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Highway of Tears: A True Story of Racism, Indifference and the Pursuit of Justice for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls
A searing account of the missing, and murdered, Indigenous women of Highway 16, and an indictment of the society that failed them.
For decades, Indigenous women have gone missing, or been found murdered, along an isolated stretch of highway in northwestern British Columbia. The highway is known as the 'Highway of Tears', and it has come to symbolize a national crisis.
Journalist, Jessica McDiarmid, investigates the devastating effect these tragedies have had on the families of the victims and their communities, and how systemic racism and indifference have created a climate where Indigenous women are over-policed, yet under-protected. Through interviews with those closest to the victims--mothers and fathers, siblings and friends--McDiarmid offers an intimate, first-hand account of their loss and relentless fight for justice. Examining the historically fraught social and cultural tensions between settlers and Indigenous peoples in the region, McDiarmid links these cases to others across Canada--now estimated to number up to 4,000--contextualizing them within a broader examination of the undervaluing of Indigenous lives in this country.
Highway of Tears is a powerful story about our ongoing failure to provide justice for missing, and murdered, Indigenous women, and a testament to their families and communities' unwavering determination to find it.
For decades, Indigenous women have gone missing, or been found murdered, along an isolated stretch of highway in northwestern British Columbia. The highway is known as the 'Highway of Tears', and it has come to symbolize a national crisis.
Journalist, Jessica McDiarmid, investigates the devastating effect these tragedies have had on the families of the victims and their communities, and how systemic racism and indifference have created a climate where Indigenous women are over-policed, yet under-protected. Through interviews with those closest to the victims--mothers and fathers, siblings and friends--McDiarmid offers an intimate, first-hand account of their loss and relentless fight for justice. Examining the historically fraught social and cultural tensions between settlers and Indigenous peoples in the region, McDiarmid links these cases to others across Canada--now estimated to number up to 4,000--contextualizing them within a broader examination of the undervaluing of Indigenous lives in this country.
Highway of Tears is a powerful story about our ongoing failure to provide justice for missing, and murdered, Indigenous women, and a testament to their families and communities' unwavering determination to find it.
332 pages, Hardcover
First published September 24, 2019
About the author
Jessica McDiarmid
3 books49 followersJessica McDiarmid is a Canadian journalist who has worked across North America and Africa. Her first book, Highway of Tears, was a finalist for the RBC Taylor Prize and the Hubert Evans Prize and a national bestseller.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 650 reviews
November 29, 2023
3 "empathic, well-researched but much rewriting/reorganizing needed" stars !!
Runner Up-2019 READ WHERE i WISH I WAS EDITOR AWARD
Thank you to Netgalley, the author and Atria Books for a copy of this e-book in exchange for my review.
There are thousands of unsolved cases of missing and/or murdered aboriginal women and adolescent girls across Canada. This is a very dark stain on our country and needed to be addressed since Colonial times. I am aghast that our refugees are given a fair number of opportunities while our indigenous people have subpar healthcare, few addiction resources and a hypervigilance on taking the children away from caregivers. The poverty on some of the reservations is abysmal and there continues to be horrible victim blaming on these first nations.
This book focuses on a number of women that have gone missing or murdered in Northern British Columbia. The author compassionately and empathetically tells many of the stories through the eyes of families and loved ones. There are wonderful photographs of both the women and families and my heart broke over and over again on their pain, their struggle and their grief.
The author also in a balanced way examines the constraints and inadequacies of our RCMP, government agencies and social service organizations. There is some history and sociology thrown in to give a fuller picture of why Indigenous peoples continue to be impoverished, victimized and vilified.
This book could have and should have been five stars except that much of the writing was middling, the stats could have been presented in tables and the flow from facts to narrative could have been more artfully and compellingly done. This detracted from the immense importance of this topic.
The research and interviews are complete. The finished product is not.
May these womens' souls be blessed and rest at peace.
Runner Up-2019 READ WHERE i WISH I WAS EDITOR AWARD
Thank you to Netgalley, the author and Atria Books for a copy of this e-book in exchange for my review.
There are thousands of unsolved cases of missing and/or murdered aboriginal women and adolescent girls across Canada. This is a very dark stain on our country and needed to be addressed since Colonial times. I am aghast that our refugees are given a fair number of opportunities while our indigenous people have subpar healthcare, few addiction resources and a hypervigilance on taking the children away from caregivers. The poverty on some of the reservations is abysmal and there continues to be horrible victim blaming on these first nations.
This book focuses on a number of women that have gone missing or murdered in Northern British Columbia. The author compassionately and empathetically tells many of the stories through the eyes of families and loved ones. There are wonderful photographs of both the women and families and my heart broke over and over again on their pain, their struggle and their grief.
The author also in a balanced way examines the constraints and inadequacies of our RCMP, government agencies and social service organizations. There is some history and sociology thrown in to give a fuller picture of why Indigenous peoples continue to be impoverished, victimized and vilified.
This book could have and should have been five stars except that much of the writing was middling, the stats could have been presented in tables and the flow from facts to narrative could have been more artfully and compellingly done. This detracted from the immense importance of this topic.
The research and interviews are complete. The finished product is not.
May these womens' souls be blessed and rest at peace.
November 13, 2019
First and foremost, a large thank you to NetGalley, Jessica McDiarmid, and Atria Books for providing me with a copy of this publication, which allows me to provide you with an unbiased review.
There is a stretch of road in Northern British Columbia that connects the communities of Prince Rupert and Prince George. Formally known as Highway 16, the road has become known as the Highway of Tears, as scores of women—many indigenous— have gone missing or been murdered along it over the years. While well-known to locals, Jessica McDiarmid seeks to shed light on the issues here for the rest of the world, as Canada wrestles to address the thousands of missing and murdered indigenous women in the country, a group that has long been ignored. McDiarmid, a local of the town of Smithers, returned to her roots to explore the Highway of Tears and offer some of it victims the face they deserve. In telling the stories of these women’s pasts and the time leading up to their disappearances, McDermid seeks not to make them simple statistics, but victims with a voice who cannot speak up for themselves. With small Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) detachments, police efforts have not been what they should and cases are growing dust or going cold before any substantial leads can be developed. McDiarmid posits that there has been a difference in coverage and activity when the victim is caucasian, rather than indigenous, which might also tell the underlying narrative of what is (not) going on. While McDiarmid does not come out and say that there is a single killer on the loose, she offered examples about how there are surely connection crimes over the years, with culpability likely long-since passed. What can be done for the family and friends of these women whose lives were snuffed out too soon? The Federal Government created an inquiry, though even its commissioners have claimed that it is not being run in the traditional indigenous manner. McDiarmid has not answers and cannot assuage the pain families feel, but she has definitely shed light on this national embarrassment, as Canada tries to address all that has been going on. Highly recommended to those who enjoy true crime, as well as the reader interested in a unique piece within the larger non-fiction family.
While I had heard of the Highway of Tears, I was not aware of the extent of the deaths. This book shed some much-needed light onto the topic and helped to educate me about the issue, as well as some of the victims. The book seeks less to offer blame for those in authority than it does to show that there are so many broken cogs in the wheel. Racial discrimination surely plays a role in the police investigating, but resources are stretched so thin and the number of cases continues to grow. These were not an isolated few deaths, as the body continue to go missing and pile up, but little is being done to stop the ongoing safety concerns in the region, many of which McDiarmid addresses in the book. With photos to support the stories she tells, the book heightens its impact with the curious reader. A series of mid-length chapters address numerous issues with the overall investigation, as well as biographical pieces on the families, all of which pulls the tale closer together. Powerfully written and delivered, the reader will surely want to know a great deal more, tapping into McDiarmid’s vast list of cited sources. This is not a book to be missed by those who want to know more, either to educate themselves or advocate those in positions of authority to take action.
Kudos, Madam McDiarmid, for this wonderful piece. I will have to read a little more on the topic to get a handle.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
A Book for All Seasons, a different sort of Book Challenge: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...
There is a stretch of road in Northern British Columbia that connects the communities of Prince Rupert and Prince George. Formally known as Highway 16, the road has become known as the Highway of Tears, as scores of women—many indigenous— have gone missing or been murdered along it over the years. While well-known to locals, Jessica McDiarmid seeks to shed light on the issues here for the rest of the world, as Canada wrestles to address the thousands of missing and murdered indigenous women in the country, a group that has long been ignored. McDiarmid, a local of the town of Smithers, returned to her roots to explore the Highway of Tears and offer some of it victims the face they deserve. In telling the stories of these women’s pasts and the time leading up to their disappearances, McDermid seeks not to make them simple statistics, but victims with a voice who cannot speak up for themselves. With small Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) detachments, police efforts have not been what they should and cases are growing dust or going cold before any substantial leads can be developed. McDiarmid posits that there has been a difference in coverage and activity when the victim is caucasian, rather than indigenous, which might also tell the underlying narrative of what is (not) going on. While McDiarmid does not come out and say that there is a single killer on the loose, she offered examples about how there are surely connection crimes over the years, with culpability likely long-since passed. What can be done for the family and friends of these women whose lives were snuffed out too soon? The Federal Government created an inquiry, though even its commissioners have claimed that it is not being run in the traditional indigenous manner. McDiarmid has not answers and cannot assuage the pain families feel, but she has definitely shed light on this national embarrassment, as Canada tries to address all that has been going on. Highly recommended to those who enjoy true crime, as well as the reader interested in a unique piece within the larger non-fiction family.
While I had heard of the Highway of Tears, I was not aware of the extent of the deaths. This book shed some much-needed light onto the topic and helped to educate me about the issue, as well as some of the victims. The book seeks less to offer blame for those in authority than it does to show that there are so many broken cogs in the wheel. Racial discrimination surely plays a role in the police investigating, but resources are stretched so thin and the number of cases continues to grow. These were not an isolated few deaths, as the body continue to go missing and pile up, but little is being done to stop the ongoing safety concerns in the region, many of which McDiarmid addresses in the book. With photos to support the stories she tells, the book heightens its impact with the curious reader. A series of mid-length chapters address numerous issues with the overall investigation, as well as biographical pieces on the families, all of which pulls the tale closer together. Powerfully written and delivered, the reader will surely want to know a great deal more, tapping into McDiarmid’s vast list of cited sources. This is not a book to be missed by those who want to know more, either to educate themselves or advocate those in positions of authority to take action.
Kudos, Madam McDiarmid, for this wonderful piece. I will have to read a little more on the topic to get a handle.
Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/
A Book for All Seasons, a different sort of Book Challenge: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...
November 5, 2019
This true crime book is the first by journalist Jessica McDiarmid. She tackles the sad, yet powerful topic of the many missing and murdered young aboriginal females who have disappeared through the years along the road that is called The Highway of Tears in Canada. It gives some good background on the road and on the young women who have disappeared.. Some were eventually found dead, others never were found at all, leaving the families in agony, always to wonder about their loved one. The pain is only intensified when occasionally a young white female would go missing and the response would be so great to help the family search. It just exaggerated the size of the canyon of difference between what happened when an aboriginal family needed help after their child went missing, namely not much. No great outpouring of people and sympathy and funds for flyers and a reward. No helicopters or trained search dogs. Many mostly ignored for the first couple of days, turned away with excuses.
This is a really good read with true crime, racial bias and injustice, and more. You can see that the author has really done a deep dive on the subject Advance electronic review copy was provided by NetGalley, author Jessica McDiarmid, and the publisher.
First published on my BookZone blog viewable here:
https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
This is a really good read with true crime, racial bias and injustice, and more. You can see that the author has really done a deep dive on the subject Advance electronic review copy was provided by NetGalley, author Jessica McDiarmid, and the publisher.
First published on my BookZone blog viewable here:
https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
November 29, 2019
This book is sooo disorganized
September 10, 2020
The Highway of Tears is a 735 kilometer stretch of lonely road between the coastal town of Prince Rupert and Prince George, in British Columbia's sparsely populated northeast, where countless numbers of women and girls have been found murdered or have simply vanished. The overwhelming majority of these victims is Indigenous.
Investigative journalist Jessica McDiarmid lays out the evidence to implicate Canadian settler history and contemporary Canadian political, legal and cultural structures in the deaths and disappearances of Indigenous women. Interspersing the stories of several of these young women and their families with the many, failed attempts over the years to investigate the disappearances and deaths — some half-hearted to the point of not even mattering, to serious, concerted multi-jurisdictional efforts — McDiarmid humanizes the statistics and makes the crisis immediate and infuriating.
The systemic racism against Canada's First Nations should sound a familiar note to those who study and respond to systemic racism in the United States. What was new to me was understanding how the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) works - it's essentially a paramilitary force that contracts with local municipalities to serve a public safety role, and was created to control Indigenous populations. Understanding that the police force in the United States was created to support slave owners and control Black people enslaved by whites, and suddenly it all sinks sickeningly in and feels depressingly familiar. One woman notes in Highway of Tears "But it's Canada!" Considering that both nations were colonized by the same groups of people and the aboriginal populations were decimated in the same way — through smallpox and genocide — the fact of being Canadian or American matters naught. The legacy of colonization remains the same: Indigenous driven off their land, forced, literally, to assimilate or left to languish in poverty. The result is a human rights crisis.
Although Highway of Tears focuses on the murders and disappearances along one stretch of highway in British Columbia (and shows a bit of a parallel investigation in Vancouver that led to the arrest and conviction in the mid-2000s of a serial killer who preyed upon sex workers and addicts in a rough section of the city, many of whom were Indigenous), McDiarmid points out the crisis throughout Canada: thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women, staggeringly beyond their representative proportion of the population.
She details an attempt in 2006 to unite law enforcement and myriad community, cultural and human rights organizations to address the nationwide issue, and concrete, actionable steps were laid out after a well-attended and received symposium. But years later, little had been done and the disappearances and murders continued. some clearly the work of a serial killer, others crimes of opportunity.
Only through the perseverance of Indigenous families, local organizations and a few dedicated private and RCMP investigators have these cases remained alive, some bodies found, a few murders solved, and a nation made aware of the injustice all around them.
As an investigative journalist, McDiarmid achieves where so writers of true crime fail: she keeps our focus on the women and girls, their families and the legacy of their loss, not on a lurid fascination with their killers. She is relentless in her indictment of the Canadian government and media, holding them accountable as the perpetrators of crimes of humanity against First Nations' peoples across its vast and unknowable provinces. This is a heartbreaking but essential read.
Investigative journalist Jessica McDiarmid lays out the evidence to implicate Canadian settler history and contemporary Canadian political, legal and cultural structures in the deaths and disappearances of Indigenous women. Interspersing the stories of several of these young women and their families with the many, failed attempts over the years to investigate the disappearances and deaths — some half-hearted to the point of not even mattering, to serious, concerted multi-jurisdictional efforts — McDiarmid humanizes the statistics and makes the crisis immediate and infuriating.
The systemic racism against Canada's First Nations should sound a familiar note to those who study and respond to systemic racism in the United States. What was new to me was understanding how the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) works - it's essentially a paramilitary force that contracts with local municipalities to serve a public safety role, and was created to control Indigenous populations. Understanding that the police force in the United States was created to support slave owners and control Black people enslaved by whites, and suddenly it all sinks sickeningly in and feels depressingly familiar. One woman notes in Highway of Tears "But it's Canada!" Considering that both nations were colonized by the same groups of people and the aboriginal populations were decimated in the same way — through smallpox and genocide — the fact of being Canadian or American matters naught. The legacy of colonization remains the same: Indigenous driven off their land, forced, literally, to assimilate or left to languish in poverty. The result is a human rights crisis.
Although Highway of Tears focuses on the murders and disappearances along one stretch of highway in British Columbia (and shows a bit of a parallel investigation in Vancouver that led to the arrest and conviction in the mid-2000s of a serial killer who preyed upon sex workers and addicts in a rough section of the city, many of whom were Indigenous), McDiarmid points out the crisis throughout Canada: thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women, staggeringly beyond their representative proportion of the population.
She details an attempt in 2006 to unite law enforcement and myriad community, cultural and human rights organizations to address the nationwide issue, and concrete, actionable steps were laid out after a well-attended and received symposium. But years later, little had been done and the disappearances and murders continued. some clearly the work of a serial killer, others crimes of opportunity.
Only through the perseverance of Indigenous families, local organizations and a few dedicated private and RCMP investigators have these cases remained alive, some bodies found, a few murders solved, and a nation made aware of the injustice all around them.
As an investigative journalist, McDiarmid achieves where so writers of true crime fail: she keeps our focus on the women and girls, their families and the legacy of their loss, not on a lurid fascination with their killers. She is relentless in her indictment of the Canadian government and media, holding them accountable as the perpetrators of crimes of humanity against First Nations' peoples across its vast and unknowable provinces. This is a heartbreaking but essential read.
May 31, 2022
Znałem częściowo historię Autostrady Łez już wcześniej, ale ta książka pozwoliła mi na bliższe i bardziej kompleksowe spojrzenie, zwłaszcza z perspektywy bliskich i rodzin ofiar. Wyjątkowo bolesny rozdźwięk między sprawami zaginięć rdzennych mieszkanek i białych kobiet ze wskazaniem systemowych problemów, które nadal toczą Kanadę. Autorka wykonała ogromną i świetną robotę, sama zresztą angażowała się w niektóre inicjatywy i daje w swojej książce przestrzeń na opowiedzenie historii tragedii i wieloletnich zaniedbań ze strony aparatu państwa.
April 23, 2022
It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on sexual abuse, physical abuse, racially motivated crimes, & others.
McDiarmid has written a concise account of a number of cases of murdered & missing Indigenous women & girls from the location of Highway 16 which joins British Columbia to Albert, in Canada. The strip of highway is a popular route amongst commuting vehicles & has found itself renamed the Highway of Tears due to the high number of deaths & disappearances linked to the area.
Should you be a person who is already familiar with the events transpiring on Highway 16 or someone who is informed of the horrific treatment which befalls Indigenous Peoples in Canada, this book will not present any new information. I found myself already aware of much of what was presented: histories, events, cases, causes & legislations.
That being said, the information and the stories presented in this book remain important to be made aware of. If you have not studied or spent time researching this topic I would suggest choosing this book as your way of introducing yourself to the subject matter. This book compiled many intriguing realities & details which allowed for a smooth transition between chapters & people.
I would encourage everyone to host space on their shelves for this book.
McDiarmid has written a concise account of a number of cases of murdered & missing Indigenous women & girls from the location of Highway 16 which joins British Columbia to Albert, in Canada. The strip of highway is a popular route amongst commuting vehicles & has found itself renamed the Highway of Tears due to the high number of deaths & disappearances linked to the area.
Should you be a person who is already familiar with the events transpiring on Highway 16 or someone who is informed of the horrific treatment which befalls Indigenous Peoples in Canada, this book will not present any new information. I found myself already aware of much of what was presented: histories, events, cases, causes & legislations.
That being said, the information and the stories presented in this book remain important to be made aware of. If you have not studied or spent time researching this topic I would suggest choosing this book as your way of introducing yourself to the subject matter. This book compiled many intriguing realities & details which allowed for a smooth transition between chapters & people.
I would encourage everyone to host space on their shelves for this book.
September 23, 2019
Thanks to NetGalley for providing me with an eARC of this book!
I'm a huge true crime nut, but that said I am definitely aware that there are a number of problematic issues that come with the genre. One of those is that many of the stories that really take off due to media scrutiny involve victims who are white women, whereas victims who are POC tend to be lost in the shuffle. One of the most tragic and egregious examples of this is the Highway of Tears in Canada, where over the years dozens of Indigenous Women have gone missing and/or wound up murdered. It's a story that has so many components, players, victims, and systemic problems, that I've wanted to dig into it but haven't been able to find many centralized or consolidated sources of information. So when I found out about HIGHWAY OF TEARS by Jessica McDiarmid, I knew that I absolutely needed to read it.
For decades, Indigenous Women along Highway 16 in British Columbia, Canada have gone missing, and in many cases have turned up dead. Very little headway has been made in the investigations, and as more women disappear and die, very little changes. More attention has been brought to this horrific travesty in recent years, and HIGHWAY OF TEARS is a book that tries to bring together not only the stories of the victims, but also tries to show how social injustice for Indigenous populations in Canada has made these women more vulnerable, and more invisible.
This is a gut-wrenching read, but it's also incredibly necessary that attention be put on this horrible ongoing trend. What I appreciated most about this book is that McDiarmid does her very best to give a huge swath of the victims a lot of time on the page, letting us get to know them, the hardships that they faced in life, and the lives and people that were left behind after their disappearances and/or murders. Far too often have these women been lumped together as a group, which in turn dehumanizes them and makes them more of an idea than actual people, but McDiarmid is very careful to give them each a voice. I also really, really appreciated that McDiarmid doesn't shy away from the social injustices that First Nations face in Canada, and how a Canadian society, government, and criminal justice system DEEPLY entrenched in racism has created conditions that has made these populations incredibly vulnerable. She also shows a direct line from past colonial efforts (like those horrific Residential Schools) to the effects that are still present from passed down trauma and persecution. Powerful and incredibly upsetting stuff. And finally, she also compares and contrasts other women who disappeared during this time, but got far more attention and effort put towards the investigations because they were white.
HIGHWAY OF TEARS is a must read. It's well written, it's a story that needs to be told, and it shines a light on an ongoing and terrible injustice.
I'm a huge true crime nut, but that said I am definitely aware that there are a number of problematic issues that come with the genre. One of those is that many of the stories that really take off due to media scrutiny involve victims who are white women, whereas victims who are POC tend to be lost in the shuffle. One of the most tragic and egregious examples of this is the Highway of Tears in Canada, where over the years dozens of Indigenous Women have gone missing and/or wound up murdered. It's a story that has so many components, players, victims, and systemic problems, that I've wanted to dig into it but haven't been able to find many centralized or consolidated sources of information. So when I found out about HIGHWAY OF TEARS by Jessica McDiarmid, I knew that I absolutely needed to read it.
For decades, Indigenous Women along Highway 16 in British Columbia, Canada have gone missing, and in many cases have turned up dead. Very little headway has been made in the investigations, and as more women disappear and die, very little changes. More attention has been brought to this horrific travesty in recent years, and HIGHWAY OF TEARS is a book that tries to bring together not only the stories of the victims, but also tries to show how social injustice for Indigenous populations in Canada has made these women more vulnerable, and more invisible.
This is a gut-wrenching read, but it's also incredibly necessary that attention be put on this horrible ongoing trend. What I appreciated most about this book is that McDiarmid does her very best to give a huge swath of the victims a lot of time on the page, letting us get to know them, the hardships that they faced in life, and the lives and people that were left behind after their disappearances and/or murders. Far too often have these women been lumped together as a group, which in turn dehumanizes them and makes them more of an idea than actual people, but McDiarmid is very careful to give them each a voice. I also really, really appreciated that McDiarmid doesn't shy away from the social injustices that First Nations face in Canada, and how a Canadian society, government, and criminal justice system DEEPLY entrenched in racism has created conditions that has made these populations incredibly vulnerable. She also shows a direct line from past colonial efforts (like those horrific Residential Schools) to the effects that are still present from passed down trauma and persecution. Powerful and incredibly upsetting stuff. And finally, she also compares and contrasts other women who disappeared during this time, but got far more attention and effort put towards the investigations because they were white.
HIGHWAY OF TEARS is a must read. It's well written, it's a story that needs to be told, and it shines a light on an ongoing and terrible injustice.
June 9, 2022
- A potem Matilda rozpadła się na kawałki.
Minęło lato, kobieta nie miała wciąż pieniędzy na nagrodę za informacje o losie jej córki, Ramony Morgan. Chciała uzbierać 10 tysięcy kanadyjskich dolarów. Zimą stan konta będzie pokazywał 1500 dolarów.
Gdyby Ramona była córką białych, najlepiej uprzywilejowanych rodziców z dużego miasta czy jego okolic, potrzebna kwota nie byłaby problemem. Steve Carpenter spod Vancouver wyznaczył pięciokrotnie wyższą nagrodę za odnalezienie swojej córki, Melanie. Jej zaginięcie było głównym tematem kanadyjskich wiadomości, a w poszukiwaniach wzięły udział setki osób. Na pogrzeb, który odbył się na miejscowym stadionie, przyszło ponad 4 tysiące osób.
O Ramonie pisano rzadko i raczej w lokalnej prasie. Była córką rdzennych mieszkańców. Tacy zawsze mieli trudniej. Liceum, w czasach gdy dzieje się ta historia, czyli drugiej połowie lat 90. kończyło zaledwie 24 procent z nich. Trzy razy mniej niż wśród wszystkich uczniów.
Ramona miała jednak ambicje i chciała - jak pisze w “Autostradzie łez” Jessica McDiarmid - “dopiąć swego”. Jej najlepsza przyjaciółka, Kristal Grenkie mówiła: - Chciała wszystkim tak wiele udowodnić. Grała w baseball w drużynie, której sponsorem było Centrum Przyjaźni Rdzennych Mieszkańców, zmywała naczynia w sieciowej jadłodajni. Wagarowała jak wszyscy. Zniknęła podczas lokalnego, uczniowskiego święta. Zanim się zorientowano, minęło kilka dni. Policja się nie spieszyła. Ot, kolejna nastolatka, która uciekła z domu. 90 procent znajdowano w ciągu dwóch tygodni. Robienie ceregieli dla tych dziesięciu procent, które w większości była reprezentantami Pierwszych Narodów policji i prokuraturze się nie opłacało. Dlatego czekano.
Jessica McDiarmid jest uznaną kanadyjską dziennikarką pochodzącą z terenów północno-zachodniej Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, czyli zachodniej części Kanady, a “Autostrada Łez” to - jak wyjaśnia - “725-kilometrowy odcinek autostrady” numer 16, która przebiega przez tereny zamieszkiwane przez Pierwsze Narody. To tereny trudne do życia dla wszystkich, ale to właśnie rdzenni mieszkańcy są - jak pokazują raporty - częściej narażeni na przemoc niż “jakakolwiek inna część populacji”. Ryzyko zabójstwa dla rdzennych dziewcząt i kobiet jest sześciokrotnie wyższe. ‘De facto’ każde ich wyjście z domu jest narażone na ryzyko.
Gdy Matilda rozpadła się na kawałki, zaczęła pić. Nie ona jedna, matki i ojcowie zaginionych dziewcząt zmagają się z alkoholizmem, ale też działają, organizują protesty, co roku maszerują Autostradą Łez, choć trasa ich protestu z roku na rok się skraca. Są starsi, a młodzi mają swoje sprawy na głowie - nikomu nie jest łatwo w północno-zachodniej Kolumbii Brytyjskiej. Ale niektórym jest trudniej. “Autostrada…” to obszerny, drobiazgowy opis przypadków zaginięć, morderstw i wielka opowieść o kanadyjskim (choć przecież wiemy, że nie tylko) rasizmie. Wrażenie robi ogrom pracy włożony przez McDiarmid w swoją książkę - kilka lat pracy, setki rozmów, przejechanych kilometrów i w efekcie poruszająca, choć może trochę już oczywista historia. Bo - pewnych szczegółów - w “Autostradzie…” niewiele zaskakuje. A historie, które najbardziej lubię czytać, także w reportażu, to te których nie mogę sobie wyobrazić. Ale dla tych, którzy czytali np. książkę Joanny Gierak-Onoszko, będzie to z pewnością istotna lektura uzupełniająca.
Byłaby to pewnie trochę lepsza książka pod względem literackim, gdyby nie fakt, że wyrządzono jej krzywdę bardzo słabą redakcją dość przeciętnego przekładu autorstwa Anny Rosiak. Nieprawdopodobnie dużo powtórzeń sprawia wrażenie, jakby nikt tego nie przeczytał choćby w korekcie, a wiele akapitów jest dość drętwych i ewidentnie autorce przekładu brakuje znajomości synonimów. W jednym zdaniu nie można informować, że “na obrzeżach miasta, w miejscu (...) miejscowi urzędnicy”. Jedna z bohaterek w tym samym zdaniu “kochała zwierzęta” i “opiekowała się zwierzętami”, a sytuacji, gdy w dwóch sąsiadujących ze sobą zdaniach znajdziecie te same słowa, jest tu bez liku. Możliwe, że oryginał również nie jest pod tym względem poprawny, ale trzeba przekładanym autorom jednak pomagać.
Jeśli uda się wam (a wiem, że są tu osoby, którym ta sztuka nie wyjdzie) przywyknąć do języka tej książki, znajdziecie w niej fascynującą opowieść o skutkach kolonializmu, który najbardziej uderzył w kobiety i dziewczęta. Przygnębiająca, ale cóż - taki świat sobie zbudowaliśmy.
Minęło lato, kobieta nie miała wciąż pieniędzy na nagrodę za informacje o losie jej córki, Ramony Morgan. Chciała uzbierać 10 tysięcy kanadyjskich dolarów. Zimą stan konta będzie pokazywał 1500 dolarów.
Gdyby Ramona była córką białych, najlepiej uprzywilejowanych rodziców z dużego miasta czy jego okolic, potrzebna kwota nie byłaby problemem. Steve Carpenter spod Vancouver wyznaczył pięciokrotnie wyższą nagrodę za odnalezienie swojej córki, Melanie. Jej zaginięcie było głównym tematem kanadyjskich wiadomości, a w poszukiwaniach wzięły udział setki osób. Na pogrzeb, który odbył się na miejscowym stadionie, przyszło ponad 4 tysiące osób.
O Ramonie pisano rzadko i raczej w lokalnej prasie. Była córką rdzennych mieszkańców. Tacy zawsze mieli trudniej. Liceum, w czasach gdy dzieje się ta historia, czyli drugiej połowie lat 90. kończyło zaledwie 24 procent z nich. Trzy razy mniej niż wśród wszystkich uczniów.
Ramona miała jednak ambicje i chciała - jak pisze w “Autostradzie łez” Jessica McDiarmid - “dopiąć swego”. Jej najlepsza przyjaciółka, Kristal Grenkie mówiła: - Chciała wszystkim tak wiele udowodnić. Grała w baseball w drużynie, której sponsorem było Centrum Przyjaźni Rdzennych Mieszkańców, zmywała naczynia w sieciowej jadłodajni. Wagarowała jak wszyscy. Zniknęła podczas lokalnego, uczniowskiego święta. Zanim się zorientowano, minęło kilka dni. Policja się nie spieszyła. Ot, kolejna nastolatka, która uciekła z domu. 90 procent znajdowano w ciągu dwóch tygodni. Robienie ceregieli dla tych dziesięciu procent, które w większości była reprezentantami Pierwszych Narodów policji i prokuraturze się nie opłacało. Dlatego czekano.
Jessica McDiarmid jest uznaną kanadyjską dziennikarką pochodzącą z terenów północno-zachodniej Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, czyli zachodniej części Kanady, a “Autostrada Łez” to - jak wyjaśnia - “725-kilometrowy odcinek autostrady” numer 16, która przebiega przez tereny zamieszkiwane przez Pierwsze Narody. To tereny trudne do życia dla wszystkich, ale to właśnie rdzenni mieszkańcy są - jak pokazują raporty - częściej narażeni na przemoc niż “jakakolwiek inna część populacji”. Ryzyko zabójstwa dla rdzennych dziewcząt i kobiet jest sześciokrotnie wyższe. ‘De facto’ każde ich wyjście z domu jest narażone na ryzyko.
Gdy Matilda rozpadła się na kawałki, zaczęła pić. Nie ona jedna, matki i ojcowie zaginionych dziewcząt zmagają się z alkoholizmem, ale też działają, organizują protesty, co roku maszerują Autostradą Łez, choć trasa ich protestu z roku na rok się skraca. Są starsi, a młodzi mają swoje sprawy na głowie - nikomu nie jest łatwo w północno-zachodniej Kolumbii Brytyjskiej. Ale niektórym jest trudniej. “Autostrada…” to obszerny, drobiazgowy opis przypadków zaginięć, morderstw i wielka opowieść o kanadyjskim (choć przecież wiemy, że nie tylko) rasizmie. Wrażenie robi ogrom pracy włożony przez McDiarmid w swoją książkę - kilka lat pracy, setki rozmów, przejechanych kilometrów i w efekcie poruszająca, choć może trochę już oczywista historia. Bo - pewnych szczegółów - w “Autostradzie…” niewiele zaskakuje. A historie, które najbardziej lubię czytać, także w reportażu, to te których nie mogę sobie wyobrazić. Ale dla tych, którzy czytali np. książkę Joanny Gierak-Onoszko, będzie to z pewnością istotna lektura uzupełniająca.
Byłaby to pewnie trochę lepsza książka pod względem literackim, gdyby nie fakt, że wyrządzono jej krzywdę bardzo słabą redakcją dość przeciętnego przekładu autorstwa Anny Rosiak. Nieprawdopodobnie dużo powtórzeń sprawia wrażenie, jakby nikt tego nie przeczytał choćby w korekcie, a wiele akapitów jest dość drętwych i ewidentnie autorce przekładu brakuje znajomości synonimów. W jednym zdaniu nie można informować, że “na obrzeżach miasta, w miejscu (...) miejscowi urzędnicy”. Jedna z bohaterek w tym samym zdaniu “kochała zwierzęta” i “opiekowała się zwierzętami”, a sytuacji, gdy w dwóch sąsiadujących ze sobą zdaniach znajdziecie te same słowa, jest tu bez liku. Możliwe, że oryginał również nie jest pod tym względem poprawny, ale trzeba przekładanym autorom jednak pomagać.
Jeśli uda się wam (a wiem, że są tu osoby, którym ta sztuka nie wyjdzie) przywyknąć do języka tej książki, znajdziecie w niej fascynującą opowieść o skutkach kolonializmu, który najbardziej uderzył w kobiety i dziewczęta. Przygnębiająca, ale cóż - taki świat sobie zbudowaliśmy.
October 27, 2019
Disclaimer: ARC via Netgalley
I don’t know when I first heard about The Highway of Tears (Highway 16 in BC, from Prince George to Prince Rupert). Most likely when I was reading about women dying on the border between the US and Mexico (there are parallels). I also know that it is more of sign than an abnormality both in the US and Canada. While I have read a few books on the subject, Jessica McDiarmid’s book is one of the best.
McDiarmid covers not only some of the cases that make up the Highway of Tears, what is more important, she spends time placing the murders in context and showing the families as more than just victims, and how such families are really not disposable no matter what society thinks. McDiarmid also presents the viewpoint of police as well as the reasons for the far less than cordial relationships between the Indigenous Community and police. She also details the various community efforts to get answers.
But if you are picking up this book, you know that the story isn’t a happy one.
It is to McDiarmid’s credit that she not only presents the victims as real people whose absence greatly affects those around. The taking one life impacts a community and that is detailed. More importantly, the history of the area in general and in terms of Indigenous populations as well as their treatment at the hands of the government. She also refers to other cases, such as the Pickton murders and the Gilbert Paul Jordan murders. The Highway of Tears isn’t quite as unique as you may hope it to be. The report that came out at the end of the summer was not referred to in this digital ARC, not surprising given the time frame.
In part, the book does also challenge us to do better – not only terms of Canada and the Indigenous Women there but also those in the United States because there really isn’t that much difference unless it is that Canada situation is drawing more national and international attention.
McDiarmid’s writing is engrossing and she carries the reader well. She lets the emotions of the people speak for themselves instead of trying gilding them with flowery phrases. It is the language that makes the details of the book far more chilling.
I don’t know when I first heard about The Highway of Tears (Highway 16 in BC, from Prince George to Prince Rupert). Most likely when I was reading about women dying on the border between the US and Mexico (there are parallels). I also know that it is more of sign than an abnormality both in the US and Canada. While I have read a few books on the subject, Jessica McDiarmid’s book is one of the best.
McDiarmid covers not only some of the cases that make up the Highway of Tears, what is more important, she spends time placing the murders in context and showing the families as more than just victims, and how such families are really not disposable no matter what society thinks. McDiarmid also presents the viewpoint of police as well as the reasons for the far less than cordial relationships between the Indigenous Community and police. She also details the various community efforts to get answers.
But if you are picking up this book, you know that the story isn’t a happy one.
It is to McDiarmid’s credit that she not only presents the victims as real people whose absence greatly affects those around. The taking one life impacts a community and that is detailed. More importantly, the history of the area in general and in terms of Indigenous populations as well as their treatment at the hands of the government. She also refers to other cases, such as the Pickton murders and the Gilbert Paul Jordan murders. The Highway of Tears isn’t quite as unique as you may hope it to be. The report that came out at the end of the summer was not referred to in this digital ARC, not surprising given the time frame.
In part, the book does also challenge us to do better – not only terms of Canada and the Indigenous Women there but also those in the United States because there really isn’t that much difference unless it is that Canada situation is drawing more national and international attention.
McDiarmid’s writing is engrossing and she carries the reader well. She lets the emotions of the people speak for themselves instead of trying gilding them with flowery phrases. It is the language that makes the details of the book far more chilling.
March 13, 2023
I don’t even know where to start with this book. It’s heartbreaking and disgusting to think that the country I live in could be so racist as to let so many women disappear without even a blink of the eye. After reading this book, I vow to do better and fight racial injustice in my country in every way that I can. It is incredibly well written and very easy to understand despite the complicated and very heavy subject matter. I think this is an absolutely NECESSARY read for every single Canadian, it should be mandatory reading in schools. If you think Canada is not a racist country and if you think that with what’s happening in the States right now that we are above them because we are not a racist country, think again and look into it. Racism is very present in Canada and always has been.
June 15, 2021
This is a heartbreaking, difficult-to-read account of just some of the more than a thousand Indigenous women and girls who've gone missing or who have been found murdered along the so-called "Highway of Tears" in western Canada. Jessica McDiarmid does a good job of showing how the continual failure by the RCMP and the Canadian government to take these losses seriously is just one manifestation of a deeply ingrained racism against First Nations People in Canada. (For another, see all the horrific stories currently in the news about the excavation of literally hundreds of graves of Indigenous children in residential schools) Sometimes the transitions between the different parts of the narrative—from accounts of individual cases to contextualising the history of residential schools to interviewing former RCMP officers—are a little choppy. Still a very worthwhile if harrowing read.
June 9, 2022
Kanada, Kolumbia Brytyjska. Niespełna dwieście lat temu przybyli tu Europejczycy zwani „odkrywcami” choć powinni być nazywani najeźdźcami. Sukcesywnie wysiedlali Rdzennych, by osiedlić się na ich terenach, na których ci mieszkali od około 6 tysięcy lat!
W latach 50-tych XX wieku powstaje droga, a potem autostrada nr 16 biegnąca przez Góry Skaliste i łącząca północno-zachodnią Kolumbię Brytyjską z resztą kraju. Bliżej końca wieku droga została nazwana Autostradą Łez. To na niej czy w jej pobliżu giną bez wieści Rdzenne kobiety i dzieci.
W Kanadzie ryzyko zabójstwa jest sześć razy wyższe w przypadku kobiet z Pierwszych Narodów niz w przypadku kobiet innego pochodzenia!! Poznajcie:
Ramonę Wilson ambitną nastolatkę, której najważniejszym celem było dostanie się na studia i zostanie psycholożką. W 1994 wyszła z domu na spotkanie z przyjaciółka i nigdy nie wróciła.
Delphine Nikal, która w 1990 wracała do domu po spotkaniu z przyjaciółkami. Miała 15 lat, nigdy nie wróciła domu.
Roxanne Thiara marzyła by zostać projektantką mody. W 1994 zaginęła jako 15-latka i nigdy nie wróciła do domu.
…
Jedne zostały odnalezione martwe, po innych słuch zaginął, a kanadyjska policja niespecjalnie przykładała się do rozwiązania ich spraw. Zresztą niejednokrotnie przemocy czy wykorzystywania seksualnego Rdzenne kobiety doświadczały właśnie ze strony organów ścigania. Rodziny zaginionych i członkowie społeczności brali więc sprawy w swoje ręce, organizowali własne poszukiwania i marsze wzdłuż Autostrady Łez nagłaśniające lekceważenie dochodzeń w sprawie zaginięć.
Temat niezwykle istotny, o którym należy wiedzieć i mówić. Historie każdej z zaginionych poruszające i rozdzierające serce. I początkowo czytałam z zapartym tchem i zaciśniętymi zębami, ale im dalej tym bardziej gubiłam się w chaosie narracji autorki. Gubiłam się w czasoprzestrzeni, w opowiadanych historiach, przeskakiwaniu z tematu na temat. I najbardziej odczuwałam to w drugiej połowie, a samą końcówkę przyznaję, że męczyłam.. Niemniej polecam ze względu na temat, ale wykonanie niestety nie do końca przypadło mi do gustu
W latach 50-tych XX wieku powstaje droga, a potem autostrada nr 16 biegnąca przez Góry Skaliste i łącząca północno-zachodnią Kolumbię Brytyjską z resztą kraju. Bliżej końca wieku droga została nazwana Autostradą Łez. To na niej czy w jej pobliżu giną bez wieści Rdzenne kobiety i dzieci.
W Kanadzie ryzyko zabójstwa jest sześć razy wyższe w przypadku kobiet z Pierwszych Narodów niz w przypadku kobiet innego pochodzenia!! Poznajcie:
Ramonę Wilson ambitną nastolatkę, której najważniejszym celem było dostanie się na studia i zostanie psycholożką. W 1994 wyszła z domu na spotkanie z przyjaciółka i nigdy nie wróciła.
Delphine Nikal, która w 1990 wracała do domu po spotkaniu z przyjaciółkami. Miała 15 lat, nigdy nie wróciła domu.
Roxanne Thiara marzyła by zostać projektantką mody. W 1994 zaginęła jako 15-latka i nigdy nie wróciła do domu.
…
Jedne zostały odnalezione martwe, po innych słuch zaginął, a kanadyjska policja niespecjalnie przykładała się do rozwiązania ich spraw. Zresztą niejednokrotnie przemocy czy wykorzystywania seksualnego Rdzenne kobiety doświadczały właśnie ze strony organów ścigania. Rodziny zaginionych i członkowie społeczności brali więc sprawy w swoje ręce, organizowali własne poszukiwania i marsze wzdłuż Autostrady Łez nagłaśniające lekceważenie dochodzeń w sprawie zaginięć.
Temat niezwykle istotny, o którym należy wiedzieć i mówić. Historie każdej z zaginionych poruszające i rozdzierające serce. I początkowo czytałam z zapartym tchem i zaciśniętymi zębami, ale im dalej tym bardziej gubiłam się w chaosie narracji autorki. Gubiłam się w czasoprzestrzeni, w opowiadanych historiach, przeskakiwaniu z tematu na temat. I najbardziej odczuwałam to w drugiej połowie, a samą końcówkę przyznaję, że męczyłam.. Niemniej polecam ze względu na temat, ale wykonanie niestety nie do końca przypadło mi do gustu
February 24, 2020
Highway of Tears was published last fall, and it was about time. This book is about the Indigenous women and girls who went missing, and murdered, along Highway 16 in Canada. Many of these cases remain unsolved.
It is hard to believe that there haven't been a dozen books published on this. But it's also not... The author, though not Indigenous herself, details the circumstances that put Native women at higher risk for tragedy, and that often led to unsuccessful investigations into what happened to them. CW for colonialism, racism, poverty, child abuse, sexual assault, alcoholism, drug addiction, residential schools, domestic violence, and children being taken away from their parents.
This isn't a whodunit or a true crime thriller, rather, it's investigative journalism. It's my hope that this and podcasts such as Missing and Murdered are only the beginning. Many of these women are still missing -- and more women continue to go missing. It should not be the Native families' responsibility to convince us to care.
(This wasn't a perfect book, nor should it be considered the authority on this issue. Five stars for what it does, with the understanding that further investigation and coverage absolutely is needed.)
It is hard to believe that there haven't been a dozen books published on this. But it's also not... The author, though not Indigenous herself, details the circumstances that put Native women at higher risk for tragedy, and that often led to unsuccessful investigations into what happened to them. CW for colonialism, racism, poverty, child abuse, sexual assault, alcoholism, drug addiction, residential schools, domestic violence, and children being taken away from their parents.
This isn't a whodunit or a true crime thriller, rather, it's investigative journalism. It's my hope that this and podcasts such as Missing and Murdered are only the beginning. Many of these women are still missing -- and more women continue to go missing. It should not be the Native families' responsibility to convince us to care.
(This wasn't a perfect book, nor should it be considered the authority on this issue. Five stars for what it does, with the understanding that further investigation and coverage absolutely is needed.)
September 30, 2021
This nonfiction book, written by journalist Jessica McDiarmid, tells a chilling story of our society's failure to provide justice and closure to families of missing and murdered Indigenous girls and women. For decades, Indigenous women and girls have disappeared or have been found murdered along Highway 16 in Northern British Columbia. Now this infamous highway is known as the Highway of Tears and many of the murder and disappearance cases have never been solved.
This book is more than just a true crime story: it goes much deeper and shows the devastating effect these cases had on the lives of everyone affected by these tragedies. The book demonstrates how systemic racism and societal indifference towards these women and girls allowed several predators to continue using this remote highway as their hunting grounds.
It's a heartbreaking story, but it is a must read to anyone interested in true crime nonfiction.
This book is more than just a true crime story: it goes much deeper and shows the devastating effect these cases had on the lives of everyone affected by these tragedies. The book demonstrates how systemic racism and societal indifference towards these women and girls allowed several predators to continue using this remote highway as their hunting grounds.
It's a heartbreaking story, but it is a must read to anyone interested in true crime nonfiction.
February 26, 2023
4|5 🧡 2023 TBR
June 10, 2022
Nikt tak naprawdę nie wie, kiedy to się zaczęło; kiedy TO stało się TYM. Kiedy można było powiedzieć, że to już; że już mogę przestać czuć się bezpiecznie, że już muszę uważać na siebie; że muszę iść, przemierzać kilometry, ale ciągle oglądać się do tyłu; że muszę patrzeć uważnie - lustrować, zastanawiać się, szukać choćby najdrobniejszego niepokojącego znaku we wszystkich napotkanych twarzach. Myśleć czy oczy, w które spoglądam będą jednocześnie tymi, które zobaczę na kilka chwil przed własną śmiercią.
****
Autostrada Łez dla kogoś, kto nie zna jej tragicznej przeszłości, być może Autostradą Łez wcale nie będzie, a przynajmniej - nie w dosłownym sensie znaczenia tych słów. Betonowe pasmo przecina naturalistyczny krajobraz Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, dzieląc go na dwie bliźniacze części. Podczas podróży samochodem ma się więc wrażenie, jakby czas stanął w miejscu; jakby jakaś siła wyższa wytyczyła tu jedyny słuszny szlak, który owszem, pozwoli przemierzyć się człowiekowi, ale jednocześnie odgrodzi go od zbytniej ingerencji w zwarty ekosystem dzikiej przyrody. Pobocza autostrady numer 16, ciągnące się przez ponad siedemset kilometrów, porasta bujna roślinność; połacie liściastego terenu rozlewają się po obu stronach drogi, uniżając się jednocześnie pod czubkami strzelistych drzew i koronami ogromniastych szczytów majaczących na tle nieba.
To opustoszały, wręcz pierwotny pejzaż, jednak mimo wszystko w pewien sposób nawiedzany; czynnik ludzki, który pojawił się w tym zakątku świata, przejawia się nie tyle w pędzących mechanizmach, co po prostu w sylwetkach autostopowiczów rozsianych wzdłuż ekspresówki; w stojących samotnie osobach, prawie że nieruchomych, prosząco przywołujących pierwszą lepszą okazję.
Gdy jedno z wielu zniknięć wreszcie nabrało rozgłosu, zaczęto zastanawiać się i przypominać sobie, zagadkowe zaginięcia pozostałych dziewcząt. Co prawda nikt nie potrafił dokładnie określić, która z nich zapoczątkowała to pasmo niewyjaśnionych wypadków, i czy faktycznie powód do niepokoju był uzasadniony, bo jak też słyszano – kobiety przepadały bez wieści, gdy tego chciały; gdy zamierzały zacząć nowe życie, w zupełnie nowym miejscu.
Ale matka tej nastolatki, tej małej Wilson, była przekonana, że jej córce musiało przytrafić się coś złego. Ucieczka w ogóle nie wchodziła w grę. Ramona miała swoje plany - ambitne i skonkretyzowane - jednak jasno uporządkowane; przypuszczenie, że miałaby je porzucić na rzecz wycieczki w nieznane, zakrawał o absurd. Znajdowała się na przełomowym etapie swojego życia. Była młodą, zdolną, pełną życia dziewczyną. Zmieniała właśnie pracę na lepiej płatną, bardziej perspektywiczną, bo w przyszłości chciała iść na studia, jako pierwsza z rodziny. Marzyła o zostaniu psycholożką, jej wrodzona empatia i ciepło kierunkowały ją w stronę pomocy ludziom.
Dlaczego miałaby więc tak nagle, gdy wszystko szło po jej myśli, zniknąć? Nie mówiąc nikomu o tym, co zamierza?
Te pytania kotłowały się po głowie zrozpaczonej Matildy, kiedy ta usiłowała nie dać zbyć się funkcjonariuszom, bagatelizującym zniknięcie jej dziecka. Matilda przy próbie zgłoszenia zawiadomienia usłyszała to, czego słyszeć nie chciała - frazesy, ogólniki i krzywdzące komentarze często niestety, odnoszące się bezpośrednio wobec przynależności etnicznej Wilsonów, z góry zakładające oczywiste powiązanie rodziny ze środowiskiem patologicznym. A skoro patologicznym, to wiadomo – rozwiązanie sprawy musiało być banalnie proste; córka była na weekendowej imprezie, zabalowała nieco, przesadziła z alkoholem, wróci za kilka dni.
Niestety, Ramona w domu nie pojawiła się już nigdy. Jej rodzina została porzucona i skazana sama na siebie, po pomoc musiała zwracać się do lokalnej społeczności i ciężko pracować nad tym, aby o zaginięciu szesnastolatki nie zapomniano. Ich wysiłki przynosiły jedynie połowiczne skutki.
Przypadek Ramony Wilson nie był odosobniony. Co roku ginęły młode dziewczęta (głównie rdzenne mieszkanki, przedstawicielki Pierwszych Narodów), RCMP zazwyczaj umywała ręce, a ich bliscy, pozostawieni na łasce dobroci lokalnych społeczności, musieli jakoś radzić sobie z tą trudną sytuacją.
Szacuje się, że na przestrzeni ostatnich lat XX wieku z miast rozsianych wzdłuż autostrady numer 16 (przede wszystkim Prince Rupert, Prince George, Hazelton, Smithers, Telkwa, Edmonton) zostało porwanych/zamordowanych kilkadziesiąt kobiet. Znaczna część z nich, ze względu na pochodzenie została brutalnie zmarginalizowana; od początku bowiem zakładano błędne scenariusze oscylujące wokół stereotypów i krzywdzących założeń, zbywano większość istotnych doniesień oraz sensownych przypuszczeń, a wysiłki ze stron rodzin próbujących dociec przyczyn zbrodni, po prostu ignorowano. Co najgorsze jednak, to ofiary obarczano winą, przyczyn upatrując w ich zachowaniu. Jeśli miały one za sobą pobyt w placówkach społecznych czy rodzinach zastępczych, jeśli uczestniczyły w konfliktach z policją, jeśli dręczyły je uzależnienia, prostytucja, ubóstwo, bądź jakikolwiek inny poważny problem, z miejsca klasyfikowano je jako oczywiste przypadki niewarte poważnych starań.
W swoim reportażu Jessica McDiarmid analizuje przyczyny takich postępowań. I nie jest to łatwe zadanie, zwłaszcza z moralnego punktu widzenia, gdy trudno tak naprawdę zrozumieć powody owych, jednak McDiarmid radzi sobie na tym polu świetnie. Do tematu, pomimo ciężkiego ładunku emocjonalnego, podchodzi w sposób wyważony i rzeczowy; jej wydawałoby się pozornie chłodne, niekiedy nawet suche zestawienia statystyk i przedstawienia faktów, są w istocie doskonałym bodźcem do własnych przemyśleń i refleksji. McDiarmid ma niesamowitą zdolność łączenia paru elementów w wspaniale skondensowaną całość. Z jednej strony rozbiera na czynniki pierwsze wydarzenia rozgrywające się na przestrzeni kilku lat w Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, z drugiej zaś dopatruje się w nich czegoś więcej; osadza na ich tle ludzi z krwi i kości, prawdziwych poszkodowanych historii, wadliwego sytemu; społeczeństwa nie funkcjonującego tak, jak powinien to czynić zdrowy układ.
Nie brak więc tutaj mnóstwa odniesień do tematów muszących być pośrednio lub bezpośrednio powiązanymi z zaginięciami na Autostradzie Łez. Autorka na przykładzie świadectw i osobistych przeżyć swoich bohaterów, opowiada o wszystkich bolączkach nękających przedstawicieli mniejszości aborygeńskiej; jest tu sporo o nierówności społecznej, rasizmie, nadużyciach zarówno ze strony władz, jak i obywateli; o przemocy wobec dzieci, o wykorzystywaniu seksualnym, prostytucji nieletnich; o uzależnianiach, braku perspektyw i realnej pomocy, ubóstwie; o uciskaniu, ignorancji, nękaniu. Wreszcie – o ofiarach zbrodni, którym nigdy nie oddano należytego szacunku.
Bije z książki Jessici McDiarmid nie tyle brutalność, co przytłaczający smutek; ogrom bezsilności, poczucie niesprawiedliwości, skrzywdzenia, odrzucenia. Nie sposób przejść obojętnie wobec ciężaru tragedii dotykającej setki rodzin, a mimo to… Ktoś jednak się na to zdobył, ktoś przeszedł, ktoś zlekceważył walkę o podstawowe prawa; walkę o prawdę, o godność, o pamięć, o potrzebę bycia zrozumianym. Zauważonym. Ktoś zignorował głos człowieka, dotkniętego nagłą stratą, jego potrzebę do powiedzenia głośno o tym, jak niewymiernego bólu doświadczył.
****
Autostrada Łez dla kogoś, kto nie zna jej tragicznej przeszłości, być może Autostradą Łez wcale nie będzie, a przynajmniej - nie w dosłownym sensie znaczenia tych słów. Betonowe pasmo przecina naturalistyczny krajobraz Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, dzieląc go na dwie bliźniacze części. Podczas podróży samochodem ma się więc wrażenie, jakby czas stanął w miejscu; jakby jakaś siła wyższa wytyczyła tu jedyny słuszny szlak, który owszem, pozwoli przemierzyć się człowiekowi, ale jednocześnie odgrodzi go od zbytniej ingerencji w zwarty ekosystem dzikiej przyrody. Pobocza autostrady numer 16, ciągnące się przez ponad siedemset kilometrów, porasta bujna roślinność; połacie liściastego terenu rozlewają się po obu stronach drogi, uniżając się jednocześnie pod czubkami strzelistych drzew i koronami ogromniastych szczytów majaczących na tle nieba.
To opustoszały, wręcz pierwotny pejzaż, jednak mimo wszystko w pewien sposób nawiedzany; czynnik ludzki, który pojawił się w tym zakątku świata, przejawia się nie tyle w pędzących mechanizmach, co po prostu w sylwetkach autostopowiczów rozsianych wzdłuż ekspresówki; w stojących samotnie osobach, prawie że nieruchomych, prosząco przywołujących pierwszą lepszą okazję.
Gdy jedno z wielu zniknięć wreszcie nabrało rozgłosu, zaczęto zastanawiać się i przypominać sobie, zagadkowe zaginięcia pozostałych dziewcząt. Co prawda nikt nie potrafił dokładnie określić, która z nich zapoczątkowała to pasmo niewyjaśnionych wypadków, i czy faktycznie powód do niepokoju był uzasadniony, bo jak też słyszano – kobiety przepadały bez wieści, gdy tego chciały; gdy zamierzały zacząć nowe życie, w zupełnie nowym miejscu.
Ale matka tej nastolatki, tej małej Wilson, była przekonana, że jej córce musiało przytrafić się coś złego. Ucieczka w ogóle nie wchodziła w grę. Ramona miała swoje plany - ambitne i skonkretyzowane - jednak jasno uporządkowane; przypuszczenie, że miałaby je porzucić na rzecz wycieczki w nieznane, zakrawał o absurd. Znajdowała się na przełomowym etapie swojego życia. Była młodą, zdolną, pełną życia dziewczyną. Zmieniała właśnie pracę na lepiej płatną, bardziej perspektywiczną, bo w przyszłości chciała iść na studia, jako pierwsza z rodziny. Marzyła o zostaniu psycholożką, jej wrodzona empatia i ciepło kierunkowały ją w stronę pomocy ludziom.
Dlaczego miałaby więc tak nagle, gdy wszystko szło po jej myśli, zniknąć? Nie mówiąc nikomu o tym, co zamierza?
Te pytania kotłowały się po głowie zrozpaczonej Matildy, kiedy ta usiłowała nie dać zbyć się funkcjonariuszom, bagatelizującym zniknięcie jej dziecka. Matilda przy próbie zgłoszenia zawiadomienia usłyszała to, czego słyszeć nie chciała - frazesy, ogólniki i krzywdzące komentarze często niestety, odnoszące się bezpośrednio wobec przynależności etnicznej Wilsonów, z góry zakładające oczywiste powiązanie rodziny ze środowiskiem patologicznym. A skoro patologicznym, to wiadomo – rozwiązanie sprawy musiało być banalnie proste; córka była na weekendowej imprezie, zabalowała nieco, przesadziła z alkoholem, wróci za kilka dni.
Niestety, Ramona w domu nie pojawiła się już nigdy. Jej rodzina została porzucona i skazana sama na siebie, po pomoc musiała zwracać się do lokalnej społeczności i ciężko pracować nad tym, aby o zaginięciu szesnastolatki nie zapomniano. Ich wysiłki przynosiły jedynie połowiczne skutki.
Przypadek Ramony Wilson nie był odosobniony. Co roku ginęły młode dziewczęta (głównie rdzenne mieszkanki, przedstawicielki Pierwszych Narodów), RCMP zazwyczaj umywała ręce, a ich bliscy, pozostawieni na łasce dobroci lokalnych społeczności, musieli jakoś radzić sobie z tą trudną sytuacją.
Szacuje się, że na przestrzeni ostatnich lat XX wieku z miast rozsianych wzdłuż autostrady numer 16 (przede wszystkim Prince Rupert, Prince George, Hazelton, Smithers, Telkwa, Edmonton) zostało porwanych/zamordowanych kilkadziesiąt kobiet. Znaczna część z nich, ze względu na pochodzenie została brutalnie zmarginalizowana; od początku bowiem zakładano błędne scenariusze oscylujące wokół stereotypów i krzywdzących założeń, zbywano większość istotnych doniesień oraz sensownych przypuszczeń, a wysiłki ze stron rodzin próbujących dociec przyczyn zbrodni, po prostu ignorowano. Co najgorsze jednak, to ofiary obarczano winą, przyczyn upatrując w ich zachowaniu. Jeśli miały one za sobą pobyt w placówkach społecznych czy rodzinach zastępczych, jeśli uczestniczyły w konfliktach z policją, jeśli dręczyły je uzależnienia, prostytucja, ubóstwo, bądź jakikolwiek inny poważny problem, z miejsca klasyfikowano je jako oczywiste przypadki niewarte poważnych starań.
W swoim reportażu Jessica McDiarmid analizuje przyczyny takich postępowań. I nie jest to łatwe zadanie, zwłaszcza z moralnego punktu widzenia, gdy trudno tak naprawdę zrozumieć powody owych, jednak McDiarmid radzi sobie na tym polu świetnie. Do tematu, pomimo ciężkiego ładunku emocjonalnego, podchodzi w sposób wyważony i rzeczowy; jej wydawałoby się pozornie chłodne, niekiedy nawet suche zestawienia statystyk i przedstawienia faktów, są w istocie doskonałym bodźcem do własnych przemyśleń i refleksji. McDiarmid ma niesamowitą zdolność łączenia paru elementów w wspaniale skondensowaną całość. Z jednej strony rozbiera na czynniki pierwsze wydarzenia rozgrywające się na przestrzeni kilku lat w Kolumbii Brytyjskiej, z drugiej zaś dopatruje się w nich czegoś więcej; osadza na ich tle ludzi z krwi i kości, prawdziwych poszkodowanych historii, wadliwego sytemu; społeczeństwa nie funkcjonującego tak, jak powinien to czynić zdrowy układ.
Nie brak więc tutaj mnóstwa odniesień do tematów muszących być pośrednio lub bezpośrednio powiązanymi z zaginięciami na Autostradzie Łez. Autorka na przykładzie świadectw i osobistych przeżyć swoich bohaterów, opowiada o wszystkich bolączkach nękających przedstawicieli mniejszości aborygeńskiej; jest tu sporo o nierówności społecznej, rasizmie, nadużyciach zarówno ze strony władz, jak i obywateli; o przemocy wobec dzieci, o wykorzystywaniu seksualnym, prostytucji nieletnich; o uzależnianiach, braku perspektyw i realnej pomocy, ubóstwie; o uciskaniu, ignorancji, nękaniu. Wreszcie – o ofiarach zbrodni, którym nigdy nie oddano należytego szacunku.
Bije z książki Jessici McDiarmid nie tyle brutalność, co przytłaczający smutek; ogrom bezsilności, poczucie niesprawiedliwości, skrzywdzenia, odrzucenia. Nie sposób przejść obojętnie wobec ciężaru tragedii dotykającej setki rodzin, a mimo to… Ktoś jednak się na to zdobył, ktoś przeszedł, ktoś zlekceważył walkę o podstawowe prawa; walkę o prawdę, o godność, o pamięć, o potrzebę bycia zrozumianym. Zauważonym. Ktoś zignorował głos człowieka, dotkniętego nagłą stratą, jego potrzebę do powiedzenia głośno o tym, jak niewymiernego bólu doświadczył.
October 25, 2019
Huge thank you to Atria Books and NetGalley for gifting me a copy of this book.
This was such a heartbreaking read. I had to step away and take breaks while reading, therefore it took longer than it normally would for me to read a book of this size. Women and girls began disappearing along Highway 16 back in the 1990s, and now, decades later, the estimated number of connected cases is now up to 4,000. 4,000 missing or murdered women and teenage girls. Let that sink in.
I wouldn’t even call what the police did an “investigation”. These women and their families were completely failed by those sworn to protect them. I am the mother of two daughters. I have sisters. And I cannot fathom one of my vulnerable loved ones disappearing, never to be looked for, never given much of a thought. I can’t imagine the police not taking me seriously when I demand they search for my daughter or my sister. These families had no one to count on but themselves. I think it is absolutely disgusting the way these missing and murdered women were treated. Leads weren’t followed, tips weren’t followed up on or were tossed aside and deemed irrelevant. They refused to say the cases were connected.
This was a true act of racism — the fact that many of these women came from less than favorable backgrounds (drugs, prostitution, bad family life) caused the police to throw their hands up and claim they had just run away or that this was just the kind of thing that happens to someone when they live that type of lifestyle.
McDiarmid is a fantastic investigative journalist. She dug deep into these stories and made me feel so much sadness for the victims and their families. Reading this book felt like watching an episode of 20/20, with the perfect mix of hard facts and a storyline. I loved that she gave us specific examples of victims so that we could put names (and faces, in fact — the book contains photos of each of the women written about) to these cases and truly grasp what their families had to go through. Some of these women have never been found.
This book is very statistic heavy, so do keep that in mind when reading. I didn’t expect as many statistics, but including them assisted in painting a clear picture of the systemic racism and discrimination against Indigenous people in that area of Canada. The statistics were also helpful in piecing together just how badly these families were failed by everyone in the Canadian justice system.
This was an eye-opening read and I would recommend it to anyone who likes true crime or nonfiction.
This was such a heartbreaking read. I had to step away and take breaks while reading, therefore it took longer than it normally would for me to read a book of this size. Women and girls began disappearing along Highway 16 back in the 1990s, and now, decades later, the estimated number of connected cases is now up to 4,000. 4,000 missing or murdered women and teenage girls. Let that sink in.
I wouldn’t even call what the police did an “investigation”. These women and their families were completely failed by those sworn to protect them. I am the mother of two daughters. I have sisters. And I cannot fathom one of my vulnerable loved ones disappearing, never to be looked for, never given much of a thought. I can’t imagine the police not taking me seriously when I demand they search for my daughter or my sister. These families had no one to count on but themselves. I think it is absolutely disgusting the way these missing and murdered women were treated. Leads weren’t followed, tips weren’t followed up on or were tossed aside and deemed irrelevant. They refused to say the cases were connected.
This was a true act of racism — the fact that many of these women came from less than favorable backgrounds (drugs, prostitution, bad family life) caused the police to throw their hands up and claim they had just run away or that this was just the kind of thing that happens to someone when they live that type of lifestyle.
McDiarmid is a fantastic investigative journalist. She dug deep into these stories and made me feel so much sadness for the victims and their families. Reading this book felt like watching an episode of 20/20, with the perfect mix of hard facts and a storyline. I loved that she gave us specific examples of victims so that we could put names (and faces, in fact — the book contains photos of each of the women written about) to these cases and truly grasp what their families had to go through. Some of these women have never been found.
This book is very statistic heavy, so do keep that in mind when reading. I didn’t expect as many statistics, but including them assisted in painting a clear picture of the systemic racism and discrimination against Indigenous people in that area of Canada. The statistics were also helpful in piecing together just how badly these families were failed by everyone in the Canadian justice system.
This was an eye-opening read and I would recommend it to anyone who likes true crime or nonfiction.
December 11, 2019
Talking about Highway of Tears is challenging. This is more than true crime. This is more than a nightmare. This is an outright call to action.
McDiarmid's journalism is excellent. She is unflinching in her dissection of crime. Each section about an individual woman is crafted beautifully, touching on life, death and legacy. Poverty and circumstance are never permitted to color how each subject is presented - this book has no victim blaming. More than that, however, McDiarmid recognizes the families of the missing and murdered Indigenous women as victims as well. Every child left motherless, parent left with an empty bed, and brother or sister laying awake matters. Friends matter. It is this all encompassing view of victimhood that makes Highway of Tears such a crucial piece for 2019.
The vast majority of the missing and murdered victims are Indigenous. The issue of race and police neglect is discussed fervently because, as it seems to me, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police were failing left and right. (However I will exclude actual angel and sweet, sweet prince Ray Michalko). Citizens were not protected due to the color of their skin. It is a fact of this case that needs to be addressed.
So is Highway of Tears compulsively readable? No. It is not. It is incredibly painful to read. It is heartbreaking and upsetting.
Sisterhood matters more. Each and everyone of us has a duty to care about this issue.
As McDiarmid writes on page 7, "The police haven't solved these cases, but there are multiple perpetrators. There are those who committed these crimes, and there are those of us who stood by as it happened, and happened again, and happened again."
Read this book, talk about this book, and share this book. The more attention and pressure this atrocity receives the more resources can be put forth to protecting these women and girls.
McDiarmid's journalism is excellent. She is unflinching in her dissection of crime. Each section about an individual woman is crafted beautifully, touching on life, death and legacy. Poverty and circumstance are never permitted to color how each subject is presented - this book has no victim blaming. More than that, however, McDiarmid recognizes the families of the missing and murdered Indigenous women as victims as well. Every child left motherless, parent left with an empty bed, and brother or sister laying awake matters. Friends matter. It is this all encompassing view of victimhood that makes Highway of Tears such a crucial piece for 2019.
The vast majority of the missing and murdered victims are Indigenous. The issue of race and police neglect is discussed fervently because, as it seems to me, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police were failing left and right. (However I will exclude actual angel and sweet, sweet prince Ray Michalko). Citizens were not protected due to the color of their skin. It is a fact of this case that needs to be addressed.
So is Highway of Tears compulsively readable? No. It is not. It is incredibly painful to read. It is heartbreaking and upsetting.
Sisterhood matters more. Each and everyone of us has a duty to care about this issue.
As McDiarmid writes on page 7, "The police haven't solved these cases, but there are multiple perpetrators. There are those who committed these crimes, and there are those of us who stood by as it happened, and happened again, and happened again."
Read this book, talk about this book, and share this book. The more attention and pressure this atrocity receives the more resources can be put forth to protecting these women and girls.
February 8, 2021
don’t get me wrong, 5 stars for the quality of the info and the importance of the issues, but I think this would’ve worked better for me as a physical book not the audiobook. I found it kind of hard to keep track of when the chapters and stories were starting and ending. this could be a me problem but it was a problem nonetheless. also the author was not present in this story much at all so the couple times she was I was kinda thrown. I just think I would’ve been able to keep track of everything better if I wasn’t listening to it.
ANYWAYS that being said I think this book did a really good job of highlighting the impact of the disappearances/murders of the women and girls on their families, both in terms of the actual crime and how the rcmp handled the investigations. tough to listen to at many times.
I found the parts about the e-pana task force, the symposium, and the MMIWG inquiry really interesting. I would definitely like to know more about the MMIWG inquiry, because I don’t think I was aware until now about the issues with the process internally and in their dealings w the families of the missing women and girls. I remember when the report was released, I’m pretty sure I used it as a source in a few papers in undergrad. this book really helped put into perspective how long indigenous families have been fighting for justice for their loved ones, and it’s pretty terrible to know that none of the recommendations that came out of the Smithers symposium, which all seemed reasonable and important, have been implemented.
Important read, would definitely recommend it. though like I said, prob skip the audiobook.
ANYWAYS that being said I think this book did a really good job of highlighting the impact of the disappearances/murders of the women and girls on their families, both in terms of the actual crime and how the rcmp handled the investigations. tough to listen to at many times.
I found the parts about the e-pana task force, the symposium, and the MMIWG inquiry really interesting. I would definitely like to know more about the MMIWG inquiry, because I don’t think I was aware until now about the issues with the process internally and in their dealings w the families of the missing women and girls. I remember when the report was released, I’m pretty sure I used it as a source in a few papers in undergrad. this book really helped put into perspective how long indigenous families have been fighting for justice for their loved ones, and it’s pretty terrible to know that none of the recommendations that came out of the Smithers symposium, which all seemed reasonable and important, have been implemented.
Important read, would definitely recommend it. though like I said, prob skip the audiobook.
November 24, 2023
One of several reads I wanted to get through during Native American Heritage Month [even though this is, uh, Canadian].
Well researched by McDiarmid and narrated with heart by Emily Nixon, Highway of Tears is a rightfully upsetting read\listen. The desperation and grief of the families of those killed and those still missing comes right off the page. Canada still has a lot to answer for, from solving cold cases to preventing future ones with infrastructure and transportation and social funding.
Well researched by McDiarmid and narrated with heart by Emily Nixon, Highway of Tears is a rightfully upsetting read\listen. The desperation and grief of the families of those killed and those still missing comes right off the page. Canada still has a lot to answer for, from solving cold cases to preventing future ones with infrastructure and transportation and social funding.
March 1, 2024
Highway of Tears focuses on the unsolved cases of missing, and murdered, indigenous women and girls of British Columbia’s Highway 16, with an empathetic voice and compassionate position.
This piece analyzes the restrictions and inefficiencies of government and police agencies, while providing contextual and historical insight to help readers understand the victimized experiences First Nations peoples have lived.
Highway of Tears is a harrowing and heartbreaking read. The apathetic way in which indigenous lives have been viewed has left me with a sense of sadness, and quite frankly, dread.
“Many indigenous people have grown up normalized to violence, while Canadian society shows an appalling apathy to addressing the issue.”
I enjoyed this journalistic approach to the subject, as opposed to the (potentially harmful) hallmarks of True Crime writing. Content was a five star experience. The content organization, however, was a bit scattered in the second half, reducing my rating.
This piece analyzes the restrictions and inefficiencies of government and police agencies, while providing contextual and historical insight to help readers understand the victimized experiences First Nations peoples have lived.
Highway of Tears is a harrowing and heartbreaking read. The apathetic way in which indigenous lives have been viewed has left me with a sense of sadness, and quite frankly, dread.
“Many indigenous people have grown up normalized to violence, while Canadian society shows an appalling apathy to addressing the issue.”
I enjoyed this journalistic approach to the subject, as opposed to the (potentially harmful) hallmarks of True Crime writing. Content was a five star experience. The content organization, however, was a bit scattered in the second half, reducing my rating.
November 13, 2019
(originally reviewed at
thelibraryladies.com
)
Thanks to NetGalley for sending me an eARC of this book!
I’m a true crime aficionado to the bone, and I have been for as long as I can remember. But I do recognize that there are problematic issues within this genre that should definitely be acknowledged and worked on. One of those issues is that the stories that usually get paid the most attention to involve pretty white women victims, and other victims, especially POC, are not as widely acknowledged. One of the most egregious examples of this is the case of the Highway of Tears in British Columbia, Canada. Highway 16 is a highway that runs a number of miles, and a number of Indigenous women have either disappeared altogether near it, or have been found murdered in the vicinity. Almost all of the cases have gone cold and unsolved, and the victims have been deprived of justice. In “Highway of Tears”, Jessica McDiarmid jumps into a deep and emotional investigation of the crimes, but also of the stories of the women who have been victimized and cast aside, and the life that they were leading before. And boy oh boy, this is one of the most emotionally wrenching true crime books I’ve ever read.
The most important aspect of this book I mentioned above. McDiarmid is very conscientious to give backgrounds and back stories to a large number of the victims, whose disappearances and murders have been happening since the 1970s and up through today. Instead of just being a number of names and a group of lumped in all together, as if their violent ends were their only defining traits, we get comprehensive stories about the various lives that these women led, and the people who were left behind to mourn their loss. I had known about the story of Alberta Williams because of the podcast “Missing and Murdered”, but as each profile and backstory was explored my heart grew heavier and heavier. She makes all of them personalized individuals, and by seeing the trauma that some experienced in life and all of their families experienced in death just shows how unjust it is that not only did they meet these horrible ends, but they haven’t gotten answers or justice.
McDiarmid doesn’t pull any punches when she talks about how the victimization of these women, and in turn their families, is a direct result of a racist system that doesn’t value these women because of their race, their place in society, and their gender. She also does a very good job of showing how the system perpetuates multiple social injustices towards the First Nations population, and how in turn these injustices create an environment where this kind of victimization is far more prevalent compared to other populations in Canada. She also pulls in colonial practices throughout Canadian history, and the direct line that these practices have to modern fallouts for Indigenous groups. From residential schools to alcoholism to poverty to many more, McDiarmid makes it VERY clear that many of these practices have consequences that are still felt today. And on top of all of that, she juxtaposes the differences in approach, attention, and outcomes between the Indigenous women who are missing and murdered, and a few cases where the victims are white women. Suffice to say, Missing White Woman Syndrome plays a huge role, and while the missing and murdered Indigenous women fade into the background, white women get lots of media attention, and lots of resources are poured into the investigations surrounding them. It’s all very upsetting, but all too true.
On top of all of this, McDiarmid has a writing style that will suck you in, and will set the scene so that you feel like you are there. I had a very hard time putting this book down, even though the topic was very upsetting and hard to read about. But McDiarmid insists that you do so, because the story is far too important and has gone unacknowledged by too many for too long. I want this to become the next “I’ll Be Gone In The Dark”. I want this to be read and I want these womens’ stories to be heard and I want them to be seen as who they were. There is no closure with this story. Justice hasn’t been served. But one can only hope that if more people learn about this and speak up, perhaps more will be done.
“Highway of Tears” is a must read. One of the year’s best.
Thanks to NetGalley for sending me an eARC of this book!
I’m a true crime aficionado to the bone, and I have been for as long as I can remember. But I do recognize that there are problematic issues within this genre that should definitely be acknowledged and worked on. One of those issues is that the stories that usually get paid the most attention to involve pretty white women victims, and other victims, especially POC, are not as widely acknowledged. One of the most egregious examples of this is the case of the Highway of Tears in British Columbia, Canada. Highway 16 is a highway that runs a number of miles, and a number of Indigenous women have either disappeared altogether near it, or have been found murdered in the vicinity. Almost all of the cases have gone cold and unsolved, and the victims have been deprived of justice. In “Highway of Tears”, Jessica McDiarmid jumps into a deep and emotional investigation of the crimes, but also of the stories of the women who have been victimized and cast aside, and the life that they were leading before. And boy oh boy, this is one of the most emotionally wrenching true crime books I’ve ever read.
The most important aspect of this book I mentioned above. McDiarmid is very conscientious to give backgrounds and back stories to a large number of the victims, whose disappearances and murders have been happening since the 1970s and up through today. Instead of just being a number of names and a group of lumped in all together, as if their violent ends were their only defining traits, we get comprehensive stories about the various lives that these women led, and the people who were left behind to mourn their loss. I had known about the story of Alberta Williams because of the podcast “Missing and Murdered”, but as each profile and backstory was explored my heart grew heavier and heavier. She makes all of them personalized individuals, and by seeing the trauma that some experienced in life and all of their families experienced in death just shows how unjust it is that not only did they meet these horrible ends, but they haven’t gotten answers or justice.
McDiarmid doesn’t pull any punches when she talks about how the victimization of these women, and in turn their families, is a direct result of a racist system that doesn’t value these women because of their race, their place in society, and their gender. She also does a very good job of showing how the system perpetuates multiple social injustices towards the First Nations population, and how in turn these injustices create an environment where this kind of victimization is far more prevalent compared to other populations in Canada. She also pulls in colonial practices throughout Canadian history, and the direct line that these practices have to modern fallouts for Indigenous groups. From residential schools to alcoholism to poverty to many more, McDiarmid makes it VERY clear that many of these practices have consequences that are still felt today. And on top of all of that, she juxtaposes the differences in approach, attention, and outcomes between the Indigenous women who are missing and murdered, and a few cases where the victims are white women. Suffice to say, Missing White Woman Syndrome plays a huge role, and while the missing and murdered Indigenous women fade into the background, white women get lots of media attention, and lots of resources are poured into the investigations surrounding them. It’s all very upsetting, but all too true.
On top of all of this, McDiarmid has a writing style that will suck you in, and will set the scene so that you feel like you are there. I had a very hard time putting this book down, even though the topic was very upsetting and hard to read about. But McDiarmid insists that you do so, because the story is far too important and has gone unacknowledged by too many for too long. I want this to become the next “I’ll Be Gone In The Dark”. I want this to be read and I want these womens’ stories to be heard and I want them to be seen as who they were. There is no closure with this story. Justice hasn’t been served. But one can only hope that if more people learn about this and speak up, perhaps more will be done.
“Highway of Tears” is a must read. One of the year’s best.
April 16, 2023
O Autostradzie Łez po raz pierwszy usłyszałam w kryminalnym podcaście Agi Rojek. Aga jak to Aga stworzyła odcinek na najwyższym poziomie - przedstawiona przez nią historia niezidentyfikowanego do dziś seryjnego mordercy, który swoje ofiary wynajdywał wśród autostopowiczek - rdzennych Kanadyjek, jednocześnie przerażała i fascynowała. Agnieszka swój podcast w sporej części oparła na książce Jessici McDiarmid - „Autostrada łez”. Czy zatem mi - posiadającej już, że ośmielę się stwierdzić - wyczerpującą wiedzę o sprawie mordercy grasującego wzdłuż 720-kilometrowego odcinka kanadyjskiej autostrady nr 16 reportaż kanadyjskiej dziennikarki był w stanie zaoferować coś nowego w tym temacie czy raczej mnie wynudził, bo natknęłam się wyłącznie na wcześniej już przedstawione już przez Agę informacje? Żadnego znużenia nie doświadczyłam, a poczucie straty czasu poświęconego lekturze wynikające z ówczesnej znajomości tematu również w trakcie czytania było mi obce. To - jak podcast Agnieszki - zarówno porywający, trzymająca w napięciu niczym mistrzowski kryminał, ale i do bólu bolesny, przepełniony smutkiem i poczuciem bezradności i bezsilności, a w końcu i wywołujący autentyczny strach reportaż. McDiarmid podeszła do swojej książki od całkiem innej strony niż znani mi inni autorzy tytułów z gatunku true crime. Dziennikarka w centrum swojej opowieści nie stawia mordercy - to nie on jest tu najważniejszy - a bezbronne, niewinne ofiary. Nastoletnie, inteligentne, mające przed sobą całe życie młode kanadyjskie Indianki. Należy nadal o nich pamiętać, nie można doprowadzić do sytuacji - jak w większości innych głośnych morderstw - że ofiary będą tylko kolejnymi numerami, a cała uwaga mediów i społeczeństwa skupi się na sprawcy - to jedna z kwestii poruszanych przez autorkę. Drugą jest inny ogromnie ważny problem - rasizm. W śledztwach w sprawie Autostrady Łez dobitnie i jasno widać niechęc i pogardę oficerów policji, urzędników czy nawet i polityków w stosunku do rdzennych Kanadyjczyków i Kanadyjek. Lekceważenie i wszelaka bylejakość samych dochodzeń były na porządku dziennym. Ten naganny stosunek jednej społeczności do drugiej jeszcze mocniej unaoczniają wymieniane przez autorkę pojedyncze przypadki kiedy to na swoją kolejną ofiarę morderca upolował nie rdzenną Kanadyjkę, a białą kobietę - w poszukiwania i wyjaśnienie zbrodni angażowane są wtedy wszystkie możliwe siły, dowody zbierane są z najwyższą ostrożnością i dokładnością, śledztwo nie jest błyskawicznie umarzane, bo zaginiona uciekła z własnej woli czy jak upierają się policjanci - winnego na pewno nigdy nie uda się wykryć z powodu zbyt posuniętego rozkładu zwłok czy braku śladów.
Swoją książką Jessica McDiarmid nie tylko składa hołd ofiarom i ich rodzinom, zapisuje zaginione i zamordowane kobiety w pamięci społeczeństwa - ale i nagłaśnia karygodną dyskryminację, protekcjonalność i pogardę dla kanadyjskiej ludności autochtonicznej. Ważna i potrzebna książka, przedstawiająca historię i całą problematykę w sposób wciągający i intrygujący, dzięki czemu ma szansę trafić do jak największej liczby czytelników.
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Swoją książką Jessica McDiarmid nie tylko składa hołd ofiarom i ich rodzinom, zapisuje zaginione i zamordowane kobiety w pamięci społeczeństwa - ale i nagłaśnia karygodną dyskryminację, protekcjonalność i pogardę dla kanadyjskiej ludności autochtonicznej. Ważna i potrzebna książka, przedstawiająca historię i całą problematykę w sposób wciągający i intrygujący, dzięki czemu ma szansę trafić do jak największej liczby czytelników.
instagram | facebook
January 11, 2020
Extremely well-written, completely devastating, and entirely appalled at this country's willingness to continue to ignore this issue even though thousands of women are missing or murdered and continue to go missing or be murdered today. Although I had read of the RCMP dropping the ball on this issue before, I still find it shocking how willing policing authorities are to delay an investigation due to blame being placed on the victim, and how little families knew of their loved one's investigations. This book truly made me sick and left me feeling almost helpless, but at the same time, thankful that McDiarmid was able to share these families' stories and draw awareness to this very alive and ongoing social justice issue not just in British Columbia, but across Canada.
I was also shocked to find out how poorly executed and organized the National Inquiry was, how broad the goals were and how dissatisfied families were with the entire process. I was also unaware that the Liberal government denied funding for an extension of the hearings when requested. Super disappointing, I'm not surprised, but honestly shocked at just how dire this issue is, and how little the government cares.
I was also shocked to find out how poorly executed and organized the National Inquiry was, how broad the goals were and how dissatisfied families were with the entire process. I was also unaware that the Liberal government denied funding for an extension of the hearings when requested. Super disappointing, I'm not surprised, but honestly shocked at just how dire this issue is, and how little the government cares.
October 12, 2019
"A penetrating and deeply moving account of the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls of Highway 16, and a searing indictment of the society that failed them."
I don't really have anything to add.
Read this book.
I don't really have anything to add.
Read this book.
May 30, 2022
Lektura obowiązkowa.
December 29, 2023
For decades, Indigenous women and girls have gone missing or been found murdered along an isolated stretch of highway in northwestern British Columbia. The highway is known as the Highway of Tears, and it has come to symbolize a national crisis.
Journalist Jessica McDiarmid investigates the devastating effect these tragedies have had on the families of the victims and their communities, and how systemic racism and indifference have created a climate where Indigenous women and girls are over-policed, yet under-protected. Through interviews with those closest to the victims - mothers and fathers, siblings and friends - McDiarmid offers an intimate, firsthand account of their loss, and of their relentless fight for justice.
4.5 stars
Journalist Jessica McDiarmid investigates the devastating effect these tragedies have had on the families of the victims and their communities, and how systemic racism and indifference have created a climate where Indigenous women and girls are over-policed, yet under-protected. Through interviews with those closest to the victims - mothers and fathers, siblings and friends - McDiarmid offers an intimate, firsthand account of their loss, and of their relentless fight for justice.
4.5 stars
April 7, 2021
A compelling powerful sad thorough telling of the missing and murdered women in northern BC and the futile efforts to gain justice and resolution. It is Canada's shame that the cases were unresolved and so much indifference was displayed to the aboriginal commmunity. When a white woman went missing (in the same area) there was seven times the press and multitudes more resources allocated than for a native woman. The RCMP seemed to have made little effort in resolving cases early on.
McDiarmid provides thoughtful sensitive overviews of dozens of cases and reveals a little about the uniqueness of the north where these people lived and staked their futures. Futures that were dashed by seemingly common denominator of living near highway 16 of northern British Columbia.
McDiarmid provides thoughtful sensitive overviews of dozens of cases and reveals a little about the uniqueness of the north where these people lived and staked their futures. Futures that were dashed by seemingly common denominator of living near highway 16 of northern British Columbia.
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