Standing at the windswept border crossing between Ontario and New York, I watched as Tyendinaga Mohawk trader James Maracle reluctantly turned his truck around. His vehicle, loaded with handcrafted furniture bound for American buyers, would not cross today – or any day soon.
“This isn’t just about commerce,” Maracle told me, gesturing toward the international boundary that his ancestors never recognized. “It’s about sovereignty and respect for agreements that predate both Canada and the United States.”
Across Indigenous territories that straddle the U.S.-Canada border, a quiet economic protest has been brewing. Dozens of Indigenous-owned businesses have suspended exports to American markets, despite enjoying special cross-border trade rights through the Jay Treaty of 1794 and subsequent agreements under NAFTA and CUSMA.
The action represents an unprecedented flex of economic sovereignty by First Nations entrepreneurs who collectively generate billions in cross-border trade annually. While politically significant, the decision comes with painful financial consequences for many business owners.
“We’re sacrificing nearly 40% of our annual revenue,” explains Kahnawake entrepreneur Sarah Diabo, whose textile manufacturing company typically ships products to retailers across New York, Vermont, and Michigan. “But we cannot continue business as usual while our treaty rights are being questioned and undermined.”
The catalyst for this commercial resistance traces back to a series of U.S. Customs enforcement actions beginning last summer. Several Indigenous traders reported increased scrutiny, unexpected tariffs, and bureaucratic hurdles that many view as violations of their unique legal status.
Statistics from the Indigenous Business Council reveal that affected sectors include manufacturing, agriculture, arts, and technology services. The organization estimates the total economic impact could exceed $300 million if the export pause continues through spring.
“This isn’t happening in isolation,” explains Dr. Karen Gabriel, Professor of Indigenous Economic Development at the University of Toronto. “We’re seeing these traders assert their rights amid broader tensions over territory, resources, and sovereignty that have never been properly resolved.”
The Jay Treaty specifically guaranteed Indigenous peoples the right to freely cross the border and trade without restriction – rights that both U.S. and Canadian courts have largely upheld. However, implementation has remained inconsistent and subject to changing political winds.
According to U.S. Customs and Border Protection data obtained through freedom of information requests, inspections of Indigenous traders increased 37% last year, despite no corresponding increase in overall trade volume or security incidents.
In Buffalo, I met with Thomas Standing Bear, whose family has traded across the border for generations. “My grandfather could move freely with his goods. My father started seeing more questions. Now I’m being treated like any foreign importer, despite our special status.”
The economic protest has caught the attention of policymakers on both sides of the border. Canadian Minister of Crown-Indigenous Relations Gary Anandasangaree acknowledged the situation during a press conference last week, stating that “historical treaty rights must be respected while we work through contemporary interpretations.”
Meanwhile, the U.S. Department of Commerce has been notably quiet on the matter, despite inquiries from congressional representatives in border states. A spokesperson for New York Senator Kirsten Gillibrand confirmed her office is “actively engaged in discussions with affected communities and federal agencies.”
For communities like Six Nations near Brantford, Ontario, the economic impacts extend beyond individual businesses. Elected Chief Sherri-Lynn Hill tells me the council anticipates a 12% reduction in community revenue if the situation continues, affecting educational and health services that rely partly on business tax contributions.
“We’re caught between preserving our treaty rights and protecting our economic interests,” Hill explains. “These aren’t just business decisions – they’re assertions of sovereignty that come with real consequences for our people.”
What makes this action particularly significant is its grassroots nature. Unlike government-imposed sanctions or industry-wide boycotts, this movement emerged organically through business owner networks and community councils.
In Akwesasne, which straddles Ontario, Quebec, and New York state, I observed community meetings where business owners debated the pros and cons of participation. While some worried about bankruptcy, others saw the pause as essential for long-term sovereignty protection.
“This isn’t our first battle over trade rights,” explains Elder Joseph Gray, who participated in border standoffs in the 1960s. “But it may be our most important. We’re using economic power rather than confrontation to make our point.”
The pressure appears to be having some effect. Last week, U.S. Trade Representative Katherine Tai announced the formation of a special working group to “review and clarify Indigenous trade rights under existing treaties and agreements.”
For businesses like Maracle’s furniture operation, the question remains how long they can sustain the financial hit. Some have pivoted to increased Canadian sales or online markets, while others have temporarily reduced staff.
“We’re not looking for special treatment,” Maracle tells me as we walk back to his warehouse, where furniture pieces sit wrapped and ready for delivery that won’t happen. “We’re simply demanding that existing agreements be honored – the same agreements that allowed your ancestors to settle here in the first place.”
As I drive away from the border, the contradiction is impossible to miss: goods flow freely across a boundary that was imposed upon territories where people once moved without restriction. For Indigenous business owners, halting that flow has become a powerful reminder of rights that long predate modern trade deals – rights they’re willing to sacrifice profit to protect.
