Iñupiatun and I

So, I have a personal vendetta against Meta. I don't have a lot of nice things to say about Facebook or Instagram- I often feel trapped on the platforms due to my community: all of my elders and friends that live in Alaska use Facebook. In ironic fashion, the only reason I am here today, learning Inupiatun is because of these platforms. I remember an ad, of all things, catching my attention. Iḷisaġvik College was advertising Iñupiaq culture classes, and offering waived tuition for native students enrolling in classes. After a few weeks debating if I wanted to try or not, I was told by my work that they offered education stipends, and I had no excuse not to try it out. I initially started with a basics of Iñupiatun, a self directed online course, and a qulliq carving class. Both were short classes, about 4 weeks long. During that time period, I was running all

around for work, and ended up having to tote my large block of soapstone and series of metal rasps with me, through airports in Anchorage, Utqiaġvik, Chandler AZ, and Everett WA. Despite the extra baggage, I am still so proud of what I made. When I first lit it, during class with a bunch of others, I felt connected. I had to turn off my camera and cry a little, as I am still pretty ashamed of showing emotions in front of others. This 5 lb piece of dark rock with little ribbons of green rooted me- while also being the catalyst for a journey into belonging.

The first bit of Inupiatun I really memorized, and tried hard to write into the neurons in my brain is this: Uvaŋa Bristol Lakshas, Iñupiaqsiñiġa Sanatu. Pelagio-kuayaaguruŋalu Smith-kuayaaguruŋalu. Paŋmapak iñuuruŋa Sequim-mi. Aakaga Jeweline Smith, iñupiaqsisiŋa Aqutiauq. Aapaga Brent Lakshas. Taataga John Smith Jr,  iñupiaqsisiŋa Iqiḷaluk. Aanaga Minnie Pelagio, iñupiaqsisiŋa Miñġun. Savaktuŋa E-Line Media-mi. Iḷisaqtuŋa Iḷisaġvigmi.