In Borders, flags represent national power and the authority of the state. More specifically, the American and Canadian flags represent the two countries between which the narrator and his mother are caught and erased as Blackfoot citizens, effectively becoming “illegal” after the narrator’s mother refuses to declare any citizenship other than Blackfoot. When the narrator and his mother are dropping Laetitia off at the border, the narrator’s mother tells her children to watch for the flagpoles on the prairie’s horizon. According to her, these mark the border from afar. The flagpoles’ positioning on the prairie echoes the imposition of the law onto the land that predates it, something that Borders suggests is unnatural. Five years later, when the narrator and his mother try to cross the border themselves, the presences of the American flag at the American border office and the Canadian flag at the Canadian border office loom large in the narrator’s mind. When Carol, a Canadian border guard, tells the narrator’s mother that she must choose to be either American or Canadian, the narrator pictures the two flags waving against one another behind her as if fighting for territory. When the narrator and his mother finally go home after visiting Laetitia in Utah, he watches the flagpoles disappear into the hills once more. As they grow smaller and smaller against the landscape that they attempt to govern, the narrator is reminded of the nations’ lack of true authority over the identity of those who live on the land.
Flags and Flagpoles Quotes in Borders
Borders Quotes
Just outside of Milk River, Laetitia told us to watch for the water tower. “Over the next rise. It’s the first thing you see.”
“We got a water tower on the reserve. There’s a big one in Lethbridge, too.”
“You’ll be able to see the tops of the flagpoles, too. That’s where the border is.”
The border was actually two towns, though neither one was big enough to amount to anything. Coutts was on the Canadian side and consisted of the convenience store and gas station…the museum that was closed and boarded up…and a motel. Sweetgrass was on the American side, but all you could see was an overpass that arched across the highway and disappeared into the prairies.
Just hearing the names of these towns, you would expect that Sweetgrass, which is a nice name and sounds like it is related to other places such as Medicine Hat and Moose Jaw and Kicking Horse Pass, would be on the Canadian side, and that Coutts, which sounds abrupt and rude, would be on the American side.
But this was not the case.
My mother got a coffee at the convenience store. And we stood around and watched the prairies move in the sunlight. Then we climbed back in the car.
My mother straightened the dress across her thighs, leaned against the wheel, and drove all the way to the border in first gear…slowly, as if she were trying to see through a bad storm or riding high on black ice.
The woman’s name was Carol…and I don’t guess she was any older than Laetitia.
“Wow, you both Canadians?”
“Blackfoot.”
“Really? I have a friend I went to school with who is Blackfoot. Do you know Mike Harley?”
“No.”
“He went to school in Lethbridge, but he’s really from Browning.”
It was a nice conversation and there were no cars behind us, so there was no rush.
It was almost evening when we left Coutts. I watched the border through the rear window until all you could see was the tops of the flagpoles and the blue water tower…and then they rolled over a hill and disappeared.



