Borders & Burdens

Just two weeks ago, I found myself in a conversation about the Jay Treaty and the way it is so often misunderstood—or not known at all. The treaty was signed in 1794 between the United States and Britain, long before there was a “Canada” as we know it today. At its heart, it acknowledged that Indigenous Nations have always had the right to freely cross the U.S.–Canada border, because these Nations existed long before colonial boundaries were imposed.

Not long after that conversation, this powerful reflection came to me from a dear friend to Culturally Committed, Fancy C. Poitras of the Mikisew Cree First Nation. The timing felt almost uncanny, and I’m grateful to Fancy for allowing us to republish her words here for this week’s Teachings Tuesday.

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I want to start off by saying that everyone I speak of here did not do me any harm. But the things we discussed this evening landed differently for me, and I want to be clear that this is about sharing with you an example of how my life, and the lives of Indigenous people, can differ from yours as a non-Indigenous person, and why it sucks.

There was an after-work social tonight, with some fantastic colleagues present. Even as an introvert (yes, I’m actually an introvert), I do enjoy the opportunity to meet casually with these folks—they are good folks. We randomly find our way to topics of discussion that are outside of the work-a-day topics (e.g., my suspected kidney stones last week, while I was traveling). One of the many topics at the extended table seating was about travel documents—updated passports and the like.

And I know that I do speak from a certain place of privilege. I acknowledge that, where I am on this ridiculous planet, and who I am, I experience a level of safety others could only wish for at this point. I wish everyone could say the same. Or better.

But it was fascinating that, as the conversation carried on, and the mention of the NEXUS program was raised, I didn’t fully appreciate the impact it would have on me. I have never applied for the NEXUS program, nor do I see it as something I need to do in the foreseeable future. But as someone in the group lamented, they recently applied to the program for family reasons, and their lament was focused on the fact that the present Administration is not a friendly one, nor is it one that I could express a lot of confidence in with regard to personal data.

As this was discussed, I noted that, as a First Nations person, I have no choice in the matter. And I don’t, truly, when you consider all of the factors…involving my Status Card.

You see, we’re in a pretty messy Catch-22 in this country about First Nations Status Cards. If you’re informed on the subject, forgive the primer, but the fact is that the Secure Indian Status Card is generally our only option, as off-Reserve people. Some decisions by the colonial canadian government in the last 15 years have led us to a time and place where the old, laminated, locally-produced cards are barely available anymore. Granted, there are security issues with them, but it seems as though the pendulum swung a little too far in the other direction in seeking to address those security issues.

Plainly: if I need a Status Card in this country (and I do, for many reasons), I can only get the Secure Indian Status Card. The old, laminated, non-Secure cards are limited to band offices, and even then, they are in short supply (because Indigenous Services Canada doesn’t send out the supplies to Nations for all members), so bands prioritize their own members who need Status Cards over the non-member First Nations living in their communities. As a result, for us off-Reserve members, our only realistic recourse is to apply for our cards to Indigenous Services Canada—which only offers the Secure cards.

While the Secure cards are intended for easier use at land border crossings into the US, as is our right under the Jay Treaty, the fact is that in order to get them, we have to incur more paperwork (and yes, expenses) to submit to the canadian government, which is then shared with the US government for approval. I don’t have any option. I can’t go back to my community without incurring even higher/more significant costs, and as an off-Reserve member, I have no guarantee of being prioritized for the older, laminated card over those who live in community and have less need to travel across the border.

The Jay Treaty.

If you’re not familiar with it, the short version is that it was a Treaty between the US and Britain signed in 1794 as a measure to address the challenges of British outposts in the post-Independence United States, particularly with respect to commercial activities—essentially, the Treaty required the British to vacate outposts in the US following American independence. However, a peculiar aspect of the Treaty was that it set in place the right of First Nations people in what would become canada to move more freely across the border to live and work. After all, the colonial borders were imposed on us by the colonial governments of the day—First Nations did not have land borders prior to European contact and settlement, and this weird concept interfered significantly in the ways of life for our ancestors.

(It’s a further strange anomaly that Canada does not recognize the reciprocal agreement as binding, but that’s a story to be told by someone with more knowledge than I have. There’s also this utterly bizarre, eugenicist, and very much not First Nations-aligned aspect of “50% blood quantum”, but I won’t get into that here.)

Anyway, the idea is that with my Status Card, I should be able to cross into the US without issue (assuming that I don’t, you know, have warrants or other legal issues impeding my access). For decades, First Nations people were scrutinized and even harassed at border crossings, and the solution that came out of this policy issue was the Secure Indian Status Card.

I, and every other person recognized as First Nations by the colonial canadian government, have to apply every ten years for these cards, using applications very similar to those used for canadian passport applications, which is not a factor for the old, laminated cards—so, instead of just verifying my right to First Nations identity, now my paperwork is shared with the US government—not a government with any legal responsibility for me or one which my Nation has Treaty relations with—to vet me as someone eligible for my own identity card in this country.

So. When my non-Indigenous colleagues were talking about this NEXUS program and expressing concerns about how much of their information is held by a foreign government, it stuck out to me as yet another way that colonialism still controls my life in a way it will never control theirs. My colleagues have a choice—they can opt not to apply to the NEXUS program, and yet still be able to cross the boarder between canada and the US with a regular passport and without having to surrender as much personal data to a foreign government. Me? I lost that choice when Indigenous Services Canada decided to short-supply the plain-variety Status Cards and push us toward the Secure Card, under the guise that it would make our crossings into the US easier.

Thanks, I hate this multiverse timeline.

Fancy’s story is a powerful reminder that colonialism is not a chapter of the past—it is lived, every day, in the systems and policies that shape something as basic as the right to carry an identity card or to cross a border. What looks like choice for some is constraint for others.

We are honoured to be able to share her words with you, and deeply thankful for her generosity in offering this teaching to our community.

Chi miigwetch, Fancy.

🧡 Kim