A thought about the past

Those of us who care about math education and making it more engaging generally have strong opinions about “math drills” and the over-emphasis on standard algorithms (ie. doing pencil-and-paper arithmetic the way that one’s parents were taught to.) The progressive view is generally that while students *do* need to learn basic facts, they should also build understanding of what those facts mean so that they can tell where and when to apply them. They should be able to work with the ideas of arithmetic and algebra through multiple representations, and alternate algorithms are great.

(If you want to debate that view, that’s fine, but maybe not here right now. There’s a bigger point coming.)

So in that context, here’s the thought I had that struck an odd chord with me:

Drilling standard algorithms used to be the right answer.

I don’t know if the weight of that statement really hits by just reading it here, so let me unpack a bit.

When something new comes out, it changes how we perceive the previous tools. A classic example is how photography forever changed the role and perception of painting. Before photography, a painting or drawing was the only way to create an accurate, persistent image of someone or something. Post-photography, the role of the traditional visual arts in society had to be re-examined and a new form of art emerged.

But while most of us have at least a pop-culture awareness of “modern” art’s experimentalism, what we usually don’t think about is how our view of the pre-photography era has shifted as well. For centuries, painting was valued as a way to (re)produce images from life. If a painter had used tools such as lenses, measuring devices, and mirrors to produce the image realistically, this would have been seen as simply part of the trade and a valuable skill. Nowadays because the actual production of realistic images is trivial, we have instead romanticized the ability to produce beautiful images out of paint and hand-skill alone. Most people would assume that using light tables to trace, lenses to project or Photoshop to digitally paint over a photograph is somehow cheating. This can be evidenced even in the larger art world by the reaction of many art historians to David Hockney’s Secret Knowledge, a book detailing his theory that the shift to photo-like realism in the 1400-1500s and beyond was likely because of improvements in optics that artists could use to project images onto a canvas as a guide. Many of the historians view this as slanderous to the great artists of old, rather than a tribute to their ingenuity.

For 20th century math, the calculator and the computer were to pencil-and-paper mathematics what photography was to painting.

It is incredibly hard to look back at the past through the lens of the present without projecting the present backwards.

In my case, I “knew” that pencil-and-paper used to be the only option for doing math before the calculator. But this wasn’t enough for my imagination to really picture how different the workplace would’ve looked for those dealing in numbers.

The first time something went ‘click’ in my head to upgrade this was an old photo someone had shared online (which I wish I could find again!) of a business analyst’s office from I think the early 1970’s. The entire room was covered with hand-drawn charts. COVERED. Every wall. And we’re talking hand-drawn line graphs where sometimes they had to add an extra bit of paper at the bottom when things went out of the original scale.

Something clicked then – this was all they had. You had to learn how to draw graphs by hand because that was the only way you would have a graph. There was no Excel. The enormity of what this meant for the workplace, not just the math classroom, started to sink in. This wasn’t just an exercise, nor was it paperwork filed away. This was vital business analysis required to understand the direction of the company, and it was done in meticulous hand-drawn, possibly hand-calculated ink.

There were other moments like this – a scene from Apollo 13 where NASA engineers confirm a calculation by having three of them quickly scrawl on paper and then give successive thumbs up; teaching Accounting briefly and learning about the history of bookkeeping and how, yes, it was actual books and here’s how they were organized.

Workplaces used to need people who could not only do hand-calculations, but could do them in a recognizable, standardized way. And anyone working with numbers – anyone dealing with money, measurements, analysis – would be significantly slowed down in their day-to-day work if they couldn’t do those calculations quickly. Speed wasn’t the key to understanding, ever, but it may have been the key to getting the job done by a reasonable hour and going home.

In this light, of course students were being taught to do their math quickly! It was a job skill. Knowing your multiplication tables well may have been the difference between opportunities in ‘knowledge work’ industries such as accounting, engineering, and sciences or having those doors closed, not because math streaming closed those doors but because you wouldn’t get the job without it, even if you did understand the concepts.

I don’t really know this. I mean, by the time I was in the workforce I was already working with PCs and doing store inventory in a database. I don’t know first-hand what the everyday experience of pre-digital workplace mathematics was like. I turned forty this year. I’m not the oldest math teacher around, nor am I the youngest. But I feel like there’s a perspective on why things used to be done they way they were done that’s about to be lost as our most senior teachers retire right now. Even someone sixty-five today would’ve seen pocket calculators begin hitting the market at about the same time as they entered the workforce.

I feel like math education is barely settling into how to adjust to calculators, and still awfully wobbly on how to adjust to computers. I don’t mean that as a criticism, just an observation. This entire complex system of society, technology, curriculum, and classroom simply seems to have a slow and messy feedback cycle. But I wonder if it gets even harder once everyone who understood the context for the old decisions are around to help us evaluate whether they’re right anymore.


My Pedagogy

I needed to write up a statement of my teaching philosophy for a job application I’m submitting shortly, and it just seemed like the sort of thing worth sharing. So here you go. Constructive comments welcome.


My teaching philosophy centers on my core values. I highly value practicing compassion and empathy for students; I value digging deep into the joy of learning something new and mind-expanding; and I believe in making learning as fun as possible.

Compassion and empathy can easily be mistaken as running counter to “rigor” or serious learning. However I see them as being central to creating a learning environment where everyone can feel safe enough to dive heavily into seriously challenging skills and ideas. This is pretty easy to do with students who you feel a connection with because of common interests, backgrounds, etc, but to make a classroom safe for all students can often mean deliberate, soul-searching work. I believe this really deeply matters to the lives of students, and to the future of our STEM professions which we want to see diversify.

I really enjoy the challenge of learning, and I love seeing students experience that same sense of mastery when they understand something that used to be incomprehensible. I’m also awfully stubborn about assessing students in ways that demonstrate deep understanding rather than shallow recall. I’ll check for small details here and there, but I would much rather see that students can be handed the sorts of information they could’ve looked up online anyway and see them work out something challenging with it.

I also believe that all of the above can create a fun atmosphere to learn in. Difficult challenges in a safe environment are a foundation for engaging gameplay, and I believe a classroom can be this best kind of game. It’s not easy, but I’ve seen glimpses of it and I want to see more of it in my teaching career. This has to be deeply challenging stuff, and it has to be safe enough that failure isn’t a game-breaker. (For more on this, you can read this blog post of mine from a few years ago.)

Here are some examples of how I’ve worked towards this in practice.

My usual classroom assessment practice has quickly settled on using “standards-based grading”, something that’s been slowly growing in usage in math education circles via blogging and Twitter networking. SBG is based on the idea of tracking ideas/skills assessed, rather than tracking individual assessments. It takes a bit more planning up-front but allows for much easier reassessment along the way and helps move assessment more towards being a measurement of learning rather than a collection of abstract points.

I spent one year developing and running a digital media program for Abbotsford Middle School which I focused mostly on Scratch-based narrative, art and game development. This was an incredibly valuable time for me as I got to see first-hand the value of wide-open, inclusive access to computing education – and it was FUN! Students from diverse backgrounds, ability levels and of both genders regularly surprised me with their accomplishments and enthusiasm. (For more detail on how I approached the program, here’s another blog post.)

Another goal I have strived for in my teaching is to emphasize active learning in the classroom instead of passive listening. I have worked with low-tech “clickers” for in-class polling, random-group standing whiteboard work for exploring new mathematics, and whole-class assessments that drive students to collaboration and discussion. While I am very capable at explaining ideas on a whiteboard, I believe that students who are actively processing new ideas in the classroom are more engaged with the learning itself, are more likely to form a healthy learning community, and will walk away with more self-efficacy than if they simply hear me explain things in a clever way.

For more examples of my thoughts on teaching, as well as a cross-section of some of my other interests, I encourage you to browse around my past and current blogs:




thank you,

– josh giesbrecht

Inform: A brief note on encapsulation

I need to recap earlier chapters, but I’m currently reading the chapter on Advanced Actions and this bit just grabbed me in that “just blog this immediately” sort of way.

12.10. Action variables

And we will want the photographing action to have the player use the best-quality camera which comes to hand. We will give the action a variable called the ‘camera photographed with’, thus:

The photographing action has an object called the camera photographed with.

Every action’s variables must be named differently from those of all other actions, because there are some “before” rules (for instance) which take effect for many different actions, and which might need access to any of their variables. So action variables should be named in a way marking out to which action they belong. The best way to do this is to include the past participle of the action name – just as “camera photographed with” contains the past participle “photographed” of the action “photographing”.

A stuffy OOP programmer could look down his nose at this – why, you’re asking me to simply name global variables with an identifier???!?! What about encapsulation?!!!

And yet, the solution results in totally reasonable, fully comprehensible English. After all, language isn’t encapsulated. Oh, sure, there are some things we understand best within a particular context, or meanings that change depending on context. But nothing’s stopping me from referring to calipers while in a kitchen. The English language has no mechanism for programming’s encapsulation, and yet somehow we get by.

Inform: Things, Kinds, and other Words Of Very Definite Meaning

Inform’s definitions make me pause. I want to write a short post summarizing some main ideas: Things, which are sort of like objects; Kinds, which are sort of like classes; Actions, which are sort of like, well, functions with side effects; Values, which I guess are also like objects? Or instances? Or just values?

If I were learning nearly any other programming language, this uncertainty would be non-existent. Even when things are non-standard I could say things like, “Oh, well Lua can do objects but it implements them unusually via tables.” I think the reason I feel so uncertain here is that Inform is under no pretense of writing a manual aimed at programmers.

Here’s a fantastic example, from the start of the chapter of Writing with Inform on “Kinds”:

4.1. New kinds

Values are to Inform what nouns are to English sentences. They represent numbers, times of day, pieces of text, places, people, doors, and so on. Because they have such an enormous variety, and because we often want to talk about what some of them have in common, we need a way to sort all of these different ideas out. That’s the main aim of Inform’s concept of “kind”.

I’m all well and good with what nouns are, but the programmer part of me wants to scan for words like “variable”, “object”, “constant”, or even “type”. Inform avoids these programmerly terms with such consistency that it simply can’t be an accident. It’s like the authors are saying, “Look, we talk about kinds of things because that’s the kind of thing that people understand. If we go on about classes somebody’s going to think they’re going to be assigned homework and start having flashbacks of that final exam they failed in tenth grade, and we can’t have that.”

The other reason for caution is that Inform isn’t doing things the way I’m used to. It’s not primarily a procedural language, but a rule based one. Rather than defining a main loop and writing interface code and programming logic in sequence, you simply define what exists and what rules govern the way things relate to each other.

visual index of an Inform project
The index that Inform generates for your project gives a good high-level idea of how it defines and classifies your code.

So I’m tempted to compare Inform’s ‘kinds’ to classes. But there are important caveats. Kinds aren’t meant to visually encapsulate or organize code in the way that object-oriented programming usually does. You can define verbs and relationships that act on particular kinds of objects, but those definitions exist wherever you decide to put them in your story file. Verbs in this case are sort of like a class method, but verbs themselves aren’t ‘attached’ to a class. It reminds me a bit of how Common Lisp handles methods, where the objects in question still have to be passed as parameters because of the list structure of CL code. In a sense CL methods are simply functions defined for a particular class of parameter. Similarly, Inform code can have verbs defined to operate on a particular kind of noun.

Learning Inform

I’ve been a tagalong in parts of the Interactive Fiction community for quite a few years, and so learning to use Inform 7 has been on my backburner since it first arrived.  I’ve dabbled with it enough to contribute a few Very Small things, and attempted a proper game for the first ShuffleComp a few years back.  But each time I’ve began, I’ve hunted the manual for information and generally find myself so flabbergasted by Inform’s capabilities that I get derailed from simply implementing the small thing I was looking for.

This year I’ve had an Idea that I actually want to write out, and a motivation to do so.  So I’m going to pull together enough spare-time learning energy to work my way through “Writing with Inform”, the manual written by Inform’s creators.  (You can find the manual built into the Inform application, or downloadable / readable on the website.)

Inform is specifically designed for interactive fiction, the sort where you type commands and move about various rooms and pick up objects to solve puzzles and all of it is text.  Inform is also astounding in that its source code is fully readable English text.  Here’s an example from the manual:

4.2. Scripted Scenes

The player carries a lockpick, a smoke bomb, a grappling hook, and a pair of gloves. The description of the lockpick is “Effective on most kinds of key locks, it is a gift from your mentor in the discipline, old Wheezy.” The description of the smoke bomb is “Your last of these, so you should rely on it only when other modes of escape have vanished. It takes effect when dropped, producing a cloud of purple haze sufficient to fill a medium-sized room.” The description of the grappling hook is “Good for shooting at balconies and other sorts of overhang.” The gloves are wearable. The description of the gloves is “Black and shiny, with gripping material on the palms. Batman would be jealous.”

Reviewing Possessions is a scene. Reviewing Possessions begins when play begins.

Escalating Danger is a scene. Reviewing Possessions ends when Escalating Danger begins. Escalating Danger begins when preparations near completion.

To decide whether preparations near completion:
if at least two of the things which are carried by the player are seen, yes;

This isn’t the text of the gameplay – this is part of the source code that generates the game.

As you can imagine, this makes it pretty easy to read existing source code.  It also makes for a much friendlier introduction for those intimidated by this.kind(of, punct.uati(on)); .

But it’s still a programming language, not a natural language parser.  What this means is that while valid Inform code is readable English, not all readable English is valid Inform code.  Inform can be picky about punctuation choices, variable names, and structure just like any other language.  Writing it is still programming, with error messages and misunderstandings and a need for specific knowledge of the system.

It’s also somewhat overwhelming for me when I’ve merely dabbled, because it’s so incredible.  Inform’s rule-based system doesn’t map cleanly to the kind of programming I’m familiar with, and the system is capable of a great deal.

So, reading the manual!

I’m at a point where I need to summarize what I’ve read in order to make any more progress forward.  I’m blogging my summary because I like the idea of supporting the IF community with a bit more exposure, and because it forces me to process my thoughts more completely.  I’ll be writing from the perspective of a programmer who’s already familiar with C-style code and a handful of other paradigms, and will end up comparing and contrasting Inform’s terminology with usual programming concepts out of necessity.

If that’s the kind of thing you might find useful, great!  If not, drop back in a few months and I’ll be blogging about something totally different again.

Brief update to paper trig calculator

If we’re going to focus on special triangles, might as well really focus on special triangles, right?

Rather than having kids label the “special” angles (multiples of 30 and 45 degrees) on a unit circle, I made up cardstock special triangles that matched the protractor-grid trig reference sheets.  Students labelled the side lengths with a hypotenuse of 1, and can then physically move them around on the unit circle as a reference.

Here’s the printable PDF. It should be the correct scale to match the printable sheet in the previous post (ie. the hypotenuse will match the radius of the printed circle).

special triangle cutouts

My class is a mix of students of different ages, many of which have taken this course before and some of which have taken the previous Principles 11 or 12, which had less of a deliberate focus on the special triangles.  So I haven’t pushed hard for everyone to use these, but a lot of the students have picked up on it and pull out the triangles to check solutions on quizzes or homework.

A paper trig calculator

Do you teach trig? Do you wish your students had a solid understanding of how to relate trig ratios beyond 90 degrees to the unit circle? Are you tired of kids asking which button to press?

Well … I can’t say for sure if this solves your problem, because I haven’t used it in my class yet. But someone else has! And they said it works great!

The original I was shown is simply a full-circle protractor photocopied onto a co-ordinate grid. I decided to make a fancy-looking version in Illustrator. And since I’m all proud of it, I’m sharing it with all y’all.

unit circle protractor

unit circle protractor sheet

The idea is, if you want to look up sin or cos for a given angle, just find the angle and then read the y or x co-ord of the matching point on the unit circle. Kids should be able to visually estimate something close to two decimal values worth.


Edit: You may also want to check out the matching 30-60-90 and 45-45-90 triangle cutouts that match.

Games, Play, and Atrocity

Yesterday, a particularly racially-insensitive game about the slave trade started catching the attention of @mdawriter and other people who care about race and education.  The clips passed around showed that the core gameplay used Tetris mechanics, but with black bodies being loaded onto a slave ship.  There were also shots of stereotypical dialog (“I pity the fool”? seriously?).

Melinda summarized some of the Twitter discussion from yesterday by RTing the back-and-forth between a number of educators.

For those who don’t know, I briefly worked in the game industry and have followed it from a distance since.  In my time working from home on contract, I worked on a small ‘serious game’ myself (although it wasn’t *that* serious), and I’ve continued to read up on serious games and game design as a study.

The reason I sum up my own history with this is that I don’t want to come across as flippant when I say: Yesterday’s dialog looks really, really familiar.

Now, I don’t really feel like playing this game myself to find out what value it has, or whether it has redeeming factors in the gameplay.  It might!  Although I don’t think those redeeming factors excuse things like racist dialog or the choice of using a very caricature-like visual style for the people involved.  But my point here isn’t to give an in-depth critique of this particular game.

Since day one, serious games have had to face the assumption that games are primarily meant to be fun, entertaining, and, well, not serious.  Unfortunately mediocre-at-best examples like this are not going to help a lot.  So I’d rather direct people to an actually good example that made the news in game design circles about six years ago.

Brenda Romero (then Braithwaite) is a game designer with decades of experience in the video game industry. In 2009 she presented on a series of board games that she created during a time when she was oversaturated and bored with typical video games.  The bit that reminded me of this initially was the game which got the most attention at the time, Train.  However I went back and found the video of her presentation at the 2009 Game Developers Conference, and I just can’t find a way to sum this up.

So here’s the deal: if you want to at least qualify as having “read” this post, bare minimum you have to go to the video, scroll on the sidebar to ‘Train’, and watch until at least the end of the Rabbi Belzer section.  (It requires Flash, I’m sorry. I can’t fix Old Internet, all I can do is ask you to get off your iPad and find a laptop or something.)

If Black American history is specifically important to you, you should watch ‘#3: obviously planned random tangent’ first.

If you really, really can’t listen to audio right now and you want to cheat, fine, you can read the first publicity that the game received.  (If you still feel like this is horrible and how dare she have done such a thing, you haven’t qualified as having read this whole post! Sorry, doesn’t count. Go watch the video.)

Probably the entire thing is worth watching.  I’m saying ‘probably’ because I’m totally lost in this, but I’m jumping around sections a bit and already 20min late on making lunch for my family and don’t want to put off posting this until tomorrow.

Other highlights to understand this all, from ‘The not-so-obvious obvious’:

“Frankly, the topics that i was covering, it made me feel a little … afraid.”

And from “It’s just like Halo.”:

“Train says the game is over when it ends. So a completely valid playing of Train is one that a rabbi in New York City had who walked up to the game and went, ‘Oh. I know what your game is about. I don’t want to play.’ And I said, ‘You just did.’ And she said, ‘You’re right.’ And we had a great conversation after that.”

Also ‘Treatment of tokens’ is a very short, very worth hearing section.


Okay. Don’t go on with reading this until you’ve heard enough.


Okay?  Okay.


So here’s what I want to add to this:

  • Games are an expressive medium, and they can represent ideas from nearly any area of life.
  • Making a game about atrocities is possible. But making a good game about atrocities is really, really friggin’ hard.  Brenda Romero is a professional game designer with over 30 years in the industry, and she made these games as a personal exercise of love with no desire to commercialize, no external publishing or funding constraints.  She thought about every single design decision really carefully and invested herself into it.
  • These games were not made lightly, nor were they made to be entertaining.  They weren’t the result of someone saying, “Hey, let’s take these social studies standards and make them into a game! Kids like games! That’ll make it more engaging!”
  • The designer either had a personal connection with the issues she was presenting, or she was very careful to run them by someone who did.
  • Every one of these games was run by the designer herself, and run carefully and thoughtfully.  These weren’t experiences that she could simply box up and mass produce.  That does not mean that something similar can’t happen in the classroom — it can.  But it does mean that we have to see ourselves in an active role, as a co-designer of the games that we bring into our classrooms.
  • None of these were digital, but there are thoughtful digital games that do a much, much better job than the example that started this all off.  (If you really want examples, nag me.  I tried googling something I remember from a while ago but it’s failing me, and I’ll probably remember more later.)  Here’s another random non-digital example that I want to share just because it looks great.

Hopefully you can see why I have a hard time getting into this discussion within 140-char posts.

Games can express and educate us about racism.  But games that give the issues a shallow or thoughtless treatment can be just as damaging as a shallow or thoughtless book / video / whatever.

How the Ballpoint Pen Killed Cursive

My Object Lessons essay, “How the Ballpoint Pen Killed Cursive“, is now up at The Atlantic.  (Woot!)

I’ll likely be posting some follow-up thoughts and photos that didn’t get used for the piece here later.  (I will read comments here but if you have a real rebuttal you’re waiting to pull out, might as well wait until my next blog post.)

Edit: For all of you wondering why I even thought this was worth writing about, a) you should probably read all the way to the last paragraph, and b) you should read this older stream-of-thought post where I connect my thoughts on cursive to other areas of teaching and learning.

Also, huh, my essay topped The Atlantic’s “Most Popular” list for the better part of the weekend. Thanks Internet! Apparently I’m not the only one wondering what happened to their writing style.

The Thirty Percent

This post is about politics, racism, murder, and statistical numeracy.

This past week, Canada’s Minister of Aboriginal Affairs insulted the chiefs he was meeting with by pushing the blame for murdered and missing Indigenous women (MMIW) onto the Indigenous community. He used a previously unreleased statistic – because numbers can’t lie, right? *gag* – to make his point. And not long after the RCMP stepped up to confirm his statistic:

Seventy per cent of the solved murders of aboriginal women were committed by people of aboriginal descent, RCMP Commissioner Bob Paulson says in a letter to Grand Chief Bernice Martial of the Treaty Number 6 Nations.  …

Now there are all kinds of questions this should raise. Why in the world would the RCMP and Minister Valcourt be sharing this kind of data in private?  Paulson himself claims, “It is in the spirit of our bias-free policing policy that the RCMP has not thus far disclosed statistics on the ethnicity of the perpetrators of solved aboriginal female homicides.” Right. So in the spirit of being bias-free, they only discuss these statistics with politicians. Quietly. Until the politician chooses to use that statistic for political leverage.

Edit: It’s also worth noting that the 70% statistic can, necessarily, only be about those cases which are solved. It doesn’t tell us anything about the unsolved cases at all – we can’t assume they follow the same distribution. Unsolved cases could reasonably be expected to be unusual situations and so not match the patterns of solved cases at all. It could be all white guys, who knows? The data below has been corrected since not taking unsolved cases into account skewed the numbers a bit. (thanks @apihtawikosisan for the reminder!)

Seventy percent certainly sounds notable. And it is, although it isn’t really surprising given that domestic violence is the most common case for all murdered women in Canada.  But thirty percent of a Shockingly Disproportionate Number of even the solved cases is still significant. Being only 30% doesn’t let white guys* off the hook.

The RCMP already released a report on MMIW in 2014. It has some useful information, although if you need a trigger warning on racist stereotypes and victim blaming maybe don’t read it right to the end.

Using the population numbers quoted in the report, we can start filling in totals in the table below:

MMIW chart 1



Unfortunately we have some question marks! Because naturally Valcourt didn’t say anything about how many non-Indigenous murder victims were killed by fellow non-Indigenous people.  Still, that 269 total is not a small number, even without however many of the 120 unsolved cases also belong there.

Now the total number of non-Indigenous women killed is a lot higher. But that’s not surprising since Indigenous women only make up 4.3% of Canada’s total female population. This also means that comparing totals is not incredibly useful.

So on the right of the chart above, I’ve calculated how many murders there have been per 100,000 of the affected population. For example, for the 87 in the first box, I took the 628 murders where an Indigenous woman was killed by an Indigenous perpetrator, divided it by the total number of Indigenous women in Canada, and multiplied by 100,000.  (This is sort of a way of representing what the probability is that a woman in that group would be murdered**, but made easier to read and compare than writing fractions of a percent.)

What does this show us? Well for starters, it highlights how much more of an issue this is for Indigenous women than for the rest of Canadian women. An Indigenous woman is over four times as likely to be a murder victim than other Canadian women.

Valcourt’s dropping of the 70% bomb was intended to deflect blame. Canadian voters, I assume he assumes, aren’t interested in shouldering the nation’s responsibility for the legacy of the residential school system and other arguably-genocidal acts we’ve committed in recent history. We’d much rather just push the blame onto the Indigenous population! That’s right, it’s all your fault.

Now, there’s no avoiding that domestic violence is a real part of the equation here. This was already known and there’s some concrete data in the RCMP report. Despite the fact that a smaller ratio of the murders of Indigenous women were done by a spouse or other family vs other perpetrators than in other cases of women murdered, the risk of domestic/family violence is still the largest overall risk for Indigenous women (as with Canadian women in general).

But is the larger amount of domestic violence in Indigenous families the only issue? Is the cause that Indigenous men are more violent? If this were the case, we would expect to see significantly smaller proportions of MMIW cases being caused by people outside the family. However, the opposite is true. Numbers are higher across the board, and murders caused by someone outside the family are actually a much higher percent of the cases for Indigenous women.

Here’s a big old chart looking at data from the RCMP report (solved cases only):

MMIW chart 2

Using the per-hundred-thousand section, we can see that Indigenous women are more at-risk of being murdered by an acquaintance than a white woman is of being murdered at all. That’s already a pretty bad sign.

Now let’s look back at that first table. What can we say about the 30%, despite the blanks? Thirty-seven Indigenous women murdered per 100,000 by a non-Indigenous killer, vs. thirty-four non-Indigenous women per 100,000 murdered at all. And that’s without even including any of the unsolved cases, which I’d assume includes some (if not a lot of) non-Indigenous murderers.

Indigenous women are more at risk of being killed by a non-Indigenous person than other Canadian women are at risk of being killed by anybody at all.

Ugh. You guys, I think it’s safe to say that us colonizers are still a part of the problem.

So let’s not pretend that Valcourt’s 70% lets white-male Canada off the hook. Nor does it excuse the government from listening to the call for a large-scale inquiry into the large-scale systemic problems. That 30% still looks an awful lot like violence influenced by racism.

The wrap-up infographic:

MMIW chart 3


* Sorry, I mean, “Non-Aboriginal perpetrators”.

** I’m using total number of murders over the past 30-odd years included in the RCMP report and then using the current population totals. Potentially wonky, but unless that 4.3% has changed drastically over the last 30 years it should still be fine for making comparisons between groups.

ps. Yes, I noticed later that Paulson said that 25% are non-Indigenous, and 5% are unknown. I’m not going to bother editing for that because, meh, if it’s unknown then most likely they were non-Indigenous; remember, 4.3% of the population.

pps. Some of the “totals” listed for unsolved cases are calculated from the RCMP report’s stated percent-solved, which was a hand-wavey 90%-ish.  They’re more than accurate enough to compare situations between groups, but don’t quote them down to the last digit.