Earlier this month I attended Finding Dawn: Justice for Aboriginal Women, an event organized and put on by the Native Women's Association of Canada in collaboration with Member of Parliament Paul Dewar. The main feature of the event was a screening of Finding Dawn, a moving and heart wrenching documentary about the estimated 500+ Aboriginal women who have gone missing or been murdered in Canada over the past thirty years. The film, directed by acclaimed Métis filmmaker Christine Welsh, "illustrates the deep historical, social and economic roots of violence against Aboriginal women." [1] In addition to raising awareness about this critical issue, the event also raised donations or the Kelly Morrisseau Education Fund, established by Paul Dewar. The fund is committed to raising donations for Kelly Morrisseau's children. Kelly Morrisseau, a young aboriginal woman, was 27 years old and 7 months pregnant when she was murdered in Gatineau Park in December 2006. Her murder remains unsolved.
After the film, I found myself sitting in an utterly silent theatre with a fairly large group of people (approximately 100 to 150). There were no applause as the credits trailed off the screen. No one spoke nor uttered a sound. We were all rendered speechless. As for me, I knew I would be unable to speak without choking on my words and dissolving into tears. I feared that if opened my mouth and tried to say something that I would begin crying and that I would be unable to stop. Even as I write this now, my throat is growing tight and my eyes are threatening to well up with tears. Perhaps that is why I was unable to write this post sooner. I have given myself numerous mental reminders over the last few weeks to write about the event, the documentary, and the critically important issues that they highlight. I kept thinking, "I'll do it later." I felt guilty that I hadn't written anything, but did not make the time to sit down and write. I kept thinking about how I stayed up late writing about the documentary "Pray the Devil Back to Hell" and wondered why I was so reluctant to write about another profoundly moving documentary, one that addresses a horrible tragedy unfolding in my own country. I don't think that my reluctance can be explained by simply stating "it made me feel sad." While this is true, if I want to be completely honest with myself I have to say that my reluctance had more to do with another feeling I had during and after the documentary: Shame.
After the film, I found myself sitting in an utterly silent theatre with a fairly large group of people (approximately 100 to 150). There were no applause as the credits trailed off the screen. No one spoke nor uttered a sound. We were all rendered speechless. As for me, I knew I would be unable to speak without choking on my words and dissolving into tears. I feared that if opened my mouth and tried to say something that I would begin crying and that I would be unable to stop. Even as I write this now, my throat is growing tight and my eyes are threatening to well up with tears. Perhaps that is why I was unable to write this post sooner. I have given myself numerous mental reminders over the last few weeks to write about the event, the documentary, and the critically important issues that they highlight. I kept thinking, "I'll do it later." I felt guilty that I hadn't written anything, but did not make the time to sit down and write. I kept thinking about how I stayed up late writing about the documentary "Pray the Devil Back to Hell" and wondered why I was so reluctant to write about another profoundly moving documentary, one that addresses a horrible tragedy unfolding in my own country. I don't think that my reluctance can be explained by simply stating "it made me feel sad." While this is true, if I want to be completely honest with myself I have to say that my reluctance had more to do with another feeling I had during and after the documentary: Shame.
I felt, and still feel, an overwhelming sense of shame for what has happened and continues to happen to First Nations, Inuit and Métis persons in Canada. Last year, in June 2008, Prime Minister Harper delivered a formal apology to survivors of residential schools in Canada. To even call them 'schools' seems to me to be a travesty; they were centres for cultural genocide and child abuse. While the PM's apology was critically important, it was only a first step towards addressing the crimes that have been, and are still, being committed against indigenous persons in my country.
I also feel ashamed about the fact that so many aboriginal women go missing and are murdered and that rarely is anyone brought to justice for these crimes. I feel ashamed that "young Indigenous women are five times more likely than other women of the same age to die as the result of violence." [2] And I feel ashamed because Canada and Canadians have fallen short of our responsibility to stop violence against aboriginal women. Why does this continue to happen? Amnesty International Canada points out that it happens, in part, because:
Canadian police and public officials have also long been aware of a
pattern of racist, sexist violence against First Nations, Inuit and
Metis women in their homes and on the streets. But government response
has been shockingly out of step with the scale and severity this
tragedy.
"The pattern looks like this:
"The pattern looks like this:
- Racist and sexist stereotypes deny the dignity and worth of Indigenous women, encouraging some men to feel they can get away with violent acts of hatred against them.
- Decades of government policy have impoverished and broken apart Indigenous families and communities, leaving many Indigenous women and girls extremely vulnerable to exploitation and attack.
- Many police forces have failed to institute necessary measures – such as training, appropriate investigative protocols and accountability mechanisms – to eliminate bias in how they respond to the needs of Indigenous women and their families." [3]
I would also add to this that it also continues to happen because Canadians have not made an effort to confront and resolve their own racist and prejudiced attitudes toward aboriginal people. For many Canadians, their perceptions of indigenous persons have been formed not from direct inter-action with First Nations, Inuit and Métis persons in Canada, but are the product of media, popular culture, and random encounters. While I would like to believe that things have improved a lot over the last 30 years, that Canadians have a greater awareness of the struggles of Aboriginal persons, they most certainly have not improved enough, as the documentary Finding Dawn and the research of Amnesty International Canada and the Native Women's Association of Canada attest.
I encourage all Canadians to watch Finding Dawn and educate themselves about the history of abuse and neglect of aboriginal persons in Canada and the crisis of violence against aboriginal women in our country. Just as non-aboriginal people stood side by side with aboriginal people in the documentary to highlight awareness about the disappearance of aboriginal women in their communities, we all need to provide love, support, compassion, and understanding to the family members of missing and murdered aboriginal women.
I encourage all Canadians to watch Finding Dawn and educate themselves about the history of abuse and neglect of aboriginal persons in Canada and the crisis of violence against aboriginal women in our country. Just as non-aboriginal people stood side by side with aboriginal people in the documentary to highlight awareness about the disappearance of aboriginal women in their communities, we all need to provide love, support, compassion, and understanding to the family members of missing and murdered aboriginal women.
We need to speak out against the violence in our own communities and hold the police and the justice system accountable to ensure that these cases are taken seriously. We also need to support efforts to prevent this cycle of violence from continuing. I will conclude with the following excerpts from the Amnesty International Canada Stolen Sisters report (2004) and the Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba.
"Helen Betty Osborne was a 19-year-old Cree student from northern Manitoba. She dreamed of becoming a teacher. On November 12, 1971, four white men abducted her from the streets of The Pas. She was sexually assaulted and brutally murdered." [4]
"There is one fundamental fact: her murder was a racist and sexist act. Betty Osborne would be alive today had she not been an Aboriginal woman." [5]
I'd like to emphasize what the judge stated, that Betty Osborne would be alive today had she not been an Aboriginal woman. I think this is true. I also think that it is UNACCEPTABLE and we need to make sure this does not continue to be the case.
For more information about the issue of violence against Aboriginal women and what is being done to address it, visit Amnesty International Canada and the Native Women's Association of Canada (NWAC). Through education and action we can make decisive and informed efforts to promote and protect the rights of indigenous women, in particular their right to be free from violence.
[1] NFB. Finding Dawn. http://www.nfb.ca/film/finding_dawn/
[2], [3] Amnesty International Canada. "No More Stolen Sisters: Justice for the missing and murdered Indigenous women of Canada."
http://www.amnesty.ca/our-work/issues/indigenous-peoples/no-more-stolen-sisters
[4] Native Women's Association of Canada and Amnesty International Canada. "A Human Rights Response to Discrimination and Violence against Indigenous Women in Canada." pg. 2 http://www.sistersinspirit.ca/images/AMR2000304.pdf
[5] Aboriginal Justice Implementation Commission. Report of the Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba - The Death of Helen Betty Osborne. http://www.ajic.mb.ca/volumell/chapter5.html
