Asylum seekers face a long journey to freedom along Roxham Road

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It seems like an unremarkable site. A temporary building made of corrugated steel. A single white pillar outside, marking the official line between two countries.

But for the tens of thousands of asylum seekers who have made the journey to that site over the past several years – many of them travelling for days, weeks, sometimes years just to get there – the sight of the white pillar can feel like a wonder.

“We see them as they get to the magic line,” said Frances Ravensbergen, a volunteer with the group Bridges Not Borders.

“Many of them just start to run,” she said. “They’re so focused on what they need to do. Just, ‘Gotta get into Canada.’”

Last year alone, almost 40,000 asylum seekers were intercepted by RCMP entering into Canada at an irregular border crossing. This might be the vast stretches of farmland where the Prairies meet Montana and North Dakota, or the otherwise unremarkable Roxham Road, an eight-kilometre-long rural road that connects Champlain, N.Y., to Saint-Bernard-de-Lacolle, Que.

These asylum seekers have entered the U.S. from another country. And from there, the majority of them have made their way to Canada through Quebec, and via Roxham Road. The number of asylum seekers crossing at an irregular border surged last year (up from 4,246 in 2021) owing in large part to a backlog of people making their way through now that COVID-19 border closures have lifted. They’ve come from all over the world – often from Haiti, Nigeria or Colombia – fleeing war, violence and poverty.

So for many, the white pillar at Roxham Road can feel like a finish line. But in fact it’s yet another beginning – the long and drawn-out, years-long process of a refugee claimant in Canada.

The crossing

To get to the Roxham Road crossing, some arrive in the area by plane. Others by private vehicle – by car, or van. But most travel by bus.

For the vast majority of asylum seekers who have turned up at Roxham Road in the past months, the last leg of their journey begins in midtown Manhattan. Four times a day, the Greyhound bus departs from the Port Authority Bus Terminal at the corner of West 42nd Street and 8th Avenue, on a nine-plus-hour drive to Montreal. The busiest trip of the day is generally the bus at 8:30 a.m., which arrives in Montreal just after 6 p.m.

But instead of completing the trip, for the past weeks, a large number of passengers have disembarked at the second-last stop: at the Mountain Mart convenience store and gas station in Plattsburgh, N.Y. It’s the last stop before the official U.S.-Canada border.

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On most days, there are taxi cabs already waiting in the parking lot of the Mountain Mart. By now, most of the Plattsburgh cab drivers have committed the bus schedule to memory. A few have even begun carrying educational materials in the back seat – pamphlets translated into different languages to walk the asylum seekers through what to expect at the crossing. It’s a half-hour drive and a US$90-fare.

Members of Bridges Not Borders, the Quebec-based volunteer group that Ms. Ravensbergen belongs to, stand by the crossing, offering support to asylum seekers making the journey. A sister group based in the U.S., Plattsburgh Cares, also has volunteers attend Roxham Road most days of the week.

Last weekend, when temperatures dropped to -19, the volunteers have watched some migrants arrive completely unprepared for the climate: adults in sweatshirts and flip-flops; infants wearing only onesies. The volunteers are there to hand out crucial supplies, including coats, hats and mittens. It’s a friendly face – a way of saying “Welcome” before facing the authorities.

As asylum seekers approach the pillar, they’re met by a large sign. “Stop,” it says in English. “It is illegal to cross here or any place other than a Port of Entry. You will be arrested and detained.” RCMP officers stand by to reiterate this aloud.

Sometimes the message is met with fear. “The RCMP says what they say, and the tears happen, shaking starts and people turn away,” said Ms. Ravensbergen. But more often, she said, they’ve already prepared for this. They nod and cross anyway.

The arrests themselves, according to volunteers, are generally uneventful. Police rarely use handcuffs these days, they say. By now, most RCMP officers have become accustomed to the process, escorting the asylum seekers into the white building for an initial security check and questioning. The whole process generally takes less than an hour.

It’s a far cry from the situation in 2017, when migrants first began turning up there in large numbers, fleeing then-U.S. president Donald Trump’s crackdown on migrants who had entered the country illegally. In the summer and winter months following Mr. Trump’s election, migrants suddenly began showing up at Roxham Road in the hundreds. Between July and December of 2017, more than 15,000 people crossed into Quebec via irregular crossings. (The federal government estimates that about 40 per cent eventually relocated to Ontario.)

At that time, the crossing at Roxham Road was just a ditch. Migrants would wade through it and walk up into a parking lot where a RCMP cruiser was generally stationed.

From that period came horror stories of officials caught unprepared: of police handcuffing asylum seekers in front of their children, and of hours-long wait times in freezing cold conditions.

“We were getting word of border officers saying, ‘I’m going to Costco before my shift because I want to buy 24 muffins because people are waiting at the border and I want to get food for them,’” said Ms. Ravensbergen. “Or ‘Do you have car seats? We’re driving little babies in vans and it’s not safe.’”

But since then, volunteers say, officials have become much better organized, and better prepared for the crowds. They’ve set up heated buildings, lights and porta-potties. The arrests these days, she said, are generally routine and uneventful.

The moment those asylum seekers do walk across the line, they sometimes turn to wave at the taxi drivers and volunteers, standing by to watch.

More than once, said Ms. Ravensberger, she’s even seen a taxi driver flash the thumbs-up sign and hold up their cellphones.

“He’ll look at us and tell us, ‘I’m calling the family,’” she said.

“And then we hear them say, ‘Your family is over. They’re in Canada.’”

Michael Bartuciski: The Roxham Road situation requires a diplomatic solution

Later that day

From Roxham Road, RCMP officers drive the asylum seekers in groups to Saint-Bernard-de-Lacolle, an official border crossing about 10 minutes away.

That’s where officers with the Canada Border Services Agency are waiting with their own examinations. The CBSA officials conduct their questioning of each of the individuals, as well as security screenings and health checks. They also do an initial assessment of each individual’s eligibility for a refugee claim and collect biometric data – including fingerprints.

Based on these examinations, a very small percentage are detained by CBSA at the border – generally only those believed to pose a security threat. Otherwise, the vast majority are taken by bus to downtown Montreal.

While awaiting a decision on their application, asylum seekers are entitled to a number of supports from the Quebec government, including help in finding permanent housing and applying for social assistance, schools for children and legal aid. And those who need it are also entitled to temporary housing.

Some are sent to one of the hotels rented by the federal government. Others are sent to one of two shelters operated as part of PRAIDA, the Quebec government’s program to assist asylum seekers.

Starting last summer, the Quebec government began raising concerns about the disproportionate burden it faced with asylum seekers making irregular crossings along its border at Roxham Road. In response, the federal government began transferring migrants to other communities across Canada, including the Ontario border cities of Niagara Falls, Cornwall and Windsor, which are now experiencing their own overextension of limited settlement resources. Since July, nearly 3,000 migrants have arrived in Niagara Falls, most of them housed in hotel rooms.

While other municipalities may be better able to provide temporary accommodations in shelters or hotels for asylum seekers, many don’t have the resettlement service infrastructure in place to help them navigate the immigration process, says Christina Clark-Kazak, an associate professor at the University of Ottawa who studies forced migration.

“Hotel staff are not social workers, they’re not people equipped to respond to the needs of people who have fled persecution, war, violence,” she said.

The first few days

The two PRAIDA shelters in Montreal can house a total of 1,200 people each day. And because the shelters have child care and health workers on site, they prioritize pregnant women, families and those deemed especially vulnerable.

The majority of people housed in PRAIDA shelters, according to the program’s website, come from Mexico, Haiti and Colombia.

Within the first few days at the PRAIDA shelters, most asylum seekers meet with a social worker for an initial assessment, and for help in connecting with resources, including various government programs they may be eligible for. They’ll also meet with a nurse who can provide a health assessment, and vaccinations if necessary.

“It’s a very busy time for them,” said CIUSSS West-Central Montreal associate CEO Lucie Tremblay, which runs the PRAIDA program.

The average stay at their shelters is about 18 days, she said. And in that time, the asylum seekers are trying to accomplish a long list of tasks – everything from finding employment and housing, to registering their children in schooling.

“Our mandate is really to be there to support them, and to guide them to find the proper resources,” she said. “After that, they have to develop their own autonomy.”

After the migrants are settled, shelter staff will sometimes share phone numbers of refugee lawyers or begin making calls to them on the migrants’ behalf. Other times, a migrant will get in touch with an anchor family member – a relative who is already in Canada – and get referred to a lawyer through them.

Where migrants have been entering

Canada at an irregular border crossing

QUEBEC

Quebec City

Montreal

Ottawa

ONTARIO

VERMONT

NEW YORK

100 km

Roxham Road

QUEBEC

James-Fisher Road

Irregular border

crossing

CANADA

U.S.

Roxham Road

NEW YORK

North Star Road

500 m

MURAT YÜKSELIR / THE GLOBE AND MAIL, SOURCE:

OPENSTREETMAP CONTRIBUTORS

Where migrants have been entering Canada at

an irregular border crossing

QUEBEC

Quebec City

Montreal

Ottawa

ONTARIO

VERMONT

NEW YORK

100 km

Roxham Road

QUEBEC

James-Fisher Road

Irregular border

crossing

CANADA

U.S.

Roxham Road

NEW YORK

North Star Road

500 m

MURAT YÜKSELIR / THE GLOBE AND MAIL, SOURCE:

OPENSTREETMAP CONTRIBUTORS

Where migrants have been entering Canada at an irregular border crossing

Roxham Road

QUEBEC

QUEBEC

James-Fisher Road

Quebec City

Irregular border

crossing

CANADA

Montreal

Ottawa

U.S.

Roxham Road

ONTARIO

VERMONT

NEW YORK

North Star Road

NEW YORK

100 km

500 m

MURAT YÜKSELIR / THE GLOBE AND MAIL, SOURCE: OPENSTREETMAP CONTRIBUTORS

It’s rare that asylum seekers will get in touch with Canadian lawyers before they arrive in the country, and lawyers aren’t supposed to be advising them on how to cross over to Canada, either.

As soon as they cross the border and are logged by the CBSA, the clock starts ticking: They have 14 days to make an official claim for refugee status, which is submitted through an online portal. This includes the full story that forms what is called the Basis of Claim – the reason they fled their country, and what threats they face if they return.

There are several long forms to complete and Toronto-based refugee lawyer Warda Shazadi Meighen, who is currently handling about two dozen refugee claims for individuals who have made irregular border crossings, has learned time and again that the devil is in the details.

Sometimes a refugee claimant might move after filing their claim to a new address and when a tribunal member overseeing their Immigration and Refugee Board hearing doesn’t see that reflected in the paperwork, they’ll fixate on the inconsistency. If a claimant recounts being violently attacked five times in the forms they submitted in writing but then at their hearing mentions six attacks, they will be scrutinized for it.

“If you get one of the forms wrong, and you miss one of the things, what happens at the hearing is those items are taken to undermine one’s credibility,” Ms. Shazadi Meighen said.

The weeks and months that follow

After a refugee claim has been submitted, the Immigration and Refugee Board is required by law to hold a hearing within 60 days – but the average wait time is actually 22 months. The migrant surge in 2017 and the COVID-19 pandemic contributed to a backlog, which is still being cleared.

“This is the structural problem with the system: There is a backlog and it takes too long for refugee claims to be heard,” said Prof. Clark-Kazak.

Adult migrants who have completed their health screening and submitted their biometric data are allowed to apply for a work permit, but because of a government processing backlog, they might be waiting months for one to be issued. This means that without an income, many are stuck in temporary accommodations longer than they would like.

Some migrants arrive in Canada with well-established careers and professional degrees but with their precarious status as refugee claimants, most can only get low-paying jobs in factories or warehouses. During the height of the pandemic, Prof. Clark-Kazak points out, many refugee claimants worked the high-risk front-line jobs that many Canadians didn’t want: as grocery store staff, cleaners and personal support workers in hospitals and long-term care homes.

“We have this whole discourse around the ‘guardian angels’ and we seem to have forgotten the guardian angels two years later when we’re saying, ‘Why are you all coming here?’” Prof. Clark-Kazak said.

Refugee claimants’ meagre wages often aren’t enough to support their families, so they sometimes rely on food banks or seek housing in shelters. If they have health care needs, those costs are covered by the federal government. They rely heavily on settlement agencies – if they are available – to navigate these social services.

But the impact of the surge in asylum seekers on a “chronically underfunded” settlement sector has been enormous, says Prof. Clark-Kazak.

Most of the organizations providing services are non-profits and are largely staffed by immigrants, including many refugees themselves, who have been stretched to their limits. The compassion fatigue and poor wages they endure have prompted high turnover in the industry, according to a 2021 report from the Association for Canadian Studies that surveyed settlement workers across the country.

Canada is already in the throes of a housing crisis, which refugee claimants experience more acutely: Without domestic credit history or references, finding affordable housing is a bleak task. Some employers will only hire refugee claimants on temporary contracts but showing they only have employment for three months makes it difficult to secure a one-year lease.

Just like with the housing crisis, asylum seekers have an even more difficult time than other new arrivals navigating the settlement process. Most funding for refugees is earmarked for people who arrive in Canada with refugee status – these are privately sponsored refugees or government-assisted ones who do not need to go through an Immigration and Refugee Board hearing because the government has already agreed to grant them refugee status. The vast majority of programming in Canada is for those individuals and shuts out asylum seekers.

And for those with school-aged children, the adjustment to Canadian schools can be a challenge. Students are generally put in a grade that corresponds with their age, but some children who have fled a war zone may be several years behind in school and it might take a few class changes and extra supports to find the appropriate learning environment for them.

Even if they’ve found steady employment and housing, the two years that refugee claimants are in limbo before their hearing can be extremely difficult.

“It’s a period of severe uncertainty: They’re often managing the refugee process and they’re navigating a completely different culture,” Ms. Shazadi Meighen said.

Many don’t speak one of Canada’s official languages, and they’re often balancing taking care of children with working low-paying jobs, all while trying to get ready for their hearing. She’s had clients working in factories who are reluctant to ask their supervisors for time off to do interview preparations or gather all their evidence.

In most cases, refugee claimants find out at the end of the half-day hearing itself if their refugee claim has been accepted or rejected – some find out a little later through a mailed decision letter.

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Rejections are “the least desirable part of a refugee lawyer’s process,” Ms. Shazadi Meighen says. “If a person gets a rejection, they’re often quite panicked. You have to sit with them for a bit in that disappointment.”

Refugee lawyers will walk clients through their options, including an appeal (the average wait time for an appeal hearing is about a year). Sometimes, like in the case of a current client Ms. Shazadi Meighen has who lost her home in a hurricane, a claimant might not fit the exact definition of a refugee. With that client, Ms. Shazadi Meighen told her what a new argument might look like and explained other parts of the immigration process that might be more receptive to a claim of climate-induced displacement.

A simple error made in an asylum seeker’s first hours in Canada can jeopardize their claim. A Nigerian man who identifies as LGBTQ and who fled the country because of threats against his life made by his uncle was asked by a CBSA agent if he was a refugee, according to Ms. Shazadi Meighen, his lawyer.

Because he misunderstood the term “refugee” (and believed it to mean something similar to “slave”), the man said, “I’m not a refugee, I’m just scared for my life.” Based on this answer, the CBSA issued a removal order. Things were further bungled by a lawyer he was initially assigned, and his deportation seemed likely until he retained a new lawyer following a settlement worker’s referral.

His new lawyer, Ms. Shazadi Meighen, believes the agent erred in making the determination his claim was invalid, and with her help, he’s been able to apply for a judicial review that might give him another shot at being accepted as a refugee.

“There’s a huge incentive to get it right the first time,” she said.

A 2019 federal audit of the Immigration and Refugee Board hearing process found that almost two-thirds of hearings for claims were postponed, the majority for reasons within the government’s control. By the last quarter of 2020, however, the postponement rate had dropped to 32 per cent.

Prof. Clark-Kazak says there are many good reasons for the government to decide claims quickly. As soon as people get accepted as refugees, they are allowed to apply for permanent residency, then eventually for citizenship.

“It’s basically a pathway to permanent status here, which is then beneficial to the economy,” she said.