Let’s say that it’s been a tough few weeks. Especially in Toronto, where issues surrounding marginalized voices silenced by the system have been very close to the surface. After an investigation spanning several months, it was announced on March 18 that the anonymous police officer responsible for the death of 45-year-old Andrew Loku would not face any criminal charges. On March 24, after a trial spanning nearly two months, Jian Ghomeshi was found not guilty on all charges. While the latter has been given extensive media coverage since Ghomeshi’s dismissal from the CBC in October 2014, the dialogue has not focused on the perspectives or voices of the complainants. Coverage of Loku’s murder has—unfortunately but not unsurprisingly, given the media’s shameful track record regarding news coverage concerning violence against people of colour—not been nearly so consistent or abundant.
Too often, the voices of victims and survivors are denied a platform and ultimately silenced at a legal level by a system designed to maintain the oppression of marginalized groups. In such circumstances, peaceful protests and rallies can function as a powerful way to amplify these voices. This week, the citizen response to the aforementioned rulings has been overwhelming, and has served to increase media coverage of these systemic injustices. It’s also managed to foster a sense of solidarity that spans multiple and connecting communities.
The Toronto coalition of the activist group Black Lives Matter (BLMTO) has been occupying the area in front of Toronto Police Headquarters in peaceful protest since March 21. The movement began on March 20 in Nathan Phillips Square, in response to the announcement that Andrew Loku’s murderer had been cleared of any legal wrongdoing. The protest has since garnered support from members of Toronto’s Indigenous, LGBT+, and Muslim communities. The occupation has continued undeterred despite violent opposition by Toronto police officers.
Likewise, on March 24, Torontonians gathered in front of Old City Hall for a rally under the moniker of “We Believe Survivors” in response to the Ghomeshi verdict earlier that day. Despite the freezing temperatures and persistent, cold rain, hundreds of people attended the rally. Those who spoke included Lucy DeCoutere, the only named complainant in the Ghomeshi case; “Witness 1,” the first woman to level sexual assault allegations at Ghomeshi and whose name remains under publication ban; Arij Elmi, an instructor of Wen-Do, a form of self-defense developed for women; City Councillor Krystin Wong-Tam; and Glen Canning, the father of Rehtaeh Parsons.
I joined the growing crowd in front of City Hall around 5:30 PM. Immediately I noticed the strong sense of shared injustice and, more importantly, determination in the atmosphere around me. As the rally’s organizers led stretching exercises to help everyone shake the cold, I heard many of the women standing around me exchange words of grief, anger, and disappointment with regards to the verdict. One woman, half sheepish and half defeated, mentioned that she was on her fifth spurt of angry crying that day. Organizers urged attendees to promote the event on social media under the hashtags #IBelieveSurvivors and #WeBelieveSurvivors, and throughout the hour that followed, countless phones could be seen held up to record and later share the words of the speakers.
The words of the speakers were powerful and invigorating. Overall, the messages were hopeful but not complacent, and many of them were rightfully angry; every speaker acknowledged the immense deficits in how the current system treats victims and survivors and made strong calls for change. However, the most powerful speeches, for me, were those made by the two complainants in attendance. Both DeCoutere and Witness 1 seemed simultaneously touched and gutted; overwhelmed by the outpouring of support but obviously and understandably still reeling from the verdict. DeCoutere called the trial and succeeding rally “phase one of a conversation,” noting that “this is something that is not going to end here.” Witness 1 took a similar stance, saying, “I am so touched that you all came. It means a lot. I love you all for coming, and I give you all consent to love me back. […] But it’s really not over. It’s really just begun for me. It’s now time to keep these conversations going and stop the way that these sexual assaults are tried. It’s barbaric. It’s antiquated. It needs to change and it needs to stop.”
At around 6:30 PM, the group began a march up Bay St to join the Black Lives Matter protest—promoted on social media with the hashtags #BLMTOtentcity, #BLMTO, and #BlackLivesMatter—at the Toronto Police Headquarters at 40 College St. The group met the often surprised glances of passersby with chants of “We believe survivors” and “Join together, free our lives, we will not be victimized,” and urged passing cars to honk in support. By around 7 PM the “We Believe Survivors” rally had fully merged with the Black Lives Matter protesters in the front courtyard of the Toronto Police Headquarters. Representatives from both movements—including female speakers from the “We Believe Survivors” rally and several Black women who have been instrumental in organizing and maintaining the BLMTO movement—then spoke about the importance of intersectionality when discussing victims and survivors of sexual violence. These experiences affect disabled, trans, gay, and racialized people disproportionately to, and in different ways than, the cisgender white women who are so often the focus of media coverage and discourse—a topic that had only been touched on by one of the speakers from the “We Believe Survivors” rally.
This merging of these two prominent dialogues reinforced just how little our justice system does to protect marginalized individuals; it reinforced how important it is that we, as a society, respond to this lack of protection by continuing to demand that the struggles of these individuals be heard. Showing solidarity by attending the rally, listening to the voices of the women involved, and sharing their words on social media felt incredibly important. Despite the adversity these groups do and will continue to face, all of this felt productive.
Watching as the leaders of the Black Lives Matter protest led the newcomers from the “We Believe Survivors” rally in chants of “No justice, no peace, no racist police” and “Black/Muslim/Trans/Queer lives matter,” and as the members of each movement shared ponchos and hand-warming packets between them to fight off the wet and cold, I felt a sense of powerful inter-community love and support. This atmosphere of solidarity among both groups of protesters illustrated the true strength of intersectional support in fighting oppressive legal structures and gaining traction for oppressed voices. Ultimately, while the system continues to fails us, it’s crucial that marginalized groups and their allies support, listen to, and demand an audience for one another.
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