he wanted women

what many do not realize or remember is that lepine wanted specifically to kill women when he showed up at ecole polytechnique 16 years ago today with an automatic rifle. his story is dark. and he hated feminists.

and so we commemorate december 6th again with buttons and posters and vigils... somehow i find these gestures to just never be enough. i AM curious about this new website project to remember murdered women. oh, and here is the statement i wrote for the congress. but what a heaviness of heart i carry. so we do what we can, little things here and there to change minds and fix things. but the truth about violence against women speaks for itself, and we know the situation is way worse because stats can only be derived from reported incidents. hundreds of aboriginal women from across canada are still missing and continue to vanish. the reality of it all is enough to suffocate the little songs and ceremonies right out of me.

so lepine wandered the hallways that day yelling "i want women." well, he got 14.

a colleague and i have organized a wee candle-lighting thing down in reception in a few minutes. at first i thought i would sing "this memory" by the wyrd sisters. but i'm too shy, so i'm going to read a poem instead. we'll light candles and those 14 names will be read, hauntingly (i pretty much know them by heart now), and we'll likely sing the standard: bread and roses. guess that's all we can do. anyways, here are the lyrics i won't be singing. if they move you, you should hear the actual track. jesus.

this memory -- the wyrd sisters

early that morning, cup of coffee in her hand,
kissed her mother on the cheek, said I'm more busy than I planned.
i'll be coming home a bit late - could you keep the supper warm?
oh, it's just another busy day.

early that morning, getting ready by the door,
kissed her lover on the cheek, said I'll be coming back for more.
oh how i love you, we've got so much to live for baby
and i'll be coming home real soon.

and it could have been me, just as easily,
could have been my sister left there to bleed,
oh it could've been my father or my brother done the deed.
oh no, don't let me lose this memory.

later on that evening, i turned on my tv,
listened as they're talking about the news of a
shooting spree.
fourteen young women shot dead in montreal...
oh, it's a killing of us all.

and it could have been me, just as easily,
could have been my mother left there to bleed,
oh it could have been my father or my brother done the deed.
oh no, don't let us lose this memory.