After a gap year due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I returned to Toronto brimming with excitement to embrace the “real” university life. But my enthusiasm quickly turned to stress as I faced an unexpected reality: finding a place to live became my top priority, overshadowing all the other plans.
The rental market in Toronto was no longer the same as the one I had left behind years ago, it had spiralled into chaos. For many international students like me, Toronto’s rental market has become a crisis, transforming dreams of education into relentless struggles for housing.
A housing shortage was expected when in-person classes resumed after the pandemic, but no one expected to be this competitive. Skyrocketing rents are just the latest in a series of challenges exposing the systemic failures in Toronto’s rental market.
Toronto’s rental market has long been known for its high prices, but the challenges have worsened in recent years. According to the City of Toronto (2024), the average rent for one bedroom has been raised from $1137 to $1708 within 5 years, a record high that far outpaces inflation and wage growth.
While I struggled to navigate this unforgiving rental landscape, I noticed how different the experience was for local students. “My mom rented an apartment, and we live together,” said Kolade, a UTSC student. “I don’t have too much trouble with the rent.” Many local students benefit from family support or shared housing arrangements, which offer a buffer in an otherwise challenging rental market.
Unlike local students who may have alternative options, international students face unique vulnerabilities that leave them disproportionately impacted. Without a local credit history, many find themselves at the mercy of landlords who may demand unreasonable payments. “I had to pay six months’ rent in advance,” said Julian Shu, a graduate student at UTSC. “I don’t have a choice. If I didn’t agree, someone else would.”
This disparity highlights the unique challenges international students face. With no family network or established credit history in Canada, they are left with little bargaining power in a highly competitive market like Toronto. For international student renters, the bidding war can be cutthroat.
The price listed on rental ads is often just a starting point. When I was hunting for a place near campus and thought I had found a two-bedroom apartment listed at $3,100–it’s a little high but acceptable. But when I spoke to Eddie, my rental realtor, I was stunned.
“Two other renters already bid the price up to $3,300,” Eddie told me. “And that’s with a 12-month upfront payment and one month deposit on top of it.” I couldn’t believe it, the idea of paying $3,300 a month, especially with so much cash demanded upfront, felt outrageous. Yet even at that price, it was still one of the cheapest units in the building. Two years ago, I paid only $2,200 for an apartment in the same area!
This (full upfront) wasn’t an isolated case. Eddie explained how landlords capitalize on the cutthroat rental market. “Landlords can’t legally ask you to pay extra upfront,” he said, “but if you don’t offer it, you’ll probably lose the apartment to someone else who will.” It’s an unwritten rule of the game: the more you’re willing to pay, the better your chances of getting the keys.
These unofficial bidding wars are a common sight near campuses, especially in areas like Scarborough. By late summer, the apartments around schools are flooded with students racing to lock in housing before classes start. With limited time and overwhelming competition, international students don't have much of a choice. Paying more isn’t just a convenience—it’s a necessity. And in this relentless market, that necessity can quickly become a burden.
Frustrated by the bidding wars and lack of options, I began to wonder if school residences could offer a solution for me. “Turning to the school is never a bad idea,” I thought. So, I headed to the student housing office to inquire. However, the staff informed me that, due to limited availability, school dorms are prioritized for first-year students. All she could do was place me on a waitlist and ask me to wait for an opportunity.
The response from the housing office has pushed me to the limits, both emotionally and financially. With just 19 days left before the start of the semester, I was still living at a friend’s place. I realized that I had no choice but to accept this rental agreement.
But even with school residences falling short, I began to question a broader issue: why isn't more being done to address this crisis, whether by the government or the universities themselves?
“The city just can’t keep up,” Eddie said. “We’ve seen a huge rise in demand, but the number of new homes being built hasn’t increased nearly enough to meet it.”
This failure isn’t limited to schools. The broader housing crisis in Toronto stems from years of insufficient affordable housing construction. As Richardson (2023) points out in a CBC’s report, “Bureaucratic and political preference to kick the can just a little bit further down the road.” Government policies and red tape often delay or deter new developments. In this case, although Toronto has increased its targets for new housing supply from 40,000 to 65,000 rent-controlled homes (CBC, 2024), it remains uncertain whether these plans will truly address the current crisis. In the meantime, students and other renters continue to bear the brunt of a system that hasn’t adapted to the city’s rapid growth.
This imbalance between population growth and housing supply has only intensified competition. Those with proof of stable income always have an advantage over students, particularly international students. For international students, the situation remains unchanged—limited options, higher rents, and an overwhelming sense of being outmatched in a system that prioritizes financial security over accessibility.
What about the other factors? “Could be the interest rate, as an indirect cause” Eddie said with a bitter laugh when I asked what the other causes behind the rent spikes are. “If you check the rate history, you can find that the rate was crazily high since the Covid. Sure, it’s due to economic reasons, but it completely messes up the rental market. Many of them (landlords) can’t afford the high interest, so guess what? Everything turns into your rent.” Eddie’s opinion reflects a reality that many students face: landlords adjusting rents to offset the financial strain of rising mortgage costs.
According to the data provided by the Bank of Canada (2024), interest rates were at historic lows during the pandemic, making it easier for many people to purchase homes with loans. For example, in March 2020, the interest rate dropped as low as 2.45%, encouraging a surge in home purchases as borrowing costs were minimal. However, this trend began to reverse dramatically as the pandemic subsided, and interest rates climbed steadily. By mid-2022, rates had nearly doubled to 4.70%, and by December 2024, they had skyrocketed to 5.45%, with peaks exceeding 7% in 2023.
This sharp increase in interest rates left many homeowners struggling to keep up with their mortgage payments. For those who purchased homes during the low-interest period, the sudden jump in rates meant significantly higher monthly payments, pushing some to the brink of financial instability.
The ripple effects have been felt across the rental market. Especially for international students, they’re forced to absorb these escalating costs in an already competitive market.
However, if the government can’t build enough new homes to address the housing crisis, why aren’t schools stepping up to help students who are struggling to find affordable places to live?
When I was doing the research, I found that a lot of students choose to move outside after their first year in residence, and only a few choose to stay in dorms for all four years of their studies.
Kevin, a physics student at the St. George campus, reflected on his experience living in residence: “I stayed at the Chestnut Residence for a year, it’s not a good memory. You never know who your roommate will be. Do they take drugs? Will they party every night? And will they respect your space?”
For students, off-campus options offer a kind of freedom that dormitories often can’t match. Students want to choose their own roommates, living in an environment that is arranged by themselves. For many, it’s not just about finding a place to sleep—it’s about creating a space where they feel safe.
My personal experience and interviews with other students show a reality: the role schools play in addressing the student housing crisis is minimal. But my discussion with Kevin leaves me with a question: if the residence is that bad, then why is it still full? Why does everyone go there?
With the doubt, I searched for some information about UofT enrollment and residence plan. And I immediately realized that from a demand-supply perspective, schools are undeniably part of the issue. By driving up enrollment without adequately expanding housing options, they intensify the pressures on local rental markets.
Take the University of Toronto as an example. According to its Enrollment Report (2024), U of T plans to increase enrollment by 5,760 full-time equivalent students (FTEs) over five years—a 6.5% growth (p.19). While this generates revenue for the university, the expansion leaves current students scrambling for housing in an already strained market.
The numbers are stark: U of T offers just 10,500 residence spaces across its campuses, even with the addition of the recently opened Harmony Hall (p.23). This shortfall forces the majority of students to seek off-campus accommodations, further saturating the market. And U of T isn’t alone—many schools in Toronto are following similar enrollment expansion plans without proportionate investments in on-campus housing.
For students, the lack of long-term planning by universities has turned housing into yet another hurdle. The imbalance between supply and demand in the housing market caused by increased enrollment has led to more rental difficulties. Therefore, although student dormitories are not the ideal choice, many international students still opt for university accommodation as a precaution.
After finally settling into my new home, I couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that brought me here. What should have been a minor task in my life—finding a place to call home—had turned into a relentless ordeal filled with frustration and tough compromises. The financial strain of paying 13 months’ rent upfront was overwhelming, forcing me to dip into savings I had hoped to use for other essentials. The emotional toll of feeling powerless in a market stacked against me was also heavy. By the time I finally secured a place, I wasn’t just relieved—I was exhausted, and my excitement for the semester had been replaced with a lingering sense of defeat.
For now, I have a roof over my head, but I know this story doesn’t end here. The systemic issues in Toronto’s rental market—soaring rents, insufficient housing, and the lack of support for students—persist, leaving countless others in the same difficult position I faced.
When I interviewed Kevin about these trade-offs, he said, ‘It is the price of education.’ His words lingered, capturing the dilemma faced by so many students: how much longer will we have to sacrifice our well-being, our savings, and our dreams just to secure a place to live while pursuing an education?