Massacre disturbed my universe, redefined my path

On Dec. 6, 1989, I was 38 years old, a teacher, and a mother of two girls. I had been at work all day and was standing at my sink preparing dinner when I heard the news. It was a moment in time, the memory of which will never leave me and which ultimately altered the course of my life.

I remember I was washing vegetables when the reporter’s voice drowned out the sound of the running water: there had been a mass shooting at École Polytechnique in Montreal. I stopped to listen. Several engineering students had been shot by a lone gunman. First reports suggested that it had been a random attack by a young man angry that his application into the program had been denied.

As the hours and days went by and more horrific details were released, it became inconceivable. This was a targeted attack against women. The man entered the building brandishing a firearm. He moved through the hallways searching for victims, entered one classroom, separated the female and male students, shouted, “I hate all feminists” and murdered the women in cold blood. When it was all over, 14 female students were dead, and 14 more were injured including four young men who were caught in the crossfire. The killer died at his own hand.

At the time, the press and the authorities refused to call it what it was: an act of extreme misogyny, of terrorism. Reports suggested that this was an isolated case of an enraged man with mental health issues. They often did not even acknowledge that he specifically targeted women, nor that this was a manifestation of a toxic culture that encourages men to be dominant and aggressive, especially towards women.

Even so, the whole country reeled in shock, and eventually the Dec. 6 National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women was established. Every year since then, we remember the victims of the massacre and mourn the loss of their lives, choices and potential.

On that Dec. 6, when I was washing those vegetables, our older daughter had just turned 13 and our younger one was 10. Up until then, their lives and their futures had seemed as secure as they could be in the world.

But this changed everything. From then on, I worried for their wellbeing and safety. Our oldest was five years away from going to university. Could it happen to her? Could it happen to our littlest girl who was still playing street hockey with the boys in our neighbourhood? Could any of those boys grow up to demean, control, and even hate women enough to perpetrate violence against them? And more all-consuming for me — what could I do about it?

At the time, I didn’t realize that I was only thinking about the murders of young women who looked like me and my daughters. Although I identified as a feminist, I am ashamed to say that it had not entered my consciousness that Black, Indigenous, women of colour and/or trans women were being murdered across this country. My privilege had blinded me to the much greater risk that racialized women face, then and now.

Would there have been a National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women to mourn and take action on the lives of missing and murdered Indigenous women, or the one in three trans women who are murdered in Canada? I think not, so it is incumbent on us to remember all who have been hurt or killed because of their gender, and take action on Dec. 6 and every other day of the year.

In the 31 years since, I have learned a lot. I have tried to retain the awareness of my emotions from that awful day. I have wanted to be sad, to be outraged, to be afraid for all children, to never forget. My search for awareness and strategies for inclusion helped me to advance in my teaching career, and allowed me to take on a leadership role in women-serving organizations. With family, companions, partners and allies on the journey, I am blessed.

But there is still a lot of work to do. So let’s just find a way and get it done.

This quote from Andrea Dworkin, a feminist writer, resonates with me on this day of remembrance AND action, and energizes me to continue, as I hope it does for you too: “In her heart she is a mourner for those who have not survived. In her soul she is a warrior for those who are now as she was then. In her life she is both celebrant and proof of women’s capacity and will to survive, to become, to act, to change self and society. And each year she is stronger and there are more of her.”