As I delved into “Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls” alongside the poignant narratives from “We Hold Our Hands Up: On Indigenous Women’s Love and Resistance,” I found it very emotional. Reading through it and the intricate layers of indigenous women’s experiences, my heart aches for the countless lives lost and silenced by systemic violence and colonial oppression.
The report, with its harrowing accounts and calls for justice, not only educates but also compels me to confront uncomfortable truths about the society I am part of. It’s a reminder of the resilience and strength of indigenous communities, particularly the women who, despite facing unimaginable horrors, continue to stand firm in their identity and sovereignty. This resilience, rooted in love and resistance, profoundly impacts my understanding of decolonization and the imperative to support indigenous-led solutions.
The article from Decolonization further illuminates the power of indigenous women’s love and resistance, enriching my reflection with stories of personal and collective acts of defiance against the erasure of their identities. These narratives are a testament to the unbreakable spirit of indigenous women, who, through their roles as caretakers, leaders, and warriors, are pivotal to their communities’ resurgence and healing.
Visiting the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre at UBC was a profoundly moving experience. I always passed by it while going to the library but just thought of it as nice and calm spot to relax in. But visiting the interactive exhibit laid bare the colonial attempts to obliterate indigenous cultures, genders, and sexualities, evoked a deep sense of sadness for the injustices inflicted upon these communities. Yet, amidst the grief, I also felt a growing sense of admiration and solidarity with the resilience displayed by indigenous peoples in preserving their heritage and reclaiming their rightful place in society. It is sad to see that history repeats itself in other parts of the world like recently in Palestine. I could not stop thinking will there be a center similar to this one 100 years from now? Will Palestina also be mentioned in land acknowledgments? Instead of learning from our mistakes, we see the same atrocities happen again and again.
These experiences have been really beneficial, I think, stirring a mix of emotions within me—anger, sadness and a litlle bit of hope. The readings underscore the critical need for empathy, understanding, and action in the journey toward reconciliation and decolonization. This reflection is not just an academic exercise but a heartfelt acknowledgment of the pain and perseverance of indigenous communities.
As a journalist, I am moved by the courage of those who have shared their stories, and I am inspired by their unwavering strength and love. This journey of learning has instilled in me a profound respect for the resilience of indigenous women and their central role in the fight for justice and sovereignty. It’s a reminder that the path to healing and reconciliation is one that requires us to listen deeply, learn with humility, and stand in solidarity with indigenous peoples.
As I continue to reflect on these readings and how can I share awareness on Indiginous history, I am committed to carrying the stories and lessons with me, advocating for change, and supporting any indigenous-led movements. It is a promise to not only remember the past but to actively contribute to a future that honors and uplifts indigenous women and girls.
Throughout the Dory Nason piece, the Finding Dawn documentary, my visit to the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre, and re-reading portions of the Final Report of the MMIWG2S+ National Inquiry, a surprising theme emerged: the power and pervasiveness of profound love: love of self, love of people, love of land, and love of family.
Surprising, not because of the presence and power of love itself, but more because of the contrast of what this love what set against – and up against. Each piece, exhibit, film, and report spoke to vile realities of discrimination, violence, and genocide. Of abuse and neglect at the hands of the state, of justifications of behaviour due to structural racism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. And yet: love. Woven into every story, like a persistent plant that could not be eradicated, despite every (ongoing) effort to do so.
Nason writes it like this: “Profound love of the kind that moves nations, starts movements, and inspires action does not go away; it deepens and becomes stronger with time.”
I see this love expressed by Dawn’s brother and sister whose deep grief move them forward in solidarity with other families and loved one of missing and murdered women. I see it in the community members and trappers slowly and painstakingly sweeping the prairie landscape along Highway 16, desperate for any sign of a daughter who is missing. In the long walk by parents who needed to know that the injustice of the violence against their daughter wasn’t going to go unnoticed. In the testimonies of women in Vancouver’s DTES speaking simultaneously to the grief of losing their mother when they were young and their determination to raise their own children with presence and safety. I see it in Nason’s reflections on #IdleNoMore where she pinpoints Indigenous women’s resistance to extraction as both an expression of love to the land and to their culture and people so fundamentally connected to the land. I see it in the courage and determination of the MMIWG2S+ testimonies and the determination of the calls to action, especially their unwillingness to overlook any contributing or structural factors that made/make such crimes possible. I saw it too in the Dialogue centre – in the stories of elders like Ethel Blondin-Andrew and their determination to move towards healing; In the efforts of the First Nations Health Authority (FNHA) to reclaim the strength of Indigenous Women and Girls in the rebuilding of Indigenous Health Care systems (report: Sacred and Strong – Upholding Our Matriarchal Roles: The Health and Wellness Journeys of First Nations Women and Girls Living in BC). I see this love in the ways that survivors and elders speak of hope for reconciliation where it’s possible, but also as they demand that Indigenous ways of knowing, being and doing (in justice, healthcare, education, environment, etc.) find resurgence, repair, and the ability to function free of the perspectives and power of colonial authority or influence.
And yet, because this love is so revolutionary, so grounded, and so wholistic, it exposes the ways that systems of colonialism, patriarchy, and white supremacy fail. It shows them to be as vile as they actually are and demands a redistribution of power and a rethinking of what we think is possible. And this is often met with hate, especially as it is led by and grounded in the forces of Indigenous women: a duality of social exclusion (racism + patriarchy) unrivalled in our society. Nason reflects: “When Indigenous women’s love inspires a nation to round-dance, question destructive environmental policy or demand justice for children living in sub-standard conditions, other forces counter with vitriolic hate.”
I don’t always know if I believe that love wins out over hate (at least not in the immediate), but I do believe that it’s the only way of living that’s worthwhile. And after the reflections of this week, I’m deeply inspired to follow the wisdom and “nation-moving” love modelled by Indigenous women, even if met with hate or resistance.
Question 1: How can I better centre a revolutionary ethic of love in my care of self, care of others, and care of the land in my work and in my life?
Question 2: As a settler and a white woman, how can I (practically + tangibly) build deeper practices of ongoing solidarity and reparation with the movements against MMIWG2S+?
Given that this week’s readings and homework were set in Vancouver, the weight of the topic hits differently. Being from Eastern Canada, I had heard of the ‘highway of tears’, but in all honesty, I don’t think I had fully grasped the gravitas of the matter until I read the National Inquiry report a few years ago. After reading Dara Culhane’s ‘Their spirits live within us’, I believe this is because ‘regime of disappearance’ and the invisibility of indigenous women in other Canadian cities (more so than Vancouver). Watching ‘Finding Dawn’ added more colour to my understanding and the deep wound that still exists today.
I couldn’t attend the march last week but was moved by the idea of families and loved ones of the victims creating a space to remember, honour, and hope. I was reminded of the phrase “always felt but never seen”, mentioned in our class discussions (this semester & last). Instead of the march, I went to the Dialogue Center on campus. I was grateful it was a space for reflection, rather than a museum-like layout that spews facts and figures. The center had testimonies of survivors of residential schools, where the gendered experience was shared (mostly through video, some books available and the digital archive). I appreciated the creative display of data (i.e. interactive pod clusters on the screen), where you could explore how different topics/themes intersected. Gender was a theme that intersected with a diversity of themes, including but not limited to sports, education, and food.
The National Inquiry of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is one indication of progress since the mid-2000s (when the documentary and readings were released); however, I’m not sure how much comfort we can take in this report. Largely because it outlines how our nation has created and perpetuates structural violence towards indigenous women to this day. I also struggle to come to terms with how MMIWG2S+ gained national traction. The readings touched on how this matter had to be politicized to gain federal attention, which ultimately led to commissioning the National Inquiry. It’s saddening that Indigenous rights must be fought, argued, and negotiated, rather than simply recognized, and freely given. The government had to be convinced this subject (aka epidemic) was worth investigating, and in doing so, only to reinforce the structual silencing of Indigenous peoples. I know this is not a novel observation – this is the reality, and has been, for Indigenous peoples for many centuries. But sometimes I still lament this. I’m thinking of ongoing discussion in Winnipeg about searching the landfills – which has been advocated for since 2022 and initially refused by Heather Stefanson, Manitoba’s Premier at the time. (I’m also currently reading JWR’s Indian in the Cabinet, which has perhaps framed some of my reflections)
While National attention on violence against Indigenous peoples has primarily focused on MMIWG2S+ (and rightfully so!), there is a movement forming on missing and murdered Indigenous men.
Link: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/vancouver-march-missing-murdered-indigenous-men-and-boys-1.6871279 – in no way trying to take away from the gendered dimension of violence against Indigenous peoples!!!). But considering the process of politicization of MMIWG2S+ to be seen, recognized, and heard… is there a way to advocate without politicization? Would it be possible to do so for the missing and murdered indigenous men? Can we not just recognize and freely give rights, care, and justice?
As settlers in Vancouver, how can we better walk alongside & join advocacy efforts in MMWIG2S+ in our daily lives? How can we remove the ‘regime of disappearance’ in our city (and other cities)?
My recent visit to the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre was sobering. I learned that the scars of residential schools linger, a stark reality that Canada is still grappling with. It struck me, the way historical accountability is segmented; anything before confederation is brushed off, not considered Canada’s burden to bear. I was introduced to the United Residential School Survivors Association (URSA), an organization focused on reparations for survivors. It’s hard to fathom how recent this all is — some survivors are grandparents now, their stories not distant history but living memory.
One voice that stood out was Mary Caesar’s. She described the segregation and isolation she faced in a residential school, painting a vivid picture of the systemic erasure of her identity. These testimonies aren’t just stories; they’re lifelines to understanding the true narrative of this country. This visit has expanded my perspective and underscored the importance of acknowledging and learning from these narratives. It’s clear that the path to healing is long and that literature, adult and otherwise, is a powerful tool for unpacking these complex histories. It’s a lot to process, but it’s essential for moving forward, for true reconciliation.
As a non-Indigenous person, “Finding Dawn” was a powerful wake-up call to the realities faced by Indigenous communities in Canada. It was a reminder that while I don’t personally experience the same level of vulnerability, I cannot and must not turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, especially our Indigenous peoples as we are all treaty peoples and therefore responsible.
I could not help but imagine if the emotions I felt were perhaps similar to those felt by Israeli citizens who stand up for the plight of the Palestinian people. I wondered how strongly I feel about a person of privilege remaining silent when their voice has the power to change the on ground realities for others less fortunate especially in the Israeli-Palestinian genocide case. In both cases, silence is not an option. It is incumbent upon those with privilege to leverage their resources and platforms. So, I felt guilty about how while I care so actively about the Palestinian people located in the Middle East and justify this as myself being merely human, why haven’t I been just as zealous when it came to the Indigenous peoples. Why did it take for someone to mention “we are all treaty peoples” for realization to dawn on me when I have been here for years.
It was heartbreaking to hear the situations and experiences Indigenous peoples are so familiar with. I could not fathom it. It was particularly moving when the lady in the documentary who had been so calm and soft-spoken all of a sudden broke down sharing her own history. Yet, their strength and resilience in the face of it all is inspiring. Many of them have had to confront trauma, violence, and neglect, yet they still find the strength to speak their truth. To see this woman, who seemed so strong, so capable of enduring everything, and hear her breaking down, it struck me to the core.
I also had the honour of attending the march and it was unlike any gathering I have been to before. Nozomi and I prepared a poster with the words “You’re not forgotten. No more silence. Justice for MMIWG2S #STOLENLIVESonSTLOLENLAND. As settlers we must educate ourselves!!” Just when I thought I was understanding their suffering a little better, at the march when the families of the missing Indigenous peoples spoke, I learned it was not just women and girls who were going missing. This ongoing attack is not confined to one gender, it extends to all Indigenous peoples. More and more men and boys are going missing. There is also two-spirit people. This shattered any preconceived notions I may have had about the scope of the issue. The inclusion of men and boys in the discussion of missing and murdered Indigenous peoples I feel is quite essential as stressed on by the families to broaden our and Canada’s understanding of the problem and recognize that no one within these communities is immune to the threat of violence and disappearance.
As someone who shares this land I believe it’s imperative to confront the reality of this crisis, and teach this in our educational and professional institutes in some capacity at the very least. I also really liked the policy the Indigenous families thought might aid in helping with this. The red dress alert similar to the amber alert and what a fantastic idea. Perhaps this way we can raise awareness and build a sense of unity.
Watching “Finding Dawn,” a documentary raising awareness on the missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada, was a deeply moving experience. Directed by Christine Welsh, the documentary emotionally highlighted the heartbreaking reality of lack of recognition regarding these cases and the absence of justice for survivors and families that have members who have been killed or gone missing. Welsh shows that even the testimonies of victims portrayed in the film, have gone unrecognized by both law enforcement and society at large. Watching the film on this land in Vancouver, seated in comfort and freedom, I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of guilt. The documentary sparked reflections on the awareness and discussions surrounding the mistreatment, abuse, and violence faced by Indigenous communities. Sadly, 18 years later after the documentary was produced, the violence of this community is still vivid. While “I think” there has been some progress in raising awareness, it is evident that awareness and discussion alone is not enough. Meaningful action, from policymakers to shifts in community mindsets, is essential to bring about lasting change. This documentary served as an important reminder of the ongoing need to amplify the voices of Indigenous communities.
I also attended the Women’s March in downtown Vancouver and this experience underscored the urgency of the issue. Hearing firsthand testimonies from Indigenous women whose loved ones are still missing today was heart-wrenching. The voice of an indigenous mother who was crying and repeatedly saying, “I miss my child,” is still playing on my mind! The ongoing pain and trauma faced by these communities, is not undeniable. The most powerful moment of the march was the healing circle, where all participants came together to listen to the testimonies and stories of the indigenous community members, as show support and empathy. Through songs and testimonies, the resilience and hope of Indigenous people was inspirational, despite the immense challenges they continue to face. However, amidst the hope, there was a sobering acknowledgment that much work remains to be done. Indigenous leaders called on politicians to do better, emphasizing that the systemic issues leading to the violence and disappearance of Indigenous women have not improved over time.
Reflecting on these experiences, I have been grappling with the concept of peace and security within Indigenous communities, particularly for women and families who have lost their children or family members. While I may not have all the answers, I am committed to further educating myself about the struggles and resilience of the Indigenous people.
The documentary “Finding Dawn” resonated deeply with me. It was important to me as it highlighted the resiliency, strength of the Indigenous communities. While I had long been aware of the pressing issue of the missing and murdered women, the filmed provided a visceral glimpse into the stark realities of the violence and profound pain endured by their families. The violence and the impact reverberate through the communities.
Amidst the heart-wrenching stories, “Finding Dawn” highlights the stories of transformation which was inspiring and the ongoing fight families of the victim continue to seek. Such as the mother who lost her daughter on the highway of tears who continues to march in her honour across the highway each year.
I attended the Women’s Memorial March on February 14th to commemorate those who’s loved ones were missing and murdered. This march was held stopping in locations in Vancouver where some of the missing and murdered women were last spotted. This was the first time I got to attend a Women’s march like this, the voices, the drums left a mark on me I can sense of the grief within the crowd. One of the speakers that we heard from was Roxanne White who is an outspoken advocate for the MMIWG. There was a sense of solidarity and determination in the crowd. Many were holding up signs of women who have been missing or murdered a reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability.
Heard from stories from individuals’ personal journey of overcoming addiction and stories from elders who urged us to embody lateral kindness and stand together for the fight for justice – these women were mothers, daughters, and sisters. The chants and drums called for the return of the sisters, to hear their prayers and lead them home -this was powerful. The Ojibway Nation “Thank you Grandmothers” was sung as a reminder of the wisdom and guidance that has been passed down through generations.
As I reflect on these experiences, I am compelled to ask: How can we hold law enforcement agencies accountable to ensure that they take cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women seriously from the outset? How do we ensure that adequate resources are allocated to these cases?
I am wondering how we can ensure that in how to break negative stereotypes of Indigenous women and how we can challenge and dismantle harmful narratives within the broader society?
The reading for this week shown the importance of Indigenous women’s love which is tremendous strength. I have witnessed this firsthand where I have listened and spoken to Indigenous women who have suffered immense pain and suffering and grew resilient and strong. The songs and voices of these women were so powerful at the march. I feel empowered to stand with the Indigenous movement such as #IdleNoMore which advocacy raises awareness of the rate violence, sexual assault and disproportionately high rates of imprisonment faced by Indigenous women. As the reading this week highlighted, violence towards Indigenous women is rather normalized in settler society- this demands our collective action, solidarity and ongoing commitment to justice.
As I delved into “Reclaiming Power and Place: The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls” alongside the poignant narratives from “We Hold Our Hands Up: On Indigenous Women’s Love and Resistance,” I found it very emotional. Reading through it and the intricate layers of indigenous women’s experiences, my heart aches for the countless lives lost and silenced by systemic violence and colonial oppression.
The report, with its harrowing accounts and calls for justice, not only educates but also compels me to confront uncomfortable truths about the society I am part of. It’s a reminder of the resilience and strength of indigenous communities, particularly the women who, despite facing unimaginable horrors, continue to stand firm in their identity and sovereignty. This resilience, rooted in love and resistance, profoundly impacts my understanding of decolonization and the imperative to support indigenous-led solutions.
The article from Decolonization further illuminates the power of indigenous women’s love and resistance, enriching my reflection with stories of personal and collective acts of defiance against the erasure of their identities. These narratives are a testament to the unbreakable spirit of indigenous women, who, through their roles as caretakers, leaders, and warriors, are pivotal to their communities’ resurgence and healing.
Visiting the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre at UBC was a profoundly moving experience. I always passed by it while going to the library but just thought of it as nice and calm spot to relax in. But visiting the interactive exhibit laid bare the colonial attempts to obliterate indigenous cultures, genders, and sexualities, evoked a deep sense of sadness for the injustices inflicted upon these communities. Yet, amidst the grief, I also felt a growing sense of admiration and solidarity with the resilience displayed by indigenous peoples in preserving their heritage and reclaiming their rightful place in society. It is sad to see that history repeats itself in other parts of the world like recently in Palestine. I could not stop thinking will there be a center similar to this one 100 years from now? Will Palestina also be mentioned in land acknowledgments? Instead of learning from our mistakes, we see the same atrocities happen again and again.
These experiences have been really beneficial, I think, stirring a mix of emotions within me—anger, sadness and a litlle bit of hope. The readings underscore the critical need for empathy, understanding, and action in the journey toward reconciliation and decolonization. This reflection is not just an academic exercise but a heartfelt acknowledgment of the pain and perseverance of indigenous communities.
As a journalist, I am moved by the courage of those who have shared their stories, and I am inspired by their unwavering strength and love. This journey of learning has instilled in me a profound respect for the resilience of indigenous women and their central role in the fight for justice and sovereignty. It’s a reminder that the path to healing and reconciliation is one that requires us to listen deeply, learn with humility, and stand in solidarity with indigenous peoples.
As I continue to reflect on these readings and how can I share awareness on Indiginous history, I am committed to carrying the stories and lessons with me, advocating for change, and supporting any indigenous-led movements. It is a promise to not only remember the past but to actively contribute to a future that honors and uplifts indigenous women and girls.
Throughout the Dory Nason piece, the Finding Dawn documentary, my visit to the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre, and re-reading portions of the Final Report of the MMIWG2S+ National Inquiry, a surprising theme emerged: the power and pervasiveness of profound love: love of self, love of people, love of land, and love of family.
Surprising, not because of the presence and power of love itself, but more because of the contrast of what this love what set against – and up against. Each piece, exhibit, film, and report spoke to vile realities of discrimination, violence, and genocide. Of abuse and neglect at the hands of the state, of justifications of behaviour due to structural racism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. And yet: love. Woven into every story, like a persistent plant that could not be eradicated, despite every (ongoing) effort to do so.
Nason writes it like this: “Profound love of the kind that moves nations, starts movements, and inspires action does not go away; it deepens and becomes stronger with time.”
I see this love expressed by Dawn’s brother and sister whose deep grief move them forward in solidarity with other families and loved one of missing and murdered women. I see it in the community members and trappers slowly and painstakingly sweeping the prairie landscape along Highway 16, desperate for any sign of a daughter who is missing. In the long walk by parents who needed to know that the injustice of the violence against their daughter wasn’t going to go unnoticed. In the testimonies of women in Vancouver’s DTES speaking simultaneously to the grief of losing their mother when they were young and their determination to raise their own children with presence and safety. I see it in Nason’s reflections on #IdleNoMore where she pinpoints Indigenous women’s resistance to extraction as both an expression of love to the land and to their culture and people so fundamentally connected to the land. I see it in the courage and determination of the MMIWG2S+ testimonies and the determination of the calls to action, especially their unwillingness to overlook any contributing or structural factors that made/make such crimes possible. I saw it too in the Dialogue centre – in the stories of elders like Ethel Blondin-Andrew and their determination to move towards healing; In the efforts of the First Nations Health Authority (FNHA) to reclaim the strength of Indigenous Women and Girls in the rebuilding of Indigenous Health Care systems (report: Sacred and Strong – Upholding Our Matriarchal Roles: The Health and Wellness Journeys of First Nations Women and Girls Living in BC). I see this love in the ways that survivors and elders speak of hope for reconciliation where it’s possible, but also as they demand that Indigenous ways of knowing, being and doing (in justice, healthcare, education, environment, etc.) find resurgence, repair, and the ability to function free of the perspectives and power of colonial authority or influence.
And yet, because this love is so revolutionary, so grounded, and so wholistic, it exposes the ways that systems of colonialism, patriarchy, and white supremacy fail. It shows them to be as vile as they actually are and demands a redistribution of power and a rethinking of what we think is possible. And this is often met with hate, especially as it is led by and grounded in the forces of Indigenous women: a duality of social exclusion (racism + patriarchy) unrivalled in our society. Nason reflects: “When Indigenous women’s love inspires a nation to round-dance, question destructive environmental policy or demand justice for children living in sub-standard conditions, other forces counter with vitriolic hate.”
I don’t always know if I believe that love wins out over hate (at least not in the immediate), but I do believe that it’s the only way of living that’s worthwhile. And after the reflections of this week, I’m deeply inspired to follow the wisdom and “nation-moving” love modelled by Indigenous women, even if met with hate or resistance.
Question 1: How can I better centre a revolutionary ethic of love in my care of self, care of others, and care of the land in my work and in my life?
Question 2: As a settler and a white woman, how can I (practically + tangibly) build deeper practices of ongoing solidarity and reparation with the movements against MMIWG2S+?
Given that this week’s readings and homework were set in Vancouver, the weight of the topic hits differently. Being from Eastern Canada, I had heard of the ‘highway of tears’, but in all honesty, I don’t think I had fully grasped the gravitas of the matter until I read the National Inquiry report a few years ago. After reading Dara Culhane’s ‘Their spirits live within us’, I believe this is because ‘regime of disappearance’ and the invisibility of indigenous women in other Canadian cities (more so than Vancouver). Watching ‘Finding Dawn’ added more colour to my understanding and the deep wound that still exists today.
I couldn’t attend the march last week but was moved by the idea of families and loved ones of the victims creating a space to remember, honour, and hope. I was reminded of the phrase “always felt but never seen”, mentioned in our class discussions (this semester & last). Instead of the march, I went to the Dialogue Center on campus. I was grateful it was a space for reflection, rather than a museum-like layout that spews facts and figures. The center had testimonies of survivors of residential schools, where the gendered experience was shared (mostly through video, some books available and the digital archive). I appreciated the creative display of data (i.e. interactive pod clusters on the screen), where you could explore how different topics/themes intersected. Gender was a theme that intersected with a diversity of themes, including but not limited to sports, education, and food.
The National Inquiry of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls is one indication of progress since the mid-2000s (when the documentary and readings were released); however, I’m not sure how much comfort we can take in this report. Largely because it outlines how our nation has created and perpetuates structural violence towards indigenous women to this day. I also struggle to come to terms with how MMIWG2S+ gained national traction. The readings touched on how this matter had to be politicized to gain federal attention, which ultimately led to commissioning the National Inquiry. It’s saddening that Indigenous rights must be fought, argued, and negotiated, rather than simply recognized, and freely given. The government had to be convinced this subject (aka epidemic) was worth investigating, and in doing so, only to reinforce the structual silencing of Indigenous peoples. I know this is not a novel observation – this is the reality, and has been, for Indigenous peoples for many centuries. But sometimes I still lament this. I’m thinking of ongoing discussion in Winnipeg about searching the landfills – which has been advocated for since 2022 and initially refused by Heather Stefanson, Manitoba’s Premier at the time. (I’m also currently reading JWR’s Indian in the Cabinet, which has perhaps framed some of my reflections)
While National attention on violence against Indigenous peoples has primarily focused on MMIWG2S+ (and rightfully so!), there is a movement forming on missing and murdered Indigenous men.
Link: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/vancouver-march-missing-murdered-indigenous-men-and-boys-1.6871279 – in no way trying to take away from the gendered dimension of violence against Indigenous peoples!!!). But considering the process of politicization of MMIWG2S+ to be seen, recognized, and heard… is there a way to advocate without politicization? Would it be possible to do so for the missing and murdered indigenous men? Can we not just recognize and freely give rights, care, and justice?
As settlers in Vancouver, how can we better walk alongside & join advocacy efforts in MMWIG2S+ in our daily lives? How can we remove the ‘regime of disappearance’ in our city (and other cities)?
My recent visit to the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre was sobering. I learned that the scars of residential schools linger, a stark reality that Canada is still grappling with. It struck me, the way historical accountability is segmented; anything before confederation is brushed off, not considered Canada’s burden to bear. I was introduced to the United Residential School Survivors Association (URSA), an organization focused on reparations for survivors. It’s hard to fathom how recent this all is — some survivors are grandparents now, their stories not distant history but living memory.
One voice that stood out was Mary Caesar’s. She described the segregation and isolation she faced in a residential school, painting a vivid picture of the systemic erasure of her identity. These testimonies aren’t just stories; they’re lifelines to understanding the true narrative of this country. This visit has expanded my perspective and underscored the importance of acknowledging and learning from these narratives. It’s clear that the path to healing is long and that literature, adult and otherwise, is a powerful tool for unpacking these complex histories. It’s a lot to process, but it’s essential for moving forward, for true reconciliation.
As a non-Indigenous person, “Finding Dawn” was a powerful wake-up call to the realities faced by Indigenous communities in Canada. It was a reminder that while I don’t personally experience the same level of vulnerability, I cannot and must not turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, especially our Indigenous peoples as we are all treaty peoples and therefore responsible.
I could not help but imagine if the emotions I felt were perhaps similar to those felt by Israeli citizens who stand up for the plight of the Palestinian people. I wondered how strongly I feel about a person of privilege remaining silent when their voice has the power to change the on ground realities for others less fortunate especially in the Israeli-Palestinian genocide case. In both cases, silence is not an option. It is incumbent upon those with privilege to leverage their resources and platforms. So, I felt guilty about how while I care so actively about the Palestinian people located in the Middle East and justify this as myself being merely human, why haven’t I been just as zealous when it came to the Indigenous peoples. Why did it take for someone to mention “we are all treaty peoples” for realization to dawn on me when I have been here for years.
It was heartbreaking to hear the situations and experiences Indigenous peoples are so familiar with. I could not fathom it. It was particularly moving when the lady in the documentary who had been so calm and soft-spoken all of a sudden broke down sharing her own history. Yet, their strength and resilience in the face of it all is inspiring. Many of them have had to confront trauma, violence, and neglect, yet they still find the strength to speak their truth. To see this woman, who seemed so strong, so capable of enduring everything, and hear her breaking down, it struck me to the core.
I also had the honour of attending the march and it was unlike any gathering I have been to before. Nozomi and I prepared a poster with the words “You’re not forgotten. No more silence. Justice for MMIWG2S #STOLENLIVESonSTLOLENLAND. As settlers we must educate ourselves!!” Just when I thought I was understanding their suffering a little better, at the march when the families of the missing Indigenous peoples spoke, I learned it was not just women and girls who were going missing. This ongoing attack is not confined to one gender, it extends to all Indigenous peoples. More and more men and boys are going missing. There is also two-spirit people. This shattered any preconceived notions I may have had about the scope of the issue. The inclusion of men and boys in the discussion of missing and murdered Indigenous peoples I feel is quite essential as stressed on by the families to broaden our and Canada’s understanding of the problem and recognize that no one within these communities is immune to the threat of violence and disappearance.
As someone who shares this land I believe it’s imperative to confront the reality of this crisis, and teach this in our educational and professional institutes in some capacity at the very least. I also really liked the policy the Indigenous families thought might aid in helping with this. The red dress alert similar to the amber alert and what a fantastic idea. Perhaps this way we can raise awareness and build a sense of unity.
Watching “Finding Dawn,” a documentary raising awareness on the missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada, was a deeply moving experience. Directed by Christine Welsh, the documentary emotionally highlighted the heartbreaking reality of lack of recognition regarding these cases and the absence of justice for survivors and families that have members who have been killed or gone missing. Welsh shows that even the testimonies of victims portrayed in the film, have gone unrecognized by both law enforcement and society at large. Watching the film on this land in Vancouver, seated in comfort and freedom, I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of guilt. The documentary sparked reflections on the awareness and discussions surrounding the mistreatment, abuse, and violence faced by Indigenous communities. Sadly, 18 years later after the documentary was produced, the violence of this community is still vivid. While “I think” there has been some progress in raising awareness, it is evident that awareness and discussion alone is not enough. Meaningful action, from policymakers to shifts in community mindsets, is essential to bring about lasting change. This documentary served as an important reminder of the ongoing need to amplify the voices of Indigenous communities.
I also attended the Women’s March in downtown Vancouver and this experience underscored the urgency of the issue. Hearing firsthand testimonies from Indigenous women whose loved ones are still missing today was heart-wrenching. The voice of an indigenous mother who was crying and repeatedly saying, “I miss my child,” is still playing on my mind! The ongoing pain and trauma faced by these communities, is not undeniable. The most powerful moment of the march was the healing circle, where all participants came together to listen to the testimonies and stories of the indigenous community members, as show support and empathy. Through songs and testimonies, the resilience and hope of Indigenous people was inspirational, despite the immense challenges they continue to face. However, amidst the hope, there was a sobering acknowledgment that much work remains to be done. Indigenous leaders called on politicians to do better, emphasizing that the systemic issues leading to the violence and disappearance of Indigenous women have not improved over time.
Reflecting on these experiences, I have been grappling with the concept of peace and security within Indigenous communities, particularly for women and families who have lost their children or family members. While I may not have all the answers, I am committed to further educating myself about the struggles and resilience of the Indigenous people.
The documentary “Finding Dawn” resonated deeply with me. It was important to me as it highlighted the resiliency, strength of the Indigenous communities. While I had long been aware of the pressing issue of the missing and murdered women, the filmed provided a visceral glimpse into the stark realities of the violence and profound pain endured by their families. The violence and the impact reverberate through the communities.
Amidst the heart-wrenching stories, “Finding Dawn” highlights the stories of transformation which was inspiring and the ongoing fight families of the victim continue to seek. Such as the mother who lost her daughter on the highway of tears who continues to march in her honour across the highway each year.
I attended the Women’s Memorial March on February 14th to commemorate those who’s loved ones were missing and murdered. This march was held stopping in locations in Vancouver where some of the missing and murdered women were last spotted. This was the first time I got to attend a Women’s march like this, the voices, the drums left a mark on me I can sense of the grief within the crowd. One of the speakers that we heard from was Roxanne White who is an outspoken advocate for the MMIWG. There was a sense of solidarity and determination in the crowd. Many were holding up signs of women who have been missing or murdered a reminder of the urgent need for justice and accountability.
Heard from stories from individuals’ personal journey of overcoming addiction and stories from elders who urged us to embody lateral kindness and stand together for the fight for justice – these women were mothers, daughters, and sisters. The chants and drums called for the return of the sisters, to hear their prayers and lead them home -this was powerful. The Ojibway Nation “Thank you Grandmothers” was sung as a reminder of the wisdom and guidance that has been passed down through generations.
As I reflect on these experiences, I am compelled to ask: How can we hold law enforcement agencies accountable to ensure that they take cases of missing and murdered Indigenous women seriously from the outset? How do we ensure that adequate resources are allocated to these cases?
I am wondering how we can ensure that in how to break negative stereotypes of Indigenous women and how we can challenge and dismantle harmful narratives within the broader society?
The reading for this week shown the importance of Indigenous women’s love which is tremendous strength. I have witnessed this firsthand where I have listened and spoken to Indigenous women who have suffered immense pain and suffering and grew resilient and strong. The songs and voices of these women were so powerful at the march. I feel empowered to stand with the Indigenous movement such as #IdleNoMore which advocacy raises awareness of the rate violence, sexual assault and disproportionately high rates of imprisonment faced by Indigenous women. As the reading this week highlighted, violence towards Indigenous women is rather normalized in settler society- this demands our collective action, solidarity and ongoing commitment to justice.