Rural Womyn in Canada

An Act of Remembering December the Sixth
by Jo Leath. Nova Scotia

In Canada, December 6th is the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women: established by parliamentary consensus in 1991, the day is set aside to recognize violence against women. This date was chosen to commemorate the tragic deaths of 14 young women in Montreal in 1989.

They were engineering students, attending class at their school. A gunman entered the school, segregated the men from the wimmin, and started shooting, he himself was the final fatality. He left behind letters and lists, describing why wimmin deserved to die.

In  a column in the late 1990s, Michelle Landsberg wrote that "December 6 has become, for many women, not so much a day to grieve as a day to take stock, take action and take courage from the community of the like-minded." For me it is like that pervasive JFK moment shared by those who were old enough to be aware of what was happening on the day of that US President's
assassination.

It was the day that I can point to, and say "That is when I realized..." and other facile phrases. In fact, at the time, I did not realize anything, there was no break through of political savvy, no 'light bulb moment'. There was a numbness, and shock, and a feeling of vulnerability. Yet when I look
back, that was the event, the lynch pin on which my life turned and radically changed direction.

In 1989 I was working in Toronto, at the Canadian National offices of an international environmental organization. I was a spoiled and naive womn in her thirties, meeting social awareness for the first time.

My co-workers were not like the people I had grown up with; they did not write cheques to assuage their consciences about injustices in the world.

I was, for the first time, with people who felt that by their own work and talent and skill they could bring about  the changes they craved. They were "activists," and I was thrilled and fascinated by them.

For the first time I saw gay men and wimmin who were "out" at work and still held their jobs and the respect of the people around them.

For the first time I saw men who cared deeply about the rights of all people, who voiced their concerns about the sexism and its impact on their sisters, mothers, wives and daughters.

I began to hear people put into words some of the dissatisfactions I felt about life in Toronto, in Canada, in my world. I saw kindred spirits. I felt connected.

When the Montreal Massacre happened, I expected my co-workers to react as I reacted. I was sure that these new-age, renaissance thinkers would be on the same page as me, that for the umpteenth time in a few months, I would be validated and understood.

So it was a shock when the great sexist divide was thrown across the office. As we strong and self-determining wimmin on staff were suddenly confronted with a total lack of understanding, or willingness to understand, from our male comrades.

Dec 8th 1989
     I am horrified by the men at work who are insisting that because they don't beat up or shoot women they are not in any way involved in the problem. Fred is very threatened by everything that being "against violence" stands for. He has been talking to the wimmin one by one, telling us we have nothing to fear, that fear is an over-reaction. He cornered Debbie in the coffee room, crowded Veulah at the photo-copier, blocked my exit from the kitchen. He is wild-eyed, an edge of something frantic about him as he insists that we adjust our feelings to suit his reality.
     Daniel confided that his brother-in-law is an abusive creep, so he, Daniel, smashed his face and broke his nose. Evidently this was supposed to show me how much Daniel is against violence.
     Some of us have tried to use these examples to illustrate the "societal" problem that we want to talk about. We are over-reacting, Donald says, and we should stop, we  have had enough time.

As the years have rolled by, Donald has been proven wrong time and again. We were reacting appropriately, and we were being silenced. We continue to be silenced, the word "misogyny" can evoke rolling eye-whites in almost any room full of people. But it was December 6th when they first heard the word. Maybe that's the baby step of progress we can count. At least the word got famous.

And naturally the guy with the gun got famous too. His name became a household word. Articles were written about him, and television features were made about his life. He was studied from every angle, and declared to be a freak, a lone-gunman, a solitary crackpot. A few compassionate
activists pointed to his boyhood of adult cruelty and subjugation. They tried to help Canadians understand what the abuse of children can engender. They were silenced quite quickly.

I am left with a day to recall again the motives that led me to leave the city and embrace a life more closely connected to the earth. I can live a life of quiet example. I can show a small community what living in peace and respect looks like. I can tell young wimmin what I have learnt, and help
them to name what they see.

And I can ensure that the people around me hear the names of those wimmin who were murdered in Montreal that day. The lives that were ended must be recalled. They must be named.
 

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