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Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal organizes vigil for MMIWG2ST+

Indigenous researchers blame the ongoing crisis on a lack of support for Indigenous communities

On Monday Feb. 14, Montrealers gathered at Cabot Square for a march in solidarity with Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, Trans and Two-Spirit People (MMIWG2ST+) held by the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal (NWSM). The vigil began at 6 p.m. with Indigenous activists, artists and community organizers speaking out against the violence inflicted on Indigenous people.

MMIWG2ST+ is a phenomenon across Canada (and more broadly across the Americas) of Indigenous women and persons of gender minorities going missing and being murdered. This feminicide crisis is understood by researchers as a consequence of colonialism and police inaction when it comes to Indigenous victims. It is estimated that Indigenous women in Canada are murdered at nearly seven times the rate of non-Indigenous women.

Nicole Janis Qavavauq-Bibeau, the research coordinator for the Iskweu project at NWSM, believes that these figures are much higher. Qavavauq-Bibeau’s research has found that the actual numbers of MMIWG2ST+ are four times higher than the RCMP estimate.

“When an Indigenous woman passes away, it is often ruled super quickly as a suicide or overdose,” said Qavavauq-Bibeau. 

For Mohawk artist and activist Ellen Gabriel, this colonial vision of Indigenous women of all age groups comes from all layers of Canadian society. In a speech at the vigil, she mentioned how the Canadian government’s inaction regarding Indigenous people’s requests and the 231 Calls for Justice stemming from the National Inquiry’s Final Report into MMIWG2ST+ are the reasons why the current system is so reluctant to protect Indigenous women.

“When will you teach your children about the genocidal history in Canada, in Quebec, in all its provinces?” said Gabriel. “When is this going to happen? Because until this happens we are going to have vigils like this forever.”

Concordia’s Director of First Peoples Studies Catherine Kineweskwêw Richardson said this issue is on the minds of Indigenous scholars and professors at Concordia.

“In the scope of our program we educate students about the issue of MMIWG and I think we try to bring some issues in how the media talks about it,” said Richardson. “They never talk about who is killing these women.”

Richardson pointed out that the crisis is often framed as Indigenous women being vulnerable more so than focusing on the people perpetrating these crimes. 

According to her, one of the ways Concordia could help Indigenous women is by creating more opportunities for Indigenous students with policies specifically designed for their needs.

Richardson’s research echoes the words of activists who argue that colonial violence stems from all institutions that were built on a colonial system, like the police, social services, as well as schools and universities. 

“It’s a long term issue and if we don’t act to increase support for Indigenous students and Indigenous education, they’ll continue to fall off the edge,” said Richardson. “Like most universities, we at Concordia could be doing more to assist and uplift Indigenous students.”

Richardson pointed out that Indigenous communities, too, are finding their own solutions for educating youth. 

“We don’t look to the University to do everything but we could certainly do more to help,” she said.

For Richardson, some policies that could be implemented to help Indigenous students include encouraging them to go into graduate studies, building student housing, facilitating people moving from Indigenous communities to the city to study, and overall educating people around Indigenous issues. However, these solutions are slow to implement and the current administration is ill-suited to support Indigenous students. 

“I’ve stopped holding my breath,” said Richardson. “For every aspect of life at Concordia, they have to understand that Indigenous students have particular needs and we need to create opportunities.”

The loudest silence: how the Gabby Petito story echoes the absence of missing Indigenous women

Amid the media frenzy surrounding the murder of Gabby Petito, the striking silence on missing and murdered Indigenous women feels louder than ever

The Gabby Petito story is a tragedy that has captured people’s attention across nations, as the missing persons case of the 22 year old American influencer, on a seemingly picturesque trip across the US with her boyfriend Brian Laundrie, unfolded.

Outrage ensued, and her story became a viral sensation — why does her supposedly perfect boyfriend have nothing to say? Was Petito’s well-curated social media hiding a darker truth? One week after her parents officially reported her as missing, her body was found in Wyoming’s Bridger-Teton National Forest, and suddenly, her boyfriend fled and was nowhere to be found.

The demand for justice in Petito’s case continues to grow as social media platforms and news outlets persevere in keeping her story alive, giving a voice to the public’s anger and grief. That is, of course, the superpower of the media: to create urgency, and evoke public concern for something they might not have noticed otherwise.

Petito’s case undoubtedly sheds light on the greater conversation of femicide, and opens the door to a discussion about the continuous need for elevating the rights of women. After all, if our society’s social progress still amounts to the frequent murder of women and girls, then we have clearly not progressed enough.

However, even with the massive spotlight being placed on this story, the conversation behind the disappearance and homicide of women still lacks nuance — the racial dimension which permeates the issue. 

What is desperately missing from the conversation is intersectionality. Clearly, both mainstream and social media have the power to rally behind a missing woman and demand justice, but in this scenario the woman happened to be white. The problem is not her whiteness — the problem is the stark silence of the media when it comes to every other kind of woman. This issue has no better illustration than through the treatment of missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.

The park where Petito tragically went missing and was later found is located in Wyoming, a state which has seen over 710 Indigenous women and girls disappear in the last decade. Their stories never garnered the kind of desperation and disbelief which Petito has thankfully been afforded, and consequently their cases were never given the same kind of dedication or persistence.

If the media’s role is to bring urgency to the stories which demand it most, then the silence with which Indigenous women have been met is a profound failure. The Native Women’s Association of Canada estimates that since the 1980s more than 4,000 Indigenous women and girls have gone missing or been murdered.

That’s 4,000 stories like Petito’s, which we never got to hear.

Canada’s 2017 National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls concluded through the use of statistics and testimony from 2,380 family members and survivors across Indigenous communities that the rates of violence experienced by Indigenous women amounted to a “Canadian genocide.”

According to Amnesty International the homicide rate amongst Indigenous women is roughly 4.5 times higher than any other demographic of women.

The evidence makes it clear that in any proportional news system, we should have seen far more stories about missing Indigenous women than are currently being reported. Yet the reality is that many of those stories are never heard outside of the spaces of First Nations communities.

It is too great a burden to expect the stories to stay within those spaces alone, especially when the problem lies externally — and so does the solution.

We chose to give Petito a voice, a voice which she deserved, and which was stolen from her unjustly. And we can choose to extend that same right to Indigenous women. The spotlight does not have to be limited, with the truth being that women of all demographics can fit within its light.

Whether it’s by learning their names and faces, the posts we make on social media, or even the stories we choose to read and write, our actions can rally urgency when it comes to valuing the lives of missing and murdered Indigenous women. We must do these things, so that one day soon, we can hopefully see justice not only for Petito, but for the many women like her.

 

Graphic by James Fay

 

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Student Life

Thousands rise for justice

Action against climate change and divestment is needed, now.

With signs held high and voices ringing clear above the blaring traffic on Commune St. E. in the Old Port on Saturday Sept. 8, more than 200 protesters united against the climate change crisis. Rise for Climate was supported by non-profit organization 350 Canada, in collaboration with a handful of local grassroots initiatives such as Leap Montreal, Rap Battles for Social Justice (RB4SJ) and the Montreal Raging Grannies. The gathering was one of more than 900 rallies simultaneously taking place across 95 countries worldwide, all demanding divestment from fossil fuel industries, among other things.

“Indigenous women and girls are three times more likely to experience violence, and six times more likely to be murdered than non-Indigenous women,” said Beatrice Dimaculangan, an activist, rapper, and community organizer with RB4SJ.

“We’ve already passed the point of no return,” said Sally Livingston, a Concordia alumna and member of the Montreal chapter of the Council of Canadians. “We do not want our tax dollars going to any more fossil fuel investments.” Toward the end of August, according to Global News, the Federal Court of Appeal quashed the Trans Mountain Pipeline plans due to insufficient consultations with Indigenous communities. However, according to the same article, Trudeau has not yet ruled out appealing the court’s decision, and “is maintaining that it will get built.”
“The fact that [the federal government] is pushing the Trans Mountain Pipeline through […] shows us that they haven’t changed their ways,” explained Nicolas Chevalier, one of the founding activists of the non-hierarchical organization Leap Montreal. “They don’t understand what it means to be in a climate crisis.”
“I think the Kinder Morgan Pipeline is totally retrogressive,” said Carole, a protester. There are three things Trudeau has shown us by spearheading this project, she explained: “He has broken his primary election promise, he has ignored consensus, and he is going backwards – just like Mr. Trump.”
Rise for Climate was attended by people from all walks of life: activists from various backgrounds, patrons, both young and old, families with children—all united as a community trying to salvage this planet we call home.

“The same system (capitalism) that drives climate change is the same system that drives inequality,” said Bianca Mugyenyi, a member of Leap Montreal. “At the end of the day, we want to do more than just avoid catastrophic climate change,” she said. “We want better lives.”

But the window for avoiding catastrophic climate change is quickly closing; we are and will continue to experience the effects of rising global temperatures throughout our lifetimes, albeit with regional variances. During a press conference on March 29, Amina J. Mohammed, secretary-general of the United Nations, explained that, unless accelerated action against climate change is adopted by 2020, the 2016 Paris Agreement goals will become unattainable. According to the 350 Canada website, 97 per cent of scientists agree that climate change is caused by human greenhouse gas emission. “So then why do our politicians keep making the wrong decisions?” asked Mugyenyi. “They’re moving in the wrong direction.”

Bea Dimaculangan spoke about how climate change disproportionately affects marginalized communities. Photo by Alex Hutchins.

Capitalism benefits from the existence of systemic oppression: from racism, from sexism, from violence against Indigenous communities. Capitalism is rooted in the mass exploitation of resources, and exponentially increasing profit margins somehow justifies the further exploitation of those resources and the political violence directed to already marginalized communities.
“Indigenous women and girls are three times more likely to experience violence, and six times more likely to be murdered than non-Indigenous women,” said Beatrice Dimaculangan, an activist, rapper and community organizer with RB4SJ.
“When Indigenous girls are trafficked into sex trade […] where is left for these girls to turn to when the very system meant to protect them proceeds to exploit and neglect them?” Dimaculangan held back tears as the power of her voice kept the crowd locked in to her every word. “These women are not solely victims of violence, but also of a justice system that doesn’t seem to give a shit about them.”

We have a responsibility—as Canadians, as allies, as human beings—to speak up. Not after the next major environmental catastrophe; not after coastal cities are completely underwater; not after the next oil spill wreaks havoc on another Indigenous community. The time for change is now. “The science is indisputable,” said Mugyenyi. “Enough is enough.”

Feature photo by Alex Hutchins

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News

Montrealers honour Indigenous women

Hundreds gathered for 12th annual vigil to remember the missing and murdered

Dreary weather wasn’t enough to stop hundreds of people from gathering in downtown Montreal on Wednesday, Oct. 4 to honour Canada’s missing and murdered Indigenous women.

The two-hour memorial event, held at Place Émilie-Gamelin, was coordinated by the Quebec Native Women’s Shelter and Missing Justice, a grassroots solidarity organization focused on Indigenous women’s issues. Throughout the evening, there were speeches in both English and French from various activists and family members of victims.

According to a 2014 RCMP report, there were 1,181 cases of homicide or long-term disappearances involving Indigenous women between 1980 and 2012. In 2015, Statistics Canada released data suggesting that, while Indigenous people make up just five per cent of Canada’s population, they are the victims of nearly one quarter of all of the country’s homicides.

Chelsea Obodoechina, a representative of Missing Justice, spoke about these horrifying statistics at the vigil, noting that the issue extends beyond women.

“This phenomenon […] is also affecting Indigenous boys and young men,” Obodoechina said. “And we keep them in our hearts tonight.”

According to the Native Women’s Association of Canada (NWAC), Montreal’s annual vigil was one of many held across the country on Oct. 4. The NWAC claims that, when the vigils first started being held in 2006, there were only 11 held nationally. Since 2014, over 200 vigils remembering missing and murdered Indigenous women have been held across Canada every year.

Vigil attendees raise their hands to show they knew a woman by the same name as one of the women who had been murdered or gone missing. Photo by Mackenzie Lad

Ellen Gabriel, a Mohawk activist, also spoke at the vigil and reflected on the increased participation, noting that there were only 20 attendees at the first event in Montreal 11 years ago.

Despite the increased attention to the issue and the launch of a 28-month national inquiry in 2016, Gabriel reminded the audience that there is a long road ahead before Indigenous women—and Indigenous communities as a whole—receive justice.

“There are more [Indigenous] children in the child welfare system today than were in residential schools,” Gabriel said. “Justin Trudeau recently gave a speech to the United Nations talking about Indigenous people […] but he’s presented no solutions on his part.”

Throughout the evening, attendees lit candles and some even brandished signs with phrases including “Justice For Our Women and Girls” and “Sisters in Spirit.” One speaker at the event asked those gathered to raise their hand if they knew a woman with the same name as some of the women who had been murdered or gone missing in Quebec since 1980. By the end of her list of about a dozen names, the overwhelming majority of the crowd had their hands up.

Hundreds gathered to remember missing and murdered Indigenous women on Oct. 4. Photo by Mackenzie Lad

Cheryl McDonald, a Mohawk woman whose sister, Carleen, went missing over Labour Day weekend in 1988 in Akwesasne, also spoke at the vigil. She talked about how Carleen’s body had been found several weeks later by a hunter. Although McDonald was visibly emotional while recounting the story of her sister, her speech remained hopeful.

“We, as women, have to stop hurting each other before we can expect men to,” McDonald said. “I choose to live and leave a trail of love behind me.”

While it may have been a night of mourning, the speakers reminded the audience that it was also a night of remembrance, resilience and hope.

“We will remember these women,” Gabriel said in her closing remarks, “and we will continue to fight.”

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