In January this year, Winnipeg was shaken by a front-page headline in the Canadian magazine Macleans describing the city as “where Canada's racism problem is at its worst”.

The immediate reaction from the city's mayor, Brian Bowman, himself part-Aboriginal, was to hold a press conference and promise to do better.

“We're not going to end racism tomorrow, but we're sure as hell going to try,” he said in a tearful address, surrounded by community leaders.

Although not everyone agreed with the Macleans article, many in Winnipeg were pleased the argument was finally out in the open.

“Was I surprised at the headline? No,” says Winnipeg's police chief, Devon Clunis.

 I've been saying we need to have a meaningful, difficult conversation in the city.”

Clunis has pledged to address violence against Aboriginal women, though he feels the burden is falling unfairly on the police.

“By the time an individual from the indigenous community comes to the attention of the police, oftentimes it's too late,” he says.

 It's a deep social issue that needs to be addressed from a holistic community perspective.”

The chief's views put him at odds with Canada's Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, who has described the issue of missing and murdered Aboriginal women as a criminal, not a sociological one.

Clunis is not alone in his views, though. The provincial government of Manitoba has backed calls for a national inquiry, as last month did a UN Committee in a report which accused Canada of a “grave violation” of Aboriginal women's rights.

The Harper government is opposed to an inquiry, but whether one is held in future or not, Tina Fontaine’s death appears to have been a moment of awakening for Canada.

Huge crowds joined rallies to protest against the murder, and thousands of women tweeted pictures of themselves holding signs asking the question “Am I Next?”

Months later, the sense of outrage is less obvious, but in Winnipeg’s North End district, young Aboriginal men and women gather every Friday evening to ring a bell as a symbol of protest.

Among them is 23-year-old youth worker Jenna Wirch, who says she is determined to fight the perception that Aboriginal women are "the lowest of the low".

“I have to constantly have my back up against the world,” she says.

“At first I'm angry. Then I take a step back and think, how can I fix it? How can I break those stereotypes?”

Wirch’s energy and determination are impressive, but the threat against Aboriginal women and girls remains real. Since Tina was killed last August, three more Aboriginal women have been murdered in Winnipeg.

Two of the deaths appear to be related to domestic arguments. In the third the perpetrator is unknown.

And at the beginning of April, another 15-year-old Aboriginal schoolgirl was assaulted and left in a critical condition.

As the snow falls gently outside her home in Sagkeeng, Thelma Favel sits surrounded by pictures of Tina.

She's relieved that Canada seems to be waking up to the issue of violence against Aboriginal women, she only wishes this awareness had come sooner.

“It's going to be too late for Tina,” she says.

“But at least it might help somebody else, another child.”