Why I march for MMIW+R and you should too
Baby M crawled on the floor, a sharpy clutched in her chubby little hand.
The three of us took turns distracting her from the inevitable sharpy-in-mouth moment, while we sat on the floor working on our signs. Most were made with posterboards, paints, & markers.
“It’s so nice to have a baby here” one of the women remarked.
There were about 20 of us scattered around the floor of the mezzanine. There wasn’t much talking, Some music played from a portable speaker. Every once in a while, someone would approach the organizer and ask a quiet question.
My hand was starting to hurt. Ever ambitious, I wanted to make as many signs as I could before Baby M decided it was time to nap, eat, or otherwise throw in the towel. Her mom was my ride off the school grounds.
To a casual observer, it could have been any science fair or school craft project. A closer look though would have showed you that the signs were predominantly red or white with red or black writing. Red hand prints were featured prominently. Many signs read No More Stolen Sisters.
As I worked on my signs, I thought about how Baby M, being a little white girl, would not likely have to worry about being stolen. This was a danger reserved for Indigenous girls, women, and relatives. And it’s why I was there.
Although Canada’s reputation for many, is synonymous with freedom and justice, for Indigenous communities - and specifically women and girls - it’s a symbol of systemic oppression, attempted genocide, racism, and negligence causing harm up to and including death.
The world was rocked by the discovery of the 215 missing children here in Canada. Tragically, the statistics of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women are far greater. There are currently an estimated 4000 Indigenous Canadian women who are currently missing.
Most allies are familiar with the Highway of Tears. What people don’t know though is that Indigenous women and girls go missing right here - on the Saanich Peninsula, on the Island, in BC, and all across Canada - at rates that would have the news sounding the alarm if it was happening to white women.
The next day we march, holding our signs, alongside traffic. We invited the press but they didn’t attend. Led by Aunti G, the picture of a matriarch with her long gray hair, the procession wound through and around one of the wealthiest area codes on the Island - Brentwood Bay. Some people honked and waved, others looked confused or annoyed. Many are oblivious to the reality of Indigenous communities that are their neighbors.
After the march, we gathered, listening to stories of women who were missing and found their way home. Mothers stood up and spoke about how they worked with their children and partners to build a safety plan; what to do if there was a chance someone went missing or if they didn’t hear from each other in an agreed-upon time.
I remember one young woman who stood tall, holding the mic and the gazes of the people in the room. Her voice wavered as she shared her survivor story. Her cousin stepped up and put a hand on her back - steadying her as she spoke.
The stories all have the same thread. Our Indigenous community members are regularly experiencing ongoing abductions, drugging assaults, and violence. When they go to the police, racism and ineptitude often cause more harm than good. Cases go unresolved and communities heave with the grief.
Everyone knows someone who has gone missing.
As a woman who used to think of myself as a proud Canadian, hearing these stories is nothing short of heartbreaking. I can’t believe what I am hearing half the time. And that’s my work to do - outside of these rooms and marches - on my own time and in my own space.
I used to think I wasn’t welcome in these spaces. I know that sometimes just my presence - as a white woman can be triggering & cause Indigenous people to feel unsafe. But along with that reality is the reality of my privilege - I am young, conventionally attractive, white, and able-bodied. That means - more often than not - people listen to me, they believe me, and they want to help me. I believe it is my responsibility to use my privilege for good.
For the last 6 years, I have worked alongside, with, and for Indigenous communities, leaders and organizations.
Repeatedly, I have heard that we need to work together to try and solve the problems that affect us all. While I don’t personally know anyone who has gone missing the people I work with do. These are people I respect & care about a great deal - and I see how much this hurts. I want to help carry the burden.
I want my Indigenous neighbors to know that I stand with them in solidarity. I march with them to send the message Indigenous women are sacred and precious and it’s not OK they are at such high risk. I want to pressure justice organizations to pay attention and work to resolve this issue. To believe Indigenous families who report a missing loved one. And to hold the people responsible accountable.
Part of living in the colonial capitalist patriarchy means that if making a change could negatively affect men making a profit it doesn’t matter. But it does.
The link between “man camps” developed for resource extraction, and a spike in missing women are proven. This trend is ongoing. It shows no signs of slowing and it makes me furious.
Because there is so much I can’t control, I lean into where I can do something. So recruiting my two white besties and a chubby little baby to come and make some signs, marching, and then listening, really it’s the least I can do.
February 14th is MMIW awareness day (different than Red Dress Day). There are marches scheduled for Victoria and Vancouver and around the Province.
I encourage you to make your own sign and get out there. Share yourself on socials, marching for justice and awareness. Tell our Indigenous sisters and neighbours we will not enable this to continue through our complacency.
Can’t make it? Consider donating to the Rematriate Stewardship or local Land Back fundraisers.
All images by Mike Graeme, courtesy of XAXE TEṈEW̱ Sacred Land Society
I’m Laurel Anne Stark and I’m a storyteller, decolonial justice advocate, technologist, and thought leader who blends ancient wisdom and modern technology to help us break free from the colonial-capitalist patriarchal system that divides us and undermines our wellbeing. I’m actively building a world where we prioritize humanity above extraction, well-being over productivity, people over profits, and belonging over division, but I can’t do it alone.
If you’d like to join me on this journey, I encourage you to follow me on socials and sign up for my newsletter. Together, we can decolonize our lives.
Yours in Solidarity,
Laurel