During the 2023 provincial election, Manitoba’s Progressive Conservative (PC) government refused to support a search of the Prairie Green landfill, which local police suspected contained the remains of several missing Indigenous women. This week, investigators found remains of Marcedes Myran on the site, proving that the calls for an investigation from Indigenous activists and families of victims were not only justified, but that government inaction actively obstructed justice.
The PC’s opposition to conducting the search was not a logistical decision as much as it was a demonstration of whose lives the PC government deems worthy of recovery, and of whose suffering the state is willing to dismiss. The PC government’s justification—that “for health and safety reasons, the answer on the landfill dig has to be no”—makes their priorities clear. The well-being of the families forced to grieve without closure was not a factor in their chosen course of action, nor was the mental health toll of forcing Indigenous communities to fight for the dignity of their lost loved ones. If health and safety were a genuine priority of the PC government, as they have claimed, not only would the appropriate levels of support and involvement be granted to Myran’s case, but action would be taken toward protecting Indigenous women while they are still alive.
This case is not an isolated failure. It reflects a deeper pattern within Canada’s justice system; one in which Indigenous people’s knowledge and experiences are routinely dismissed.
The underreporting—and often misreporting—of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirited people (MMIWG2S+) cases creates a paradox of hypervisibility and invisibility. Indigenous women are hyper-visible in the sense that they are often stereotyped in media and law enforcement narratives as sex workers or deceptive figures, reinforcing racist and harmful perceptions. These stereotypes are also often turned on them as a reason for their disappearances or murders. Yet, when they go missing or are murdered, they become invisible, receiving little media attention compared to white women in similar situations. This discrepancy reveals a thinly veiled racism, where public empathy and urgency are reserved for certain victims while Indigenous women are objectified and denied the same humanity as white women.
Myran’s murderer’s documented history of white supremacist and misogynistic views points to the role of extremism in gendered violence against Indigenous women. His case is not just one of individual pathology, but is indicative of a broader climate in which Indigenous women are uniquely vulnerable—both to violence itself and to the state’s failure to provide protection or condemn its perpetrators. The ability to kill Indigenous women and evade consequences is not incidental; it is the result of a system that has long devalued their lives. Online hate—unchecked and ignored for years—serves as a breeding ground for this violence, yet law enforcement rarely intervenes until it is too late. Recognizing these murders as hate crimes is essential, not just for legal accountability but to acknowledge the ideology that fuels them.
Systemic reforms must address how the government classifies, investigates, and reports on MMIWG2S+ cases. The National Inquiry into MMIWG calls for alternatives to Canada’s current neocolonial justice systems and greater police accountability, but the police continue to rely on restrictive legal definitions that obscure the crisis. Data collection must be in line with the lived realities of those affected, not bureaucratic categories, and Indigenous leadership in policymaking is essential. Without it, decisions remain in the hands of individuals who are unaffected by the violence and are therefore able to dismiss its prevalence and severity.
The same systems that allow people to murder Indigenous women with impunity enable McGill to ignore the ongoing demands of the Kanien’kehá:ka Kahnistensera (Mohawk Mothers), who are seeking a comprehensive investigation into the site of McGill’s New Vic Project, where the Mothers believe there may be unmarked Indigenous graves. By refusing to properly investigate the New Vic site in accordance with the Mohawk Mothers’ wishes, the McGill administration has not only been complicit in colonial violence but has actively obstructed justice, prioritizing financial and reputational interests over truth and healing. The Mothers have spent decades fighting for the dignity of their kin, yet McGill continues to dismiss their demands, refusing to acknowledge that the land on which the construction is taking place may hold the remains of missing children.
McGill students must critically reflect on their own lack of awareness about violence against Indigenous communities. The university itself, with all its power and resources, has—and continues to—suppress Indigenous claims rather than confront its colonial legacy. If McGill or the PC government truly care about reconciliation, they must not only listen to Indigenous voices but also reckon with the violent history they enable and seek to bury.
