'Name what things are': Recognizing 'femicide' 35 years after the Montreal massacre

Annie Ross, professor of mechanical engineering at Polytechnique Montréal, poses in her laboratories in Montreal on Wednesday. Ross narrowly avoided the shooting massacre at Ecole Polytechnique on Dec. 6, 1989, having left not long before it started. (THE CANADIAN PRESS/Christinne Muschi)

Ahead of the 35th anniversary of the Montreal Massacre on Friday, Annie Ross, a mechanical engineering professor at Polytechnique Montréal, said she often thinks of those who lived through the tragedy but still suffer silently.

On Dec. 6, 1989, a man motivated by a hatred of feminists shot and killed 14 women and injured 13 other people at the Montreal engineering school affiliated with Université de Montréal.

Ross was in her fourth year in mechanical engineering at Polytechnique and narrowly avoided the gunman. Her friends weren't as lucky.

"That day, I was studying at Polytechnique, preparing for my exams and I was supposed to go in class with them — with that group. They were presenting their final project and it was all exciting," Ross said.

But instead of walking into class, she decided to go home and study. "That was minutes before the tragedy happened (and) by the time I got home, it was over."

Many of her friends were murdered that day, people who were her lifeline to the city, as she had just moved to Montreal from New Brunswick.

"It's stupid, but I did feel that I let them down because I wasn't there for them even though it's not rational at all," she said.

In the aftermath, during events to honour the dead and the survivors, she felt like an intruder — that the memories of the day didn't belong to her. "That was pretty difficult to go through," she said.

She didn't witness the violence but was deeply affected by it.

And 35 years later, Ross, who also serves as the deputy vice-president of research at the institution, avoids certain parts of the school.

She imagines that many people are dealing with something similar — struggling in silence.

"They're suffering, they're still hurting and that will be for the rest of their lives, so it's a big, big hole," she said.

The names of the 14 women who were killed that day are etched in the hearts and minds of Montrealers; many can recite their names from memory: Geneviève Bergeron, Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau, Barbara Daigneault, Anne-Marie Edward, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganière, Maryse Leclair, Anne-Marie Lemay, Sonia Pelletier, Michèle Richard, Annie St-Arneault, Annie Turcotte and Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz.

One of Ross's classmates was Nathalie Provost.

Provost was shot four times in the attack and became a spokesperson for survivors and an advocate for stricter gun control laws, a fight that continues 35 years on.

In an interview this week, Provost said she will be thinking on Friday about all the parents of students at the school that day in 1989, parents who likely went through hell and back.

Provost's own mother died this year.

"I cannot imagine how awful that night must have been for all the families, for my mother who was expecting a call from me. And I also know that the possibility that something like Polytechnique, it can happen again," Provost said, tearing up. "I think I will bear in my heart the memory of my mother and all the families who had to live that awful night."

Provost said she also takes solace in the fact that mental health — post-traumatic stress and the stigma associated with mental illness — is talked about much more than it was 35 years ago.

"I needed help and I was really lucky because I got it … but we are more and more kind about those who suffer from mental health issues," Provost said.

In 1991, Dec. 6 was proclaimed by the federal government as National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women.

But only more recently has the attack been defined as "anti-feminist."

Today, the term "femicide" is used more frequently to describe the murder of women.

Provost said the increased use of the word is a reflection of a society that is coming to terms with the high prevalence of gender-based violence.

"We are more and more able to name what things are ... we are now able to name the reality and to face the reality, and that was not the case 35 years ago," she said.

For Ross, one of her goals is to increase the number of female engineers graduating in Canada.

There isn't a direct link between the 1989 tragedy and her mission, she said, but "if anything, it did reinforce this feeling that all doors should be open to everyone."

Ross said that in 1989, she was the only female student in her class, but never felt out of place.

"However, I've grown to learn that it's not the same for all girls," she said.

At Polytechnique, 32 per cent of incoming students were women this semester.

Ross said that number increases by half a percentage point every year.

"It's positive, but it's fairly low, and at that rate, it will take a very long time before we reach what we call the parity zone," Ross said.

In Quebec, 85 per cent of engineers are male, according to the province's order of engineers, she added.

She questions who bears responsibility to change that.

"Does it belong to women? Does it belong to girls? Does it belong to teachers? Does it belong to decision makers? And particularly, does it belong to men?" she asked.

One young engineer is Makenna Kuzyk, the 10th recipient of the Order of the White Rose, the $50,000 scholarship awarded annually to a female engineering student in Canada who wishes to enrol in graduate studies in engineering anywhere in the world.

Beginning in 2025, there are plans to expand the award, with an eventual goal of awarding 14 scholarships a year.

Kuzyk, 23, from Calgary, did her undergraduate degree at the University of Alberta in mechanical engineering and will attend the International Test Pilots School, in London, Ont., starting next month for flight test engineering — only the second civilian, and first woman, to do so.

In an interview, Kuzyk said that seeing a book about the massacre on the table of a relative's house — many of the victims were the same age as her — caught her attention.

"It really became kind of personal for me, I guess I really did feel connected to that story and it made me want to make a change because it hit really close to home," Kuzyk said. "The motivation is to not let them be forgotten and to kind of carry their dreams is kind of what I want to do."

-- This report by The Canadian Press was first published Dec. 5, 2024.