by Lauren Tibbitts

Alaska Pride Conference was about drawing the younger and older generations together to better serve the LGBT community in Alaska — a wonderful experience, but coupled with grief for the passing of a beloved mentor, Alison McKenna of Juneau, who died unexpectedly on Saturday. The important thing, I’ve discovered, is to be part of the living legacy Alison has left behind.

This weekend I attended the Alaska Pride Conference, and it was fantastic. From the workshops to the incredible people working them, from the vendors to the fact that a good portion of the attendees were under 25 (considered “youths” by The Trevor Project and its representative at the conference, Nathan Belyeu), it was a really great day of learning, networking, sharing and being around supportive people. The conference’s theme was “Step Up, Step Out”, and I couldn’t think of a better idea to run a day’s worth of workshops around: the idea that we can “step up” and make this world a better place for us to “step out” into. In that vein, we had workshops that focused on the heady topic of suicide prevention, an unfortunate reminder that we still have much work to do as a movement to protect ourselves and garner greater support from society outside the gay community.

Also a point of focus was the function of the Gay-Straight Alliance club in the school setting, and how to effectively create, run, and sustain such a group. The youth attendees were representing their own GSAs on campus and given the opportunity to attend to better get involved , network, and learn with and from groups across Alaska; I found the students to be great contributors to the weekend’s collective conversation. I was surprised to count over thirty students from all over Alaska had come, compared to the loose handful I had found between workshops at the event last year.

It was great to see our older generation of LGBT and allies teaching us, the younger generation, and helping to bridge the gap between the two. In some instances, we were learning together, as in the suicide prevention workshops. It didn’t seem to matter that we were considered youths by general definition; we were treated as fully-fledged adults coming out into the community. We were asked for our opinions, our thoughts, our needs and wants, and were given those of our peers and elders. The conference was a beautiful blend of mentors and mentees, of teachers and students, in more than just the fact that many group advisors came along with their GSA students. My heart was bursting open with joy and love for the place we were making for ourselves.

Then suddenly, with just a few words later that night, it broke in grief.

My mentor and dear friend, Ali McKenna of Juneau, was once my teacher. She was the first person I came out to as a young teenager, other than my parents, and was a woman with a blessed heart. Ali taught me to be strong in the face of adversity, to value myself both as a writer and as someone with a voice to be heard. She always made time for me and her other students, though she was a busy woman. I say “was” because at the young age of only 42 years, she passed on Saturday morning, much to my — and many other people’s — immense sadness.

She was a role model to me, as a young and idealistic member of the LGBT community. The two months I had her as a teacher were in the year I’d come out to myself as a member of the sexual minority, and then later to my parents and family. I had told her, without realizing, who I was in an essay I had her read before I told anybody else, and she understood my words but didn’t point it out in a glaringly obvious way. Her response told me that she was a resource “if I needed anything”, and she did more than be a resource.

With McKenna being a proud and visible supporter of the LGBT community, she affirmed our rights and lives, both silently and publicly. She always supported the Gay-Straight Alliance at the high school, and made a point to keep her door decorated with stickers denoting a safe space for troubled youth within her room. Her classroom lectures always focused on being inclusive, and she verbally corrected her students when they said anything discriminatory, not only to the LGBT/allied population but toward anyone. Talking to her privately, she was a font of knowledge and experience to draw from, and I loved her for it.

Ali held us all responsibility for our own health and for coming to others for aid when we needed it — and for that she was trusted in return. When another young LGBT student would ask me quietly for a teacher or two that they could be free with and talk to, Ali McKenna would immediately come to mind. Her name would fall gracefully from my lips in answering the hushed questions of “Who won’t attack me?” or “Who supports me?” Both as a member of the LGBT community and as an authority figure in an institution in charge of shaping students into semi-decent human beings, Ali exceeded the expectations that I have ever held for someone. She was more than decent, she was extraordinary. Her support of me personally and of the LGBT and allied students in our town always warmed me. She always made time to talk with me and her other students, and was a shining light to those struggling against the ever-present darkness.

This weekend was about drawing the youthful, energetic generation in with the passionate and knowledgeable older generation before us to better serve and promote the LGBT community in Alaska. It was a wonderful experience, though the pain of my mentor’s passing shakes my soul. The important thing, I’ve discovered, is to be part of the living legacy Alison has left behind. It is a sorrowful event, to hear of her during a month devoted to remembrance and efforts to keep the flame of life alight, but she was a strong woman – and so too, must I be.

The circle of life goes on, with or without my input, so I will try to celebrate her life with the way she lived it: strength, passion, love, and honor. Pain does not discriminate as so many people do, and while this is a hard burden to bear, the spirit of her life coupled with that of this past conference make a gracious energy in this young LGBT adult. Where there is pain, there is also the potential for happiness again, and I know Ali would shake sense back into me if she were here now. To make the Family of Alaska — and Ms. Alison McKenna — proud is what I want to do with my life, and it starts now.

Thank God for conferences, and for motivating mentors.

Editor’s note:  Alison McKenna, 42, died Saturday in her home, cause of death so far undetermined. She had two children, ages 11 and 9. She had taught in the Juneau School District for 15 years, both at Juneau-Douglas High School and Thunder Mountain High School; spent summers teaching with young students at fine arts camps; and also taught University of Alaska Southeast students in the Master of Arts in teaching program. She was well-known for her creative writing class, and developed a student-written publication, Ego. Juneau’s public radio station KTOO 104.3-FM and the Juneau Empire both have stories about her and the huge impact she had on the lives of her students, colleagues, and friends.

A memorial  group for Ali McKenna has been created on Facebook, and one of her friends has created a blog, Memories of Ms. McKenna, where anyone, particularly students of hers, can submit memories/stories/thoughts/thank yous, which will later be published into a book for her two kids.

We at Bent Alaska offer our condolences to Alison McKenna’s children, family, friends, students, and colleagues. May she rest in peace.