Hope and Change 2.0

I was fortunate enough to be able to attend the president's inauguration ceremony this year, and was so glad I did. I think I was prepared for the spectacle - the pomp that inevitably surrounds an event of this magnitude. I was unprepared to be as encouraged as I feel right now. Not only by Obama's speech, which was one of the most thoughful speeches I've heard, but by the people surrounding me the whole ceremony.

"That is our generation's task — to make these words, these rights, these values — of Life, and Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness — real for every American. Being true to our founding documents does not require us to agree on every contour of life; it does not mean we will all define liberty in exactly the same way, or follow the same precise path to happiness. Progress does not compel us to settle centuries-long debates about the role of government for all time — but it does require us to act in our time." - Pres. Obama

The president stated most eloquently what the people who journeyed so far to see him believe - none of them were waiting for the perfect answer, the perfect solution. But everyone in that crowd was wanting action, wanting to work, wanting to make these United States the ideal we all strive to. I was hard put to put my finger on the vibe I was getting from all these people I spent hours with out in the cold until Obama spoke it, but once he did it seemed obvious.

These thousands upon thousands of people were excited, not to just see famous people and dignitaries, but to continue the work. To continue what they signed this man up for - hope and change. The crowd was surprisingly subdued in a way. There definitely still excitment, still energy, still cheering, but I thought it was most interesting that, once the president was done speaking, a huge amount of the crowd started to leave. Most knew Beyonce was about to perform, most knew famous people were still gathered. But they came to hear the president, they came to hear how he was going to live up to the duties they elected him to fulfill.

I wasn't prepared to feel this encouraged, even inspired by the day. But I was most unprepared for how proud I would feel of my country - and not because of the anthems sung or the flags everywhere. It was a moment of realization that this huge mass of Americans were all there with different ideas, different opinions, different journeys, but all there because they truly had hope for their country. Thousands of Americans all agreeing that we can, and will, make things better.

I'm back! No... really...

It has been nearly a year since my last post. But a year ago I committed to getting some things in order and NOT maintaining the blog so I could make a pretty big life change and pick up blogging as I'd like to - more frequently and with more time and effort behind each post, rather than the 1 a.m. ramblings that sometimes happen.

In the little over four years since I began blogging, I've written a book and (about) a half, a full-length play, and several short stories. But, in an effort to step up the pace and get really serious about my writing goals, I am making a huge professional switch at the moment to dedicate time to these efforts.

And part of the plan is to blog more regularly, as well as expand this singular Alaska Native voice to several. And by regularly, I mean just about every day.

So I don't know how many of you are still around, but if you are you will begin to see more posts on Alaska Native and American Indian issues, culture and even entertainment.

It's good to be back!

- Writing Raven

Peratrovich and company: Standing up for centuries

I heard a great question posed to a group from the ANDORE project - a group gathered to promote dialogue on racial equity that I've been pleased to be involved with.

She asked about Elizabeth Peratrovich Day (today!): "Why does this day matter to you?"

I answered with what I've always felt, that it is a day to remember we stand on the shoulders of giants, and that we have a responsibility to continue their hard work.

But then I was doing a write-up tonight for a class I'm taking, and most of it was focused on a narrative of an early 19th century Native man. I came across this passage:

"Who stood up in those days, and since, to plead Indian rights? Was it the friend of the Indian? No, it was his enemies who rose - his enemies, to judge and pass sentence."

I wonder if this man, Apess, could envision a future in which a little Tlingit woman would stand before a political body and, not plead, but demand Indian rights? That she might shine their own hypocrisy in their face.

However terrible the circumstances were 150 years ago for Native people, because of those who did stand up, in Elizabeth Peratrovich's time, they were better. Not perfect, but men and women continued to fight, and because of them, in my own time circumstances are better still for Native people. So how can we not continue to stand up? How much better will it be for our own children if I do?

Celebrating Banned Books Week

Yay! What could make me happy to read a list of banned books Alaska Dispatch posted?

A book I've been wanting to read by an author I love is on there - "The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian" by Sherman Alexie.

Each year during Banned Books Week I try to read at least one of the "most banned" books of the moment. Though honestly, it's not much of a challenge. EVERY good book seems to be banned - I've read five of the top ten in the article!

Sherman Alexie has got to be one of the most well-known Native authors anyways - if not THE most well-known - and I've loved everything I've read by him, even when I've disagreed with it. This book has been on my own list for a bit (and seems to have been on the banned books list for a bit too!) - looking forward to it!

Maybe it's obvious to those who celebrate this week, but there are plenty of books on many lists that have been banned that I don't like, offend me, and that I just plain disagree with. When it comes to Native people in literature, the list of books with stereotypes and innacuracies is MUCH longer than the list of books with accurate portrayals of Native history, culture and people. Yet, I don't deny anyone the right to read them - and we do major harm to the idea that we are a free thinking society by eliminating all that we disagree with.

If you really want to help a child do their best in this world, make sure they are well-taught and have a loving heart, and are able to look at things with an open mind and a critical eye. You don't do this by giving them only that which won't challenge them, won't bring them a new perspective, and won't interest them.

Arrest the parents or work with them?

I thought this article by Timothy Aqukkasuk Argetsinger in Alaska Dispatch was great - "Uqaġupta naalaġniuruksraurusi: When we talk, you listen." It's about the recent issue regarding legal action taken against parents for truant students.

While I think there is risk to then excuse some of the parental action (or inaction) regarding ensuring kids are at school, where they might actually be just negligent, he has great points that are almost never addressed. Specifically, he cites examples in which indigenous culture is worked with Western education for success, rather than a power struggle.

In any case, I can only imagine what he proposes is radical and maybe a little scary to some, but what he's really talking about is getting back to how things were done for millenia. I encourage you to read the WHOLE article before judging!

"Don't be a tool" - or - Dialogue about racial equity in Alaska

A few weeks ago, I was waiting in my car for my sister to come out of a grocery store, window down, and two young men, both white, were having a loud discussion about race. I tried (not very hard) to not listen, but as I was in the middle of the unnerving project I’ll describe in a bit, bad manners took over. They discussed different racial problems, whether minorities should be “blaming” everything on race, whether affirmative action was right, and one was vehement that the “Native Pride” hats were racist in nature. What struck me was – they probably would be talking a bit differently if I was part of the discussion. Or even if they knew I was listening.

I don’t mean to say they were racist for discussing this, or that they would for sure even curb away from what they were saying. But the nature of racial dialogue in Anchorage is such that with the entrance of a (somewhat opinionated) Native woman into the conversation, I’m pretty sure there would be either a) holding back from all true opinions out of not wanting to stir something up that can’t be taken back, or b) a blood bath.

Okay, I’m SURE we could remain civil. But experience tells me when people of different races radically disagree about race relations in Anchorage, the conversations don’t generally go all rainbows and bunnies.

I began this blog over three years ago, and one of my first posts was about an incident that happened downtown. A group of us, all Native, were downtown for an event, and were suddenly, and without provocation, verbally abused by a loud, angry man. The comments were ugly, and racist. But my concern was not as much the man, but the reaction of our group:

(We were) A group of young, professional Native people, mostly women, who have every right to be proud of themselves and their accomplishments. Our reaction? We lowered our heads, we didn't meet each other in the eye, we dare not look at another person in the crowd, for the shame of it… We didn't yell back, we didn't argue, we didn't console or comfort each other, we didn't talk about.

Aside from the fact that I just annoyingly quoted myself, in three years, I realize I still haven’t answered for myself the questions I was pondering in the post. Why was this our reaction? What can be done?

But a recent experience has made me look at this in a new way. I was invited to participate in a project hosted by First Alaskans – a project to start a dialogue about racial equity. To start many dialogues, actually, in many different communities around Alaska. I went in to be trained as a host of some of these dialogues, with a large group of supporters.

Here’s where my heart rate starts to rise.

It wasn’t actually the group itself that made me nervous. I think partly from posting here over the years, and partly because I just talk about race a lot with friends as I try to answer my own question, I was pretty comfortable the first day we got together. It was a day to share our own stories, our own ideas about race in Alaska.

 As we went around the large circle for several hours, each person taking a turn, it was at times heartbreaking, at times infuriating, at times inspiring. There were many occasions I could relate to the speaker, and many more that sparked ever more questions.

It was the two days after the initial meeting where I started to wonder what I’d gotten myself into.

In a much smaller group, it started getting a little more real about us hosting these discussions, and here’s where I start to have imaginary dialogues, hosted by me, in which I get run out of town or alternately start a proverbial fire in a community that leads to paintballing and race riots (it’s part of my process.)

While we were being trained, I discovered several people had similar fears.

“How do I walk by these people in the store if this goes wrong?”

“My community is not going to like this kind of talk.”

Yet, we’ve seen that positive outcomes CAN come from racial dialogue. A year ago to the week, I posted about First Alaskans’ effort in a pretty public racial dialogue. Julie O’Malley said it best, but in short, there was some ugly racial comments said about Native women over three years ago by two local radio DJs. The reaction was swift, angry, accusatory, and I don’t know that anyone was happy with the outcome.

But an effort when different racial comments were made by different local DJs was... well, markedly different. Instead of anger, education. Instead of calls to pull ads, a call to talk. The outcome? Much, much better for everyone.

Said O'Malley, "And I left the press conference wishing that more conversations about race in Anchorage could end that way. Because we’d all be better for it."

So, my neurosis about being run out of town pitchfork-style aside, after meeting these empowering, strong, open people, after some truly thought-provoking dialogue led by First Alaskans, after voicing my own fears and hopes (and more fears,) I can’t answer a single question I posed over three years ago with any authority. But I have a little more hope that, with talking, with compassion, with incredible patience, we can turn the direction of racial equity in the state.

Though the two gentlemen outside the grocery store already had it said pretty succinctly:

“But don’t you think some people just really hate people from different races?”

“Yeah… if you’re a total tool.”

He probably won’t be hosting a dialogue, but I really want to hear more of what he has to say.

Does keeping Native languages alive even matter? Part 3

I've loved seeing the great comments left by my previous two posts on the question of language revitilzation and extinction. Here's the third installment in this subject I could go on and on (and seemingly have) about, and discussion of the many arguments I've heard against keeping Native languages alive:

"We're all Americans now!" - or "Why do we have to dwell on the past?"

This is possibly one of the more frustrating arguments for me, personally, mostly because it's not an argument with anything except an attitude of "This is how I want it to be" behind it, and not trying to understand what's actually going on.

While the oft-cited "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it" comes to mind, it is a woman who was in the same school my grandmother was that I think of when this is the argument.

You see, I was pretty hard-headed myself about language, only in a different way. I did not think much of my grandparents "giving up" their language. I mean, in exactly one generation, they'd "decided" to give it up. They chose to not pass it on to their children, who in turn could NOT pass it on to me!

But then I heard this woman tell her story, the story of what happened when she went to school. She said what I'd heard before, but I'd never heard it from someone who experienced it, much less someone who experienced it in the same school, at the same time as my grandma. These children, five and six years old, were beaten for speaking Tlingit. They were whipped if they uttered it. Try to imagine yourself at five years old, speaking how you speak at home, and getting hit.

But then she said, "The smart ones got hit the most." And they learned to undo it the fastest.

The "smart ones" - the natural leaders, the ones not afraid to speak out... at least at first. These are the ones most cruelly treated, and the ones who were most dead-set on not passing on that kind of cruelty to their children.

Could you, having gone through this experience, have sent your five year old to kindergarten knowing how to speak the language you were beaten for speaking? I don't know that I would.

It is in this light I remember that the past is not irrelevant. And forgive me if it also brings to mind a certain animated movie in which there may or may not have been big musical numbers with warthogs and hyenas. Remember in the "Lion King" when Simba tells the monkey it's in the past, and the monkey whacks him on the head? Yeah, the past still hurts.

Okay, searing political insight it may not be, but I would hope the next person who talks about forgetting the past or "just being American" keeps in mind how hurtful those comments can be. I'm proud to be American, and I think speaking the tongue that was spoken here for millenia is an incredibly patriotic thing to do. I wish I knew more, I wish I was committed enough to be bilingual, and I don't see how my nation could be anything but benefitted by me and my children and my children's children being the same.

And how can I forget the past that brought me to where I am today? Why would I want to? What's more, why would we, as a nation want to forget that? If it makes you uncomfortable, if it makes you sad, or feel ashamed - fine. It makes me feel those things too. But if we forget the things that make us uncomfortable, we must also forget that which makes us proud, and comforted, and passionate. The brief discomfort I may feel by remembering all the true history of our not-so-distant past is a small price to pay for that.