coast, the discrimination and segregation, Black people felt once they settled in Toronto spoke volumes about Canada's acceptance of their presence.

In 1861 people of the African diaspora in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) were segregated mainly within the York Township West. Canada's immigration policies until the 1960s were openly racist, preferring only White immigrants. The exceptions were temporary visas for Black students in the Caribbean (1920) or Black labourers under the West Indian Domestic Scheme from 1955.

Caribbean immigrants sprinkled into the neighbourhood pockets of Bathurst and Bloor, Kensington Market, but many made a home along Eglinton Avenue West, Oakwood, and Vaughan area. What populated the city was the change in Canada's immigration policy in 1967 with a point system which enabled more Jamaicans to come to Canada based on their education and skill level. Later, in 1978, the policies shifted from what was once an educational requirement to occupational and employment experience.

Around this era of flowing Jamaican and Caribbean migration, the fresh, young and eager yawdies set up shop, transforming their environments to reflect their identity. And when all their pieces came together, one of the largest Jamaican expatriate communities in the world was made.

In her 30s, photojournalist Beth Lesser and her husband navigated through the vibrant developing Jamaican enclave with her camera. Known as a 'witness to reggae,' she travelled from Kingston, Jamaica, to Brooklyn, New York, documenting the Jamaican musical influence across the borders. But her home and where she and her husband were big admirers through black and white film was Toronto, in the heart of Little Jamaica.

Lesser edited and published Reggae Quarterly Magazine, the first international reggae publication to focus on Jamaican music. Throughout its pages, the mass distributed flyers reflected the record stores, music classes, and local businesses across Eglinton Avenue West. Company ads would say "top quality art" or "Rap's got the real Jamaican taste" with their location, clipart-like designs, or a lion of Judah reference accompanying their list of services.

She distinctly remembers record stores like Jam Can, King Culture, Gemini Records, Micron Music, and many more being important places for residents and visitors to hear the sounds of Jamaica and congregate with one another. "These were spaces for newcomers to feel comfortable and learn the ropes while connecting to their roots back home," expressed Lesser. " It was much more than a neighbourhood of businesses."

Walking along the Eglinton Avenue West strip during the 70s and 80s, artists, producers, and music lovers surrounded the record stores that had shelves overflowing with LPs. Record stores were instrumental in identifying Little Jamaica through various types of vinyl with distributer stamps on the sticker. Each record became a souvenir for consumers who experienced the neighbourhood and the sounds of Jamaican-Canadian reggae artists like Jackie Mittoo, Webber Sisters, Messenjah, Stranger Cole, Leroy Sibbles, and more. Family-owned restaurants beside each record store had bright bubble-lettered hand-painted menu items in their windows offering cow foot soup, curry goat, and hot roti. The side-by-side signage from record stores to restaurants invited visitors to an experience of enjoying the essence of Caribbean people through music, good food, and community. It was rare, unique and irie.

As an observer and one of the only photographers to document vintage Little Jamaica in Toronto, Lesser's recollection of prominent signage within the shops was a variety of bulletin board posters that encouraged community events. These posters were a unique variation of signage in Jamaica, one that people could keep rather than drive by and witness. They were 4x6 or 3x5 coloured postcard papers with black calligraphy inviting people to enjoy music, dance or express their community concerns. After picking up new records, people collected flyers and saved them as a weekend itinerary to go dancing; or see a concert or party. The posters were a tangible representation of how the neighbourhood made one feel - that even if you were no longer there, its feeling never left you.

The flyers were unique to Jamaican identity because of the catchy slogans or phrases like "May the strong survive, so come with clean hands, pure heart to the dance of the year." This witty marketing culture brought from yawd became imprinted in Toronto's entertainment scene over the decades to follow. In the early 2000s, those colourful flyers with dynamic font and clever sayings evolved into elaborate graphic designs that covered burned CDs with DJ mixes given to clubgoers outside the venue.

When there were no flyers or Share Magazine newspapers available near the grocery store counters, the sounds protruding through Little Jamaica became audible signage of the neighbourhood's identity. Speakers blasting dub, ska, and reggae vibrated through the vehicles and out the propped doors of businesses, rocking steady and welcoming customers. Those familiar sounds never left and continue to be heard through Jamaica Day celebrations, Caribana and even localized community initiatives like the Afro-Caribbean Farmer's Market. Little Jamaica's sounds throughout the city, province and country are a message of Caribbean immigrants contributing to the nation's diversity and economy.

As Jamaican culture seeped into the city's culture, vernacular, patties sold at TTC stations, and Reggae nights throughout the entertainment district, it became clear that Little Jamaica was not so little; and its place on the map was an unofficial official neighbourhood imprint. But while many celebrated the diversity and Jamaican integration, policies to legitimize and preserve Toronto's Jamrock slipped through the cracks. And with no official sign or title for a neighbourhood, it makes it easier to erase.

In 2011, Premier Dalton McGuinty, mayor Rob Ford and minister of transportation Kathleen Wynne announced The Eglinton Crosstown light rail transit (LRT) line along Eglinton Avenue between Mount Dennis and Kennedy station (19 km). As a result, Little Jamaica felt the most brutal hit of the billion-dollar development that lasted over ten years.

The LRT construction became devastating to the Caribbean community, who were accustomed to visiting the area as their home away from home. As roadblocks, traffic diversions, and heavy closures flooded Eglinton Avenue West, Jamaican business closures piled up. The new signage in Little Jamaica looked like gentrification. In 2020, Black Urbanism TO (BUTO), a non-profit organization re-envisioning Black neighbourhoods to support social, economic, and cultural advancement, reported that 140 businesses in Little Jamaica closed since the inception of the Eglinton Crosstown LRT and the global COVID-19 pandemic. Two years later, legacy family business Randy's Patties closed at the top of the year, just days after national patty day – a celebration rooted in the Caribbean community overcoming the systemic racism against the rights to serve their cuisine.

Randy's storefront was a staple in Little Jamaica. Its bold red signage and cursive calligraphy painted in the windows read "Tasty Jamaican Dishes" in Jamaican flag gold. The family-run business passed down from father to sons was constantly recognized in conversations about authentic Jamaican food throughout the GTA. The famous patty wars that the city joyfully participated in through viral social media videos and polls always included an original, crispy Randy's Jamaican Patty – a longstanding recipe established since 1979. Much like a food souvenir, Randy's long line-ups reflected Torontonians agreeing that a trip to Little Jamaica is incomplete without visiting the illuminated box sign that said 'Randy's Takeout, 781-5313.'

Romain Baker, Founder of BUTO and a resident of Little Jamaica said the irony of the business closing off the heels of national patty day put a nail in the coffin to the fate of Little Jamaica as it tries to keep its head above water to survive. "Randy's is the legacy of Caribbean businesses that have endured its tenure in Toronto. For it to close shows that the situation in Little Jamaica is dire."

BUTO has been a part of the conversation surrounding the evolution of Little Jamaica and its fight to gain government-designated signage and preserve its historical presence under Ontario's law. But over the years, the battle against gentrification in Toronto across the various immigrant-based communities has been a losing one.

Toronto's municipal government does a poor job of preserving some of the city's treasures that hold memories, locations that tell a million stories, and businesses that gave character to the town, like those in Little Jamaica. Honest Eds, Sam the Record Man and the Record Nook – a Jamaican record store near the heart of Little Jamaica have now become storefront signs existing as flashy keychains on skyscrapers in the downtown core. But, Torontonians never wanted to stop and stare at these storefront signs and reminisce. They want to keep the history and culture alive by preserving the businesses, so that future generations could experience what defined their city.


On September 19th, 2015, the City of Toronto installed Reggae Lane, and a plaque mounted in Little Jamaica by Heritage Toronto - acknowledging the neighbourhood's Reggae music legacy. Later, in 2020, the City of Toronto gave a memorial way to Jimmy Wisdom – a community figure and owner of Wisdom's barbershop, established in the 70s. The sign designations were celebrated with BBQs grilling jerk chicken, and live performances from Caribbean artists within the community. Residents were elated, as it was one step forward in the City of Toronto legitimizing their established Jamaican identity. But the street signs, plaques and beautiful bright painted murals never said that the neighbourhood belonged to Little Jamaica. They became a part of the long list of beautiful cultural elements that give signage to an unofficial area still unprotected by the Ontario Heritage Act.

Canada's heritage laws focus on building architecture to qualify an area worthy of preservation and protection. They follow Anglo-Saxon criteria that neglect cultural activity and nuances. There have been no efforts to transform one of Little Jamaica's oldest businesses into a heritage building to fit under the heritage policies. And senior members of the City of Toronto's Planning department have made it clear in community meetings that analyzing the architecture and neighbourhood for protection under the law is "not a good fit." The city planning department's staff shared that an option for heritage conservation will require the city council to prepare a plan and statement explaining the district's cultural heritage value. Another option is for individual buildings to be designated "if it's warranted." In 2021, Cheryl Blackman, interim general manager of economic development and culture, and Gregg Lintern, chief planner and executive director, confirmed that they had no intentions or efforts to hold on to old establishments.

The City of Toronto's website popped up a landing page about surveying the area, but it doesn't mention efforts to make the neighbourhood a heritage conservation district. Instead, after social media pleas from Little Jamaica residents and the disappointing public meeting where hardly any community members had the opportunity to speak, the City of Toronto decided the neighbourhood would become a guinea pig for an urban renewal concept called 'cultural district.' There's no definition for cultural district, as Toronto has no existing examples. The city planning department decided it would imitate processes and tools from U.S. cities like San Francisco and Minneapolis.

From international market to cultural district, it was another incorrect, undefined and unidentified label for Little Jamaica, further magnifying the country's relationship with the Caribbean community.
"With all the urbanization, it would be lovely if the City of Toronto could throw some money to preserve one of the neighbourhood's storefronts," says Lesser, pondering on how all that she witnessed and documented could still be kept alive for future generations. "People need to experience Little Jamaica's legacy and culture, and even recreate the ambiance from the 70s and 80s with historical context." Her wishful thinking is why she so willingly provides her images of Little Jamaica to whichever publication asks. Her images are a piece of Toronto and signify the city's booming era of fostering Caribbean diversity.

When the GPS leads you to the neighbourhood today, you're rarely met with bright shining business storefronts hanging the Jamaican flag in its window. There are vacant buildings with for lease signs in the windows, much different from the once colourful hand-painted signs with bootlegged CDS stacked under the windowpanes. The sounds of reggae, dub, ska and rocksteady music are subtle, as store owners listen to cope with the changes rather than invite strollers into the shop. Instead, the construction along the Eglinton Avenue West strip makes people second guess before pulling over to buy a patty on their ride home.

Many leaders, public figures and artists that created signs which defined Little Jamaica during its booming era have passed. The neighbourhood is in flux, with 2nd and 3rd generation Jamaican descendants like Baker trying to envision the future of Little Jamaica in a digital age and economy saturated by condo developers. But still, his vision is optimistic, and his team is determined to sketch, design and create a variation of Little Jamaica that is an evolution but not lickkle more to the foundation their grandparents set in the 70s and 80s.

Baker says that he still sees the neighbourhood transforming in jamaica's image, from music stores that sell Afro Caribbean instruments, bars, and lounges to performing art venues and non-profit organizations providing meaningful services to the community.

Baker and his team at BUTO envision the future of signage in Little Jamaica as metal park benches that emulate Jamaica's independence square, engraved with ancient west African adinkra symbols, and the York BIA carefully choosing tropical plants to place on the sidewalks during summer. They want vibrant artistic murals from Caribbean artists as visitors step off the Crosstown LRT and statues throughout the neighbourhood that commemorate Caribbean Canadians who left a legacy in Canada. And lastly, they want the sounds of reggae, ska, dub, soca, and dancehall, to protrude, but this time from musicians' instruments and vocal cords along the sidewalks. Their vision is an unapologetic reimagined neighbourhood that will strongarm the City of Toronto to write Little Jamaica into its urban planning policies.

"We want an ecosystem that propels our community forward - a cultural, economic and social center where people are catered to wholistically."

The future of signage in Little Jamaica is interrupted and unclear. The York-Eglinton BIA says they are going through a "rebranding exercise" to change their logos to replace the International Market with Little Jamaica. But, much like the boldness of Jamaican immigrants who first settled and established a community that transformed how Torontonians eat, speak, mingle and celebrate - signage of Jamaica isn't restricted to the pavements of Eglinton Avenue West. It will always remain a prominent corner of the world where Jamaican people planted the seed of "out of many, one."

Out of Many One Toronto: Signs of a black, green, and gold neighbourhood
By: Danica Samuel

When you enter Little Jamaica on Google Maps, you'll find York, Ontario coordinates that may take you along the Allen Expressway and exit off at Eglinton Avenue West. It's unclear when the GPS will say you've arrived, and if you're looking for a street sign or banner to confirm it, you won't find one.

Monica's Cosmetics, Wisdom's Barbershop, Rap's, Randy's Patties, Spence's Bakery, Treajah, and the many longstanding local businesses that make up the Eglinton Avenue West from Marlee to Keele and down to Oakwood and Vaughan are indicators that you've arrived in a home away from home. These legacy establishments created a corner of Jamrock in Canada for anyone searching for a tasty pepperpot soup or succulent oxtail rice and peas.

The vibrant storefront colours consisting of Rastafarian, Pan-African and Jamaican flag combinations are unique traits that contribute to the authenticity of Toronto's beloved unofficial neighbourhood, Little Jamaica. Emboldened family names of immigrants are not only landmark buildings, but they are proof of a migrated community that took all the pride that comes with the gold, black, and green flag to flourish beyond island waters, giving life to their motto - "Out of Many, One People."

Little Jamaica is the template of what immigrated communities look like in Canada and how many people who aspire to get a better life across the border can still have the essence of back home. Since its inception in the 1970s and 80s, it has never received formal signage from the city of Toronto, but quite frankly, there never needed to be.

The neighbourhood didn't get its title established underneath the Eglinton Avenue West sign with gold, black, and green colours, the way residents envisioned it, or like the archaic Greek alphabets written under Greektown's Danforth's Street signs. Instead, the title 'International Market' is surrounded by a bright orange outline, with the number 1862 marked at the bottom to recognize the old address of the York-Eglinton Business Improvement Association's (BIA) office. The BIA says the title International Market was appointed because of the various immigrant neighbourhoods that made up the vicinity. However, it has always been clear that the dominance of the Jamaican community is what stood out the most and is why all their social media profiles have changed to acknowledge their district as the "Heart of #LittleJamaicaTO." Calling the strip "international" instead of "Jamaica" is quite similar to responding with "All Lives Matter" when facing a "Black Lives Matter" moment.

Regardless, many elements of Jamaican culture developed from immigrant business owners became the unofficial signage for the neighbourhood, from their hand-painted bubble lettered signs in window panes to the colourful community flyers. But when a 4.6 billion dollar transportation plan began to gentrify the area, Torontonians started to feel the importance of formally recognizing the cultural attributes of immigrant communities with policies that protect and preserve them.

In the 70s and 80s, Little Jamaica was developing and thriving. Several Caribbean newcomers learned the ropes of Canada and how the country operated within the neighbourhood. Former Jamaican Canadian Association (JCA) president Kamala Jean Gopie was one. She ran for the liberal party in 1981, with her office located at 2400 Dufferin St., just north of Little Jamaica. The neighbourhood was her crux and solidarity during her campaign.

She said the disconnect from formally recognizing Little Jamaica is rooted in Toronto refusing to see Jamaican culture and presence as legitimate. "Toronto brags about Chinatown, Greektown, and Koreatown, highlighting the city as 'diversity is our strength.' But if we're going to be equitable, the city of Toronto should provide a positive designation to Little Jamaica, a longstanding neighbourhood since the 70s."

Gopie says Little Jamaica was unique in that it was a felt presence through the many Black people greeting one another on the sidewalks and stopping to pick up a flyer or Share Magazine newspaper. "It was booming, and it had a character to it."

She distinctly remembers this energy because it was unapologetic and a silent pushback to the government's neglect.

Even though Black people have been in Canada since the 1600s from Atlantic Canada to Quebec and then to the Pacific coast, the discrimination and segregation, Black people felt once they settled in Toronto spoke volumes about Canada's acceptance of their presence.

In 1861 people of the African diaspora in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA) were segregated mainly within the York Township West. Canada's immigration policies until the 1960s were openly racist, preferring only White immigrants. The exceptions were temporary visas for Black students in the Caribbean (1920) or Black labourers under the West Indian Domestic Scheme from 1955.

Caribbean immigrants sprinkled into the neighbourhood pockets of Bathurst and Bloor, Kensington Market, but many made a home along Eglinton Avenue West, Oakwood, and Vaughan area. What populated the city was the change in Canada's immigration policy in 1967 with a point system which enabled more Jamaicans to come to Canada based on their education and skill level. Later, in 1978, the policies shifted from what was once an educational requirement to occupational and employment experience.

Around this era of flowing Jamaican and Caribbean migration, the fresh, young and eager yawdies set up shop, transforming their environments to reflect their identity. And when all their pieces came together, one of the largest Jamaican expatriate communities in the world was made.

In her 30s, photojournalist Beth Lesser and her husband navigated through the vibrant developing Jamaican enclave with her camera. Known as a 'witness to reggae,' she travelled from Kingston, Jamaica, to Brooklyn, New York, documenting the Jamaican musical influence across the borders. But her home and where she and her husband were big admirers through black and white film was Toronto, in the heart of Little Jamaica.

Lesser edited and published Reggae Quarterly Magazine, the first international reggae publication to focus on Jamaican music. Throughout its pages, the mass distributed flyers reflected the record stores, music classes, and local businesses across Eglinton Avenue West. Company ads would say "top quality art" or "Rap's got the real Jamaican taste" with their location, clipart-like designs, or a lion of Judah reference accompanying their list of services.

She distinctly remembers record stores like Jam Can, King Culture, Gemini Records, Micron Music, and many more being important places for residents and visitors to hear the sounds of Jamaica and congregate with one another. "These were spaces for newcomers to feel comfortable and learn the ropes while connecting to their roots back home," expressed Lesser. " It was much more than a neighbourhood of businesses."

Walking along the Eglinton Avenue West strip during the 70s and 80s, artists, producers, and music lovers surrounded the record stores that had shelves overflowing with LPs. Record stores were instrumental in identifying Little Jamaica through various types of vinyl with distributer stamps on the sticker. Each record became a souvenir for consumers who experienced the neighbourhood and the sounds of Jamaican-Canadian reggae artists like Jackie Mittoo, Webber Sisters, Messenjah, Stranger Cole, Leroy Sibbles, and more. Family-owned restaurants beside each record store had bright bubble-lettered hand-painted menu items in their windows offering cow foot soup, curry goat, and hot roti. The side-by-side signage from record stores to restaurants invited visitors to an experience of enjoying the essence of Caribbean people through music, good food, and community. It was rare, unique and irie.

As an observer and one of the only photographers to document vintage Little Jamaica in Toronto, Lesser's recollection of prominent signage within the shops was a variety of bulletin board posters that encouraged community events. These posters were a unique variation of signage in Jamaica, one that people could keep rather than drive by and witness. They were 4x6 or 3x5 coloured postcard papers with black calligraphy inviting people to enjoy music, dance or express their community concerns. After picking up new records, people collected flyers and saved them as a weekend itinerary to go dancing; or see a concert or party. The posters were a tangible representation of how the neighbourhood made one feel - that even if you were no longer there, its feeling never left you.

The flyers were unique to Jamaican identity because of the catchy slogans or phrases like "May the strong survive, so come with clean hands, pure heart to the dance of the year." This witty marketing culture brought from yawd became imprinted in Toronto's entertainment scene over the decades to follow. In the early 2000s, those colourful flyers with dynamic font and clever sayings evolved into elaborate graphic designs that covered burned CDs with DJ mixes given to clubgoers outside the venue.

When there were no flyers or Share Magazine newspapers available near the grocery store counters, the sounds protruding through Little Jamaica became audible signage of the neighbourhood's identity. Speakers blasting dub, ska, and reggae vibrated through the vehicles and out the propped doors of businesses, rocking steady and welcoming customers. Those familiar sounds never left and continue to be heard through Jamaica Day celebrations, Caribana and even localized community initiatives like the Afro-Caribbean Farmer's Market. Little Jamaica's sounds throughout the city, province and country are a message of Caribbean immigrants contributing to the nation's diversity and economy.

As Jamaican culture seeped into the city's culture, vernacular, patties sold at TTC stations, and Reggae nights throughout the entertainment district, it became clear that Little Jamaica was not so little; and its place on the map was an unofficial official neighbourhood imprint. But while many celebrated the diversity and Jamaican integration, policies to legitimize and preserve Toronto's Jamrock slipped through the cracks. And with no official sign or title for a neighbourhood, it makes it easier to erase.

In 2011, Premier Dalton McGuinty, mayor Rob Ford and minister of transportation Kathleen Wynne announced The Eglinton Crosstown light rail transit (LRT) line along Eglinton Avenue between Mount Dennis and Kennedy station (19 km). As a result, Little Jamaica felt the most brutal hit of the billion-dollar development that lasted over ten years.

The LRT construction became devastating to the Caribbean community, who were accustomed to visiting the area as their home away from home. As roadblocks, traffic diversions, and heavy closures flooded Eglinton Avenue West, Jamaican business closures piled up. The new signage in Little Jamaica looked like gentrification. In 2020, Black Urbanism TO (BUTO), a non-profit organization re-envisioning Black neighbourhoods to support social, economic, and cultural advancement, reported that 140 businesses in Little Jamaica closed since the inception of the Eglinton Crosstown LRT and the global COVID-19 pandemic. Two years later, legacy family business Randy's Patties closed at the top of the year, just days after national patty day – a celebration rooted in the Caribbean community overcoming the systemic racism against the rights to serve their cuisine.

Randy's storefront was a staple in Little Jamaica. Its bold red signage and cursive calligraphy painted in the windows read "Tasty Jamaican Dishes" in Jamaican flag gold. The family-run business passed down from father to sons was constantly recognized in conversations about authentic Jamaican food throughout the GTA. The famous patty wars that the city joyfully participated in through viral social media videos and polls always included an original, crispy Randy's Jamaican Patty – a longstanding recipe established since 1979. Much like a food souvenir, Randy's long line-ups reflected Torontonians agreeing that a trip to Little Jamaica is incomplete without visiting the illuminated box sign that said 'Randy's Takeout, 781-5313.'

Romain Baker, Founder of BUTO and a resident of Little Jamaica said the irony of the business closing off the heels of national patty day put a nail in the coffin to the fate of Little Jamaica as it tries to keep its head above water to survive. "Randy's is the legacy of Caribbean businesses that have endured its tenure in Toronto. For it to close shows that the situation in Little Jamaica is dire."

BUTO has been a part of the conversation surrounding the evolution of Little Jamaica and its fight to gain government-designated signage and preserve its historical presence under Ontario's law. But over the years, the battle against gentrification in Toronto across the various immigrant-based communities has been a losing one.

Toronto's municipal government does a poor job of preserving some of the city's treasures that hold memories, locations that tell a million stories, and businesses that gave character to the town, like those in Little Jamaica. Honest Eds, Sam the Record Man and the Record Nook – a Jamaican record store near the heart of Little Jamaica have now become storefront signs existing as flashy keychains on skyscrapers in the downtown core. But, Torontonians never wanted to stop and stare at these storefront signs and reminisce. They want to keep the history and culture alive by preserving the businesses, so that future generations could experience what defined their city.


On September 19th, 2015, the city of Toronto installed Reggae Lane, and a plaque mounted in Little Jamaica by Heritage Toronto - acknowledging the neighbourhood's Reggae music legacy. Later, in 2020, the city of Toronto gave a memorial way to Jimmy Wisdom – a community figure and owner of Wisdom's barbershop, established in the 70s. The sign designations were celebrated with BBQs grilling jerk chicken, and live performances from Caribbean artists within the community. Residents were elated, as it was one step forward in the city of Toronto legitimizing their established Jamaican identity. But the street signs, plaques and beautiful bright painted murals never said that the neighbourhood belonged to Little Jamaica. They became a part of the long list of beautiful cultural elements that give signage to an unofficial area still unprotected by the Ontario Heritage Act.

Canada's heritage laws focus on building architecture to qualify an area worthy of preservation and protection. They follow Anglo-Saxon criteria that neglect cultural activity and nuances. There have been no efforts to transform one of Little Jamaica's oldest businesses into a heritage building to fit under the heritage policies. And senior members of the city of Toronto's Planning department have made it clear in community meetings that analyzing the architecture and neighbourhood for protection under the law is "not a good fit." In 2021, Cheryl Blackman, interim general manager of economic development and culture, and Gregg Lintern, chief planner and executive director, confirmed that they had no intentions or efforts to hold on to old establishments.

"With all the urbanization, it would be lovely if the city of Toronto could throw some money to preserve one of the neighbourhood's storefronts," says Lesser, pondering on how all that she witnessed and documented could still be kept alive for future generations. "People need to experience Little Jamaica's legacy and culture, and even recreate the ambiance from the 70s and 80s with historical context." Her wishful thinking is why she so willingly provides her images of Little Jamaica to whichever publication asks. Her images are a piece of Toronto and signify the city's booming era of fostering Caribbean diversity.

When the GPS leads you to the neighbourhood today, you're rarely met with bright shining business storefronts hanging the Jamaican flag in its window. There are vacant buildings with for lease signs in the windows, much different from the once colourful hand-painted signs with bootlegged CDS stacked under the windowpanes. The sounds of reggae, dub, ska and rocksteady music are subtle, as store owners listen to cope with the changes rather than invite strollers into the shop. Instead, the construction along the Eglinton Avenue West strip makes people second guess before pulling over to buy a patty on their ride home.

Many leaders, public figures and artists that created signs which defined Little Jamaica during its booming era have passed. The neighbourhood is in flux, with 2nd and 3rd generation Jamaican descendants like Baker trying to envision the future of Little Jamaica in a digital age and economy saturated by condo developers. But still, his vision is optimistic, and his team is determined to sketch, design and create a variation of Little Jamaica that is an evolution but not lickkle more to the foundation their grandparents set in the 70s and 80s.

Baker says that he still sees the neighbourhood transforming in Jamaica’s image, from music stores that sell Afro Caribbean instruments, bars, and lounges to performing art venues and non-profit organizations providing meaningful services to the community.

Baker and his team at BUTO envision the future of signage in Little Jamaica as metal park benches that emulate Jamaica's independence square, engraved with ancient west African adinkra symbols, and the York BIA carefully choosing tropical plants to place on the sidewalks during summer. They want vibrant artistic murals from Caribbean artists as visitors step off the Crosstown LRT and statues throughout the neighbourhood that commemorate Caribbean Canadians who left a legacy in Canada. And lastly, they want the sounds of reggae, ska, dub, soca, and dancehall, to protrude, but this time from musicians' instruments and vocal cords along the sidewalks. Their vision is an unapologetic reimagined neighbourhood that will strongarm the city of Toronto to write Little Jamaica into its urban planning policies.

"We want an ecosystem that propels our community forward - a cultural, economic and social center where people are catered to wholistically."

The future of signage in Little Jamaica is interrupted and unclear. The York-Eglinton BIA says they are going through a "rebranding exercise" to change their logos to replace the International Market with Little Jamaica. But, much like the boldness of Jamaican immigrants who first settled and established a community that transformed how Torontonians eat, speak, mingle and celebrate - signage of Jamaica isn't restricted to the pavements of Eglinton Avenue West. It will always remain a prominent corner of the world where Jamaican people planted the seed of "out of many, one."