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Alvin Delisle and Pauline Labelle marked Valentine's Day yesterday celebrating nearly 10 years together, while confronting a threat that could tear them apart.

Mr. Delisle is a Mohawk Indian. Ms. Labelle is not. As a result, Ms. Labelle was told this month she would have to leave Mr. Delisle's home on the Kahnawake reserve near Montreal.

The eviction notices sent to non-natives like Ms. Labelle by the Mohawk council have ignited a firestorm over how far first nation communities can go in applying racially based membership policies. In all, about 25 non-natives in Kahnawake received the notices this month and were given 10 days to get out.

The move has drawn criticism not just from outside the reserve but within - including from Mr. Delisle, who is a former Kahnawake council chief.

"No one's going to tell me who I can bring into my house and who I go to bed with," said the 66-year-old Mr. Delisle, who is ready to challenge the expulsions as a Canadian human-rights violation.

"Just because I'm a Mohawk doesn't exclude me from the Charter," he said. "I'm still Canadian. And I think this is an injustice. It's a racial slur."

Ms. Labelle, who had the eviction notice hand-delivered to her at Mr. Delisle's home, says that she and her partner will never have children, so she doesn't pose a threat to Mohawk survival.

"I'm 60 years old. I'm not making any babies. I'm not interfering in the community growing and I'm not taking over any property."

The controversy has stirred up fundamental issues: Should bloodlines alone determine native membership? How do first nations preserve their identity and culture? The Kahnawake council argues that members on its reserve, only 15 minutes from downtown Montreal on a traffic-free day, are under constant pressure of assimilation. The council's rules are legal since Canadian law gives Indian bands the power to determine membership codes. The Kahnawake council periodically proceeds with evictions from its territory.

"All we have left is 13,000 acres [of land]. When there's a problem, we can't go anywhere else," said Joe Delaronde, a spokesman for the Mohawk council. "Everyone is welcome here. It's just that at the end of the day, we're saying, 'Go back home [if you're non-native]. You don't live here.' It has nothing to do with racism."

The notices have caused divisions on the Mohawk reserve, which has a history of militancy over its sovereignty. While the evictions appear to enjoy some support in the community of 8,000, some are uneasy with efforts to enforce traditional notions of belonging through blood, which they see as a throwback.

"When [non-natives] come live here, they're not doing it to take away from the community. They come here because they fall in love with somebody and with the community," said Steve Bonspiel, editor of the community newspaper The Eastern Door. "They learn our traditions, our ways, and some learn our language."

In an editorial last week, Mr. Bonspiel noted that most Mohawks on the reserve already have mixed ancestry.

"Destructive behaviour, such as targeting those deemed 'unfit' to live here and terrorizing good people, doesn't help the community and will not make life better," he wrote. "Putting away drug dealers, child and spousal abusers and targeting organized crime would be a step in the right direction."

Since the expulsion orders were issued, three people have left and three more are making arrangements, according to the Mohawk council. The deadline for the notices, which were handed out on the basis of complaints, expired last week and a new round of reminders went out. The council says it's hoping people will leave voluntarily to avoid forceful evictions.

For Mr. Delisle and Ms. Labelle, there is no question of going anywhere soon: Mr. Delisle, a Vietnam War veteran nicknamed "Tuffy," is in a Montreal hospital awaiting heart surgery. Ms. Labelle says her priority is caring for him.

Mr. Delisle acknowledges that when he was chief, he also tried to proceed with evictions of non-natives from Kahnawake. But he had a change of heart. "I had good intentions, but I didn't realize I was hurting people. I was going pretty low," he said, "trying to get rid of people who weren't bothering anybody."

Editor's note: An earlier version of this story mistakenly referred to Pauline Labelle as Francine Labelle. This online version has been corrected.