From empowering to repowering: a study on missing and murdered Indigenous relative’s advocacy groups as a way of retaking power to meet the needs of the MMIR crisis

Abstract

This study explores the impact and strategies of grassroots advocacy groups addressing the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives crisis. It highlights how these groups play a role in the evolution from empowerment to repowering, where Indigenous communities reclaim leadership and agency. The study consisted of nine semi-structured interviews with 12 Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives group leaders from various locations in the USA. Through thematic analysis, five primary themes emerged: raising awareness, navigating systemic struggles, addressing organizational challenges, building relationships, and taking action. These themes emphasize the depth of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives group’s advocacy, support, and systemic change efforts. The study also addresses the need for better coordination with law enforcement, the challenges of jurisdictional complexities, and the importance of funding and professional development for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives groups. Despite facing challenges, these organizations demonstrate resilience and adaptability, suggesting the need for ongoing research and support to enhance their impact and sustainability.

In 2010, Canadian artist Jamie Black initiated the REDress Project, an art installation featuring hundreds of red dresses to symbolize the Indigenous women who are missing or murdered in Canada, highlighting a growing national concern (Indigenous Foundations, 2011). This movement, gaining traction since the National Coalition for Our Stolen Sisters was formed in 2002 (Harper, 2006), was further fueled by a contentious 2014 government report. This report noted 1,181 cases of missing or murdered Indigenous women, sparking debate over the accuracy of these figures, with some advocates citing numbers as high as 4,232 based on grassroots initiatives like Walk 4 Justice (Tasker, 2016).

The controversy and increasing visibility led to the coining of the term Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) by Grand Chief Sheila North Wilson in 2012, using the hashtag #MMIW to bring wider attention to the violence faced by Indigenous women in Canada—a movement that soon extended to the USA (Smith-Morris, 2020). This study examines the strategies employed by MMIW organizations in the US to address survivor needs against a backdrop of inconsistent statistics and underreported cases.

A brief history of violence against Indigenous people

The mass violence against Indigenous people in North America, while recently highlighted by the MMIW movement, traces its origins back to the arrival of Christopher Columbus in 1492. Columbus’s own accounts document the coercion and mistreatment of the Indigenous population (Columbus & Markham, 1971), a theme extended by his crew’s accounts of violence, including rape (Cohen & Columbus, 1969). Such violence is embedded even in foundational US documents, like the Declaration of Independence (1776, para. 29), which paradoxically juxtaposes ideals of equality with references to Indigenous people as “merciless Indian Savages.”

Historical narratives have often used dehumanizing language to justify extensive violence and dispossession. A 2022 study utilizing artificial intelligence to analyze historical documents found pervasive use of derogatory terms that rationalized “state-sanctioned, anti-Indigenous violence” (Mackay & Feagin, 2022, p. 520). The concepts of the Doctrine of Discovery and Manifest Destiny further institutionalized these views, casting the violent seizure of Indigenous lands as a divine right (Heidler & Heidler, n.d.; Legal Information Institute, 2022).

Most well-known MMIW case

The story of Matoaka, commonly known as Pocahontas, is often misrepresented in popular culture, most notably in Disney’s film Pocahontas (1995), depicting a romantic narrative with John Smith during the early colonization at Jamestown. In reality, historical accounts suggest no romantic involvement. She was a member of the Pamunkey (a federally recognized tribe from Virginia, USA, historically part of the Powhatan Chiefdom—an alliance of Indigenous tribes in the 17th century located in what is now eastern Virginia, USA) tribe and was named Amonute but was likely called Matoaka for most of her life (Mansky & Anderson, 2017/2024). It is unclear if Pocahontas was a nickname used by her family or if that was only given to her by English people. Smith described Matoaka, who was about 10 years old at the time, as beautiful in his writings, but their interactions revolved around teaching each other the other’s language (Mansky & Anderson, 2017/2024; Smith, 1624).

At 14, Matoaka married Kocoum and soon after was kidnapped by English settlers, a traumatic event that separated her from her husband and young child. Reports indicate she became subdued and withdrawn while in captivity. Matoaka told her sister that she was repeatedly raped while in captivity. Later, she married John Rolfe, took the name Rebecca Rolfe, and was taken to Europe to exemplify peaceful Indigenous-European relations. Her untimely death at 21 remains shrouded in mystery (Schilling, 2017)—highlighting a life marked by exploitation and tragedy, reflecting the broader violence many Indigenous women have faced historically and continue to face today. The facts of her life, including her separation from family and the mystery surrounding her sudden death, are why many MMIW activists and others refer to her as the first well-known MMIW.

Media portrayals, stereotypes, and their link to MMIW

The portrayal of Matoaka, also known as Pocahontas, epitomizes harmful stereotypes that have historically contributed to the violence against Indigenous women. Disney’s sexualized depiction reinforces the Indian Princess and promiscuous squaw stereotypes, which suggest that Indigenous women are inherently sexually available or morally lax (Croisy, 2017). These stereotypes not only diminish the perceived severity of violence against Indigenous women but also endorse Euro-American dominance, further devaluing Indigenous identities (FitzGerald, 2014). Research indicates that stereotypes can lead to lower self-esteem among Indigenous peoples and affect how others perceive and interact with them (Davis-Delano et al., 2020). The lack of diverse cultural exposure exacerbates this issue, as minimal personal interactions with Indigenous peoples can reduce empathy and understanding (Bunce & Stansfield, 2014). This combination of prevalent stereotypes and insufficient empathy likely influences how law enforcement and society respond to cases involving Indigenous victims, often treating them with less seriousness and urgency.

The crisis

Though recent years have seen increased awareness of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Relatives (MMIR) crisis, research remains sparse. This is partly due to challenges in data collection and understanding of Native American issues by non-Natives, compounded by poor record-keeping, racial misclassification, and strained relations between tribal governments and external law enforcement (Ortiz, 2020). Despite the growth in policy and grassroots efforts to combat violence against Indigenous women, there is a notable gap in studies explicitly focusing on MMIR community organizations, as highlighted by a lack of findings in searches across scholarly databases.

A 2008 study funded by the Department of Justice provided a detailed look at the violence patterns, finding that while Native Americans are less likely to be murdered in conjunction with another crime compared with African American and White women, they are more likely to be murdered during acts of rape or sexual assault (Bachman et al., 2008). The study estimated that Native Americans over the age of 12 are more than twice as likely to suffer sexual assault compared with non-Natives (Bachman et al., 2008).

Despite improvements under the Violence Against Women Act’s expansions in 2013 and 2022, jurisdictional complexities on tribal lands complicate the enforcement of laws and the prosecution of non-Native perpetrators. These jurisdictional issues are a significant barrier, with a 2016 survey revealing that a significant majority of violence against Native individuals is perpetrated by non-Natives (Henry Rosay, 2016). Moreover, the Urban Indian Health Institute’s 2018 study highlighted the disparities in reporting, finding 506 MMIR cases across 71 US cities, with considerable discrepancies in case status and record-keeping between different databases (Lucchesi & Echo-Hawk, 2018). This disparity underscores the ongoing challenges in addressing the MMIR crisis, exacerbated by historical and ongoing conflicts over tribal sovereignty and jurisdictional authority (Croisy, 2017). This complex web of factors continues to hinder efforts to effectively address and understand the full scope of violence against Indigenous people.

Activism

The activism around the MMIR crisis has gained momentum through the efforts of community members, especially since 2015, when the organization of marches and vigils highlighted the deep historical roots of violence against Indigenous peoples significantly increased (Native Hope, 2024). These activities began as local initiatives primarily led by female relatives and friends of victims, who felt compelled to seek justice and raise awareness about the widespread violence. This grassroots movement expanded into performing searches, organizing protests, and running social media campaigns aimed at addressing and resolving ongoing cases (Native Hope, 2024).

Jodi Voice Yellowfish, a leader within the MMIW movement, notes that these groups often serve as liaisons between families of the victims and various agencies, providing support and resources (Aqpik Apok et al., 2020). The movement has grown to include not only women but also young girls, boys, men, 2Spirit, and transgender Indigenous people, reflecting a broader scope of those affected by violence. This is the reason that they use the term MMIR going forward, which acknowledges that the crisis impacts the broader community while calling to mind that in many Indigenous communities, every being is a relative.

Significant advancements have been made, although progress seems slow when considering the centuries-long violence. Many modern policies and initiatives addressing MMIR stem from the relentless advocacy by these grassroots groups, many of which are led by women reclaiming leadership roles within their communities (Isaacs & Young, 2019). Historically, Indigenous societies such as the Diné and Lakota recognized women’s equal or leading roles, which were diminished post-colonization. The MMIR movement is not only a fight against violence but also a cultural reclamation of Indigenous matriarchal leadership.

The push for awareness and change is also seen in Canada, where faith-based and nonprofit groups coordinated early efforts. For instance, the National Coalition for our Stolen Sisters laid foundational work in the early 2000s, followed by significant research partnerships like the one between the Native Women’s Association of Canada and Amnesty International (2004), culminating in the influential Stolen Sisters Report. A shift to a more community-led movement was catalyzed by the Royal Canadian Mounted Policies’ operational review, which identified 1,181 cases of MMIR, urging more grassroots involvement (KAIROS, 2021).

An example of local impact catalyzing broader recognition came from the tragic case of Hanna Harris, who was murdered on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation. The failure of law enforcement to act prompted her community to initiate their search, leading to the discovery of her body and subsequent advocacy that resulted in the establishment of a National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls, recognized annually on May 5, Hanna’s birthday, by national resolutions and presidential proclamations (Rickert, 2022).

These efforts across North America emphasize the role of grassroots activism in transforming tragedy into political advocacy, influencing legislation, and increasing public awareness. Organizations like Restoring Ancestral Winds Incorporated in Utah exemplify how small groups can effect significant legislative change through strategic partnerships and sharing of knowledge and strategies with larger networks such as the Sovereign Bodies Institute thus empowering a nationwide response to the crisis.

Positionality and terms used in this study

As a member of the Lakota Nation, my cultural background deeply influences my research. My culture teaches that we are all related, a perspective that shapes my use of the term MMIR in this study, emphasizing inclusivity across all genders and age groups. This term is used unless specifically referencing organizations that use MMIW.

As noted by Patton (1999), in qualitative research, acknowledging the researcher as the primary instrument is necessary and important. This recognition involves disclosing one’s professional and personal experiences to address potential biases. As an enrolled citizen of the Sicangu Lakota Nation and a licensed social worker and chemical dependency counselor, my professional and personal engagements with institutional discrimination and interpersonal violence among Indigenous communities inform my approach. This background not only helps in identifying biases but also enriches the interpretation of data, ensuring a nuanced understanding of the issues at hand. I also work for an MMIR organization like the one that this study focuses on. This position allows me to stay connected with the current challenges faced by Indigenous communities, particularly in urban settings, thereby grounding my research in lived realities and practical interventions.

Methods

This study implemented a community-based participatory action research (CBPAR) approach to explore how MMIR groups address the needs of missing and recovered Indigenous relatives. CBPAR empowers community members by involving them as active collaborators in the research process, challenging traditional power dynamics typical in qualitative research where the researcher might be viewed as superior (Råheim et al., 2016; Tremblay et al., 2018). This methodology has been found to be particularly effective in Indigenous contexts, where community members are engaged as expert collaborators (Chilisa, 2012/2020; Swanson et al., 2017).

Key to CBPAR is its focus on empowerment, collaboration, and social change. The research framework encourages equitable relationships, power-sharing, and co-constructing knowledge to drive social improvements (Mckay, 2011). This study recognizes MMIR group leaders as authorities on their experiences, ensuring the research process respects and amplifies their voices rather than imposing external interpretations.

Critical components of CBPAR include highly collaborative relationships with insiders, participation, empowerment, and dissemination as a team (Mckay, 2011). As a tribal citizen and a member of an MMIR organization, I bring firsthand experience of the challenges and innovations within MMIR community efforts. The goal of this study is to collaborate with MMIR leaders to identify and disseminate strategies that other groups can leverage to meet the needs of MMIR and identify common barriers to seek solutions to overcome those barriers.

Recruitment and data collection

The target population for this study was MMIR group leaders, like Chairperson, Executive Officer, or Chapter President, in the USA who are 18 years or older. We targeted MMIR groups across the USA, which included a variety of Native communities in areas including reservations, urban, and rural areas. These groups are volunteer-led, non-professional, and are not entities of Tribal governments or any other government agencies.

Recruitment methods involved utilizing publicly available online information to identify potential participants from group websites or social media pages. Further contacts were leveraged through my roles within Native communities and as a member of an MMIR group. Snowball sampling was used during interviews to expand participant recruitment.

Out of 33 MMIR groups identified via social media and my personal contacts, 15 group leaders were contacted to participate in the study yielding nine interviews with eleven participants. Participant saturation was reached after the eighth interview. Each participant underwent an informed consent process approved by my university’s institutional review board. Interviews were conducted using a semi-structured guide, audio-recorded, and transcribed verbatim, with transcriptions reviewed for accuracy.

Data analysis

Data analysis in this study adhered to CBPAR principles to ensure authenticity in representing participant voices, utilizing a thematic analysis approach (Fletcher et al., 2015). The process began with a detailed examination of interview transcripts to identify recurring patterns and differences among MMIR groups. Initially, line-by-line coding was performed on each transcript, using participants’ own words and terms to maintain accuracy and faithfulness to their expressed ideas.

The coding process involved two main stages. The first stage involved constant comparison within and across interviews to discern commonalities and variances, refining the codes based on participant language. In the second stage, these codes were organized into broader themes. To enhance analytical rigor, a research advisor acted as a second coder, ensuring the reliability of the coding process. Regular weekly meetings with the advisor helped review and confirm the emerging codes and themes, maintaining inter-rater reliability.

As a member of the MMIR community and an active participant in an MMIR group, I recognized potential personal biases. To mitigate these biases, I conducted post-interview debriefing sessions with an expert researcher to reflect on my responses and emotions. Extensive notes and memos were also recorded to capture non-verbal cues during the interviews, such as body language and pauses, which were crucial for interpreting the data. A detailed audit trail and a comprehensive codebook were maintained throughout the study to document coding decisions and thematic developments, ensuring transparency and integrity in the data analysis process.

Results

The qualitative thematic analysis revealed five themes regarding how MMIR groups navigated meeting survivors’ needs.

Raising awareness

The first theme that emerged was raising awareness, which encompassed the ways in which grassroots groups brought more attention to specific MMIR cases and the MMIR crisis in general. The three subthemes that surfaced under raising awareness were information deficit, awareness-raising activities, and grassroots groups as subject matter experts.

Information deficit: Based on the interviews, the need to raise awareness came from the sense that across all populations, regardless of whether they were on tribal land, near tribal land, in an urban setting, or in a rural setting, there is an information deficit about the scope and nature of the MMIR crisis. Amber, the leader of an MMIR group that operated on tribal lands, said that even in her group’s area, there was a lack of knowledge about the MMIR crisis:

There are still people in our tribe, in our own tribes that don’t know they have a chapter. You know, we’ll see this on Facebook. You know that somebody’s missing, and they wanna know who they can get to help and because they don’t know that we even exist.

Even when there was knowledge of the crisis in general, some participants, like Valerie, expressed that community members were in denial about the chances of the crisis affecting them. Therefore, she felt that communities need a more focused education on the type of crimes and contributing factors specific to their area:

Even when the crisis hits their family, they are in denial to a certain point of thinking that the person will just come back. . . denial is also intertwined with hope. You can’t fault anybody for it, but you do have to be a little more realistic and realize what the crime rate is in your town, in the area that you’re in, and what is the basis of that crime. What are the base causes of violence that are happening in your community? (Valerie)

In summary, participants felt there was not just a lack of awareness about the scope of the MMIR crisis but also a lack of awareness of what the crisis entailed, who all was affected, and how it could affect community members.

Awareness raising activities: Raising awareness encompassed any activities or initiatives MMIR groups implemented to make their communities or the public more aware of ongoing cases and issues around the MMIR crisis. To raise awareness, groups held vigils, attended community events, organized rallies, and hosted educational discussions in Native American and non-Native American spaces. Amber said, “We’ve done everything from doing vigils, going on searches, interviews, powwows. Whatever we could do to bring awareness. That’s what we did. We broke barriers.” Participants in this study implemented various strategies to draw attention to cases in which a person had gone missing. In addition, they deployed many tactics to educate others about the facts surrounding the MMIR crisis.

Grassroots groups as subject matter experts: Participants noted that as MMIR groups raised awareness, they became recognized as experts on the MMIR crisis and specific cases. Their public campaigning positioned them as the movement’s face in their communities, enhancing their status as knowledgeable and culturally attuned figures guiding community actions when loved ones went missing. Missy expressed that grassroots groups are viewed as experts in the eyes of community members because of MMIR group members’ level of cultural understanding:

There’s not a disconnect between your knowledge and your life. With somebody that’s law enforcement or detective, there is. But it’s our life because it’s our community. It’s our relatives. It’s our tribal members. It’s community. It’s people that we know because we powwow together, or they go Sundance, or they go Stomp Dance together.

Group members became subject matter experts on the MMIR crisis through visibility in community awareness campaigns. Kourtney noted, “We’re still doing awareness. He’s still missing. . . I’m always talking to her, making sure she’s OK.” Their roles extended beyond raising awareness to forming supportive relationships with affected families.

Navigating systemic struggles

The second theme that emerged was how MMIR groups navigated systemic struggles. Participants discussed systemic problems that played a role in creating the MMIR crisis, led to the information deficit, and created barriers in the battle to curtail violence against Indigenous people. Interviewees also discussed how they were working to overcome these systemic hurdles. The subthemes of contributing factors, jurisdiction issues, working with agencies and governments, and empowering to repowering Indigenous people emerged.

Contributing factors: Numerous participants spoke about factors contributing to the MMIR crisis. They discussed issues like substance use disorders, racism, suicide, and lateral violence. Some participants, like Missy, spoke about generational trauma that could be brought to the surface when Indigenous people faced a new traumatic experience. When discussing why an Indigenous victim who had recently been assaulted and was at a hospital did not want to speak to a police officer, Missy said,

A [city] police officer isn’t gonna understand the generations of trauma that went into that conversation. Knowing that boarding schools shape that grandma. And there’s a fear of losing your kid . . . losing an entire generation of people is present in that ER exam room.

When asked about things that communities needed to help combat the crisis, Pauline responded, “I do know that we need a lot more substance abuse services and intervention when it comes to alcohol because alcohol is probably one of the main contributing factors to not only domestic violence but violence overall.” Overall, systemic issues that led to Indigenous victims going missing or being murdered at significant rates included micro and macro-level issues such as substance use and historical trauma.

Jurisdiction issues: Another factor that many participants mentioned contributed to the MMIR crisis was confusion and disputes over who had authority over MMIR cases. When asked why tribal police, city police, and MMIR groups do not work together, Pauline gave a personal example and said,

Specific MMIR case] was because [MMIR victim] lived in town. So, [name] had reported it in town that [MMIR victim] was missing, but [name] also reported out here to the tribal police. But it was like they weren’t corresponding with each other—the counties and the tribal the police don’t [correspond]. If there’s no MOU [memorandum of understanding] agreement cause of the sovereignty stuff that we have with our reservation, the city police or county police don’t really like to work with the tribal police, so we have that jurisdictional issue going on.

When asked about issues that make cases involving tribal citizens or occurring on tribal land so complicated, Pauline responded, “There is a multitude of gaps. So, communications, primarily. And that is both on and off-reservation. And then, between reservations, border towns, and urban settings such as [city name], there are communication gaps between social services and law enforcement.”

Tribal jurisdiction complexities uniquely impact MMIR cases, affecting all groups regardless of proximity to reservations. These challenges involve crime location, victim and perpetrator’s tribal status, and inter-agency agreements, complicating efforts to assist MMIR victims effectively.

Working with agencies and governments: Another systemic issue that many of the MMIR group leaders spoke about was the difficulties that MMIR victims and groups had when working with agencies and governments. Amber spoke about the desire to help educate law enforcement and their tribal government about the MMIR crisis:

I did have a couple of contacts within my tribe, within our police force because I invited them so many times. I invited them to the table to sit down with us and to learn because they didn’t even know how many missing or murdered women or relatives we had.

At the federal level and in many states, more funding has been dedicated to the MMIR crisis over the past 5 years. Several states have created an MMIR task force or designated funding to address the MMIR crisis (Haynie, 2021). However, some participants feel that increased funding alone was seen as insufficient to meet survivor needs. In response to a question about this, Missy responded,

Throwing money at it . . . doesn’t mean a family’s gonna go to you. But they’ll go to the person they’ve known their whole life and is an auntie and a grandma to different people and in your home in different ways.

While many participants spoke about a perceived lack of understanding and care from law enforcement, others, like Pauline, expressed a different view: “We need better-trained law enforcement. . . more law enforcement. . . . In [specific reservation], we only have two BIA [Bureau of Indian Affairs] cops for the entire reservation. So, we do need more law enforcement in Indian country.”

Empowering to repowering Indigenous people: Beyond considering MMIR as victims of a system, participants also mentioned how MMIR groups helped to empower individuals, families, and communities to advocate for themselves or other Indigenous people. One concept that stood out was the idea of not empowering but repowering Indigenous people. Phyllis introduced the concept of the MMIR repowering Indigenous individuals and communities:

First of all, it’s repowering. I like to think of it as repowering because I think that us as Indigenous people, we are already born with the power, but, through colonization, experiences, and history things have been done to us that have stripped away that power. It’s still in us. We just need to grow it. We need to repower ourselves a lot. I get compliments, you know, telling me that my program is empowering, and I’m like, “no, it’s repowering.”

Repowering is about giving power back to communities and community members. Pauline expressed how the MMIR movement is undoing historical trauma and creating new leaders:

I’m the proudest of the communal effort that tribes are putting together in Montana because I feel like prior to the movement, we still contended with that historical animosity when it comes to the battle of little Big Horn or the Battle of Rosebud or whichever battle. I feel like this has been kind of a uniting force, and we’ve been able to inter-tribally connect and heal together as a people, as opposed to comparing and contrasting tragedies to one another. I feel like that is a plus. I’ve met a lot of brilliant, phenomenal Indigenous leaders that are so hopeful and proactive in addressing the crisis.

Thus, through the grassroots organization, MMIR groups provided budding leaders opportunities to empower and repower themselves, their families, and their communities.

Navigating organizational struggles

Participants also discussed the organizational struggles that MMIR groups faced. Subthemes from this topic were the three primary things MMIR organizations needed to help navigate organizational struggles: self-care, professional development, and funding.

Self-care: Many participants interviewed spoke about themselves and other group members struggling with feelings of stress, depression, and burnout that came with being an MMIR organization member. Amber discussed the feelings that come from being so close to this crisis, movement, and particular cases:

You end up where you got so close to this case, you feel like you know the person. And when you can’t find them or your hands are tied, there’s nothing you can do. You get frustrated . . . sometimes depression sneaks in. So, you gotta take care of yourself. Whatever it takes to heal yourself so you can go to the next case, and if this is what you wanna do this, you know this is your calling and you know if it’s, you’re calling or not.

Due to the heavy nature of MMIR work, many participants spoke about the importance of rest. For example, Kourtney spoke about the importance of practicing self-care by doing things like taking breaks, saying, “Sometimes, I have to take a self-care break because it really hurts. . . It is wear and tear on us, but we do take care of ourselves spiritually, in our traditional ways.”

Many participants mentioned being affected by the MMIR crisis in their personal lives before they formed or joined a group. Participants expressed how this level of personalization made them more dedicated to the work and more likely to burn out without engaging in self-care.

Professional development: The MMIR groups participating in this study varied in size, location, age, and scope of their work. However, they were all volunteer organizations with little professional structure or training. Some participants discussed the benefits of MMIR groups becoming more professionally structured and trained. Speaking of professional search and rescue organizations, Darla said, “There is an immense amount of work in training that goes into their field that our organizations could benefit from.”

In addition to the need for training or professionalization of volunteers, another component that emerged from the interviews was the importance of physical space dedicated to the group. None of the participants in the study has a dedicated physical location for the group to operate. Instead, all MMIR groups in this study operated from home or shared community spaces. Some participants, like Missy, spoke about the benefits of having a physical operating space:

We need spaces where those type of situation they can just come and be with someone that understands. Sometimes they need to be on the peripheral of the work. Just their presence isn’t only contributing, but it’s healing for them. We don’t have that anyway.

Phyllis shared what having office space could mean for an MMIR group and victims:

We would be able to sit down with their families, provide that comfort that’s needed, and resources. We can have different departments come there and drop off resources. We can also sit there and go over some of the details and what to expect, and we can lead them to who could help with that type of situation so. If the case turns from a missing case to a murder case, we can help them with getting him in contact with those different departments. A lot of the time, our people on the reservation don’t have access to Wi-Fi. They don’t have access to a lot of the things that are available out there. So, with them being able to come to the office, they would be able to access any of that information, get printing if they have a flyer, they want to print, they can come to our office and get that printed.

Across the board, participants felt that having physical space would benefit groups, victims, and families. Participants envisioned having a physical space dedicated to doing the MMIR casework that could help limit burnout and streamline the ability to work on cases. In addition, it would give victims a physical space to come for resources, comfort, or safety.

Funding: Another significant barrier that participants reported was funding. Most participants said that funding was the biggest barrier to MMIR work. Amber summed it up by saying, “We need funding. All the chapters [MMIR groups] need funding,” and Pauline said, “It would be funding support. For the past five years . . . 95% of my work has been out of pocket. It would be really nice to be able to find funding avenues to support what I’m doing.”

A few participating groups, like Phyllis’ group, had 501c3 nonprofit status, which helped with receiving donations and grants. Several other participants were in the process of filing for nonprofit status. However, not every participant felt that being a nonprofit organization would be beneficial. Valerie said, “That’s not something I’m looking to work towards because there’s limitations as far as the 501C3 [a tax-exempt nonprofit organization in the] status in that you can’t lobby at the state level or federal level.”

Missy discussed her views that funding would need to be coupled with knowledge about combating the crisis:

Things are made difficult by this whole funding issue. They’ll say, “well, tribal governments get this.” They don’t work with groups. It doesn’t matter if your tribe has [USD ] $1,000,000. If they’re not bringing that MMIP group to the table to plan how that funding is used, that MMIW crisis in your area isn’t being combated in any way.

Participants often worked MMIR cases, went on searches, and hosted educational events all out of their own pockets or through small fundraising engagements like food or shirt sales. In summary, fundraising, particularly how MMIR groups could benefit from more funding, strategies to obtain funding, how to spend funds, and barriers to obtaining funds emerged as salient factors that impacted groups’ abilities to meet organizational needs.

Building relationships

The fourth theme that emerged was the need for MMIR groups and agencies of authority, such as law enforcement, politicians, and various levels of government, to work together. Furthermore, participants spoke about the relationships between MMIR groups, community members, other movements, and advocacy organizations. These ideas formed the subthemes of relationships with authorities and allyship.

Relationships with authorities: A recurring theme in the interviews was that police departments did not want to work with MMIR groups. Phyllis spoke about her group’s relationship with the local police department:

We don’t get a lot of support from our Police Department, and I don’t know why. Our local Police Department, I don’t know why they don’t work hand in hand with us. It’s like they don’t acknowledge us, but our tribal council does.

Another participant, Missy, suggested that law enforcement and government entities work with grassroots organizations on MMIR cases and listen to them regarding this crisis:

I don’t care if that city or state or federal, but it’s also tribal . . . need to acknowledge and just accept the fact that we know what we’re doing. You will never know what we are doing unless you hear us, and we can talk to you.

Some participants expressed dissatisfaction with tribal leaders and politicians making promises and not delivering. Amber said, “It really makes me mad when someone is campaigning, and they’re using MMIW as their platform. I don’t like that. It’s disturbing because . . . once they get in, they don’t. . .they forget about us.” Despite this frustration, most participants expressed the desire or need to work with these entities to serve MMIR victims best.

Allyship: Several participants reported expanding networks, collaborating, and partnering with key members from other systems to meet survivors’ needs better. When asked about other groups or organizations that their group has partnered with, Jennifer said, “the Black and Latino communities because the more BIPOC [Black, Indigenous, and People of Color] people you work with, the more they realize what’s really going on and they’ll share it like we share theirs.”

Many participants also mentioned the benefits of working with the unhoused communities when searching for missing relatives. Phyllis spoke about how these individuals helped and expressed how essential unhoused communities can be in working these cases:

If you need information on somebody that’s missing 9 out of 10 times, you’re gonna get it from people or unsheltered relatives that live out on the streets. And boy if you help them out here and there, they’re gonna help you out. Because now when I get over there and I’m like going down there and they see me and they’re, “Hey, Sister, what’s going on?” And I got food for them. I got snacks and hygiene products to give them. And they’re like, “Who are you looking for, sister?” “Who’s missing?” “You have any more extra flyers, sister?” “We’ll go hang them up for you.” “We’ll go pass it out.” And boy, they knew how to get around. So, you know what? I love our unsheltered relatives. I have a lot of respect for them because they help me. . . . They’re our eyes right there. That’s what I call them. Eagle eyes. . . They’re the ones that really help, and it’s like, you would think it’d be law enforcement and I’ll tell you right now, it’s not. It’s our unsheltered relatives. Our Eagle Eyes [emphasis added].

Besides other BIPOC organizations and unsheltered individuals, participants spoke of partnerships with universities, businesses, police departments, and community members who were not full-fledged group members but still supported the organization. Some of these alliances emerged in other subthemes of this study.

Taking action

Another theme that arose from the interviews was the types of actions that MMIR groups were taking. Nearly every group interviewed echoed Zoe’s sentiment: “You know that awareness is out there. Now it’s time for action.” None of the MMIR groups in this study only focused on raising awareness about the MMIR problem; instead, they all mentioned the importance of going beyond raising awareness to take action. Within the theme of taking action, two subthemes emerged: MMIR work and innovative strategies.

MMIR work: Each participant discussed their intensive actions to help find missing people or help with the aftermath of recovery. These things included going on searches, meeting with legislatures, organizing fundraisers, and comforting families. Zoe discussed looking for missing people: “Our searches are pretty much our chapters and the community.” Amber spoke about her group’s work and said, “We went to the State Capital, and we sat in on hearings and stuff, and we tried to push policies put policies in place.” One example of what fundraising funds were used for was given by Pauline, who said, “I’ve done fundraising too, for search and rescue to try. . . like gas fundraising for volunteer search and rescue.” Kourtney talked about comforting a family:

Not only do the awareness, like for [MMIR family] after they found the people that killed him and found his body, I sat in court with her through the whole trial. And just to be there with her, be that advocate, be that person to sit with her because she was going through a lot at the time.

Each participant discussed various ways in which their group or they themselves actively worked to look for MMIR victims. They also assisted survivors and families of those who were still missing or who did not survive. Many interviewees did not speak of working MMIR cases as volunteers but as someone who was “called to do this work” or served their “purpose.”

Innovative strategies: Activities such as leading awareness-raising campaigns, disseminating flyers, and providing comfort were common among study participants. In addition, many groups conducted searches and investigated MMIR cases. However, a few participants revealed innovative actions their groups took to meet survivors’ needs, which no other participants mentioned.

Valerie gave an example of one such strategy. Her group provided proactive training, in which she went to communities and taught self-defense integrated with cultural teachings:

The work that I do is proactive for violence against our person. Against women, men, and children. But it’s also reactive as well. I get into our native communities, and I teach about self-reliance. So, I teach about self-reliance in the way of self-defense, self-awareness, and adopting a mindset to navigate the two different worlds because there is a decision-making process that happens. (Valerie)

Phyllis spoke about a unique tool that her group created that she suggests all MMIR groups implement:

One of the things we got a toolkit going. . . We were able to make it downloadable and in sections. So just in case if it’s for a child or if it’s if it’s for an elderly, we have all different kinds of sections. We have call logs and stuff like that, down to where you can put in officers’ name their badge number. “Don’t forget to ask about this, this, this, and this. Keep this information with you at all times. It’s everything you need to know.” And it’s pretty much a step-by-step process, and it’s helped a lot of families.

Phyllis also spoke about creating an alert system for MMIR in her area and said, “What I did was, I created. . . I mimicked the alert system for a state. So, like an Amber Alert for us, I called it the Turquoise Alert [emphasis added].” Other unique strategies included an MMIR cross-country motorcycle ride to raise awareness of the crisis and the use of drones.

Groups that participated varied in size from two to 16 members. They varied in group age, from 2 months to 8 years. They also varied in location, connections, and community support. However, they all spoke about actions that they were taking to help MMIR victims and affected families. In addition, they all expressed the desire or need to do more than they are currently doing.

Synthesis of results

The results of this study are best understood and communicated through a circular narrative reflective of Indigenous storytelling where ideas are not linear. The themes around the MMIR crisis and the role of MMIR groups can be approached from any point without a defined start or end. This approach reflects the ongoing nature of the crisis and the versatile roles of MMIR groups, whether in raising awareness, conducting searches, or navigating systemic challenges like coordinating with law enforcement. This cyclical method captures the complexity and continuity of the issues faced, emphasizing that any MMIR case might begin at different stages depending on the circumstances.

Discussion

This study explored the operations of grassroots MMIR groups and their strategies for alleviating the MMIR crisis, highlighting the empowerment of communities and the challenges faced. While no studies focus solely on MMIR groups, parallels can be drawn from research on community-led advocacy, which indicates that such groups can be empowering and give community members a greater sense of power over their lives (Gama e Colombo, 2010).

Participants often started or joined a group to raise awareness for the MMIR crisis or help with a particular case. However, through the process of working cases, participants have become experts and community leaders who create and implement ideas that reach beyond the initial goal of raising awareness. Pre-colonization and into the late 19th century, Indigenous populations acted as sovereign nations, with their chosen leaders acting in the interest that they felt was best for their people. In the late 1800s, these sovereign nations became legally regarded as domestic dependent nations (Cherokee Nation v. Georgia, 30 U.S. 1, 1831), which led to policies such as the Dawes Act 1887, in which the US government divided communal land into small familial allotments to assimilate American Indians into the US way of life (Dawes Act, 1887). This strategy helped ensure Indigenous Americans would become reliant on the federal government or its arms like the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

Previous studies have shown that centuries of racism and erasure combined with confusion over jurisdiction create a system that contributes to high rates of violence and unsolved cases involving Indigenous people (Croisy, 2017). The study found MMIR groups navigating these oppressive systems while striving for organizational support and autonomy. Balancing grassroots authenticity with the need for professional growth creates tension, as reliance on external funding can shift organizational focus (Edwards & Hulme, 1996). Despite not seeing themselves in the same light as civil rights leaders from movements like the American Indian Movement, MMIR leaders, predominantly Indigenous women, are pivotal in a renewed civil rights advocacy, echoing the leadership seen in historical and modern movements like the resistance to the Dakota Access Pipeline for water protection (Estes & Dhillon, 2019).

Furthermore, the concept of repowering Indigenous communities aligns with other Indigenous civil rights movements. Notably, every MMIR group leader is an Indigenous Woman. Pre-colonization, most Indigenous societies were either matriarchal or viewed women as equal to men (Kearl, 2006). This study reveals that through addressing the MMIR crisis, Indigenous women are regaining their power, leadership roles, and respected place in society.

Strengths and limitations

One strength of this study lies in my identity as a tribal citizen and a member of an MMIR organization, which facilitated easier recruitment and established trust among participants. It stands out as one of the first investigations into the operations of MMIR groups, contributing novel insights to the field. However, the study faced significant limitations due to time constraints. Interviews had to be completed within an 8-week window, leaving four potential participants unavailable.

A further limitation was the geographical concentration of participants; eight of the eleven were from the Southern Plains region, including Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas, which may affect the generalizability of the findings to MMIR groups in other regions within the USA. This regional focus and the small sample size may limit the applicability of the study’s conclusions beyond the immediate contexts of the participants.

Implications

This study, confined to nine MMIR groups primarily from the same geographic region, highlights an opportunity for broader research across diverse locations and an expanded number of groups. As MMIR organizations are relatively new and the attention to the crisis has recently intensified, there is a shift in the needs of MMIR victims and the strategies employed by these groups. This evolving landscape suggests the potential value of a longitudinal study to track changes and developments over time. It also highlights the benefit of including voices from MMIR victims and their families who have engaged with these groups, offering a richer perspective on the community’s needs.

The findings of this study are practical for MMIR groups, providing a foundation for developing a toolkit of effective strategies and practices. Such a toolkit would enhance the ability of MMIR groups to share successful approaches and learn from less effective ones. Increased accessibility to shared resources and information between groups could be facilitated through organized forums such as focus groups, conferences, and community events.

Furthermore, this study introduces the concept of repowering. Repowering involves offering platforms for marginalized communities to reclaim pre-colonization autonomy and influence, enriching the CBPAR model that emphasizes shared power and collaborative knowledge creation (Tremblay et al., 2018). This approach has implications for academic research and broadens the scope of social justice and advocacy, suggesting a shift toward facilitating resources for communities to lead. The concepts of repowering and survivor leadership contribute to ongoing discussions on decolonizing research and emphasize the importance of sovereignty and autonomy beyond traditional academic realms.

Conclusion

Based on the findings of this study, MMIR groups engage in various strategies to meet survivor needs. Notably, through specific actions like fundraising, hosting educational events, and pushing for legislation, MMIR group leaders have become the face of the MMIR crisis and community-based subject matter experts. MMIR groups have found ways to repower or give power back to their local communities and those directly impacted by the MMIR crisis. Through their work, in addition to building relationships and therapeutic bonds with families impacted by MMIR, they also are leading the way in retaking the power to engage communities, connect within and beyond the community, and address the MMIR crisis.