Brief Thoughts in Light of the Overturning of Roe v. Wade

The ability to put my anger and grief into words has escaped me for the past two weeks.

But I must speak. Ki, here we go. 


An Upbringing

I was raised in a conservative christian environment, which had taught me that, although sex was a sin, a fetus was to be protected at all cost. Regardless of how that fetus comes into existence.

And although pregnancy among unmarried people is incredibly common in my home region, during my childhood I constantly heard judgment cast on unmarried parents. And I was expected to save sex and children for marriage. It was oddly jarring to be given the save-sex-for-marriage lecture constantly while observing that many people in my village had children outside of the parameters of western marriage.


A Situation

I was 19 years old. I was in the middle of my second year of undergraduate study. 

In high school, I was the smart one. The good one. The one with so many expectations.

But then I became pregnant. It was unexpected and I was not ready for such a responsibility.


A Choice

I had always wanted to be a mother. But not that soon.

I had a choice to make. And I chose to give birth.

That choice led to a beautiful baby girl whom I adored. But that choice also kept me in an emotionally abusive relationship for many years.

The presence of my child did give me the courage to stand up for myself, to achieve goals that I never thought possible, and to leave that abusive relationship. And at the time, I thought that if others would follow my example, if they just ‘stepped out in faith,’ that good things would happen to them if they simply decided to give birth. My story had a happy ending, so why shouldn’t others follow my example?

I am glad that I have my daughter. But ultimately, it was my choice to give birth and raise her.


The Supreme Court of the United States has overturned Roe v. Wade, leaving it up to the states to decide if people can obtain abortions. 

Abortion is still legal in Alaska. But now is not the time for complacency. I worry that Alaska will follow in the direction of the many other states if we do not fight for our rights.

As I write this, it is Independence Day. A few years ago, I wrote a post addressing why I cannot celebrate the holiday. Sadly, I have one more reason.

I fear for my daughter and the world she growing up in. But it is this fear that leads me to advocate for choice.

Yes, I am pro-choice. I support a woman’s right to choose for whatever reason, and I will continue to support choice until I cease to draw breath.


There is much more to this story. But tarra, that is all for now.

Standing at the Stairs: A Poem of Native Dance and Colonization

Note: This poem began as a graduate workshop assignment and has evolved as a response to a past conversation about native dance. This is one draft of this poem. The process of creating and posting this poem has been a healing, cathartic process for me and I hope that it is meaningful to others.

Additional Note: An audio of a reading of this poem is forthcoming.

Standing at the Stairs

1

D-Con is made of wheat,

but the devil hides in wholesomeness,

permeating good things, so that we may eat

and be destroyed.

…tell me, my child….

….is a dance worth the price of your soul?

2

An eon spent

living with the land,

habitating under sod,

eating together on the floor,

telling stories by the light of the naniq.

Dancing. And dancing. And dancing.

Then they came with weapons of paper.

3

Let us free you.

Here is bread for your table

and soap for your tongue.

Here is a skirt for your legs

and a fire for your drum.

Come to the fire, my sweet sister…

4

The land is ‘theirs’ now.

Living above ground,

eating at prescribed times on a wood slab,

reading the holiness by lantern light,

praying to be less sinful.

The light, the light.

5

That spirit that is with you

is the Evil One.

Only he can cause you to move in such ways.

Only he can turn your feet and bend your knees.

The drum is his heartbeat.

Your language is his breath.

Be still my child.

6

No sir, those ancient spirits

do not talk to us anymore,

because we live in the light now,

and drink pepsi and eat pilot bread.

7

We saved you so that

you may once again live, 

once again dwell in your culture

(with our approval)

you’re welcome

8

Tuunġaġa doubts him.

Tuunġaaq, he is looking at me.

Tuunġaaŋ, ikayuŋŋa.

Friend, let me cleanse your soul.

Ya-iay-yang-ia

You are in darkness.

Ya-iay-yang-ia

Heed my teachings…

Aiy-ia-yang-ia

…partake…no more…

Aiy-ia-yang-ia

Aiy-ia-yang-ia

Aiy-ia-yang-ia

Follow-up to “…Our Natives Have Gone Into Sin…”

First of all, Thank you

I received a lot of positive, affirming feedback in response to my previous blogpost about colonization, religion, and marriage. It is very encouraging and has motivated me to post more frequently on this blog (as well as organize it a little bit better). Thank you all for reading and sharing it.

I do have an update and some additional thoughts about the things addressed in the post, as well as details that will help to clarify some of the events described. Brace yourselves. Here I’m gonna be less image-based, less organized, a little more candid and a lot more salty.

A Prosaic Backstory of My Involvement with Ministry

I was part of an (unofficial) college campus ministry for 14 years. I began as a student member, then as a recruited student leader, then continued as an alumni volunteer/leader. I attended meetings and eventually hosted meetings, sharing my own food with the group. On several occasions, I gave the ‘message’ (something akin to a sermon).

Eventually, I was asked if I wanted to be a part of what they called the “service team.” Essentially, it was a leadership team, something akin to officers in a student organization. The big (sketchy) difference, is that we student leaders were not elected by student members (which is what would have happened in an official student organization). We were chosen by the ministry staff director and this non-student volunteer couple. We were told that we displayed “spiritual maturity.” I had a lot of hesitation about accepting this role. I was about to be done with my graduate program and had already started my teaching career. I felt too old and had too much on my plate. But I was so involved with the group that I felt like I should say yes.

So then I went through a year or so of extra weekday meetings, always scheduled in the evenings, always scheduled at the volunteer couple’s home (a 20 minute drive for me). I had a school-age child AND I was a single parent at the time. The meetings NEVER started on time so I would always have to leave early. Looking back, what was I thinking spending my time this way?

Then after a year of being in this leadership team, I can only assume that someone in the ministry found out that my partner and I were living together and decided that this was a problem for them. (This is merely speculation. This organization has never been and still refuses to be transparent about what happened.) At that point, my partner and I had made the deliberate decision to only share our living situation with our families and not share it with others because...it’s our business and not anyone else’s.

The invitations to leadership meetings abruptly stopped with no explanation. (I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice for a while because I had started teaching full-time (if you’ve never taught high school English….it is not for the faint of heart…)).

But then, we were each taken aside and talked to by the volunteer couple (who apparently thought they had an exemplary marriage and exemplary holy wisdom to impart, although they frequently would use their ‘message’ time to complain about each other….super awkward). During this event, I simply thought a (super nosy) friend sincerely was expressing (an unnecessary) concern for me. I had no idea that an entire conference would be assembled just to discuss me and my partner’s living situation and to decide to rescind my leadership position. (A conference that we were not a part of, and were never informed of until the decision had already been made) (Ok, here’s a dash of salt…how sex-obsessed and personally invasive is this group that they conferenced about our living situation!?!)

BUT THEN….After my marriage, and especially after it was known that we had purchased a house, suddenly we were very nicely asked if we were interested in being part of the ministry once again. But there was no acknowledgement of how the ministry had treated us….no meaningful apology…no acknowledgement that I had been removed from leadership in a surreptitious conference…until we brought it up. It appeared that they were very willing to sweep it under the rug as long as they had a place to host meetings.

Ever since this act of discrimination, I had been seriously reconsidering my connection to this ministry organization. As I alluded to in the post, I recently terminated my connection indefinitely. My reconnection depends on their response to the stipulations that I have made in a letter I emailed to the organization. One of those stipulations is that I receive a written apology detailing the incident, why it was wrong, and an assurance that it won’t happen again.

This has yet to occur. Sure it’s only been four months. All in God’s good time?

Update: Another Removal

This a quick side note but one I find hilarious and ironic. As I was writing this follow-up, I became curious as to why I hadn’t seen any updates from the ministry’s Facebook group since the release of my previous post. (Yes, I did remain in the Facebook group despite terminating my affiliation because let’s face it, I sometimes have a hard time letting things go.)

I checked the group recently, and saw this.

I cackled so loudly that my dog became concerned for my well-being. The group that had called me family has gone even further to attempt to disconnect me after I have set up boundaries.

Snarky Sarcastic Question: Should I request to re-join?

Update: An Interesting Email

I terminated my connection with this organization indefinitely after realizing that I was being tokenized by a toxic, colonizing ministry. Again, my reconnection depends on their response to the stipulations that I have made my letter.

After the post went live, I actually received several responses from people who were involved in the incident, and also people who are currently still connected to the ministry. The responses have been largely apologetic, affirming and positive, to my surprise.

But one response, sent via email, was particularly interesting. It was from an individual mentioned in the post (but of course, I will not specify at this time). The email consisted of an apology for the “deep hurt” I received (but of course not an apology for them causing the “hurt” (and of course they’re not going to admit that it was actually an act of discrimination and unprofessional practice, this is not about my feelings being hurt)). And they concluded the email with…….(drumroll)….a request to HAVE A CONVERSATION OVER COFFEE to discuss my “concerns and desires for healing.”

I am so baffled yet amused by the irony. And this person does not live in the same town as me, so they even offered to fly up for this proposed cup of coffee.

(crickets)

First of all, we are still in the midst of a pandemic.

Second, I had already made my stipulations for reconnecting with the ministry in the letter I sent them.

Third, I know that this is an attempt to gaslight me into rescinding what I have said, confessing my ‘sin,’ and for them to attempt to hide their toxic practices.

Fourth, what makes them think that it is reasonable to spend airfare, hotel, food expenses, etc. just to have a conversation with someone who has already clearly laid out their grievances and stipulations? What infuriates me even more is that the ministry makes certain members of their staff fundraise for their own income, yet they think that this proposed expenditure is acceptable?

Needless to say, I declined their offer and said that I would await the written apology.

The Concept of Sexual Sin

One thing that I find interesting, is that in pre-contact Iñupiaq culture, there was not a concept that pre-marital relations was sinful. And once a couple cohabitated, they were effectively married in the eyes of their community. To this day, in the region I am from, it is still very common for couples to live to together before having a marriage according to the laws of our colonizers, if they choose to marry at all.

Now, do I feel the need to justify my or anyone else’s decision to cohabitate? No. This is a personal decision. In my case, it was carefully thought out and has strengthened our relationship and prepared us for a healthy, happy marriage.

One of the issues here is that this organization largely consists of non-indigenous people who take it upon themselves to instruct indigenous people how to live their lives, without a clear understanding of the cultural context that indigenous people live in. But then again…cultural context and sovereignty matters very little to colonizers. What matters is the control they have.

The Sharing of Indigenous Food

The sharing of food is very significant in many indigenous Alaskan cultures. I don’t want to generalize, so I am largely going to speak from my experience as an Iñupiaq person. Food is the center of many social gatherings. And the sharing of indigenous/native foods is especially significant. Indigenous foods (in my social circles it’s more likely to be called native food, or niqipiaq in Iñupiaq) is food gathering from the land, through traditional practices passed down over generations. This is not food that can simply be bought at a grocery store.

In the event where I was told that I had been removed from leadership, I was informed that an anonymous conference attendee suggested that I could bring the food to an approved location (because, it had been said that I shouldn’t be hosting due to my marital status).

From my cultural perspective, this was a tremendous insult. I had offered to host an event in my home. I had offered to provide the food. This offer had been accepted. And then the evening before the event was to take place, a mystery group had gathered to discuss whether or not it was acceptable for me to host ministry meetings, which I had done many times before. And that someone somehow thought it would be appropriate for me to prepare the food and bring it somewhere else because my home apparently was too sinful for them?

They were willing to eat my food. But they were not willing to eat it with me in my own home.

In recent communications that I have had with those involved, there were a number of people who advocated for me and my partner. I am very grateful for these people. But…apparently, the decision was ultimately handed over to the volunteer couple. Who made that call? Executive director, do you happen to know? (Ok, that might have been a bit over-salty).

Calling Out Toxic Religious Organizations and Practices

The purpose of my post is not to debate someone’s idea of sin or even the concept of sin.

I shared my story because I know I am not the only one who has experienced this type of discrimination. I know I am not the only one who has experienced trauma from toxic religious practices.

Sharing our stories can help us heal.

The leaders in the ministry sought to discriminate against me based on my personal life choices. They did it in secret, without including my partner and I. And again, according to various sources that I have spoken with, this decision was instigated not by actual ministry staff, but by the volunteer couple who decided that they it bothered them.

Discriminatory acts like this need to stop.

My hope is that my post will bring awareness to the toxicity of colonizing ministry organizations such as the one I was a part of. And it is also my hope that my post will at least help spark some positive change.

Where Do I Go From Here?

Shall I reveal the name of this ministry? Not yet. Some day I will, but for the time being, I need to consider the best time and method for doing so. (Addendum: it feels silly not giving the name of this org because so many people that I have shared the previous post with know exactly which org I am referring to. Alaska is the biggest small town ever. But oh well.)

Am I still bothered by what happened to me? Hell yeah. It was messed up on so many levels. And, although I’ve brought this up with multiple staff members, including their executive director, nothing has been done. The volunteers who instigated this discrimination are still volunteers within this ministry group. The ministry still does not directly acknowledge that this happened. Their communications are infantilizing apologies, referring to my hurt, and not referring to the acts of discrimination that they are guilty of and continue to authorize.

The same people who preached the importance of truth to me are doing what they can to hide truth.

I have a strong feeling that this is a common occurrence within the ministry. What other stories are out there that people have kept to themselves because they feel like they can’t talk about it, or because they believe that it is not worth the fuss?

For years, I was bothered by how I was treated, but felt like I was making too big of a deal about it and that it wasn’t even worth sharing this story. For a while, sadly, I even felt like I deserved the treatment I received.

And then, I realized that what happened was an act of discrimination.

That realization is what prompted me to tell my story.

This organization did was they could to try to silence me and guilt me into compliance.

But I am done with that.

I am nobody’s token.

Tarra, that is all.

Some Random End Remarks (Warning: Some of These are Rather Salty and Snarky)

  • An editing oversight: After re-reading the previous post, I saw that I accidentally left one gendered pronoun in there. Oopsie.
  • Salty Comment #1: The volunteer couple who took me and my husband aside (he was given dinner, I was invited for coffee. I feel a bit cheated, haha, jk)….they are in the age range of me and my partner. But somehow they felt more knowledgeable about marriage, and felt like they were in authority to tell us how to live.
  • Salty Comment #2: One member of this couple constantly felt the need to share parenting wisdom with me. I had been a parent 5 years before them, but maybe because I was an unmarried parent, that somehow invalidated my knowledge?
  • Snarky and Salty Observation: For our wedding, we asked one member of the volunteer couple to officiate our wedding because we considered the couple to be dear friends at the time and had no idea that they instigated the move to discriminate against us. They ended up declining our request because they were pretty sure that Alaska laws says someone who is not a religious leader (like a pastor, not a ministry ‘volunteer’) can only officiate a wedding once and they had officiated a wedding the year prior. I looked up the statutes….I’m pretty sure they were lying (whether it was from ignorance, to save face or to protect our feelings…not sure…). Dude, just be honest and tell us “Umm…look….you sinners are too dirty for me to officiate your wedding, so….no.” a9But this couple still accepted the invitation to attend our wedding and partake of a pretty tasty prime rib dinner.) The same person who challenged my partner with “marry her or move out” would not officiate our ceremony….But in hindsight I am SO glad they declined. With the knowledge I have now, it would be such an ugly, triggering memory if they had accepted.
  • Incredibly snarky and petty comment coming up: This ministry at various occasions would preach against gossip (which probably fed into my hesitation to share this story for years). However, I have since learned that this ministry surprisingly has collected a lot of information about various people within their various branches through various methods. So….if there are any little birds reading this, please send them my regards. I’ll be praying for them.
  • EXTREMELY snarky comment coming up: Remember the volunteer couple who had me removed from leadership? Sorry-not-sorry but this question has been on my mind…how dry was their intimate life that they had to obsess over mine…to the point that they held a conference about it?? Yeesh, I feel violated.
  • A Ray of Positivity and Affirmation: If there are members of this particular college ministry reading this, I want you to know that you are worth more than being treated as tokens and pawns for colonizers.
  • Another Ray of Positivity and Affirmation: There are some awesome current/former ministry staff who are working/have worked to try to develop the organization into an equitable, culturally-aware institution. If you guys are reading this, just know that I value what you are trying to do and that I also would also like you to know that you are worth more than what this organization has to offer you and the way this organization treats/has treated you.
  • Last one: If those of you reading this have experiences of discrimination and /or religious trauma that you feel need to be told, I hope that you find a place to tell them, and that your storytelling brings you healing.

“…Our Natives Have Gone Into Sin…”: An Indigenous Woman’s Experience with Colonization, Religion, and Marriage

Prologue Notes

I have made an attempt to tell this story without violating the privacy of those involved. Some of those involved are people I still very much care for and respect, and I do not want to betray their privacy or put them in a bad light. 

But this is a story that I strongly feel needs to be told. 

So I’m going to tell it.

In this essay, I use the gender-neutral pronoun ‘they’ in order to protect the privacy of those described in this account and I have omitted all names of the parties involved (the only names listed are of a long passed missionary whose journal is archived and available to the public, and my own name, of course). Additionally, some details of these events have been omitted or left purposefully vague.

The Co-opting of an Indigenous Expression

For fourteen years, I was involved in a Christian college ministry that largely recruited rural Alaskan indigenous students. I was first involved as a student, then as a recruited student leader, then as an alumni volunteer. I attended events, and eventually I hosted events in my home and I even gave religious ‘messages’ during our meetings. 

For the first six years of my involvement, they used a generic English title for this ministry. But, suddenly one day, they called themselves by an indigenous expression (an expression from my own culture, actually) despite the fact that they did not have any indigenous leadership. (And to this day, they have only had one indigenous director).  I will not share this expression in this essay to protect the privacy of those still working in this ministry and its umbrella organization. (In this essay, I will be referring very vaguely to various levels of this ministry)

It somewhat breaks my heart that I cannot spell out this expression here, but again, I am trying to preserve the privacy of those involved. This is a very common expression used in my culture. It is an expression that is dear to my heart. An expression that I have used since I could speak. An expression of positivity that cannot be adequately translated into English.

Thoughts Told by Colonizers

Shecoppock and Ahyugak were married publicly. Two of our natives have gone into sin and we will have to look after them. Have doctored five today…” Martha Hadley, The Alaskan Diary of a Pioneer Quaker Missionary, March 11, 1900

“We’ve noticed that in rural Alaska, people just want to do what they want without anyone telling them what to do…” they (a non-indigenous, non-rural Alaska resident) declared. “….we judge a person’s leadership ability based on their personal lives.” [name and date omitted].

A Meeting in a Coffee Shop

They hadn’t arrived yet, which was what I had planned. I arrived early to purchase my own beverage. I didn’t want anyone buying my time or submission (especially with a mere cup of caffeine). 

They arrived out of breath. “Oh…I was hoping to get you a coffee.”

“It’s ok.” I smiled.

I waited while they ordered, looking forward to this being over. 

“Well, I think we both know why we’re here.” They smiled awkwardly, with as much loving friendship as they could gracefully show.

“Yeah,” I also smiled, knowing exactly what the meeting was for, yet still falling for their trap. A meeting for a 30-year-old to advise this 29-year-old on how to live their personal life. And that this advice was on the living situation that I, the 29-year-old, had not shared with the 30-year-old but somehow…the 30-year-old had gone out of their way to find out about it.

Apparently, to be involved in ministry is to have no privacy.

“So, you know we love you and you have been a part of [the ministry] for a long time….” 

Yes, longer than you.

“People admire you, they look up to you, they listen to what you say.”  I stayed silent, waiting for them to get to the point. “…and we come to you out of love…” They stretched their neck up, as they so frequently did when wishing to put on a display wisdom, authority, and when they wanted to (literally) look down on someone.

My chai latte has a third of the cup left. It’s getting cold.

“The Bible specifically reserves living together for marriage. This can have a long-lasting impact…”

I swirled the spiced drink a couple times.

“Marriage is sacred, it’s a commitment, and it’s hard. It’s really hard…”

Swirl swirl.

I smiled again and, knowing that she was finished, responded at last. “I know that you are saying these things out of concern and care. I’ve thought about this a lot and it’s what I want to do. I’ve made my decision.” A momentary silence followed. And more smiles.

“Well, I just want to let you know that this has been thoroughly awkward for me…” And then they reached in for a hug. We both smiled, ending the conversation. 

[My partner had been taken aside in a similar fashion, and had been challenged with “Move out or marry her,”]

A Meeting Outside

They sighed long, smiled a kind, weak smile, “I just got out of a teleconference with the state-level ministry.” They set the box of moose meat down. Meat to add to the stew I was prepping for the next day’s meeting. Meat that they had offered after I offered to host the ministry’s weekly meeting in my apartment.

“So….someone expressed concern that it would reflect poorly on the ministry if our meeting took place in your apartment considering that…you and [your partner] are not married…”

They continued “So in the conference we discussed…”

I stayed quiet. The snow crunched beneath my feet. I was glad that it was a balmy 20-ish degrees Fahrenheit.

“…and the Friday meeting will still be at your place…” Thanks for the permission. “…but, when we give the names of the leadership team…your name will not be mentioned.” I had been asked to be in the position in the first place when I had no interest in it. But ok.

“Ok…” I needed to process. What on earth was going on here?

“If you need to talk it over sometime…after you’ve had time to process…then we can do that…”

“Thanks.” I wish I had taken them up on their offer.

A Retreat

It was the final day of the ministry’s biannual retreat. About a hundred in attendance, and I attended as a ‘volunteer’ in this organization.. The state director had just thanked me for my involvement in the ministry that had so recently decided to remove me from leadership because of my marital status. (Also, this person apparently thought that opening their eyes as wide as they could while speaking very loudly conveyed friendliness, when in reality the expression conveyed the countenance of a murderous clown.)

I smiled, while feeling incredibly uncomfortable, and thanked them.

Later, we were all gathered together in a cold hall that apparently was heated mostly by the presence of people. I had been to these retreats before. The usual order of business was prayer, final worship, and a reminder to clean the ramshackle cabins that retreat-goers were housed in. We were also kindly reminded that our registration fee was cheaper than the cost of housing and feeding us in the backwoods of the Mat-Su Valley. The director was giving the farewell Word and then added

“Umm…this isn’t planned but I just feel like the Lord put it on my heart to say this…”

Ok, what is this? I want to get back to my room, pack, and leave. I have a full day of teaching high school tomorrow and a 6 hour drive to get back home. 

“You know…a lot of young people want to live together because they love each other and it feels right….” 

Ummm…did they just make eye-contact with me?

“…but it causes problems and some people even commit suicide over failed relationships…”

[suicide is a serious issue in Alaska, often linked to colonization and SHOULD NOT BE USED AS A MINISTRY TACTIC]

“…so I just felt like God put it on my heart to say that I encourage you all not to live together outside of marriage…”

That was the last retreat that I attended.

Awkwardness over Avocado Curry

I glanced down at the bamboo table mat. This could have been an email. “It would be great if you two could be involved…” they said. 

My spouse and I made eye contact, as we all were sitting around the table with our Thai curry and noodles. By that point, we had been married according to the laws of the dominant, colonizing culture. We had started our careers and purchased a home. And then after those events had occurred, we each had suddenly been approached (unannounced, at our places of work) some time before, with performative humble requests that we once again be involved in the ministry.

I, personally, had been a bit confused. To my knowledge, we were still members in the ministry, why this sudden request to be once again ‘involved?’ Did they consider us not involved and ‘forgot’ to tell us? Yes, our attendance had decreased, because once a mystery person/people decides you are so sinful that they will not eat your food with you in your own home, why pour so much energy into that ministry?

But somehow, we still agreed to the offer of dinner in exchange for discussing the matter of our involvement. 

I spooned more curry over jasmine rice. “Well…one hesitation we have is that we were removed from leadership and were blocked from hosting because of our living situation…this decision was made about use without our knowledge….We feel like this was not right…”

A pause. Then a verbose (non) apology.

“I’m sorry that happened to you…But it would be really great if you could be involved…Let us pray.”

Agaayupta. Let us pray.

Silencing

“And this is Chelsey. She’s been with us a long time.” They said quickly and briefly, leaving no room for me to speak. This was after they had given a long, detailed description of another member’s education and current professional career. Yet again, I was introduced to a group of people I did not know, while not being given an opportunity to speak for myself. And yet again, I was reduced to someone who was merely connected to them. By that point, I had earned Master’s degrees in literature, writing, and education and was working as an indigenous language instructor at a local university. None of this was mentioned as I was being introduced by someone else.

“Excuse me, I have something to say…”

A Letter of (De)Termination Addressed to the Ministry

The door of my home is now closed to [you]… In order to be affiliated with and to endorse [this ministry], I need to be treated with dignity and equity, and not be tokenized…

If you ask for my voice, then listen to my voice. Do not speak for me.

Some Thoughts from the Author

I am sharing snapshots of this experience because the ministry described here tokenized me as an indigenous Alaskan, then discriminated against me based on my marital status, attempted to remove me from the ministry, and then asked for me back without any acknowledgement or meaningful apology for what they had done. 

And they continue to recruit young indigenous Alaskans into their ministry. This ministry organization makes attempts at appearing to be inclusive and equitable, but is founded on colonization and the tokenization of indigenous peoples. And they are not the only one.

I do not discriminate against any religion and I highly value spirituality. But I acknowledge that Christianity is a religion of colonization and has caused long-lasting damage upon indigenous peoples. Although there are Christian ministries/missions that are doing good things, mission work perpetuates the colonization and subjugation of indigenous peoples. Until these systems are dismantled and rebuilt to be equitable institutions, then they will continue to perpetuate colonization and inflict long-lasting harm.

Tarra, that is all.

I’m Back

(I swear I’m working on posting more than once a year)

It’s been a while and so much has happened (as I’m sure you are aware). The pandemic, working from home, protests and now we are on the problematic Independence Day holiday.

I would like to assure you that I am fine. My family is also fine. My husband and I are fortunate in that we are able to work from home and my daughter has been dealing with the social distancing protocols pretty well.

As I said, I am working on posting more frequently. I didn’t get around to posting my summer goals, but maybe I’ll at least post some July goals.

I hope that wherever you are, you are well and safe. If you are celebrating today, I wish you a Happy 4th. If you are not, I am with you in mourning what this holiday means for people of color (see John Quinney’s Independence Day Speech and Frederick Douglass’ ‘What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?’).

Nakuuyumautin (may you be well)

Summer is over!

Well, I have been back at work (I’m a teacher, remember) for almost two weeks now. Therefore, my summer is officially over. Here is how I did on my goals. Those in bold have been completed. The rest have not been completed, and I have included apologetic explanations in italics.

  1. Jog 3 times a week. I’m going to include this simply because, although I wasn’t consistent with the jogging, I did go on regular walks and did squats.
  2. Speak Iñupiaq on a regular basis. I was not very successful with this goal. But I did teach a section of Iñupiaq for a class this summer. That counts for something, right?
  3. Revise 3 of my poems. I am amazed that I got this one done.
  4. Revise 2 of my nonfiction essays. I started drafting a new essay though…
  5. Post at least 2 more times. I posted one more time. Half success?
  6. Finish 2 sewing projects. I did absolutely no sewing. I did clean my craftroom though.
  7. Read 1 book. I was a champ at this one! Including audiobooks, I read
    1. Born a Crime by Trevor Noah
    2. Anna and the Swallow Man by Gavriel Savit
    3. Americanah by Ngozi Adichie
    4. Faith Unraveled by Rachel Held Evans
    5. Shameless: a Sexual Reformation by Nadia Bolz-Weber
    6. Boy Erased by Garrard Conley
  8. Reorganize and revamp this blog. ish?

Next summer, I hope to do better. In the meantime, the school year has begun, which means the first set of essays to grade (ick) is right around the corner. I am spending more time on my writing and hope to post more frequently.

Independence Day for a Native Woman

“He [King George III] has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.”

The Declaration of Independence

This was the Independence Day of my childhood: Fireworks we could barely see because of the 24-hour daylight, races, cheers, prizes, sand. In my village, this day was spent with the entire community on the river bank, what we called “the beach” because of the fine sand that covered it. There were running races for all ages, various games, and a few booths where snacks and pull-tabs were sold.

These memories are dear to my heart. As a painfully shy kid, being at these events made me feel part of something significant. Especially when it was brought up that we were celebrating the day that we consider our country to have been freed from the tyrannical British control.

However, nowadays, this freedom that is sung about in so many songs, that is proclaimed in the National Anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Declaration of Independence…sounds like an empty, feel-good sentiment.

The 4th of July means something very different to me as an adult, and it is not a meaning that rings with the bells of freedom. I live in a country where murder is the 3rd leading cause of death among Native women. I live in a state where a white man kidnapped, choked, and masturbated on a native woman, pled guilty to those acts, and was released with no jail time and no sexual assault charges.I live in a country where migrants looking for safety and a better future for themselves and their families are kept in filthy detention centers.

Because of this, I cannot and will not, in good conscience, hang the US flag outside my home as so many of my neighbors do. Because of this, I cannot joyfully celebrate with a feast of burgers or hotdogs. Because of this, I cannot and will not recite the pledge of allegiance nor sing the National Anthem.

Still, do I feel like I can fully abandon this holiday that is so engrained my memory?

No. Old habits die hard. And a day off of work is always nice, right?

Am I saying that indigenous peoples of the United States should not celebrate Independence Day?

No. Each person will choose on their own. This is something that I have decided to do.

I am saying that because of the current political climate and atrocities against marginalized peoples, I cannot celebrate a mythical ‘freedom for all.’ On the 4th of July, I will celebrate the blessed life that I do have with my family, I will spend time outdoors to enjoy what is left of the short Alaskan summer, I will mourn my murdered and missing indigenous sisters and brothers, and I will contemplate what I can do to bring use one step closer to being a country that truly offers freedom to all.

I’m Back! With Goals!

Yes, it’s been about a year since I have posted on this blog. As some of you know, I am a secondary education teacher, and I am currently recovering from the school year. However, I have now motivated myself enough to write my first post of 2019!

I will admit that I had a lot of trouble figuring out where to start. Then I remembered that two years ago, I made a list of summer goals. So here are my summer goals for 2019:

  1. Jog 3 times a week.
  2. Speak Iñupiaq on a regular basis.
  3. Revise 3 of my poems.
  4. Revise 2 of my nonfiction essays.
  5. Post at least 2 more times.
  6. Finish 2 sewing projects.
  7. Read 1 book.
  8. Reorganize and revamp this blog.

There, I have set some lofty goals for myself. I shall do my utmost to reach them all before I go back to work in August!

I am a Woman, I am Alaska Native, I’m Getting Married: Why I’m Not Changing my Last Name

Wonderful news! I will be getting married soon! I am excited to be marrying my best friend and I am especially excited for my daughter to have a dad who is around full time and is a positive influence on her life.

The wedding will follow many of the traditions of modern Western culture. There will be a bridal party. I will wear a fashionable, white dress. My husband-to-be will be waiting at the end of the aisle that I walk down, led by my father.

However, there is one aspect of traditional Western marriage practice that I am not adhering to: changing my last name.

Of course, I am expected to change it to my soon-to-be husband’s last name. This is what all the women in my family have done. It is a practice that has been a part of Western culture for centuries. And it is a practice that, up until a few years, I had fully expected myself to follow.

My ethnic heritage is Iñupiaq and German, but I grew up in an Iñupiaq village surrounded by that part of my heritage. In spite of the fact that my Iñupiaq ancestors only acquired last names within the last century or so, this idea of the wife changing her last name to match her husband’s has taken a strong grip on my community. Why? We are led to believe that it is right to do so. It shows unity in the family. It shows faithfulness, love and submission to the husband who is to be the head of the household, and to whom the wife must be a helper. Or, at least that is what I was led to believe during my upbringing, even upon my entry into adulthood. Additionally, the effects of the assimilation movement of the 19th and 20th centuries are still very strong today.

The Iñupiaq people acquired the Western cultural practice of using last names around 1900, depending on the region and time of contact. During this time, people only had their given name, a nickname, and possibly a community title. The Quaker missionaries had established themselves in Kotzebue and some of the surrounding villages. It was decided that these people needed last names. So they were given names. And sometimes, last names were given without regard to kinship relations. For instance, two adult brothers might be given different last names. Along with the new practice of surnames came the practice of the women taking on her husband’s last name after a legal and religious marriage ceremony.

It wasn’t until I reached my mid to late 20s that my mindset began to change. I had been a single parent for about a year or two, and I was beginning to feel rather independent. I was the head of my own household, and doing a fair job at it. I wasn’t relying on a male partner to take care of intimidating tasks like raising a daughter solo, making all major household decisions, or killing spiders. I realized that I did the work of two by myself.

Another thing that I had begun to do was write. I wrote, and I created works that I could call my own. Works that I put my name on. No, I have not published these (yet). But I brought them to an audience of my peers through workshop classes, I shared them with friends, and I received a Master’s degree through these writings. All under this name.

There are many more reasons why I am choosing to keep my last name. More reasons to keep it than to change it. Here they are in no particular order.

  1. It is the name I have been identifying with for thirty years. Why change it now?
  2. My feminist mind constantly brings up the unfair fact that no one even blinks an eye at men keeping their names.
  3. The paperwork is a pain in the butt.
  4. My last name is awesome.
  5. Every.Single.Goddamn.Thing.With.My.Name.On.It.Would.Need.To.Be.Changed.
  6. I have a right to identify the way that I choose.
  7. I, as a human, choose to keep my last name.
  8. I, as a mother, choose to keep my last name.
  9. I, as an indigenous woman, choose to keep my last name.

I love my fiance. I love that we are unified in our relationship and that we are parents to my daughter. I love his last name (it is also very awesome). However, I do not believe that I need to give up my name, the name that has been with me for nearly thirty years, to prove that we are unified.

Some might argue that it also doesn’t make sense to keep a name that I didn’t even choose for myself. Yes. My parents chose my name for me. I didn’t have a choice then, but I have a choice now. And I choose the route that many men take without giving it a second thought: I will remain the name that I have had for the past thirty years.

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