About a hundred people, most dressed in red, gathered Monday in the Arts and Crafts Building in the Del Norte Fairgrounds to commemorate the National Day of Awareness for Murdered and Missing Indigenous People (MMIP). The event, which included sign-making stations, face-painting, and testimonials by Native community members, was organized by the Tolowa Dee-ni’ Nation. 

As attendees trickled in, many with children, Adrian Lopez paused in front of the large, flashing informational video projected on the wall behind him. Lopez works in the Victims Services Division of the Tolowa Community and Family Department as a Domestic Violence/Sexual Assault Prevention Specialist. “We like spreading awareness,” he said. “Especially for this specific cause because the rates of missing and murdered indigenous people are higher than the national average for any other race or ethnicity. It’s up to ten times more likely being missing or murdered as an indigenous individual.” 

These numbers were born out in the video behind him, which no one seemed to be paying much attention to. For Lopez however, the gathering was about more than spreading information. “I think with native communities in general, gathering is healing for us,” he said. “Whenever we’re able to gather together, we can heal from trauma.”

At a nearby table, three women were trying to figure out how best to paint red hand prints across their faces, the motif for the day, and a powerful image, fraught with meaning. 

“Indigenous people, especially those who’ve been murdered or are missing, have been silenced,” one of the women answered when asked about the hand print’s significance. “It’s breaking that silence, saying that indigenous people are also important, they cannot be forgotten.”

“It’s pretty much saying,” offered a second woman, “don’t be quiet anymore, be open about who is missing, who is out there…”

The third woman, with a freshly painted red hand print across her mouth, added, “And to let the media know we never hear anything, not just Native Americans, Asians, y’know, other races. On the national news we always just hear about…certain people.”

After a poem, a song, and a land acknowledgment, Tolowa Dee-ni’ public information officer Scott Graves took the mic and offered these specific recommendations from the Tolowa Dee-ni’ Nation regarding MMIP: “Listen to families, survivors, and their advocates. Take their perspective and their questions and concerns seriously. Take the time to learn their priorities and needs. Be of service. Take the time to build trust. Learn what it means to be trauma-informed with your words, your practice, and your life. Every member of the community can play an important role, so if you see something, report it. If you have information about something that has occurred, call 911, report it immediately.”

Then the floor was opened to family members of missing or murdered indigenous people to share their stories. A number of them did. 

One woman spoke about her uncle who was murdered “for $300 by a friend who was white.” According to her, the Curry County Sheriff’s Office refused to look further into the crime, even threatening legal action if the family continued to “harass” the office. 

Marva Jones, dressed in ceremonial regalia, spoke about her nephew Dante RomanNose Jones, who was shot by another youth at the age of 13. The murder happened 10 years ago May 1, Jones said. “They had suspects that they arraigned and let go. It was just like another Indian on Indian crime that gets ignored oftentimes.” 

Decrying the sense of disregard many Indigenous victims and their families feel in the face of the criminal justice system, Jones continued, “We really need to be more aware of these institutional racisms that happen, that play out daily. But murder is the way we were introduced to white society here in the United States. That’s why we call them N’aalh-mi-tii. The translation for N’aalh-mi-tii is ‘the one who brandishes the knife,’ so you can see how we got introduced to American culture.” 

After the testimonials, the assembled gathered in the fairground’s parking lot for a walk along Highway 101 in the bright spring sun. Carrying signs and dressed in red, the crowd moved off along the sidewalk toward Denny’s, leaving behind a lone participant, a woman named Kelly, who walked with two canes and so made no attempt to march with the others. Instead, she took a folding chair to the sidewalk and sat near the curb, to be “as visible as I can be,” she said. 

Kelly was attending the memorial from the Bay Area in honor of her niece, who was viciously murdered two decades ago. She’s made bringing awareness to the MMIP cause her life’s work ever since. 

“To bring awareness to the community how we are so under-served by police, by anybody,” Kelly said, speaking between the supportive honks of passing cars, her mouth a red hand-shaped swath. “It’s just important that we gather together and support each other, get the word out. People need to know…Look-it, my niece was murdered about that same time that the whole Laci Peterson case came up.” Kelly referenced the famous case of the pregnant Peterson killed by her husband in 2002. “She was on page 10 of the newspaper, my niece, and you saw the stuff with Laci Peterson. I’m not saying she didn’t deserve it, of course not, but what’s the difference. What is the difference?”