Newell Lewey, a member of the Sipayik Criminal Justice Commission, knows first-hand what it's like to be a victim of what he believes is racial profiling. The Passamaquoddy man says, "I'm 80% random myself," pointing out that over three-quarters of the time that he crosses the border between the U.S. and Canada he is either questioned extensively or detained and searched. "When it happens again and again, is it random or is it because I'm crossing so infrequently that they stop me most every time?"
     Once when he was crossing into Canada from Fort Fairfield, Lewey was detained and his car was taken apart. The officers did find about 10 small pieces of birchbark and charged that he was trying to bring wood products across the border. Lewey refused to take the birchbark back into the U.S., and the supervisor "was reasonable enough to allow me to proceed," he says.
     Lewey has become involved with addressing the issue of racial profiling because of the difficulties he's had crossing the border. He was on a panel in Portland on June 26 as part of a hearing to learn from people from around the state about their experiences with racial profiling. Tribal members, African-Americans, African refugees, Latino immigrants and others told their stories at the field hearing, entitled "Racial Profiling: Face the Truth." The stories made it clear, Lewey says, that racial profiling is involved. "They're pulled over because of the way they look and given the fifth degree."
     In May the Maine Civil Liberties Union (MCLU) had contacted all the Wabanaki tribes and invited them to participate in the hearing, which is being used to advance the End Racial Profiling Act (ERPA) that has been introduced in the U.S. House by Rep. John Conyers of Michigan. ERPA would criminalize all racial profiling by all levels of law enforcement and hold municipal, county, state and federal governments accountable for acts of racial profiling by police. Zachary Heiden, the legal director of the MCLU, says the bill would clarify what it means to engage in racial profiling and mandate the creation of records so that incidents are documented. He doesn't expect that the House will consider the bill until next year.
     Heiden says that racial profiling of minorities is a problem throughout the state and country. "Many minorities feel they are pulled over more frequently because of their appearance," he notes. Not only is it unconstitutional for law enforcement officers to give heightened attention to people because of their race, Heiden says that racial profiling makes all citizens less safe because people who have been profiled are less likely to contact the police and help them by providing information.
     During the hearing in Portland, a short video documentary with the stories of young Passamaquoddy adults was presented. Jamie Bissonette, who staffs the Sipayik Criminal Justice Commission for the Passamaquoddy Tribe, which is continuing to investigate the issue of racial profiling in the area, worked with Holly Altvater of Pleasant Point to bring together the young adults to discuss their personal stories. Altvater produced the documentary of them talking about their experiences.
     According to Denise Altvater of Pleasant Point, who is chair of the Sipayik Criminal Justice Commission, Passamaquoddys who were interviewed spoke about the profiling that they allege takes place outside of the methadone clinic in Calais, where they perceive that the majority of stops by law enforcement officers involve people from Pleasant Point or Indian Township. They also talked about the Fourth of July in Eastport, where they felt that Natives seem to be the ones arrested or told to leave town if there is a fight. Others spoke of being stopped and interrogated while walking, when driving less than five miles over the speed limit with Wabanaki plates, which they call targets, and being questioned at length when they were only a passenger in a vehicle that was stopped for speeding. They said they have been pepper sprayed and arrested for speaking out or talking back to the police, and several times, when a group of five or more of them were together off the reservation, they have been told by the police that they had to break down into two or more groups or they would all be arrested.
     Lewey mentions the incident last year when Micmac migrant blueberry rakers from Canada were detained and searched as they tried to cross the border at Calais. "I don't claim to be a Canadian or U.S. citizen. I'm Passamaquoddy," Lewey says, adding, "I'm not trying to be radical." He says that under the Jay Treaty, Natives have a right to cross the border between the U.S. and Canada for trade and travel. Lewey uses his tribal identification card, which is presently accepted at border crossings instead of a U.S. passport. Federal funding is being made available to develop a new type of tribal identification card that can be scanned.
      Denise Altvater relates that she was stopped by a state police officer not too long ago on her way home from Calais. "I was very pleasant and cooperative because I work with law enforcement. I sit on the Advisory Board for the Washington County Sheriff's Department and I was appointed to the Board of the Maine State Prison by Governor Baldacci, but the officer was extremely rude, he treated me like crap, and yet I still remained pleasant to him. When I went to court, he lied in front of the assistant district attorney in court, and when it was proven that he lied when the DA played his tape on his own video, he shoved his hand in front of my face, turned away from me and said, 'I am done with you' like I no longer existed and was reduced to something non‑human. The assistant district attorney was between the two of us and heard the entire exchange but said nothing."
       Altvater continues, "I do not drink or do drugs, I have no criminal record, I am on the tribal council, I am an appointed member of the Maine Indian Tribal State Commission and yet I stood there feeling helpless and alone. Driving home I began to cry because I couldn't help but think about how painful and scary it must be for young people who are treated worse than I was, all the time, because of the color of their skin. Make no mistake, I knew that had I been a white woman with power, I would not have been treated the way I was. People who have not experienced racism have no idea what it is like or how painful and degrading it is."
     Altvater points out that, although there are complaints about some individual officers, she doesn't want to "blow the issue out of proportion." She observes that Sheriff Donnie Smith "has zero tolerance for racial profiling or racism. I have never gotten a complaint about the sheriff's department." Newell Lewey points out that David Lumbert, the port director in Calais for U.S. Customs and Border Protection, has been very supportive of the concerns of tribal members. And Altvater notes that there are times when Native people will perceive that an action is racist when it isn't.
      Altvater says she wants "to work with people to make a difference." She notes that racism can exist in institutions such as the criminal justice system, with people saying, "This is the way it's always been." To change that perception, her husband Brian and others worked with the Department of Corrections to introduce sweat lodges into the state prison system so that Native inmates could practice their religion. Denise Altvater says the change in attitude has been "tremendous. Working with institutions can change things around. Then you can work with individuals." She says what hurts "is working with systems that deny it exists. It takes time and commitment and a lot of honesty to undo the racism."
     Altvater recalls when she attended Lee Academy and tried out for the cheerleading squad. She was dragged into the bathroom by other students and beaten and her cheering outfit cut into shreds because Natives were not supposed to be on the cheering squad. She says racism is different now. "There's a lot of unconscious racism, but it still causes the same damage and pain." Although her granddaughter has many friends in Eastport and Perry, some of those friends are not allowed by their parents to visit her on the reservation.
     Her passion to change perceptions comes from her grandchildren, she says. "They're just as beautiful as any white kid, and I just think how unfair it is that they'd have to go through the same things as I did, and I don't want them to." Altvater remembers when her granddaughter was born, with light skin and hair and blue eyes. "I thought, 'Thank you, God, because she's going to pass.' And for me to look back and think that was my first reaction..." her voice trails off in emotion. "I worry about my grandchildren with dark skin. I get angry at times and I get hopeful at times." She adds, "I just don't want what happened to me to happen to other people."