It’s cold. I can feel the chill seeping into my feet. There’s also a pervasive, collective warmth that shares a familiar combination of sadness, anger and the motivation to fight back and create change.

Every year, we stand here, at the December 6^th Vigil at Philosopher’s Walk, commemorating women who have lost their lives to violence. Almost everyone in attendance holds a candle. There are often a variety of speakers – poets, musicians, activists, advocates, survivors telling their stories and sometimes even a politician or two. It’s the same year after year. The feeling has evolved, but there’s something about it that remains constant.

The December 6^th Vigil falls on the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women; the anniversary of the Montréal Massacre where 14 women at Lecole Polytechnique were murdered at gunpoint – because they were women. Every year, there is a reading of these names as well as the names of other women and children who have lost their lives to violence in Ontario over the last year.

Every year, we say ‘never again’. For a moment, there is a collective hope and belief that there will never be another name added to the list again. Yet, every year, we add new markers and tell the stories of our sisters, mothers, aunts, friends, partners, neighbours, classmates and coworkers who have lost their lives, often brutally.

Then, of course, there are the women whose names never made it to the list. They were anonymous, unknown. Their deaths were attributed to other causes; their abusers unsuspected. Or, their deaths still haven’t been discovered. On this day, we mourn and remember, and as often quoted, then work for change.

Every year, the women at Nellie’s attend this vigil. One year, a woman who had just arrived at the shelter days earlier commented that she didn’t realize that it happened to so many other women. I could see tears in her eyes through the candlelight, as she whispered that she was glad that she left when she did, because… and she couldn’t finish that sentence.

The vigil leaves a lump in your throat and sadness in your heart. It reminds us of the women we’ve known who’ve lost their lives. It is a reminder that the difference between life and death for a woman in an abusive relationship is often just one more fight, one disagreement, or often, an attempt to leave.

At some point during the vigil most women remember their own stories of violence and remind themselves what a gift it is to still be alive, to have survived, somehow, and to still have that opportunity to fight for change; to end violence against women.

And, that’s what we need to do. We need to join forces and work together to create change and work towards ending violence against women. Join your local feminist organization if you haven’t already and take action. Lobby, protest, talk, discuss, create safety plans, support women, advocate, create dialogue, challenge notions and comments that perpetuate violence against women. Recognize systemic causes of violence and oppression such as sexism, racism, classism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism and oppression based on record of offences, immigration status and life experiences. Talk; perpetuate an awareness and understanding of violence against women. Most of all; do something. At the end of the vigil, we scream. We scream for ourselves, and for those who can’t.

Let us unite in solidarity to end violence against women. Mourn and remember those who have passed and fight for those who still have a chance.