"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.

KOTZEBUE WAS THE WORLD TO ME

Kotzebue is quite small as cities go, with roughly 3000 residents. There aren't any roads that connect it to urban areas like Fairbanks or Anchorage; it is only accessible by jet/plane all-year round. Some people travel to and from nearby villages by snowmachine in the winter and four-wheelers (ATV’S) in the summer. Those with boats may travel in the summer as well. It is located on a gravel spit and its Inupiaq name, Kikiktugruk, means “almost an island.”

When I was little, Kotzebue was the world to me. Our whole support system lived there: my maternal grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I belonged to the first generation of grandchildren; all together, we were eleven. We were close and spent a lot of time together and fought like sisters and brothers. With so many cousins, I was never short of friends.

The first grandchildren. I am first row, first one on the left.

It seemed that there were an infinite number of places to play in Kotzebue. I remember walking and playing around town with my cousins, at times filled with a sense of wonder and discovery. I don’t remember ever feeling out of place there; I didn’t have a distinct feeling of being “Eskimo” or “Native.” It wasn’t until we moved outside that I had that distinct feeling of being “Eskimo.” 

 

I think that a lot of people from the village have a hard time adjusting to urban life for these very reasons. When you leave, you are leaving familiar surroundings, your support system and everything you ever knew.  You are no longer with people like yourself; instead, you belong to the minority. 

So how do you make a successful transition to urban life? How do you adjust? For me personally, adjusting meant dealing with homesickness head on.

WHY I DON'T LIKE THE WORD "ESKIMO"

So a mini-essay on why I do not like the word “Eskimo.” I understand why a lot of people from my community use it and I know that some people would say that they’ve appropriated the word and made it their own. I get it. It is not unlike other Indigenous people using Indian to self-identify. But my first response to the question “Why don’t you like using the word ‘Eskimo’?” would be, “Well, what is wrong with using Inupiaq to self-identify?”

My other response is a little more complex. To me, “Eskimo” is not a real person. It is an image, a stereotype, and as of lately, it is even a Halloween costume. People may not know what you’re talking about when you say Inupiaq, but say “Eskimo” instead and more often than not, they think of primitive Eskimos in fur parkas and mukluks who live in igloos and have a million different words for snow. Sorry folks, not my reality.

But it is more than simply a stereotype. I read a book awhile back entitled Give Me My Father’s Body, which chronicled the experiences of a young Greenland Inuit boy named Minik who was taken to New York by Robert Peary, an American explorer. Peary brought approximately 6 Inuit to New York as “specimens” to display at American Museum of Natural History. I remember seeing one photograph in which Minik was on display holding an “Eskimo” sign. I found that particular image jarring and upsetting (I will post the image as soon as I dig out the book from storage).

While Minik was from Greenland, it is that attitude people have towards the “Eskimo” that upsets me.  “Eskimo” is something to be on display in the museum, it is to be studied in the name of science. “Eskimo” is the dehumanized version of an Inupiaq person. Granted that Minik’s case took place in the late 1800s, I think some of that legacy carries on today.

I know that when people say “Eskimo” they may not necessarily have this in mind, but again, what is so wrong with self-identifying as Inupiaq?

ON BEING INUPIAQ IN THE 21ST CENTURY

I am very new to the whole blogging scene so I’ve been looking at various blogs for ideas and inspiration. One friend recommended “Being Ohlone in the 21^st Century.” After viewing that blog I asked myself a question: What does it mean to be Inupiaq in the 21^st century?
 

This is a particularly difficult question to answer because it means confronting reality.

My reality as an Inupiaq woman in the 21^st century is similar to other Indigenous people’s reality. It means that I speak English as my first language. I have a Western education and much of our traditional ways have been replaced by Western ways. Our food consists of mostly a Western diet: readily available foods that include processed foods, fast food, and junk food (and I know a lot of junk food junkies). In short, I am a product of colonization.

COLONIZATION

What does colonization mean anyway? I like one particular definition found in “For Indigenous Eyes Only: A Decolonization Handbook” so I’m going to quote it here. Colonization is the “formal and informal methods (behaviors, ideologies, institutions, policies, and economies) that maintain the subjugation or exploitation of Indigenous peoples, lands and resources.” I often see other people discussing colonization and decolonization without really defining what they mean. I am all for definitions because a) I like words and their definitions b) as my undergrad History advisor told us numerous times, do not assume knowledge on part of the reader c) they provide a common language for everyone, which makes it easier to have a dialogue.

Confronting reality doesn’t necessarily mean accepting it and forever being victimized. It means acknowledging it and actively trying to change it.