"Colonialism in Canada has been undergirded by violence at multiple, intersecting sites of intervention. Discuss this statement with specific attention to gender, sexuality, and race."
Colonialism in Canada was a profoundly
violent experience. This violence manifested itself in a range of interlocking
spheres of action and ideology, such as the law, media, education, and health
care. This analysis will focus on the law as a site of gendered and racialized
violence, showing how violence was underpinned by media representations and
ideologies about gender, sexuality, and the family. Lesley Erickson identifies
the law as “a site for the performance of hegemony and resistance” that was
“linked to medico-moral theories of female criminality and sexuality.” [1]
Her analysis illustrates that, while the law was an oppressive force, its power
was not absolute, giving space, albeit circumscribed, for resistance. Both the
legislative and punitive arms of the law have had a role in constructing, and
responding to constructions of, Aboriginal and immigrant people, particularly
women. This analysis will emphasize the impacts of the law on Aboriginal women,
as they bore the brunt of its most coercive practices. In considering how the
law circumscribed the use of space, defined interpersonal intimate
relationships, and created a venue in the form of courtrooms for the
construction and perpetuation of gendered and racialized approaches to sexuality,
it is apparent that violence is not an individual matter, but a diffuse and
multifaceted social, political, and cultural force.
The work of Yasmin Jiwani, who
illustrates that violence is broader than its physical manifestations, is
integral to this analysis. Jiwani presents a theoretical framework that gives
and expansive definition of violence, explicitly including structural as well
as interpersonal violence. Discussing violence in anti-racist, feminist terms,
Jiwani examines experiences of violence, and representations of violence, as
these are informed by broader power structures. [2]
Jiwani argues that discourses and experiences of violence form and reinforce
particular idealized embodiments and performances of national mythologies;
women, particularly women of colour, fall outside of these mythologies and
ideals. Their experiences of violence are thus erased, and their
marginalization is normalized through representations of their experiences of
violence.[3]
As Jiwani puts it, “the regimes of truth…operating within the discursive
formations of racialized and gendered violence, delimit their recognition of
their most extreme and physical manifestations, denying the continuation of
violence that underpins the lives of women and girls who are located in the
interstices of various forms of domination.”[4]
Jiwani posits that public and private realms of violence are indistinguishable,
with systemic and interpersonal violence interwoven, structured by discourses
of power, and expressed in hierarchies.
Jiwani argues that representation and
violence are associated through the “objectification, dehumanization, and
inferiorization” of particular groups of society in the media in its
representation of a symbolic image of the nation.[5]
Violence manifests itself not just in physical acts, but in how individuals and
groups in positions of power conceptualize physical acts of violence.[6]
Referring to Pamela George, murdered in Regina in 1995, Jiwani claims, “because
hers was perceived as a degenerate body, the violence done to her was
trivialized and its impact erased. Here, violence acts as a way of reinforcing
White hegemonic masculinity and reinscribing spatial and social relations of
power.”[7]
Constance Backhouse’s case study of Rose Marie Roper likewise shows the multiple
violent impacts of colonialism for Aboriginal women and indicates how these can
be erased or manipulated in media portrayals of violence. In 1967 near Williams
Lake, a group of white boys gang-raped Roper, a seventeen-year-old Aboriginal
woman, who had previously attended residential school and grown up with a
physically and sexually abusive father.[8]
Media surrounding this case highlighted that Roper had been drunk, possibly a
sex worker, and not a virgin.[9]
The resulting verdict, in which two of the three boys were found guilty of
“common assault” and fined, brought outrage from the Aboriginal community.[10]
Just
as Jiwani has illustrated in her study of the news media, historians also have
the potential to flatten race out of cases of violence. This is apparent in
Constance Backhouse’s discussion of Willimae Moore, a black lesbian living in
Yellowknife who was tried for sexual assault in 1955 after kissing a co-worker.
Backhouse framed her analysis of this case on the basis of Moore’s sexual
orientation, perhaps because that was the angle that court records and media
reports also took. It is only in the last paragraph of this case study that
Backhouse mentions that Moore’s lawyer had suggested that she was persecuted
because she was a black woman.[11]
The manifestations of race in this legal case are thus invisible to the reader,
and this gaping invisibility highlights the clear centrality of race in gender
violence and its representations.
Sarah
Carter problematizes the idea of a “traditional” definition of marriage,
instead considering marriage as part of a national agenda to guard a Canadian
way of life, proclaim Western Canada as a civilized society, forge a settler
identity, and consolidate state power.[12] It was an important means of shaping native-newcomer
relations, with the power to regulate men as well as women.[13] Carter stresses that monogamous marriage was of particular
importance in Western Canada because the limited state infrastructure
necessitated another structure for stability; the family therefore became a
means of shaping social order.[14] In this way, marriage played into other elements of social
organization: land tenure policies formed with a goal of having single nuclear
families holding farms, basing land organization around gendered and racialized
cultural, social, and religious ideals rather than agricultural needs.[15]
While
Carter’s analysis primarily focuses on interventions and regulations concerning
Aboriginal women, she also considers the law’s regulations of immigrant
intimate relationships. Authorities and commentators on the prairies expressed
concern that Doukhobor and Ukrainian marriages were detrimental to women.[16]
Aboriginal marriage practices differed from Western European ones, prompting
Euro-Canadian criticism that Aboriginal marriage was morally depraved and thus
harmful to women. Colonial observers exaggerated the extent of polygamy to
shore up monogamy as a natural default and portray polygamy as deviant, using
this to justify their calls to replace Aboriginal marriage laws with
Euro-Canadian ones.[17]
In particular, social reformers cited concerns that Aboriginal marriage
practices constituted a sale rather than a partnership, and were thus akin to
prostitution.[18]
The
patterns that Carter outlines were not new to this period of increasing
colonial settlement of the prairies. Sylvia Van Kirk outlines how marriage and
intimacy developed in the fur trade, with evolving marriage practices
reflecting changes in the racialization of Aboriginal and Métis women.
Aboriginal participants in the fur trade initially encouraged intermarriage,
seeing it in an “integrated social and economic context” that formed a
“reciprocal social bond” with significant importance for economic relationships.[19]
These relationships were not merely economic, however; Van Kirk notes the
strong emotional bonds between many Aboriginal women and their white fur trader
husbands.[20] These
women were also influential as cultural and diplomatic advisors and were able
to manipulate their position as “women in between” cultures.[21]
Aboriginal women and fur traders saw their relations as true marriages,
defending them against potential objections from the Hudson’s Bay Company
(HBC).[22]
In this context, monogamy was not necessarily a coerced imposition, but was a
product of a colonial system; violent elements of monogamous marriage in
colonial context became more apparent with increase in population of white and
mixed-race women in the area. Aboriginal women were at the mercy of European
social structures that were designed to meet white men’s needs.[23]
For instance, HBC governor George Simpson imposed restrictions banning women
from travelling on summer journeys away from trading posts, circumscribing and
reorienting Aboriginal women’s lives.[24]
As
well as their circumstances, the ideological underpinnings of fur trade
relationships had violent elements. Traders made assumptions about women’s
value based on racialized ideas that demonized their own family members. Elite
fur trade men, for example, preferred educating daughters at home to “overcome
the taint of their mixed blood” with an English education.[25]
Despite pre-existing affective relationships with white men, Métis women lost
their status as wives and were reduced to prostitutes as missionaries, who had
increasing authority over the area, recognized “country” marriages far less.[26]
This contributed to increasing prejudice against and exploitation of Métis and
Aboriginal women.[27]
Jiwani considers violence in the subordination of communities in part as a
product of on stereotypes that portray racialized communities as
ultra-patriarchal, yet simultaneously obscure patriarchal power in the dominant
society.[28] This
element of violence was apparent in traders’ discourses surrounding Aboriginal
women. White men often framed their marriages as “rescue” from a degrading and
polygamous society in favour of a sedentary and monogamous life, without
recognition of the women’s world-views.[29]
The
enshrinement of monogamous marriage was not unique to the Canadian colonial
project. A comparative analysis, however, shows how this element of colonial
violence had particular regional and national contours. Nancy Cott considers
how marriage in the United States was analogous to the nation; where monogamy
became associated with political liberty and consent in American political
culture, monogamy became a self-evident necessity and a core American belief.[30]
The right to marry was key to national belonging and defining who constituted
“the people.”[31]
Marriage served as a prerequisite for Native Americans to acquire citizenship,
resulting in a division of land to bolster the nuclear family.[32]
The reorganization of people thus intersected with the reorganization of land.
Ideas of marriage also rested upon American ideas about race and freedom. This
is most clearly manifested in laws prohibiting marriages among enslaved
persons, or between the enslaved and the free, based on two twinned
assumptions: that black slaves lacked the capacity to consent to marriage, and
that interracial marriage would imply social equality between races.[33]
Carter
notes how a discourse of rescue contributed to Department of Indian Affairs (DIA)
and missionary efforts to reform Aboriginal marriage. These efforts catalyzed
further cycles of violence, including that perpetuated in residential schools.
Carter argues that colonial authorities manipulated the status of women as a “political
and rhetorical strategy” that created the image of colonial benevolence toward
women, although women’s independence was not desirable to colonial authorities.[34]
The symbolism of polygamy positioned Euro-Canadian women’s domesticity as
civilized and superior, while Aboriginal marriage law was actually more
egalitarian than that of late nineteenth century English Canada.[35]
In
regulating marriage, the punitive and supposedly benevolent elements of the law
intersected. DIA measures to enforce monogamous marriage included withholding
treaty annuities from non-monogamous families, and sending girls to residential
schools to protect them from polygamy and educate them in Euro-Canadian
worldviews.[36] DIA correspondence
indicates that officials assumed it was their right to regulate Aboriginal
women’s sexuality and gender expression in this manner.[37]
Intervening in marriage entailed dramatic changes in social organization and
restrictions of Aboriginal freedoms, destabilizing Aboriginal domestic affairs.
Carter argues that this reflected a “profound misunderstanding” of Aboriginal
marriage law on the part of the DIA.[38]
Paternalistic claims of “protecting” Aboriginal women through surveillance
likewise showed a lack of concern for these women’s social and material
circumstances.[39]
Strikingly, these interventions also made marriage less voluntary than the Aboriginal
customs they were subverting.
DIA
interventions show a tension between coercion and agency, as Aboriginal
traditions of marriage and divorce persisted. Aboriginal individuals and
communities often manipulated Euro-Canadian missionaries and DIA officials to
maintain control over their families.[40]
Violence was also apparent in the definitions of marriage and Indian status
described through the Indian Act, as agents advocated marriage between
Aboriginal women and non-Aboriginal or non-status men as a means of reducing
the status Indian population, in line with the DIA goal of assimilating and
reducing the population of Aboriginal communities for which they were
responsible.[41] Despite
an invasive approach to imposing monogamy on Aboriginal peoples, DIA and
missionary interventions were ultimately less effective than weaker efforts to
entrench monogamy in the settler population.[42]
Carter argues that this shows a limited capacity of the state to control
sexuality, suggesting that colonial regimes are always incomplete.[43]
Joan Sangster asserts that there were multiple
“fronts” for the regulation of Aboriginal women’s sexuality: the Indian Act,
the reserve system, missions, schools, and the state.[44]
Rather than a series of fronts, this regulation took place in a more cohesive
framework, albeit one with multiple fissures. The institutional spaces in which
Aboriginal women’s sexuality was regulated were part of a broader ideology that
used ideas about sexuality as an impetus for the transformation of space to
create a colonial society. This transformation was coercive, but not a
totalizing process; it left space for Aboriginal women’s agency and resistance
in choosing their relationships and defining their own movements and lifestyles
despite colonial regulations.
In addition to circumscribing Aboriginal
people’s relationships, through DIA correspondence, officials constructed
Aboriginal women as sexually promiscuous and immoral.[45]
This scrutiny was particularly intensive for younger women, whom officials
carefully supervised and threatened with cutting off relief payments if these
women behaved in ways that officials deemed inappropriate.[46]
Sangster situates the sexual regulation of both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal
women as part of a nation building project that aimed to create moral families
along a Western, middle-class model.[47]
In this project, interracial sexual liaisons were a marker of promiscuity that
underpinned the censuring of non-white sexuality, and that of white people with
non-white sexual partners.[48]
This played out in the racialization of public space and incarceration of women
who transgressed racialized norms. “Promiscuity” in this context was an
ideology that constructed normal, moral womanhood and thus reinforced colonialism
and the social construction of race, reproducing gender and class inequalities.[49]
Jean
Barman notes that newcomer men in Victoria assumed that Aboriginal women who
moved in public spaces were sex workers.[50] An assumption of racial inferiority linked with promiscuity
was sufficient to condemn these women, whose sexually transgressive activity
often was merely taking up space or behaving in ways inconsistent with European
norms.[51] Even in the absence of any evidence of sexual activity,
officials perceived racial mixing in locations such as dance halls to
constitute prostitution, with Aboriginal women rather than white minors assumed
to be the main transgressors.[52] This intertwined definition of space and sexuality was a
means of condemning and restricting Aboriginal women’s agency.[53] Adele Perry similarly highlights reducing the mobility of
Aboriginal people as a key colonial concern. For missionaries, this could be
accomplished by championing Euro-Canadian ideologies of domesticity for
Aboriginal women[54] There was, however, room for Aboriginal women’s resistance
as they selectively incorporated elements of Christian mores into their own
domestic lives.[55]
In
colonial settings, violence was a component of the conquest of land,
transforming the Prairies into a white, male space through the imposition of
liberal rule.[56] In this
context, the rape of Aboriginal women was tolerated and even condoned.[57]
This was because sexual violence was more than it appears at surface value: it
also functioned to threaten women’s physical safety and moral standing, while
shaping ideals of middle-class masculinity that defined men’s access to women’s
bodies.[58]
Representations of sexual violence and the geographies in which they took place
could obscure the colonial underpinnings of this violence. For instance, social
commentators portrayed the Prairies as areas in which incest was common, as a
crime primarily affecting immigrants and the poor.[59]
Karen Dubinsky makes a similar argument with regard to Ontario, noting that
geographies of rural or northern isolation, or urban overcrowding, shaped the
framing of incest. Such framings, focused on class and geography, had the
effect of erasing gendered power relations.[60]
They similarly silenced the racism that pervaded discourses about and
experiences of violence.
While media representations and social
commentaries could flatten the racial dimensions of violence, these elements
were often at the forefront of legal cases pertaining to Aboriginal people, as
well as immigrants of non-Anglo Saxon origin. In courtroom testimonies,
ethnicity was more often mentioned in cases that involved Aboriginal people or
racialized immigrants, positioning it as relevant in legal judgments of
sexuality and morality.[61] The
individuals involved in these cases showed a keen awareness of the role of
ethnicity and race. To present themselves as respectable, white families with
daughters in court for delinquency, where possible, emphasized their British
background.[62]
Aboriginal defendants in trials could also use stereotypes in their favour,
such as by claiming that they had less control of their actions on the basis of
being less civilized.[63]
Erickson notes the methodological challenges of studying violence against
racialized women, and her research reads fragmentary legal sources against the
grain to see more than the women’s deviance that the sources present.[64]
For some women, even silence in court could be resistance, rather than
acquiescence to their situation.[65]
Incarceration
in schools and prisons was one means of restricting the movements of Aboriginal
people. In these institutions, reform of the colonized and the economic
underclass overlapped and intersected as part of the “normalizing power” of the
law.[66] This had both gendered and racialized dimensions, as
Aboriginal girls were admitted alongside non-Aboriginal girls to the Ontario
Training School for Girls to correct their “incorrigibility,” a trait that the
institution ascribed to their “primitive” homes.[67] While Aboriginal communities were sometimes involved in the
prosecution of Aboriginal women for sexual offences, their role was not
acquiescence, but a response to the material effects of colonialism.[68]
For young white women, “incorrigibility”
could also be linked to a racialization of their sexual behaviour. In 1937, at
age 17, Velma Demerson was prosecuted as “incorrigible” under the Female
Refuges Act and incarcerated in Ontario’s Mercer Reformatory, where she was
subject to painful and dehumanizing gynaecological treatment at the hands of
Dr. Edna Guest.[69]
The charge of incorrigibility was based on Demerson’s consensual sexual
relationship with a Chinese man, with whom she became pregnant. Demerson
attributed Guest’s abusive medical treatment to Guest’s assumption that the
baby would be feeble-minded on the basis of mixed-race parentage.[70]
Coercive medical treatment for incarcerated young women was a reasonably common
occurrence. Sangster posits that medical exams in the Ontario Training School
for Girls were a means of forcing standards of femininity and purity onto
girls’ bodies.[71]
While Demerson had little power to resist her experiences while incarcerated,
she took legal action in 2002, likening the medical “treatment” she received to
sexual assault in an attempt to have the Female Refuges Act declared
unconstitutional. Ultimately, she received a public apology from the Ontario
government and financial compensation.[72]
This tacitly acknowledged the violence that Demerson had experienced.
The experiences of Demerson and other
young women incarcerated in reformatory or penal institutions, some of which
were positioned as schools, illustrates the potential collisions of colonial
violence with health and education, even without considering the pervasive
abuses that Aboriginal people have faced in hospitals and residential schools.
Categories of race and sexuality are inherently violent in their mechanisms and
in the motivations underpinning their construction. Medicalized discourses
framed around these categories, such as the positioning of Aboriginal peoples
as a “dying race” are thus also violent. What are the consequences of focusing
on the discursive and symbolic manifestations of violence, rather than its
physical elements? A report by Amnesty International shows the linkages and
trajectories of various forms of violence, connecting issues such as
homelessness and the racialization of sex work to the violence faced by missing
and murdered Indigenous women.[73] A
focus on the violent underpinnings of legislative and punitive elements of
colonial law is not dancing around the issue of physical violence; instead, it
is constructing a set that clearly shows rather than obscures this backdrop of
the colonial theatre.
Works Cited
Backhouse,
Constance. Carnal Crimes: Sexual Assault Law in Canada, 1900-1975.
Toronto: The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History, 2008.
Barman,
Jean. “Aboriginal Women on the Streets of Victoria: Rethinking Transgressive
Sexuality during the Colonial Encounter.” In Contact Zones: Aboriginal and
Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, edited by Katie Pickles and Myra
Rutherdale, 205–27. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005.
Brownlie,
Robin Jarvis. A Fatherly Eye: Indian Agents, Government Power, and
Aboriginal Resistance in Ontario, 1918-1939. Toronto: Oxford University
Press, 2003.
Carter,
Sarah. The Importance of Being Monogamous: Marriage and Nation Building in
Western Canada to 1915. Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 2008.
Carter,
Sarah. “Creating ‘Semi-Widows’ and ‘Supernumerary Wives’: Prohibiting Polygamy
in Prairie Canada’s Aboriginal Communities to 1900.” In Contact Zones:
Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, edited by Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale, 131–59. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005.
Cott,
Nancy F. Public Vows: A History of Marriage and the Nation. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press, 2000.
Dubinsky,
Karen. Improper Advances: Rape and Heterosexual Conflict in Ontario,
1880-1929. Chicago Series on Sexuality, History, and Society. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1993.
Erickson,
Lesley. Westward Bound Sex, Violence, the Law, and the Making of a Settler
Society. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2012.
Jiwani,
Yasmin. Discourses of Denial: Mediations of Race, Gender, and Violence.
Vancouver: UBC Press, 2006.
Perry,
Adele. “Metropolitan Knowledge, Colonial Practice, and Indigenous Womanhood:
Missions in Nineteenth-Century British Columbia.” In Contact Zones:
Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, edited by Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale, 109–30. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005.
Sangster,
Joan. “Domesticating Girls: The Sexual Regulation of Aboriginal and
Working-Class Girls in Twentieth-Century Canada.” In Contact Zones:
Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, edited by Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale, 179–201. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005.
Sangster,
Joan. Regulating Girls and Women: Sexuality, Family, and the Law in Ontario,
1920-1960. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2001.
Van
Kirk, Sylvia. Many Tender Ties: Women in Fur-Trade Society, 1670-1870.
Winnipeg: Watson & Dwyer, 2011.
[1]
Lesley Erickson, Westward Bound Sex, Violence, the Law,
and the Making of a Settler Society (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2012),
41, 97.
[2]
Yasmin Jiwani, Discourses of Denial: Mediations of Race,
Gender, and Violence (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2006), xi.
[3]
Jiwani, xiii
[4]
Jiwani, 204.
[5]
Jiwani, 37.
[6]
Jiwani, 7.
[7]
Jiwani, 26.
[8]
Constance Backhouse, Carnal Crimes: Sexual Assault Law in
Canada, 1900-1975 (Toronto: The Osgoode Society for Canadian Legal History,
2008), 227-242.
[9]
Backhouse, 247.
[10]
Backhouse, 255.
[11]
Backhouse, 226.
[12]
Sarah Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous:
Marriage and Nation Building in Western Canada to 1915, (Edmonton:
University of Alberta Press, 2008), 3-6.
[13]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 31, 38.
[16]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 52-53.
[18]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 149.
[19]
Sylvia Van Kirk, Many Tender Ties: Women in Fur-Trade
Society, 1670-1870 (Winnipeg: Watson & Dwyer, 2011), 36.
[20]
Van Kirk, 54.
[21]
Van Kirk, 74, 63.
[22]
Van Kirk, 46-47.
[23]
Van Kirk, 84.
[24]
Van Kirk, 118.
[25]
Van Kirk, 132.
[26]
Van Kirk, 138, 141.
[27]
Van Kirk, 202.
[28]
Jiwani, 67.
[29]
Van Kirk, 78-79.
[30]
Nancy F Cott, Public Vows: A History of Marriage and the
Nation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 16, 23.
[31]
Cott, 5.
[32]
Cott, 122.
[33]
Cott, 33, 35.
[34]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 175.
[35]
Sarah Carter, “Creating ‘Semi-Widows’ and ‘Supernumerary
Wives’: Prohibiting Polygamy in Prairie Canada’s Aboriginal Communities to
1900,” in Contact Zones: Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial
Past, ed. Katie Pickles and Myra Rutherdale (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), 136-7,
[36]
Carter, ‘Semi-Widows,’ 140, 151; Robin Jarvis
Brownlie, “Intimate Surveillance: Indian Affairs, Colonization, and the
Regulation of Aboriginal Women’s Sexuality,” in Contact Zones: Aboriginal
and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, ed. Katie Pickles and Myra
Rutherdale (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), 163
[37]
Brownlie 163.
[38]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 234-5.
[39]
Joan Sangster, Regulating Girls and Women: Sexuality,
Family, and the Law in Ontario, 1920-1960 (Toronto: Oxford University
Press, 2001), 122-123.
[40]
Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous, 260.
[41]
Brownlie 172.
[45]
Brownlie, 161.
[46]
Brownlie, 166.
[47]
Sangster, Regulating Girls and Women, 168.
[50]
Jean Barman, “Aboriginal Women on the Streets of Victoria:
Rethinking Transgressive Sexuality during the Colonial Encounter,” in Contact
Zones: Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, ed. Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), 205.
[51]
Barman, 219, 206.
[52]
Barman 212-213.
[53]
Barman 221.
[54]
Adele Perry, “Metropolitan Knowledge, Colonial Practice, and
Indigenous Womanhood: Missions in Nineteenth-Century British Columbia,” in Contact
Zones: Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, ed. Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), 113-114.
[55]
Perry, 122.
[56]
Erickson, 44, 230.
[57]
Erickson, 73.
[58]
Erickson, 123-124.
[59]
Erickson 194.
[60]
Karen Dubinsky, Improper Advances: Rape and Heterosexual
Conflict in Ontario, 1880-1929, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1993), 62.
[63]
Erickson 53.
[64]
Erickson, 7.
[67]
Joan Sangster, “Domesticating Girls: The Sexual Regulation
of Aboriginal and Working-Class Girls in Twentieth-Century Canada,” in Contact
Zones: Aboriginal and Settler Women in Canada’s Colonial Past, ed. Katie
Pickles and Myra Rutherdale (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2005), 181-183, 185.
[69]
Backhouse, 112-113, 116.
[70]
Backhouse 120.
[71]
Sangster, “Domesticating Girls,” 190.
[72]
Backhouse, 130.
[73]
Amnesty International, No More Stolen Sisters: The Need for a Comprehensive
Response to Discrimination and Violence against Indigenous Women in Canada
(London: Amnesty International, 2009).
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