Missing White Woman Syndrome
March 16, 1989. What was a normal school day for 15-year-old Tonetta Carlisle quickly melted into something of a nightmare. While walking home, a tan-and-yellow van pulled up alongside the freshman from Chattanooga, Tennessee. Two unnamed suspects jumped out and abducted the girl in plain sight. Much to their chagrin, a woman and her husband saw the whole thing and even chased the vehicle down before getting the license plate. Despite such major (and heroic) action, Tonetta has not been seen or heard from for 32 years.
Fast forward 28 years to the Blackfoot Indian Reservation. 20-year-old Ashley HeavyRunner was visiting with some friends and her sister (who she had a close relationship with) amidst her attendance at Blackfoot Community College. After June 5, 2017, the young woman vanished without a trace. Oddly enough, Ashley was major advocate for awareness of indigenous missing persons cases. For four years, Ashley has been gone due to the same circumstances that she was trying to direct attention to.
These two cases are similar in their own ways; on the other hand, they share one painful commonality: They have gone completely under the radar for decades. Sure, the cases may have a small article here and there, however the media has come up rather short in keeping their cases alive.
On the opposite end of this spectrum is the well-researched case of Gabrielle ‘Gabby’ Petito. For those who are unaware, 22-year-old Gabby was a “van life” vlogger who was reported missing on September 11, 2021, while on a 4-month trip with her fiancé, Brian Laundrie. Horrifically, ten days later, a set of partial remains were found and identified tentatively as the young woman. In recent days, the hunt for Laundrie continues as he is considered a person-of-interest in his bride-to-be’s death (which has since been ruled a homicide).
This noticeable difference between the amount of coverage of missing white women and missing women of color/indigenous populations has—by several sources, including The New Yorker—been dubbed, “missing white women syndrome.” Other well-known examples of this phenomenon include the death of Laci Peterson overshadowing the ongoing investigation of 9-year-old Asha Degree’s disappearance (which began sometime prior to Laci’s murder, which occurred in 2003. Despite this time difference, Asha’s case received considerably less coverage compared to the national media attention that Laci’s did). Women such as Laci and Gabby have been named, according to New York Times staff writer Nikole Hannah-Jones, “beacons.” Over the years, these women have lit the torch, so to speak, for the rallying cry of equal coverage for all missing persons cases, regardless of sex, ethnicity, religion, orientation, and age. Yet despite this continual riling up, nothing has been done to level any sort of playing field for these cases.
So where does that leave us, and what can we do to help this growing, silent crisis? Nikole Hannah-Jones claims that this “syndrome” or trend can be traced to, “the proportion, and also the absence of that [media] coverage, of course, when black and brown women [and men] go missing.” The obvious answer to this issue would be to just give more minority cases coverage, however it isn’t that easy. The media is pickier than most eaters out there, and the public is even pickier in terms of news intake. According to a September 2021 article by 19th News, “Minnesota became the first state to launch a task force for missing and slain black women and girls. The bill, first proposed by state Rep. Ruth Richardson in February, is modeled after the state’s task force for missing and murdered indigenous women, which was created in 2019.”
This is a far cry from a perfect solution, but it is indeed a wonderful start. When it comes to missing persons cases, when the right person gets the right amount of information, the case gets blown wide open. It all starts with us.
