The presidential election is next week, and here in the office, people are restless. Like
everyone else in America, we’re waiting for the results, and unsure of the future. It’s the only thing we talk about. At once, people seem confident and tentative at what next Tuesday night’s results will show. Personally, like it or not, I think President Trump will be reelected, though I think there is a good chance the Senate will flip blue. With Senator Linsey Graham’s contradictory stances on the election of Supreme Court justices in an election year (“use this against me…”), Senator Joni Ernst’s inability to recall the price of soybeans in Iowa, Cal Cunningham’s momentum in North Carolina, and Scott Kelly’s momentum in Arizona, I think there are plenty of areas for Democrats to win out in the upper chamber. Meanwhile, though the pandemic has altered things, I don’t know if I think America is willing to leave behind Trump. His active campaigning through his presidency has kept his base in line, while increased partisanship has cemented many Republican and single-issue conservative voters to Trump by association. In any case, not a lot of work is getting done as we wait. I think that no matter the results, folks are going to be happy that the election is over. There is a palpable uncertainty here that we’re all fearful to address. Around town, storefronts from Farragut Square to McLean Gardens are boarding up their windows and doors. There’s fears that the pandemic won’t dissuade people from rioting if the results don’t break one way or another. Back at my apartment, my roommate is stocking up on non-perishables, just in case it’s not safe to go out for a while. In my classes, professors have been encouraging us to prepare for civil unrest around the country as we grapple with the results of the election. Tensions are high, and fear seeps in whenever one begins to think too hard on what the results could be. I’d like to get to work as usual, and I know everyone else feels the same way, but for now it just feels like we’re captives. Captives waiting for our future to be determined by an unknown mass of people. It’s a scary reality to be living through. For all of the chronic stress I and everyone else have been feeling due to the pandemic, this added acute stress and anxiety isn’t great for one’s mental health. I just look forward to being able to get back out and live life normally again. With no election stress, no pandemic stress, just health, safety, security, and freedom. The thought of that future is helping me pull through this week as we wait. I hope it comes sooner rather than later. For now, I wait and pray.
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Similar to last week, work hasn’t been too stressful this week. The main task I’ve been
working with is retroactively attaching contacts to events for the Senator’s virtual rural tour this past summer. In all honesty, it is pretty basic clerical work. But it’s given me a good opportunity to reflect, and like all weeks, to learn. Reviewing everyone the Senator met with, I saw so many Alaska Native leaders I’ve never heard of. From various Alaska Native regional corporations to advocacy groups to rural governments, there was such a great Alaska Native presence. Reading some of their biographies, I was amazed to read about the experiences each brought with them. I sometimes forget that in Alaska, our relatively recent colonial history and westernization means that many of the progenitors of our major statewide organizations and institutions are still present with us. Being reminded by my task this week was a great lesson in understanding both the richness of our Alaska Native community as well as the institutional knowledge we carry. Reviewing all of the experiences and stories each member holds, I hopefully pictured myself in their position one day. Having the ear of a senator, representing their communities humbly and faithfully. Ideally passing along whatever knowledge I can to young folks just like me now. It’s an inspiring thought. I think of something my mom has drilled into me about Indigenous cultures generally, and our insistence upon sharing, learning, and growing – all with humility. Throughout her parenthood of my sister and I, she taught us that our Elders ought to be at once venerated and cared for, and also listened to and learned from. With that thought in mind I went back through to the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Project Jukebox, listening to some of the stories Elders like Clarence Alexander and Lorraine Adams had recorded. It was nice to work listening to them. It made me miss home and my family, but it was a good reminder of where I come from and what I hope to do, as well as what has been made possible by those who came before me. In the end, the clerical work I started off with became much more meaningful than simply digitally tying names to an event. And I’m all the more grateful for it. It’s been a quiet week in the office. The Senate has been out of session and will continue to
be for the rest of the month through the election, so my fellow interns and I make up the majority of the office staff actually working in the office. Out of session, we’re back to dressing casually, and I have to say I’m getting more and more used to wearing khakis, dress shirts, and sweaters. Being out of session naturally slows down the workload for all of us, which can be nice. I’ve heard the interns up front complaining about having nothing to do, but in the back I like the autonomy. I’ve taken to reading over federal reports on “Indian Affairs”. Beyond reviewing the Chehalis decision, I’ve been able to read about Carcieri v. Salazar (2009) and its impacts on federally recognized tribes. I even was able to get whole reports commissioned by Congress printed for my reading. In short, I was in wonk heaven. With my pen in hand, legal pad beside me, and new binder full of federal Indian policy analysis in front of me, I set myself out to learn. I didn’t have any particular purpose besides learning. As I’ve mentioned before, as a student and a young professional, I know I have a lot to learn if I hope to be the best advocate and representative I can be for Alaska Native and American Indian communities. That said, I relished the opportunity to learn more. If there’s one thing I’ve loved about my time with Sen. Sullivan’s office, it’s that I’ve been able to blend my personal interests with professional activities. With each thing I learn through my research, I’m better prepared to reply to constituent needs. All the while, I get to build out skills that may come in handy later. It’s a symbiotic relationship I am trying to take full advantage of, and is another thing I am really grateful for. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll be able to do something that is the subject of reports like these. This week I turned in the first draft of the Senator’s Alaska Federation of Natives (AFN)
speech. It marked the end of a couple weeks of work on a project I’ve spent more time, energy, and thought on than near any other single thing I’ve worked on in my entire life. Simultaneously, it is probably the single greatest thing I have produced (to-date) that has a possibility of making a mark in the world. Most of my work has been resigned to a classroom, a club, or a back room, away from public consumption. With this speech though… everything is different. Public officials’ AFN speeches are legendary, and basically serve as a “State of the Union” speech for Alaska Natives. They work to set the agenda for Alaska Native policy at the state and federal level, and outline officials’ long-term views for Alaska Natives and their respective governments. I still remember how influential Governor Walker’s 2018 AFN speech was. The tears shed in the audience and honor song shared afterwards. It was huge. For this year’s speech, I wanted the Senator’s message to reflect both the everlasting strength and fortitude of the communities he would be speaking to as well as the spirit he has for working with them. To match the moment we all are in while maintaining a certitude for the direction we must head moving forward. I felt daunted by the task. To start, I looked back over his past speeches to AFN. Reviewing the speeches as written and also as presented, I hoped to get an insight into the way the Senator talked. The ways he communicates and also how he sees the world. The conceptions he carries concerning Alaska Natives and the ways in which he frames the concerns and capabilities of Alaska Native communities. Reviewing four years of speeches, I took over two dozen pages of notes. I identified themes and noted repeated phrases and worked as best I could to solidify his cadence, humor, and performative style. After that, I went back and reviewed all of the work we’ve done as an office over the past year concerning Alaska Native policy. With the help of a couple staff members, I worked on identifying our recent accomplishments while tying in some issues the Senator has consistently touched upon in each of his past speeches. Creating a framework of issue areas and policy approaches, I finally decided upon a couple different calls to action. In the end, the first draft of the speech is around 2,500 words. And there is plenty more room to expand. But, with the speech just a week or so away, it’s now out of my hands. I don’t know what will happen to it. I sure hope that some of what I wrote makes it in to the final draft. I’m nervous to see what gets cut and what is kept by the time the Senator delivers his speech on the 16 th . In any case, I look forward to seeing what comes of it. If it has any impact on anybody. Or, like most speeches, if it is just lost to the ether. This week, I had the pleasure of getting to know one of our legislative counsel team, Scott, a
bit better. Scott and I work kitty corner to one another in the office on days we’re both in, and before this week our conversations mostly revolved around basketball – small talk about who was doing well, who needed a bit of help, and who we thought would do well as the season continues on. This week though, during a lull in the workday, we connected a bit more over a letter I was writing concerning the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). Admittedly, I am not an expert on VAWA, and had not until recently exercised due diligence in reviewing the bill. But this week, as I was preparing to write a letter touching on it, I was able to go back through and explore the legislative history of VAWA. Reviewing the legislative history of the bill, I was surprised to note both its bipartisan support and its failure to be reauthorized in 2018. Scott, who has spent extensive time on the Hill in former Senator Ted Stevens’ (R-AK) office and Representative Don Young’s (R- AK) office, taught me a lot about how legislation is crafted and steered on both the House and Senate sides of Congress. Through our conversation, Scott put me in touch with an old colleague of his on the House side, Deputy Chief of Staff for Representative Young Alex Ortiz. Scott told me that Alex was one of his go-to people for questions concerning Alaska Native policy questions, and encouraged me to reach out to him with the questions I had. Over email, we set aside a time to call and get to know one another a little bit and get to answering some of the questions I had. I was elated. Here I am, practically an intern, speaking directly with a deputy chief of staff about wonky policy related questions I have about a bill that didn’t pass. At once I was surprised he’d take a minute out of his day to talk to me and grateful for the opportunity to learn from another person knowledgeable about something I’m intensely interested in. Looking back, a small part of me feels like I shouldn’t be so surprised with the opportunity to talk to Alex. After all, I’ve had amazing opportunities before. I ran the Save Our Seas 2.0 Act down to the floor in my first week of working here. I saw the impeachment documents being rolled from the House side of the Capitol to the Senate chambers, and was able to sit down and see the impeachment hearings first hand. I’ve met with old teachers and talked with senators. I’ve done so much more through this experience than I ever imagined would be possible. I have a job I love with people I care about and work that doesn’t feel like work. On some level, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at what happens anymore. But I am. In my heart, I’m still “just a kid from Alaska”, and I always intend to be that way. The honest truth is that I never knew I’d be here. I didn’t even know an experience like this would be possible for a person like me. That I’d be able to have half of what I have. Or be able to see anyone I visit with at work. Talking with Alex and Scott about issues that matter to me, in the single greatest place where action can be had on those same issues, is exactly what I dreamed of. To be able to do it though, and move a fantasy to a reality leaves me amazed and forever grateful. I can’t wait to see what’s next, and be surprised by it too. |
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Photo used under Creative Commons from Mike Juvrud