Matriarchal powerhouses lead the fight for the rights of MMIWG

Long before Hilda Anderson-Pyrz was a nationally renowned advocate for missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls, she was Dawn Anderson's big sister and even bigger cheerleader.

"My sister was a very kind-hearted individual. She had a very outgoing personality. She lived her life to the fullest," Anderson-Pyrz says.

In November 2011, Dawn  was discovered frozen outside her home in Leaf Rapids, Man.

Anderson-Pyrz had long been an advocate for the rights of Indigenous Peoples. At that moment, the fight became personal.

'Everything about her death is suspicious," Anderson-Pyrz says. "We had to advocate for the level of investigation that took place. It was very disappointing."

She had to fight for sister's dignity.

She had to fight for a proper investigation — despite Dawn's body having signs of violence on her, her death was not deemed suspicious.

She had to fight for public awareness — police were quick to issue a public plea for information about a suspicious garage fire close to where her sister's body was found, but no such campaign was launched for Dawn.

I became that advocate.- Lorie Thompson

It is because of Anderson-Pyrz and thousands of other Indigenous women that in 2016, the federal government launched the Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls.

The women advocated for it, they testified during it and today, in 2023, there are dozens of like-minded advocacy groups — matriarchal powerhouses made up of grandmothers, mothers, aunties and daughters — who continue to demand accountability. Anderson-Pyrz herself now does this in her role as chair of the National Family and Survivors Circle.

"We deserve to live a life free of violence and to watch our children grow," Anderson-Pyrz says simply.

Lorie Thompson concurs.

She was abducted as a child, in a failed effort to sexually traffic her. Her loved ones, too, have survived sexual violence.

Thompson turned her pain into power; she became a lawyer. And today, she advocates for justice in and out of the courtroom — particularly when it comes to sexual violence survivors.

"Although I'd been through so much trauma, my intuition wasn't completely killed inside of me and I could still feel when something was wrong," Thompson says. "And so I became that person in my family. I became that advocate."

It is not an easy job.

Few of the advocacy groups have large-scale funding from private or corporate donors. Most rely on community donations or government funding, in the form of either grants or fluctuating allotments from annual budgets.

I just know that I cannot stay silent.- Nikki Komaksiutiksak

Even those, critics say, can be problematic.

Sen. Michèle Audette, a former co-commissioner of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, says grants meant to empower the voices of these advocacy groups are too often inaccessible to those who need it most.

"I think about isolated communities — they won't apply," Audette says. "Because they don't know it exists, or they don't know how to use the [correct] federal wording [needed for successful applications]."

The job of an advocate is also a painful one. Often, advocates' passion is born out of their trauma, meaning they have to relive it every time they share their story.

"I just know that I cannot stay silent. People need to hear these stories," Nikki Komaksiutiksak says. 

Originally from Nunavut, Komaksiutiksak lost her young cousin Jessica Michaels to the violent streets of Winnipeg. Today she is executive director of Tunngasugit, a non-profit organization that helps Inuit adjust to life in Winnipeg, particularly women and girls.

"Women and girls, just being the gender that we are, we have to be on our toes every single day of our lives to ensure that we are safe, that we make sure our children are safe, our aunts, sisters, grandmothers, mothers," Komaksiutiksak says.

Thompson says the truth hurts, but it is the only way forward.

"This is a tough thing to do, to speak the truth like this," she says.

"So when you hear our stories, be kind to us. It takes a lot of courage to do this. Whether it's the justice system or any other system, practice that kindness."