By Arianne Lalonde
Search Akwesasne on Google Maps, and you’ll find something unusual: three different addresses, all in different provinces and states: Akwesasne, New York; Akwesasne, Ontario; and Akwesasne, Quebec. But what is Akwesasne, really? Is it Canadian? American? Québécois? The answer is more complicated, and more fascinating, than any map will reveal. Akwesasne is a territory that belongs to none other than the Akwesasró:non. Yet this truth hasn’t stopped North America from drawing its arbitrary lines through the heart of the community.
In 1962, the Canada Border Services Agency established the Cornwall Port of Entry. Since then, it has been deemed convenient and efficient for tourists and trade alike. However, it caused nothing but division and hardship among the people of Akwesasne: it meant that anytime someone from Akwesasne wished to access a service, a natural resource, or visit family or friends located in what has been categorized as another country’s part of their land, they were forced to cross the border. This meant waiting in long lines, being questioned, and even the possibility of being denied entry into the other side of their own reserve.
During my second-to-last week interning with the Akwesasne Community Justice Program, two Canadian government officials, who had funded part of our program but had never actually visited, came for a tour. My boss took it upon herself to show them the complexity of daily life, starting with the New York State side of the reserve, home to the Saint Regis Mohawk Tribe. This federally recognized government provides a range of community services, including the tribal police who govern the American side.
Next, we headed to the Quebec side, a jurisdictional maze if there ever was one. This part of the reserve is about 25 km² and sits right beside the New York State section. It’s where most of the Mohawk Council of Akwesasne’s programs operate, including social services, finance, health, and justice (our program), as well as the Mohawk Police. But to get there, you must drive through New York State, and there is no official border crossing. This leads to an unusual predicament: anyone not from Akwesasne who visits Akwesasne, QC, and then tries to re-enter Akwesasne, NY, must report to the US Department of Homeland Security. In theory, you can use the CBP Roam App, but in practice, it rarely works, which is exactly what our visitors experienced. So, when we got to the Massena, New York–Cornwall, Ontario border crossing, they had to report to U.S. Customs before even reaching Canadian Customs.
My boss stood with them as the officer ran through routine questions: “Are you entering with over $10,000 in cash?” “Any weapons?” “Any alcohol?” “Any cannabis or tobacco?” Suddenly, one of our visitors blurted out, “I HAVE CANNABIS IN MY VAPE!” My boss immediately went pale. Even though cannabis is legal in both Canada and New York State, bringing it across an international border is a serious offence, one that can result in denied entry, hefty fines, or even arrest. Realizing her mistake, the visitor quickly retracted her statement: “I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I just said that! I don’t have any cannabis; it’s just a nicotine vape!” The officers conducted a thorough search and, thankfully, found nothing illegal. It was a clear example of how stressful and unpredictable these crossings can be, even for those just visiting.
The tour came to an unexpected halt, but its impact lingered. For our guests, it was a brief encounter with the everyday reality of the Akwesasró:non: a world where the simple act of travelling across one’s community is fraught with questions, anxieties, and unpredictable hurdles. This experience not only underscores the persistent disruption caused by borders, but also highlights how imposed jurisdictional boundaries continuously interfere with cultural continuity and community cohesion. Within the Community Justice Program, crossing borders is more than a logistical challenge; it serves as a daily reminder that colonial legacies remain embedded in the lived experiences of Indigenous peoples, shaping access to resources and mobility within their own lands. Whether it’s driving clients or simply trying to get home, the uncertainty provoked by these artificial divisions is a constant reality, emphasizing the broader implications of state-imposed borders on Indigenous self-determination and well-being.