[photos, travel] where i found my wings: juneau, AK
6 hours, 26 minutes
| sequel post to [photos] in search of home: goodbye, southwest
i was invited in the last few weeks to aak'w kwaan aani (juneau, AK) for a language revitalization gathering!
despite working in sm'algya̱x for over 5 years at this stage, i've only had the opportunity to meet just one parent-child duo of learners in-person. i'm an internet kid by upbringing. i've always lived remotely from anyone i truly connected with, let alone other tsimshians, and i'm very used to keeping people at this wingspan's length. so, this trip had high emotional stakes for me - i worried that seeing me in-person, some irreducible part of me previously obscured by the screen would come spilling out. i have always felt that there was something ultraviolet about myself that is painfully visible to everyone else.
asda hup'l ("in the evening")
it did not go perfectly.
ła amsg̱a'nak ("a little later")
people were very kind to me. i was welcomed with open arms by so many, all of my friends and even complete strangers who had only heard about me were so excited to meet me. i was told repeatedly and emphatically that this is a home for me, if i'd like it to be.
southeast michigan may be closer conceptually than phoenix ever could be to my home, but it still hasn't filled my mold for the contours of the environment i know so well, or even quite the climate. juneau, though, was amazing. it reminded me of what i loved about where i grew up - the mountains and the endless trees to nestle you, the proximity to wildlife - and what i missed from where this part of my family came: the even colder climate, the Sopping Fucking Wet, and jesus christ the fog.
Fog...
not captured by these pictures is this mist surrounding the trees, was actively rising like smoke from the forest. i had literally in my entire life never seen anything like this before. it looks kindof lame in the photo but i promise you it was the most incredible shit in-person. there were many times i caught these plumes of fog climbing to the heavens and just couldn't stop staring. as much as i love the mountains where i came up, they are way too dry to pull this off lol.
an amazing type of rain welcomed me here as well - this delicate, flurry-like spray on especially foggy days like these that permeated the air. it was nothing like the heavy, desperate raindrops i was used to in interior BC, phoenix, and southeast MI. i loved how it felt on my pelt and how it accentuated the cold. it instantly felt so "correct" to my body to experience, i was kindof shocked i'd never seen it before. in sm'algya̱x, when something hits the spot just right, we say a short and satisfied "eh"!
asda k'wił ts'ikts'ik ("during a car ride")
asda sa'ap yaayu ("while going for a walk")
auke rec, a very beautiful bay area just outside of town
i've been suspicious for a while now of finding "home"; i struggle invariably with every place i live until i leave1. i've not often gone intentionally - my preferred method of moving is escape. this sortof necessitates forsaking what i found where i just was to meld into here, shuffling away what hurt there so i don't have to acknowledge that it ever mattered. and of course i didn't, and don't, live in juneau (soyjack-crying-behind-smiling-mask.jpg). but despite going in with tempered, maybe even fearful expectations, i fit like a fish to the river. and all the other tsimshians who didn't live or come up here, even the ones who also grew up quite geographically disconnected, seemed to - or outright stated they did - feel the same way.
you thought you were safe on this post? no. cloudy sunset attack
i think that's the key. i was a fish in a river of many others; i was not an anomaly. no one singled me out or treated me distinctly. i was perhaps coddled a little since it was my first time ever to AK and meeting my language friends, i was given humbling and wonderful gifts and taken care of. but, this is all part of the culture; someday it'll be someone else's turn to have that, too. then i can be the one to show them around their awaiting home, as many people did in a way that almost made me worried they thought i was moving in that day.
and it was surreal beyond words, being surrounded by my language and the languages of some of our closest neighbours (x̱aad kil and lingit), by so many pts'aan and weavings and works of northwest coast art. sm'algya̱x is not necessarily widely spoken in juneau, but clearly enough people know it that to my utter bewilderment, i heard two snippets of sm'algya̱x randomly in public! usually the average for me is zero!! and i know i've been vague about what the gathering was but it did involve good, fulfilling, inspiring work, and collaborating together across tsimshian, haida, and tlingit speakers was just awesome. i felt so strong and so myself, hearing us all together.
the clan house inside the sealaska heritage institute building. this front panel is Huge and was created by father-son duo david a. boxley and david r. boxley.
so then, what happened that made it imperfect? that sounds pretty fuckin perfect, right? unfortunately, guys, my nightmare. i did a faux pas that set the feelings of someone i really, really look up to on guard. i don't want to give any more detail so as not to air dirty laundry, but that is exactly what i fear the most out of any dialogue tree i take in a social situation. unwittingly alienating someone i assume i naturally get along with is existentially intolerable to me.
following my once-and-for-all epiphany about having DID early in the summer, i've heard more than ever before from parts in previous lifetimes about how unprepared we were for living. a lot of the functioning i acquired in later years was built on a foundation of faking it until i made it - the dissociation stepping in as a sleek cover for the fact that in most situations, there was something beneath my dialogue that was crying. originating from traumatizing social situations in childhood, this tiny thing has been boxed in. i have had to learn, well, really a normal (i was about to say "tremendous"!) amount of patience for myself as i've encouraged the crying to come out, to touch the world directly and ask questions. i may have had n conversations and been in new social situations n times, but if i was taught in prior lives that i do no good in these scenarios and thereafter dissociated in every instance, i still haven't been given the chance to truly allow my nerves to submerge, to regulate and learn for ourselves what is danger and what is okay. i've merely skirted along until i knew it passed and i could return to baseline. so, at nearly 30 years old, i am unleashing my anxiety and trauma from its prison, talking with it, and allowing it to stem itself.
what a nightmare, to be stress-testing my system in this way in this situation and to have that happen. it was very, very hard on us. i still struggle to accept it.
mountains above the docks
i mean, maybe it was what i needed.
i would've absolutely preferred to not accidentally put off my friend. but after My Fucking Nightmare, i saw that nothing about the way anyone else treated me changed. i was not irrevocably marked. it was not paraded around as evidence that i was an acceptable target. as anomalous as it felt to me to happen - as someone who has otherwise carefully curated every social interaction i've had for decades to prevent this exact scenario - it's actually pretty normal to say something that lands sideways, from time-to-time. it's almost mathematically inevitable, with all the bumping from swimming alongside one another in droves through the misty river.
and, i still had to find my wings. (wait am i a fish or a bird)
crazy fucking mountains on seattle > juneau
another way i've felt alienated from my tsimshian heritage was finally tracing my crest. out of all 4 possible clans, i was not wolf, not raven, not even killerwhale, but eagle - this was the crest animal i've had the least proximity to in life. i felt really unworthy of it, and i felt awful about feeling that way, too. it's just that i've heard many tsimshians talk about close encounters or moments of connections with their clan animal; i've even been outright asked if i've had experiences with eagles, and was sorry to disappoint. i have a plausible history with all of these except for eagle.
sandy beach, on an island across the river from downtown
something changed in juneau. first, i functioned (if a bit haphazardly) in a scenario that had been daunting to me for years. i even made a misstep and am still surviving, one way or another. i was invited to things, reached out to, and greeted like i was just part of the family.
second - i saw FIVE (5!!) bald eagles flying around during a break at the language gathering. (FIVE (5) OF THEM)
what really solidified it though was an impromptu dancing of a chilkat apron, woven by my friend.
chilkat regalia (like blankets or headdresses) is historically prestigious, having then been worn by high-ranking people. crucially, chilkat blankets are also recordkeepers of history. the weaving technique is the most complex in the world; it can take 4 years for an expert to create a full blanket. it was also an extremely endangered artform not even a generation ago - very few people had been practicing it until just recently, thanks to colonization. there are ongoing efforts by many tlingit, tsimshian, and haida people (particularly women) and their apprentices to keep chilkat weaving alive. as you can imagine, it's uncommon and a huge honour to get an opportunity to dance one.
as an aside to drive home how amazing it is that this happened to me - i was lucky enough to witness a brand-new chilkat robe be cut from its loom in juneau, and danced alongside an older robe that was repaired simultaneously by the same weavers. here's a local news article about it that explains more the significance of chilkat weaving and why this was such a precious occasion. i got some really cool pictures of the robes being danced together, too - please appreciate how gorgeous they are:
Haa Shagóoní, on its loom and then danced with the over 100-year-old (!) robe
right there in my friend's hotel room, they tied their chilkat apron around my waist, and i danced eagle, arms outstretched in flight.
the apron would go on to be danced by three other of our friends there, who coincidentally were each the other 3 clans (killerwhale, wolf, and raven). it was fitting for this particular apron to be danced there for other reasons that amount to "its creation is extremely significant for tsimshians, and it brings us to where we belong". and years later, completely by accident, it still reminds us of its power. it is a living agent of history.
additionally to get to juneau in the first place, i of course flew (you have to to get there at all, if not by water).
and in retrospect, despite being a werewolf, it's not lost on me that one of my singular, most painful inexplicable yearnings since childhood has been to be able to fly.
finally, a rupture in the sky. here the clouds make you feel like a bug in a cup with a paper on the lid (it's awesome.)
i approached juneau very carefully. with more insight into my trauma history than ever, i didn't want another repeat of my previous ruptures with places where i run for anything good, no matter if it's even any good, because i'm terrified of the bad that exists. but i found something even better here - wiln 'waay na ḵ'a̱ḵ'ayu1. and with wings, i can go anywhere.
leaving phoenix, i worried what it meant that i felt empty contours only the perfect home would fill. it will never be easy; this can't change the fact that i literally have an identity disorder and will probably be predisposed to dissociation to some degree for the rest of my life. yet, with wings built from all the homes i've had, i can go anywhere - find my people here and bring what they offer to the next there, find as many homes as i need, try over and over, until the end. that is my connection with the eagle.
none other than the mendenhall glacier! so cool!! um. it used to be bigger,