Articles in Stories from Our Lives
Choosing Alaska: Acceptance in non-profits and having a good attitude
We recently posted a letter from a graduate student asking for advice from openly-LGBT Alaskans. What is it like to be an out professional in Alaska?
Our readers responded, sharing their reasons for living in Alaska and their experiences as LGBT. We’re posting their stories in a new series called Choosing Alaska.
The second response was from Kris. (Read the first reply HERE.)
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Hello, Friends!
So let’s be clear: I am not actually who you wanted to hear from. I am not a born and raised LGBTetc Alaskan who studied out of state and then returned. Who I am, is an open, out, proud LGBTetc individual who was raised in New England, studied in New York and then eventually moved to Alaska to live my life the way I chose.
My name is Kris and I am a 27 year old gender-queer individual who was born female-bodied and has chosen to make my life surrounded by other gender-queers, lesbians, dykes and whatever the heck else people want to call themselves. I have a wonderful partner and although we are still building our relationship and life together, she is for sure an amazing woman whom I am openly, 100% of the time, proud to be with.
I am a Victim Advocate and have and do work with several non-profits including the YWCA Anchorage, Covenant House Alaska and Standing Together Against Rape (STAR). I have a Masters level education and consider myself to be both a role model and advocate within the professional community here in Anchorage for equality and a focus on LGBTetc issues. I volunteer with various youth initiatives, donate time to conferences and other educational causes and make a general effort to put myself out there in a positive light for the communities I exist within.
So why Alaska? Really, the question is “why not?” Sure, it’s small here. Which is ironic given the size of the state, but what does that matter, really? It doesn’t matter how large or small a locales queer community is. What matters is what you make of it, the relationships you choose to cultivate and how you portray that community to the others which you exist in. Working in the non-profit sector I find that I am generally surrounded by queer-positive people. This, of course, is not always the case for people in other professions, so I do acknowledge the slant in my perspective.
If I came here with the mindset that this was another small town (New Hampshire is full of them, I am no stranger!) and I was bound to lead a life of internalized homophobia and guilt and shame, then that is exactly what would have happened. Instead, I sought out resources, organizations and like-minded, progressive individuals. I made no attempt at masking who I am or what I believe in and I never apologized for who I am.
I have a self-made attitude that exudes, “I’m here. This is who I am. This is what I bring to the table. How can we help each other?” Would this be what happened if I had gone back to the sleepy town I grew up in? You better believe it. And for awhile, it did. And without incident. I didn’t come to Alaska to run away from a small town’s LGBTetc’s hot mess. I came to Alaska, in part, to participate in that small town community, and this just happens to be who I am.
Sincerely,
Another out, proud, educated professional in Alaska
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Thanks, Kris!
What is your experience of being LGBT in Alaska? Leave a comment below, or email us directly at Bent Alaska @ gmail .com (without the spaces), and we will include your response in a follow up post. And if you have another topic you’d like to see on Bent Alaska, please tell us about it!
Choosing Alaska: Great community, but harassment at work is common
Why do you live in Alaska?
We recently posted a letter from a graduate student who grew up in Alaska, went outside for college, and is considering whether or not to return and start a professional career here. The student asked for advice from openly-LGBT Alaskans who returned after college. What is it like to be an out professional in Alaska?
Our readers responded, sharing their reasons for living in Alaska and their experiences as LGBT people here. Some grew up in Alaska, others moved here as adults. Some live in the cities, others in small towns or the Bush. Some are Native, some are not. We’re posting their stories together in a new series called Choosing Alaska.
The first response was from Alaskan Amber who began college outside but returned to study at UAA and work in Anchorage.
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I did not graduate from a university out of state but rather I went out and came back during college. I went to Salem, Oregon to Willamette University my first year. I found a very liberal community with professors who were more concerned with their own research and success than their students no matter what issues or topics their students raised. I found a community of people who were very accepting as long as you agreed with them. I was not ready to confront my family about being gay and I did not want to make myself “look lesbian” as the Gay student club there wanted their members to look. I was essentially shunned for this. I returned to Alaska to go to UAA and I found the opposite here.
Alaska as a whole is more conservative but the community at UAA and the Anchorage LGBTQA community embraced me to the point that I consider many of its members family. They supported me for who I am and did not push me beyond my comfort zone. They did encourage me to expand my comfort zone which allowed me to talk to my biological family after time. I have been working here in Alaska since the day I returned from Oregon.
Every environment I have been in has contained coworkers that were blatantly against the LGBT community. In some of the environments in larger corporations this was revealed in passing statements regarding something on the news or an upcoming event that was discussed in the break room. In the smaller environments, such as the family run law office I worked in for over two years, the coworkers have been much more harsh and rarely addressed if addressed at all for their hatred and inappropriate comments while on the clock. The comments turned into hateful actions toward me in two offices. One office it was immediately addressed and never occurred again. The other office, the aforementioned law office, the coworker’s behavior was only addressed once even though I complained to management multiple times and I finally ended up quitting. She is still employed at the office.
Some environments are totally accepting and there are no issues even if coworkers are hateful. It depends on the management and whether they are both accepting and willing to step in if necessary.
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Thanks, Amber!
What is your experience of being LGBT in Alaska? Leave a comment below, or email us directly at Bent Alaska @ gmail .com (without the spaces), and we will include your response in a follow up post. And if you have another topic you’d like to see on Bent Alaska, please tell us about it!
NAACP’s first LGBT Town Hall: Gay Rights are Civil Rights
Comedian Wanda Sykes, who is performing in Anchorage next month, and CNN reporter Don Lemon headlined the NAACP‘s first ever LGBT Town Hall at the annual convention in Los Angeles last week, supporting same sex marriage and using humor to explain why ‘praying away the gay’ doesn’t work.
Julian Bond, former NAACP chair and veteran civil rights activist, gave a strong opening speech on the panel theme “Our Collective Responsibility: Overcoming Homophobia.”
He explained that the LGBT Task Force was formed in 2009 with the National Black Justice Coalition, and described the NAACP’s three-point mission to increase acceptance of black LGBT people in the African American community:
- strengthen the NAACP’s knowledge of LGBT issues and policies,
- build alliances with LGBT organizations, and
- advance awareness of LGBT issues as they relate to the programs and interests of the NAACP.
He also addressed several areas where conflict exists between the LGBT and the African American communities.
We know that black lesbians, black gay men, black bisexual people and black transgender people suffer a level of discrimination and harassment far beyond the level felt by straight black women and men.
If you disagree, or if your Bible tells you that gay people ought not be married in your church, don’t tell them they can’t be married at City Hall. Marriage is a civil rite as well as a civil right, and we can’t allow religious bigotry to close the door to justice for anyone….
For some people, comparisons between the African American Civil Rights movement and the movement for gay and lesbian rights seems to diminish the long, black historical struggle with all it’s suffering, sacrifices and endless toil. People of color, however, ought to be flattered that our Movement has provided so much inspiration for others, that it has been so widely imitated, and that our tactics, heroes, heroines and methods, even our songs, have been appropriated as models for others….
People of color carry the badge of who we are on our faces. But we are far from the only people suffering from discrimination…. They deserve the laws, protections and civil rights, too.
(Thanks to Metro Weekly for the partial transcript.)
There were several moments of controversy during the 2 hour discussion. NAACP President Benjamin Todd Jealous joined the panel and was asked why the organization has an anti-gay preacher, Keith Ratliff, on its board. Ratliff claimed in March that gay rights activists have “hijacked” the Civil Rights movement.
Jealous responded, “He did not say it in the name of the NAACP…. We have board members who hold all sorts of divergent views.”
The last speaker, transgender audience member Ashley Love, pointed out the importance of including transgender people in the discussion:
“The NAACP was founded because black people were being excluded from having a seat at the table,” she said. “So why would we as an LGBT black coalition exclude transsexual and transgender people, who are the most vulnerable, the most marginalized, the most endangered in the entire coalition?”
Other critics of the Convention noted that there were neither transgender nor bisexual members of the panel.
But the people at the town hall, and many of the news reports, agree that the first NAACP LGBT panel was a good start for the veteran civil rights organization, and could have a positive effect on the regional branches and thousands of members nationwide.
A Lesbian in the Bush: Tales of LGBT Life in a Native Village
by Angela Minor
Please welcome a new contributor, Angela Minor, with a new series on her experiences as an openly LGBT teacher in the Southeast Alaska village of Angoon. First of a multipart series.
Angela Minor is a professional freelance writer. She specializes in destination pieces, personality profiles, and civil rights commentary. Her work is published locally, regionally, nationally and internationally. Sample portfolios can be seen at iFreelance, Yahoo Contributor Network, and 10ThousandCouples. Follow her on Twitter @Angela_Minor.
Moving to a new location and starting a new job both rank at the top of the greatest-stressors-in-life list. I feel sure the data for these studies did not include relocating to a Native Tlingit subsistence village in the bush of Alaska. Nor did they incorporate information from LGBT individuals. Therefore, the stress-findings on this list paled in comparison to the “nerves” I experienced as Mal inched her way into the deep port at Angoon.
With two dogs, a bird, and a U-Haul trailer in tow, I exited the ferry M/V Malaspina (Mal) into the pouring rain and darkness. The school system had offered me a teaching job several months earlier, and this was the moment for which I had planned. Two teachers met me at the dock and guided me to the system-housing apartment. They pointed to the building and quickly departed, leaving behind admonitions to watch for bears. I knew that Admiralty Island had three bears to every person, but I didn’t think that meant in the town! After all, the island was almost a million square acres? I added this to the stress list for the night.
After sitting anxiously on the floor of the empty apartment waiting for daylight, the first visitor arrived at my door. The neighbor, a fellow teacher, came knocking with greetings and advice. “The native people will want to know why you came with a female companion,” he stated. My partner at the time was with me, so there was, in my mind, no confusion as to my demographic – female, white, lesbian. He “assured” me that in a village the size of Angoon (pop. 600) everyone would know by lunchtime. I had plainly told the hiring committee months ago, and had lived openly for many years. I did not see a problem. Honestly, the bears made me more nervous that the neighbor’s predictions.
The first day of school arrived and my little leaky pre-fab classroom was overflowing with fifth and sixth grade students. This was the day to test the new teacher, which is the rule in every school. One student in particular, let’s call him Johnny, led the charge to determine who was the leader. He danced around, shouted, told jokes, left the room, and rolled around on the floor. So I sat on the floor with him, calmly explaining that he could participate in his own education or go see the principal. He chose the principal. All was calm, until the next morning.
Before the school day began, I was summoned to the principal’s office to meet with Johnny’s grandfather. Walking up the hill to the main building, the neighbor’s predictions rushed unexpectedly into my mind. This meeting was not going to be about teaching, the classroom, or Johnny – it was going to be about me personally. As my blood pressure rose, I reviewed all the responses that every LGBT person keeps in their mind for just such an occasion.
I entered the office and could cut the tension with a knife. The grandfather’s body language was hostile and Johnny wore a look of smug victory. Clearly the meeting had begun without me. Without the niceties of introduction, the grandfather spouted out, “Why are you picking on Johnny?” Before I could inhale for a reply, he responded to his own question. “You white people always treat us like this…” My brain froze. This was not about LGBT bigotry; it was about racial bigotry. As we continued through the meeting in search of common ground for Johnny’s education, I listened carefully for any indication whatsoever of anti-gay sentiment. There was none. I could not, however, take comfort in this since the room was filled with the grandfather’s racially laden accusations and ignorance. Clearly I would have an even steeper hill to climb in Angoon.
To be continued.
It Gets Better for Native American Youth
“This is for all the LGBTQ Native youth throughout the country. From the villages in Alaska, to the Islands in Hawaii, to every corner of Indian Reservations across America… It Gets Better… we are living proof!!”
If you or someone you know is feeling alone, call the Trevor Project, they can help: 1-866-4U-TREVOR.
Watch the new It Gets Better video from the National Native American AIDS Prevention Center:
Things I have learned this year as Grand Duke XVIII
What is it really like to hold your first title in the Imperial Court of All Alaska? A few weeks before the step-down Ducal Ball, Fairbanks Grand Duke Lynnette wrote a list of lessons she learned during the year as Duke of Fairbanks. Although it’s specific to her reign, many of the lessons are true for titleholders in general.
Why should LGBT college students return to Alaska after graduation?
Bent Alaska received a great topic request from an Alaska-raised grad student who is studying in the lower 48: What is it like to be an openly LGBT professional in Alaska?
I’m a new reader to your blog and 18-year Alaskan. I left Alaska to go to university in 2005 and stayed for medical school. I’m currently in my seventh year. At my university there are usually about 5 or 6 kids from Alaska each year and inevitably, most are gay. In my year, only one of the kids from Alaska was not gay (and he was an awesome dude!)
It seems like a lot of young gay Alaskans get out of Alaska as soon as they can — that’s old news. What I’m interested in are those Alaskans who are gay who left, but went back.
Why did they choose to return? How have their experiences been? What is it like to be an out professional in Alaska? Rural v. urban? What kind of community awaits them? Did they return with a partner?
I’d love to read more in depth about this issue!
OK, readers — what do you think? Did you return after graduating from an out of state school? Tell us your reasons for returning, and what it’s like for you as an LGBT professional in Alaska. Leave a comment below, or email us directly at Bent Alaska @ gmail .com (without the spaces), and we will include your response in the follow up post. Help this university student and others decide where to start a career after graduation.
And if you have a topic you’d like to see on Bent Alaska, please tell us about it!
Photo: A crowd of college students at the 2007 Pittsburgh University Commencement, by Kit of Pittsburgh. Via Wikimedia Commons; used in accordance with Creative Commons licensing.
On being a greenie gay girl in a man’s mining camp, or, Don’t judge others for what they must do to survive: Part one
by Taylor
We know what it is to be willing to do, quite literally, anything to make something work, to make it through another month, week or day. First of a series. See Part Two.
It’s a hop, skip, and a short trip in a puddle-jumper from civilization to the Small South here in The Greatland. I am surrounded by people that I ordinarily would not socialize with, even in the outer constellations in the outer revolutions of the small sky that makes up my circles of friends.
Not that I am “snobby,” or looking down my nose; there is only so far that a mutual love of (or lust for) women will go, and the camp is predominantly male roughnecks. There are a total of nine women in camp, on a good week, and even the younger men have a certain amount of chauvinism about them — one of the young men here recently told me I could be “really beautiful” if I just grew out my hair, and proceeded to proposition me with money to do so. Thankfully, I have a good sense of humor, and laughed…and then told him I stopped doing things to please others a long while ago, and am a better person for it.
The world I occupy for much of my summer is so different from my usual comfort zone, and I find myself spending my days listening to Ani and other revolutionary folk singers to hang onto myself when I find that I am slipping from myself. Compartmentalization comes easily, and I develop an outer shell not unlike the one that got me through high school, my gay growing pains, and coming out to my dad’s side of the family: Tough, hard, weathered titanium, with very few chinks or gaps in the plating.
I become someone else, begin to will myself to not care too much, to remind myself of why I am here — to patch people up when they get injured, and to make money. “Mercenary” is the word one of my volunteer Fire/EMS colleagues used once to describe me, and I’ve decided it fits painfully well. I have sold my ethics, sold my soul — if ever I had one to begin with, sold my sense of self-worth, of feminism, of right, of wrong….sold what makes me, me, and my politics, mine. I have sold all, if only for these last two years, because of one horrible thing: It pays well enough to allow me to survive.
The economy has taken such a dip, that a multi-certified, CDL-papered, degree-carrying, enterprising individual such as myself could apply to thirty different jobs in a two-month period (yes, I counted), and hear back from no one. And then I was offered this position. I am a medic, in a camp of about sixty people, in the middle of nowhere, in Alaska. The catch? It’s a camp for mineral exploration. It represents everything that I’ve resisted in resisting Capitalism’s takeover, and many, if not a vast majority, of my fellow campmates hold worldviews that directly oppose my own.
I hear racial slurs I thought long dead in anything resembling civilized society on a daily basis. I see the few women that are here, pushed to the breaking point. I am told that I am a “masculine female,” and thereby “one of the boys,” and “okay to hang with.” Ironic, how my dykedom, my DIFFERENCE, one of my many facets of divisiveness, is what binds me to these men, in their eyes. I am told I am valuable; I am told that I am a good worker; I am praised for my skills, my drive, my prodigious work ethic.
I do not tell them that I work so hard, impress so much, so that I can earn a raise…and get out. I have continued to apply for work in my time with this company, to no avail. So, I have determined that I will bust my fictitious balls in order to pay off what remains of my student debt, and thereby free myself, if only financially. I actually have difficulty sleeping, some nights, knowing what I do, and who I work for. The latter, of course, is the problem. I love my work…if only this country were willing to pay taxes to insure that the entirety of its Fire/EMS personnel were paid (the statistical average for paid emergency personnel hovers somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five percent…the rest are volunteer, or part-time, at best).
There are far worse ways to do this, but my point in this tidbit of opinion, on my admission of being one of those hardened realists that will do what they have to, if it means feeding their households, is that we should recognize it in others. As a community, we know what it is to be willing to do, quite literally, anything to make something work, to make it through another month, week or day. Not everyone can find a job — that will actually feed them — in activism or at the local co-op. Not all of us have politically correct positions, or even co-workers. Some of us have been reduced to existing in some hellish hybrid of the 1940s and the current era in order to make it through another year.
This one for you, James Crump
James Crump came to Alaska to find himself, and stayed in Alaska to share himself with us. His death on June 25 at Anchorage’s Pride parade was a blow not only to his family & friends, but also to our whole community. But just what is our community — and where do we go from here?
Doug Frank: Grand Marshal for Alaska Pride Fest 2011
Doug Frank has been announced as tthe Grand Marshall for Alaska Pride Fest 2011. Alaska Pride Fest provided this biography documenting Frank’s decades of service to the LGBTQA community of Alaska, including his work with World AIDS Day and the Names Project Quilt, cofounding of the annual Pride Conference, and the 20012 Pride Month display at Anchorages’s Loussace Library.
