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With an influential open letter and a trove of documents, an anonymous group of Kanehsata’kehró:non has brought countrywide attention to grave issues of land, safety, and the environment in the community.

For a few years, John Nicholas has had his eye on a parcel of federal land near Highway 344 and Second Avenue Terrasse Raymond.

A no man’s land stood between two rooms of the Bonaventure Hotel in downtown Montreal last Friday: on one side, Quebec held a public dialogue session surrounding the province’s French language laws in the context of Indigenous rights, and on the other, the Assembly of First Nations Quebec-Labrador (AFNQL)

The efforts of an anonymous group of Kanehsata’kehró:non has brought a deluge of attention to Kanesatake with the urgent message that the community has fallen into a “state of lawlessness and danger.” An open letter circulating amongst journalists and politicians names scourges such as toxic dump sites, dangerous criminal activity, and land “being stolen piece by piece by land developers and assimilated Mohawks treating Kanien’kehá:ka Homelands as if they were all for the taking.” In part by providing a trove of related documents, the group sparked a La Presse investigation into G&R Recycling that brought the issue roaring back into mainstream discourse.

“I remember when I was 18, I would have never imagined something like this happening,” said Tahatie Diabo. “Being a gay man, we’ve come a long way.” On Wednesday, Kahnawa’kehró:non gathered in the Kahnawake Shakotiia’takehnhas Community Services (KSCS)

More than 30 months after Quebec revoked its permit to operate, G&R Recycling is again in the headlines for its yet unresolved environmental damage, forcing politicians to answer for why more has not been done on a file that has plagued Kanesatake for years.

Quebec’s Indigenous affairs minister Ian Lafrenière said dysfunction at the Mohawk Council of Kanesatake (MCK) has created an opening for organized crime in the community, motivating him to speak out publicly.

Miyoskamin is a Cree word that means “the heart of innovation,” “groundbreaking,” or “breaking the mold.” “I just thought that what we’re doing is exactly this,” said executive director of the Native Women's Shelter of Montreal (NWSM), Nakuset, who is Cree.

You’d be forgiven if you at first didn’t notice the unassuming, six-foot-three figure in a black fedora interacting with the nearly 30 Kahnawa’kehró:non from Kahnawake Minor Hockey Association (KMHA)

Ryan Montour knows firsthand how intimidating it can be to face the community after being released from prison. “This is the hardest place in Canada to be on parole,” Montour once told the federal government.