They weren’t supposed to reach across the border to touch each other.
On the Vermont side of the U.S.-Canadian line, a crowd of about 40 gathered at a farmer’s field in rural Berkshire on Saturday morning. The plan was to demonstrate their solidarity with protesters who were gathering just across the international border, in Frelighsburgh, Québec.
The event was one of about 40 held that day along the U.S. borders with Canada and Mexico. The North American coalition Friends without Borders had called for demonstrators to showcase cross-border bonds. Several dozen people hiked to a farmer’s field in Vermont. Opposite them, past a red rope marking the border, around 400 demonstrators assembled in Frelighsburgh.
The demonstrators in Canada were a bit better equipped, with both a sound system and a stage.
As people gathered, they greeted their counterparts across the border warmly.
In Québec, one uniformed officer was at the rally but left. On the American side, a large vehicle towing what appeared to be a surveillance tower was on hand, but no officers or agents approached the demonstrators.
Speakers in Canada read aloud a message from Miriam Hansen, an organizer with Montpelier Indivisible. Hansen was present in Berkshire, but the Canadians weren’t able to hand her their microphone.
Hansen was born in Montréal and has lived in Vermont for most of her adult life. “The border is a real thing, but it’s always been a friendly border,” she said in an interview.
David Rider, 55, came from Burlington to show his support. “The real issues that we should be working on are much different than this, period,” he said. “We’re neighbors by chance, friends by choice.”
“It’s very important to not stay silent and be victim of a system or decisions taken by governments,” said Eric Edelmann, a Québec resident who spoke to Seven Days across the border. “We have to assert our freedom.”
Michel Kebay, 76, a retired professor from Norwich University who lives in Plainfield, is both Canadian and American. He loudly denounced the Trump administration, which he calls fascist. When he returns to Canada for his 60th high school reunion, he plans to bring a burner phone so that his usual phone can’t be searched at the border, he said.
“I do not want easy, instant access to my Facebook page, for example, where I post… describing the importance of resistance to, and I’m using the word carefully, fascist takeover of the United States government. We are in serious danger right now.
“My father escaped the Nazis in 1932.” he added. “We lost family in the Holocaust. The hell I’m gonna sit quietly as other people are abused, bullied, scared.”
On the Canadian side, speakers expressed worry for future generations impacted by souring relations with the United States as well as the Trump administration’s environmental policies.
Children were invited to the front of the stage to release butterflies. Then the two groups met along the border to form a human chain.
They observed five minutes of silence. And then they sang “Imagine” by John Lennon.
On both sides, people began to tear up. Soon enough, the no-contact rules gave way to their desire to connect. People began shaking hands over the thin red rope. Children greeted Americans from across the border; one girl handed out flowers.
After the protest, American and Canadian activists parted ways. The Americans walked back through a sunny field to where they parked their cars.