Public Safety Begins Here – Why Municipalities Matter Now More Than Ever

Across British Columbia, communities are reeling from a devastating series of femicides. In July 2025, five women were killed by their partners/men they knew and three women were viciously attacked in public—each in a different city, most with warning signs missed, and each preventable.

In the aftermath, there is a question echoing through homes, workplaces, and city halls across this province: Who is responsible for public safety?

At Battered Women’s Support Services (BWSS), we’ve launched #DesignedWithSurvivors, a province-wide initiative that reframes gender-based violence (GBV), intimate partner and sexualized violence and femicide as urgent public safety issues. But we are doing more than naming the crisis—we are driving solutions. That’s why we’ve written to every Mayor and Council in British Columbia, urging them to act now.

The Role of Municipalities in Stopping Violence

When people think about GBV, they often look to provincial or federal governments. But public safety doesn’t live in a throne speech or a distant policy directive—it lives where we do: on buses, in parks, in housing complexes, and in community centres. These are the spaces governed by municipalities. And too often, these are the very spaces where violence is happening.

Local governments fund and oversee police, control public infrastructure, shape transit systems, approve housing and shelter developments, and disburse grants to community-based organizations. They also set the tone for what gets named as a crisis—and what gets ignored.

In short, municipalities matter. Their choices are not symbolic. They are life-altering. They can lead.

What We’re Doing

In June 2025, BWSS sent a letter to every Mayor and Council across BC, calling on them to:

  • Acknowledge gender-based violence as a public safety emergency
  • Commit to survivor-informed planning and investment
  • Share the #DesignedWithSurvivors message to show solidarity and intent

We are asking each municipality to meet with us, and many have already responded. These meetings are about more than checking a box—they’re about building real, tangible local responses that prevent violence and protect lives.

We are working with over 150 organizations and individuals who are ready to act. What we need now is for local governments to step into their power—and their responsibility.

This Is Not About Blame. It’s About Leadership.

We’re not interested in performative statements or empty gestures. We’re interested in action—recognized, funded, coordinated, survivor-centred action.

Too often, gender-based violence in particular intimate partner violence is treated as private. But it’s public. Women are being killed in their homes—homes located in your municipalities. Girls are being assaulted in parks, on transit, in office buildings in our cities. Citywide engagement is required.

If municipalities do not act, the cycle continues. But when they do—when they take responsibility, when they fund prevention, when they centre survivors—everything changes.

What’s Next

Over the coming weeks, we’ll share which municipalities meet with us, which take action, what kinds of action they are taking and which municipalities stay silent. We will celebrate those who lead, and we will continue to press those who don’t. Because this moment demands it.

If you are a resident, we invite you to write to your Mayor. If you are a city councillor reading this, we invite you to respond. And if you are a survivor: know that you are not alone. We are fighting for a future where safety is not a privilege—it’s a right.

Public safety must be designed with survivors in mind. And it must start now

 

Canada has a National Plan to End Gender-Based Violence

When the Courts Fail to Understand Trauma: A Chilling Verdict for Survivors of Sexual Assault

Canada has a National Action Plan to End Gender-Based Violence.
Most people have never heard of it. Even fewer know it’s in danger of collapsing before it ever really began.

In 2022, the Government of Canada launched the National Action Plan—a 10-year strategy built on decades of advocacy by survivors, feminist organizations, and frontline workers. It promised coordinated, sustained action on the crisis of violence that impacts women, girls, and gender-diverse people in every province and territory.

But in 2025, in the middle of escalating violence against women and femicide, the federal government is slashing the department responsible for implementing the plan by 80%.

What do you call a plan with no budget, no oversight, and no urgency?

A press release.

What the Plan Was Supposed to Do

The National Action Plan was designed to:

  • Support survivors and their families
  • Prevent violence before it starts
  • Build a responsive justice system
  • Advance Indigenous-led approaches
  • Strengthen housing, healthcare, and social infrastructure

And for the first time, it came with federal funding—coordinated through Women and Gender Equality Canada (WAGE) and delivered through bilateral agreements with provinces and territories, including British Columbia.

But now, with WAGE facing an 80% budget cut by 2027, the Plan is no longer national, no longer coordinated, and no longer credible.

British Columbia: One Year from Expiry, with No Path Forward

In 2023, British Columbia signed a bilateral agreement under the National Action Plan, backed by federal funding. That agreement expires in 2026. That gives us one year left to act.

Despite rising femicides and public commitments to a safer province, there is currently no plan—and no funding—to continue this work beyond next year.

The provincial strategy, Safe and Supported, was launched with strong language about equity, prevention, and accountability. But language doesn’t protect women. Funding, enforcement, and political will do.

Right now:

  • No new core funding has been committed to frontline services.
  • Risk assessments remain voluntary, inconsistently applied, and unenforced.
  • Crown Counsel continues to deny or drop charges in high-risk IPV cases.
  • There is no independent oversight to ensure that BC delivers on the promises it made.

Without renewed federal investment—and without concrete action from the province—Safe and Supported risks becoming just another government announcement.

This is not a planning phase. This is the moment to deliver.

Read our open letter https://www.criaw-icref.ca/statements/statement-on-wages-budget/

Send your own letter here: https://win.newmode.net/actioncanadaforsexualhealthrights/protectgenderequality

 

 

When the Courts Fail to Understand Trauma: A Chilling Verdict for Survivors of Sexual Assault

In the wake of a recent high-profile trial that resulted in the acquittal of five men accused of gang sexual assault, Julie Lalonde—a respected advocate, educator, and author—spoke plainly about what many survivors and feminist advocates have long known: the legal system in Canada continues to fail survivors of sexual violence. Her televised interview offers not only a searing critique of the ruling but also a broader call to action for justice that recognizes the realities of trauma.

“Unfortunately, as someone who’s been doing this work in Canada for over 20 years, I was not surprised that all five of the men were acquitted,” Lalonde begins.

She goes on to express disappointment not just in the outcome, but in the way the verdict was delivered. The judge took more than five hours to read her ruling, which Lalonde describes as “really smearing of the complainant.” The complainant—known publicly as EM—was dismissed as neither credible nor reliable. But as Lalonde points out, this dismissal was grounded in a fundamental misunderstanding of how trauma affects memory and perception.

When the Legal System Ignores the Science of Trauma

During a traumatic event, memory does not function like a recording device. Fear and panic can overwhelm the brain, causing a fragmented recall of events. Survivors may remember certain details vividly while struggling to recount timelines or peripheral facts. This is not a sign of dishonesty; it is how the brain survives trauma.

“It really seems to us that this is a justice that does not understand how fear can manifest itself and how trauma can impact memory,” Lalonde says.

This gap in understanding—between what trauma experts know and what judges apply in their rulings—continues to result in survivors being discredited in court. It also highlights how judicial training, even after initiatives like Rona Ambrose’s push for better education on sexual assault, remains deeply insufficient.

Disbelief as Institutional Violence

For many survivors, the legal process is itself a source of harm. EM, through her lawyer, released a statement expressing that she had “never experienced not being believed like this before.” Her experience reflects what countless survivors in Canada already know too well: reporting sexual violence can result in not only disbelief but public scrutiny, character assassination, and retraumatization.

“When your trauma is not acknowledged, you kind of get stuck in that memory,” Lalonde explains. “You get stuck in that space, and it’s harder for you to move through it and move past it.”

And when a ruling actively discredits a survivor’s account without a trauma-informed lens, it compounds the original harm—this time with the authority and weight of the courts behind it.

A System Designed to Fail

This case is not an outlier. Lalonde connects it to a wider pattern seen in cases like Jian Ghomeshi’s and Harvey Weinstein’s. Across jurisdictions and countries, sexual assault trials are often reduced to credibility contests shaped by unrealistic expectations of how a survivor should behave or recall details.

“If you were to experience a car accident and then have to go and recreate, beat for beat, what happened chances are you wouldn’t be able to, because you were in shock,” Lalonde notes. “That is a well-researched, well understood phenomenon in psychology, but it seems to be completely absent from legal analysis.”

When courts disregard this evidence, they uphold a version of justice that is fundamentally hostile to the lived experience of survivors.

The Chilling Effect

Perhaps the most disturbing consequence of this verdict, Lalonde argues, is the ripple effect it will have across the country. In the days following the trial, sexual assault centers reported a spike in calls—many from people who had planned to report but now felt that doing so would be futile.

“We’re going to see a really profound chill effect of people just throwing their hands up and saying, there’s no point in me ever reporting this,” she warns.

This isn’t just a tragedy for survivors—it’s a public safety crisis. When survivors stop reporting, perpetrators remain unaccountable, and communities remain unsafe.

“We should all be concerned about that chill effect,” Lalonde says in closing.

Where Do We Go From Here?

This trial and its outcome raise critical questions: What kind of justice system do we want? One that silences, discredits, and retraumatizes survivors? Or one that listens, understands, and responds based on evidence—not myths, not stereotypes, and not outdated assumptions about how people “should” behave in the face of violence?

Until the legal system is reformed to incorporate a trauma and violence-informed, survivor-centred approach, we will continue to see verdicts like this one—and continue to lose the trust of those who need justice the most.

When the Courts Fail to Understand Trauma: A Chilling Verdict for Survivors of Sexual Assault

Will the Hockey Canada Case Have a Chilling Effect on Victims of Sexual Assault in Canada?

The answer is yes. And it’s already happening.

On July 25, 2025, five former junior hockey players—each previously signed to an NHL team—were acquitted in a high-profile sexual assault case stemming from an alleged group assault in 2018. The complainant, known publicly as E.M., testified for eight days, enduring intense scrutiny, character attacks, and invasive cross-examination. In the end, the judge ruled that her testimony was not credible or reliable.

While the legal process has concluded, its implications are only beginning. For sexual assault survivors across Canada, the outcome of this trial does more than close a file. It sends a warning. One that will reverberate through every hospital exam room, every university orientation, every crisis line, every sexual assault centre, every transition house, every therapist’s office, and every moment when someone harmed by sexual violence asks:

Should I report?

This case will deter many from doing so. Not because they don’t seek justice—but because they’ve now seen how justice is defined.

A Chilling Effect Is Not Hypothetical

Sexual violence is already among the most underreported crimes in Canada. According to Statistics Canada, only about 6% of sexual assaults are reported to police. Of those, less than half lead to charges, and fewer still result in a conviction. Now imagine watching this trial unfold as a survivor:

  • The invasive dissection of E.M.’s memory.
  • The weaponization of her texts, silences, and coping strategies.
  • The complete absence of accountability for the accused, four of whom never testified.
  • The courtroom became a stage where only one person was required to perform—while her harm was put on trial.

Survivors are being shown what “justice” requires of them: coherence, composure, perfect memory, and a version of victimhood that aligns with outdated myths. Many will reasonably conclude: I cannot survive that.

This isn’t a chilling effect in the abstract. It’s a signal to survivors that coming forward will likely not result in safety—but could cost them their dignity, privacy, and well-being.

What the Courtroom Can’t Hold

The criminal legal system in Canada was not designed with survivors in mind. As lawyer Gillian Hnatiw has said, it is a “blunt instrument”—one that demands performance from survivors, while offering silence and insulation to those accused.

The system:

  1. Does not askWhat happened to you?
  2. It asks, Can you survive what we’re about to do to you?

This is especially true in cases involving powerful or high-profile defendants. In those moments, the system doesn’t merely question the survivor. It protects the brand, the league, the national myth. It defends the reputation of those seen as valuable. That defense comes at the cost of survivors’ credibility, safety, and future.

The courtroom did not ask what E.M. endured. It asked whether her responses fit a script.

A script in which trauma must be linear. Reactions must be immediate. Memory must be flawless.
There is no space for contradiction, for confusion, for the ways people survive.
The law didn’t fail to see the harm. It failed to recognize it on any terms but its own.

E.M. wasn’t disbelieved because her story lacked truth.
She was disbelieved because the system requires victims to be consistent, coherent, and composed—while demanding those things in the aftermath of violence.

False Accusations Are a Red Herring

One of the most enduring counter-narratives after any high-profile acquittal is the assertion that women routinely make false accusations. That fear is now likely to be reignited.

But here’s the truth:
False reports of sexual assault are rare.
Research from jurisdictions around the world, including Canada, estimates the rate of false reporting to be between 2–8%—comparable to other crimes like robbery or assault.

What is far more common?

  • Survivors who never report.
  • Survivors who recant under pressure.
  • Survivors who are disbelieved or blamed when they do come forward.
  • Survivors who are retraumatized by the very systems they turn to for justice.

The myth of false accusations does not protect the innocent. It protects the status quo. And it gives perpetrators a ready-made narrative to discredit anyone who dares name them.

So What Now?

We must be honest: this case will have a chilling effect. Not because survivors are weak. But because they are wise. They have learned from what the courtroom can’t hold.

But the criminal system is not the only form of justice. As Hnatiw reminds us, survivors can—and do—pursue healing, validation, and accountability outside the courtroom. Through civil claims. Through institutional complaints. Through collective organizing. Through telling the truth anyway.

And as advocates, legal workers, educators, and community members, our job is to hold space for that truth, to refuse the silence, tell survivors: you are not alone, and the court’s disbelief does not erase what happened.

An acquittal in this case does not prove that the criminal law is incapable of responding to sexual violence. But even before the verdict, some voices were already pivoting—suggesting that this case illustrates the need for alternative, non-criminal approaches like “restorative justice.”

That response misses the point. It assumes, wrongly, that restorative models are somehow immune from the same gendered biases that plague the courts. It also assumes that survivors want dialogue, or reconciliation, with those who violated them.

We reject the idea that justice for women must mean less justice—softer processes, fewer rights, or lowered expectations. Whatever the outcome of this trial, women are entitled to a criminal legal system that respects both the right to equality and the right to a fair trial.

And to E.M.—we see your courage. We know what it cost. And we will not forget.

Behind Closed Doors, With the State’s Permission: How the Public/Private Divide Enables Violence

Violence in the home has long been protected—not by secrecy alone, but by law, culture, and institutional design. The division between public and private life is not a neutral boundary. It is a deeply embedded structure rooted in centuries of legal and social norms that treated women as dependents, subordinates, and property. In British Columbia today, women are not simply being harmed in their homes; they are being abandoned by institutions never meant to protect them.

The Scale of Intimate Partner Violence in BC

Nearly half—48 percent—of girls and women aged 15 and over in BC have experienced intimate partner violence. That’s more than 1.1 million lives. Right now, we estimate that at least 92,000 women are living with physical or sexual violence from a partner. If coercive control, emotional abuse, and economic violence are included, the number exceeds 200,000. These are not signs of a failing system. They are signs of a system working exactly as it was designed—to preserve domestic order and male authority, not women’s survival.

A Legal Legacy of Control and Silence

Under English common law and its colonial inheritors, women were not legal persons in their own right. They were legally absorbed into the identities of their fathers and husbands. Marriage conferred control over a woman’s body, property, movement, and legal status. Violence within that context was not just permitted—it was structured as a right. That legal legacy is not a relic. It continues to shape institutional responses today.

When violence happens in public, it is treated as a criminal matter. When it happens at home, it is often minimized as a dispute. This logic—framing the household as a realm beyond state interference—has long shielded power of fathers, husbands and boyfriends from accountability. That logic still governs.

Systemic Neglect and Political Inaction

Government policy continues to assign intimate partner violence to health or social services, rather than addressing it as a public safety emergency. Despite the scale—1.1 million women affected—there is no provincial GBV framework, no declaration of emergency, and no mandatory risk assessments across institutions. The message is clear: violence in the home is a personal problem, not a collective responsibility.

Police routinely downplay reports of IPV as “relationship issues” or “high-conflict relationship.” The credibility of victims and survivors who report violence is questioned. Many of the 92,000 women currently experiencing violence never see timely or meaningful intervention. In court, Crown counsel and judges often rely on outdated assumptions. The myth of the good father frequently outweighs the survivor’s risk.

This divide is not just institutional—it is cultural. Families, coworkers, and communities hesitate to ask, support, or believe unless the harm is visible. That silence leaves more than 200,000 women navigating abuse on their own.

Lives Lost, Systems Maintained

This July, five women in British Columbia were killed by men they knew. These were not anomalies. They were the lethal outcome of institutional delay and political silence.

One of them was Bailey McCourt. On July 4, she was beaten to death with a hammer by her former partner. He had been convicted of assaulting her—of choking and threatening her life. Yet he was released pending sentencing. This was not an oversight. It was a calculated decision made within a legal system that continues to treat the violence by a husband or boyfriend in the home as less urgent than disorder in the public square. It reflects a framework that centres male entitlement over women’s safety.

Bailey McCourt didn’t die because the system failed. She died because it operated exactly as designed—passing responsibility from police to Crown, from Crown to courts, until her danger was no longer seen as urgent, or even real.

To stop these deaths, we must dismantle both the systems that permit them and the ideology that excuses them—an ideology that still treats men’s dominance as natural and the harm women experience as an acceptable loss.

Another Woman Killed in Richmond: Gender-Based Violence Is the Public Safety Crisis of Our Time

MEDIA STATEMENT
For Immediate Release

July 19, 2025

Another Woman Killed in Richmond: Gender-Based Violence Is the Public Safety Crisis of Our Time

Vancouver, BC – Battered Women’s Support Services (BWSS) is responding with sorrow and urgency to yet another killing of a woman in British Columbia—this time in Richmond, where police have arrested a man and stated that “there is no further risk to the public.”

This language is not neutral. It signals to the public that the situation is contained and resolved, that there is nothing more to fear, and that institutions have regained control. But the truth is that another woman is dead. And in just 17 days, across six different cities in this province, five women have been killed, and three others have been seriously injured—most were harmed by a man known to them. What happened in Abbotsford, Kelowna, Surrey, Langley, Vancouver and now Richmond is not an isolated tragedy. It is a repeating and escalating pattern of gender-based violence that continues to be mischaracterized as random, private, and exceptional.

When officials say there is no risk to the public, they are excluding the very people most at risk from their definition of public. They are rendering women invisible in the scope of institutional concern. These statements not only mislead, but they also protect the systems that failed to intervene. They deny the scale of the crisis and allow elected officials, police, and Crown prosecutors to remain silent while more lives are lost.

The data is irrefutable. As the Dr. Kim Stanton Report on systemic failures in the legal system noted, forty-eight percent of women and girls aged fifteen and older in B.C. have experienced intimate partner violence. Nearly half of women across the province are living with the aftermath or threat of violence—whether physical, sexual, psychological, or economic. And yet, public safety policies continue to treat gender-based violence and violence against women as secondary, invisible, or already addressed

We are now witnessing the result of that neglect where a woman is killed, and there is no emergency declared, the risk is named as over, while the cycle is allowed to continue. For every woman killed there thousand more who are living in fear.

This moment demands more than declarations or sympathy. It requires sustained and coordinated action from every level of government. Municipal governments must stop waiting for provincial direction and begin treating gender-based violence as the public safety emergency it is. Provincial ministries must coordinate across housing, health, justice, and education systems to disrupt the patterns that allow women to be killed despite repeated calls for help. The federal government must move beyond statements of commitment and legislate mandatory standards for risk assessment, prevention, and accountability across the country.

This province cannot keep building our public safety response on language that excludes survivors and institutions that protect the status quo. Public safety must be redefined to include those who are most at risk of harm. It must be proactive, not reactive. And it must be designed with survivors in mind from the outset—not added in after the violence has already occurred.

This is not just a series of individual tragedies, the violence is happening to members of the public and is a reflection on a collective failure. Until we confront that reality, the pattern will persist, and women will continue to die under the silence of institutional reassurance.

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