SEXISM AND MISOGYNY AND CULTURE OF SILENCE, CONTINUED.

Yesterday I discussed sexism and misogyny and the fact that we live in a culture of silence. Today I would like to elaborate on that, especially concerning sexual assault.

What is sexual assault? The USDOJ (http://www.ovw.usdoj.gov/sexassault.htm) defines sexual assault as “any type of sexual contact or behavior that occurs without the explicit consent of the recipient.” This includes forced sexual intercourse, sodomy, child molestation, incest, fondling, and attempted rape.

The rate of rape in Alaska is 2.5 times the national average and child sexual assault is almost 6 times the national average (http://www.ncadv.org/files/Alaska.pdf). The majority of the victims are Alaska Native women - statistically, 1 out of 3 Alaska Native and American Indian women will be raped in their lifetime. Remember, these are numbers of reported rapes - who knows how many rapes go unreported.

There are limited services available for victims of sexual assault, especially when it comes to remote villages. Some propose that the State should provide more services to victims and that there be harsher punishment of convicted offenders, both of which are very reasonable solutions. However, given that there is limited funding and services, we cannot rely solely on the State to deal with these issues. Also, providing services for victims after the assault occurs is reactive and with these staggering rates, it behooves the communities to take a proactive stance in dealing with sexual assault. But how?

Well, in part, I think this means ending this culture of silence.

In my community there is a known sexual deviant who has a history of harassing and molesting women, especially women in vulnerable situations. This man has been a patient at the hospital and it falls upon the nurses to watch him because he has entered other patient rooms and verbally harassed female patients. He has harassed other elderly women in the community, who choose to remain silent about these encounters. This man is an active member of a local church and everyone knows that he is a sexual deviant, but no one says anything. One of the nurses asked me, “Why doesn’t anyone say or do anything?” “We live in a culture of silence,” I replied. I didn’t know how else to respond.

Also in my community there are convicted child molesters who freely roam about who are non-compliant with sex offender registry policies. In some cases, some are left alone with children, placing the children in vulnerable and potentially harmful situations in which molestation is a real possibility. Family members are reluctant to have their children interact with these offenders yet they remain silent. They don’t voice their discomfort but instead discuss it behind closed doors.

Regarding sexual assault, some victims are shamed into silence, often by their own community and family members. In some instances they are blamed and some are even threatened to remain silent. I can think of one case in particular in which a young woman, a victim of rape, pressed charges on her assailant, much to the dismay of at least one elderly family member.

I honestly don’t understand these types of responses. Is it in our nature to protect the man? Are we so inclined to avoid conflict that we choose not to speak out, for fear of “rocking the boat”? What is so difficult about speaking the truth? By remaining silent we are allowing these crimes to occur and re-occur. The cycle continues and our communities continue to suffer. When is enough enough?

I COME FROM A SEXIST AND MISOGYNISTIC CULTURE

It’s been a long absence I know but a lot has happened since I last wrote. Today I would like to discuss the fact that I come from a sexist and misogynistic culture. It’s not an easy thing to admit and I think a lot of people would be reluctant, if not downright against it, to admit this. Why do I say this? Let me tell you.

In July, Qatnut, the trade fair, took place in Kotzebue. It was an eventful occasion because our Russian neighbors attended Qatnut and danced for us. They were fantastic dancers and had an array of interesting and sometimes funny dances. They are Siberian Yup'ik and wore real fur dancing regalia and beat drums made of skin. I love to watch dancing and I enjoyed myself immensely.

One night, following performances by various groups, I decided to take a walk around town. Although it was raining I wanted to reflect on the dances and just enjoy the evening. As I was walking towards 3rd street, I just happened to look to my right when I made eye contact with a young man who was evidently drunk. Not wanting to interact with him I quickly averted my gaze and continued walking. This didn’t work and the young man took our brief encounter as an invitation to talk and began to follow me while asking several questions. Not wanting to be rude, I answered his questions politely but briefly. He seemed polite at first and so I didn’t mind...too much.

As he followed me down 3rd towards the school I began to feel embarrassed because I didn’t want people to think that we were, in any way, together. He told me about himself, his work, where he came from, etc. I asked for his name because I wanted to know with whom I was dealing, just in case. Without even blinking he told me.

He followed me to the school and after informing me that he had to pee, very badly, he took off and went behind a dumpster (gross, I know). I took this as a chance to escape so I began running and ran around the school. I figured that he might’ve been too drunk to catch up so I let my guard down and slowed down to a walking pace. Not too long after I saw him running towards me. Arrrggggggh...he wouldn't give up! He seemed harmless but bothersome.

The discussion quickly turned to sex. He asked me to get a room at the hotel, to which I firmly replied no! Then he asked repeatedly, while laughing, if I was an escort. I took this as a way of him justifying his actions. If I was an escort, a prostitute, it was okay for him to talk to me this way. He was justified. I had to decline his offer to get a room several times.

Finally, as we were walking down 3rd again, he began to physically pull me to the side of the road towards some buildings. He did this several times even though I said "no!" I didn't feel that I was in danger but I was very upset. Finally, after several failed attempts, he gave up and took off.

Following the incident I vented to some friends via text. Some laughed it off while others simply said “Eew.” I wasn’t satisfied with these responses, I didn’t feel that they helped me in any way. I continued to think about the incident and discussed it with another friend at work. She told me, "I would have called the police." Now why didn't I think of that? So I decided to call the police just to see what my options were, should it happen again.

I called KPD and asked them what were my options were, if something like this should happen again? The dispatcher didn't tell me at first but simply asked "What happened?" I recounted my story and he transferred me to a police officer. After telling him what happened, he asked me if I knew his name. "Travis Kennelly..or something to that effect." "Travis Kenworthy?" he asked. "Yes, that's it! Shaved head?" "Yes, I know Travis. Do you want me to talk to him? If he was drunk he might not remember but I can still talk to him." I agreed that maybe he won't remember but yes, please talk to him, perhaps this will get him thinking. I left it at that.

There were several things about this incident that bothered me. First of all, this happens quite often. Drunk men accost women and because it happens frequently, people shrug it off. Take my friends' responses for example. The incident was more than just "eew." And just because alcohol was a factor, just because they were drunk, does NOT make it okay.

Secondly, drunk or not, is this how some men view women? As "escorts," prostitutes, women there to satisfy their sexual needs when they want it? Has our culture sexualized women so much that they are now just objects?

Another thing that bothered me was my response, or lack thereof. Even though I didn't want to talk to him, even though I didn't want him to follow me and even though what he said was offensive and disrespectful and wrong on many levels, I didn't say anything. I was almost complacent to shrug off the whole incident. I am a reflection of the culture and we live in a culture of silence. And perhaps this is what bothered me the most.

After giving it more thought, I resolved to confront Mr. Travis Kenworthy should I see him in public again. I fantasized about giving him a big what-for in front of everyone. I would tell him everything I had felt and would shame him publicly. But fantasy and reality are two wholly different things.

I did see Travis in public again. Though I was nervous I pulled him aside and asked him, "Travis? Do you remember me?" When my sister's dogs do something wrong, they cower and hide their tails between their legs. He cowered in the same way. "No," he replied quietly. I thought that he was lying and so didn't bother to argue with him or retell the whole story. Instead, I quietly said, "I thought so, you were drunk. What you said to me was very rude and disrespectful and I hope it doesn't happen again." He mumbled "Sorry" and that was the end of it.

While I didn't say all that I wanted to say, it was a first step and at least I said something. Next time, I will have a voice and won't be so reluctant to use it. It was an upsetting experience but I learned from it. And so I would encourage all women out there to speak out when something like this happens. Don't be afraid to use your voice and use it loudly if necessary. Don't shrug it off because it's not okay.

SUICIDE

"Alaska Native suicide rate more than twice that of non-Natives.” “The crisis in rural Alaska.” These are common headlines found in papers across Alaska. Suicide is a sensitive but urgent topic. It’s a painful fact of life here in my own community. We all know someone who has committed suicide, and for many, it has often been a close, dear loved one who has succumbed to it. Some families have even lost several family members to suicide.

White tanks near Front Street

I recently had a dream in which I was walking around Kotzebue, near the large white tanks near Front Street (if you know Kotzebue, you know what I am talking about). I saw a young man standing at the top of a tank, ready to jump to his death. I knew that he was suicidal but what did I do? I turned my back and pretended not to notice. If I pretended not to notice, it wasn’t happening. In my dream, I heard him jump to his death, which upset me a great deal. Just then an older cousin strolled up to me and I said to him, “He just committed suicide.” And flippantly, casually, he replied, “Oh, people do that all the time here.” And that was the end of my dream.

I think that this is an accurate representation of my culture’s attitude towards suicide. While I don’t think that we dismiss it so blatantly, we do not address it aggressively or effectively. I say aggressively and effectively because it is a matter of life and death and many individuals continue to take their own lives. 

I have many questions.

As friends and family members, what do we do to try to prevent a loved one from committing suicide? If someone we know is struggling emotionally, going through hard times and has even made suicidal gestures and/or attempts, what kind of help do we offer? What services are available, and furthermore, what culturally sensitive services are available? What are the reasons behind a person’s decision to not seek help and how can we address those reasons?

As a whole community, what are we doing to address the underlying issues that contribute to the high suicide rates? What steps are we taking to make our community healthier, happier, and more able to cope with life’s stressors? How do we become proactive, as opposed to reactive?

I am sure there are resources out there, but from my stance, from my perspective, I am just an ordinary member of my community. I hang out with my friends and family members, go to work, interact with my coworkers, etc. I am just like many other members of my community. From my stance, my questions go unanswered.

Finally, how do we mobilize a community of regular, ordinary individuals such as myself?

ENGLISH-ONLY, PLEASE.

I mentioned in a previous post that English is my first language. English is my first language just as it is my mother's first language. Inupiaq is my grandparent's first language.

When I was little I didn't necessarily believe in magic. I did, however, wish for one thing. Whenever I heard our elders speaking to each other in Inupiaq I would wish that I could magically understand them, that I could speak Inupiaq fluently and communicate with my elders in our own language. Whenever I heard them speak, I would concentrate very hard at the Inupiaq words and wait for the moment when I would begin to understand...

My Aana (grandmother) attended a boarding school at White Mountain, where she spoke of being punished for speaking Inupiaq. She lamented, "Who would want to teach their children Inupiaq if they were going to be punished?"

Punishing students for speaking Inupiaq in the classroom didn't only take place at boarding schools. A coworker of mine shared with me today that when she first started going to school (in her village of Kobuk) she could only speak Inupiaq. When she was caught speaking Inupiaq in the classroom the teachers would slap her hands as a form of punishment.

We've come a long way since those days but the damage has been done. Four generations of English-only speakers is the damage dealt in my family. Personally, I've always felt ashamed that I couldn't speak or understand Inupiaq and that shame had hindered my desire to learn it. Until now.

I have made a wonderful Inupiaq friend with whom I can learn Inupiaq. Having a language buddy is empowering and encouraging and fun! I was a little timid at first to pronounce our Inupiaq words and sounds but with practice that initial embarrassment has all but disappeared. As my friend gently reminded me, we can't speak Inupiaq perfectly the first time. At the end of our first session, which lasted about three hours, my throat hurt from practicing Inupiaq sounds and my brain was tired but I felt satisfied and content. Yes, it hurt so good.

What's more, yesterday I went into our NANA Regional Corp. Aqqaluk Trust office and obtained my very own copy of Coastal Dialect Inupiaq by Rosetta Stone! All I had to do was show my NANA Shareholder ID and fill out a mini questionnaire. Thank you NANA and thank you technology. I am excited to see where my Inupiaq language adventures take me.

"AS A WOMAN I WAS TAUGHT TO ALWAYS BE HUNGRY"

I was going to follow some sort of format/structure but decided to throw that out since it impedes my writing process! This blog is about culture and whatever so that gives me free reign to jump from topic to topic.

I am a fan of one particular album by Mos Def entitled “Black on Both Sides.” It’s smart music, I like what Mos Def has to say. Check it out. One of my favorite songs is “Know That,” which features both Mos Def and Talib Kweli. In one instance, Talib Kweli declares, “I follow the code of honor like a real man gonna, Never disrespect no women cause I love my momma.”

Wow. I LOVE IT. It’s a very positive message from a talented artist and I think that many men in my community would do well to heed that message.

Which brings me to my next topic: violence, particularly violence against women…violence against Indigenous women. It’s a problem in my community just as it is in various other Indigenous communities worldwide.

At my job in the Maniilaq Health Center in Kotzebue I see various posters tacked around the hospital that discuss domestic violence. Well, they sort of discuss domestic violence. I don’t really like the posters because they skirt around the issue. They basically say “is someone hurting you? We can help.” Okay…that’s a start but I wonder, why don’t they just come out and say that domestic violence is wrong? It is wrong, it is hurtful and it needs to stop. I say this because one woman, who had been in abusive relationships before, had admitted to me that she didn’t know it was wrong, nobody had told her.

In my younger, angrier days, I used to listen to Bikini Kill. I listened to them a lot. It was bad-ass music. One particular song always struck a chord with me, that song was “Feels Blind.“ In one part, Kathleen Hanna belts out “As a woman I was taught to always be hungry. Yeah, women are well-acquainted with thirst. Well, I could eat just about anything. We might even eat your hate up like love.” It resonated with me because that is how I feel about my culture…at times…in general. In general, my culture is misogynistic and although it is hard to admit, it is true. Women are abused and they accept it and we accept it. It is an accepted part of reality.

It breaks my heart and angers me when I see battered women. Some of them are my friends and family members. As a friend and family member, what am I to do? It’s a complicated situation because you can’t really tell the woman what to do and you know that ultimately it is her choice to remain in an abusive relationship but at the same time you know it’s such an unhealthy situation!

This is something I struggle with and I am still finding my own voice. I’m not into policy, I’m more interested in what I can do on a personal level…and I’m still at a loss.

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO NIQIPIAQ

I LOVE niqipiaq! If I could live off of it I would. Growing up in Kotzebue, the staples of our diet included: 

Oogruk – bearded seal

Seal oil – blubber from oogruk that is rendered into oil

Black meat - meat from oogruk. I don’t know the Inupiaq word for black meat, we always called it black meat because, well, it’s black

Panaqtuq - dried meat, be it fish or caribou

Black meat hanging on the top left, trout and whitefish hanging in the middle

Caribou – often in soup or roasted

Muktuk - the skin and blubber from the bowhead whale and beluga

  

Qauq  - meat that is raw but frozen, it includes fish and caribou

Ukpiks (salmonberries), blueberries, blackberries

Duck

And of course, Sailor Boy crackers! Sailor Boys aren't traditional Inupiaq food but we love 'em. They are Inupiaq soul food. You could eat them with anything - butter, mayonnaise and pepper, peanut butter and honey, and my personal favorite: toasted crackers with butter and salt.

When you live in the city, the most readily available foods are seal oil, black meat, panaqtuq, ukpiks, and caribou (and did you know, it's almost impossible to find Sailor Boys in the States?) On occasion we had muktuk but that was  mostly a treat. These foods can be frozen for a long time without spoiling and are easy to transport.

When you’re low on black meat, panaqtuq or muktuk, you can always eat seal oil with other things! We often ate it with carrots and apples and even that was fulfilling. We still keep a jar in the freezer and when we are hungry for niqipiaq we take it out and scrounge around the refrigerator for some carrots or apples. 

Whether in the city or village, eating niqipiaq is a bonding moment. You gather together with friends and family and enjoy it. We sit at the table and eat and talk, with the television off, mind you. Then we finish it off with tea and crackers - you must always finish it off with tea and crackers! 

  

My mom and I often eat niqipiaq at the table and it strengthens our relationship. That's what food should be about! Nourishing your body and spirit and familial relations. 

HOMESICKNESS

Homesickness is those aches and pains of wanting so badly to go home but not being able to. It is longing for home, family and familiar surroundings. It is that sense of alienation and feeling like an outsider. 

The hardest part of being homesick is that there is nothing you can do to make it go away quickly! Nothing you do makes it any easier and you just have to go about daily life as usual.  That was very difficult– doing normal, quotidian things all the while knowing that you weren’t home. It was like a painful awareness of being – walking to school, sitting in class, lying in bed at night – all normal but painful activities.

My mom shared with me that she was so homesick at times and missed our food so much that she ate the closest things she could find: frozen beef and vegetable oil. We eat qauq – raw, frozen meat, be it caribou or fish (yes raw, but it is frozen and can only be eaten when frozen). We often eat this with seal oil. My mom found the closest thing and tried it. Of course, it was not the same thing! But she did what she had to do to combat homesickness.

Homesickness is very painful but I don’t see it as something to avoid. I think everyone should feel it at least once in their lifetime. It prepares you for the outside world and it makes you appreciate home. I’ve met some individuals from the villages who want to go to school in the city but end up going back home because of homesickness and inability to adjust to urban life. I understand being homesick but there are a multitude of opportunities out there that can benefit people and their communities: education, job training and job opportunities. Plus, being away from home opens your eyes to the problems and issues that trouble your community; things that otherwise go unnoticed or unaddressed.