AFN 2024: Fish, Family, and the Future
By Colin A. Warren
Forget about conferences as boring, staid, too technical or uncool and welcome to the Alaska Federation of Native Conference 2024. The Alaska Federation of Natives, or AFN, includes 177 federally recognized tribes, 154 village corporations, 9 regional corporations, and 9 regional nonprofit and tribal consortiums. Their yearly conference is the gathering of political, social, and subsistence happenings for Natives in the state of Alaska. From October 17 to 19 it took over the Dena’ina Convention Center in Anchorage, and pretty much the entire city along with it.
Native Power Rising
There is, of late, a collective sense of swelling power and pride amongst Natives, both here in Alaska and nationally. UAF recently converted what was our College of Rural and Community Development to the College of Indigenous Studies, effectively making our university the first public institution of higher education in the nation with such a college. UAF is aiming to build a $55 million dollar facility beside the Museum of the North to house it.
Last week President Biden formally apologized for the atrocities born of the so-called “boarding school” era in which an untold number of Native children were ripped from their parents in an attempt to destroy their culture. In September, the Navy issued a formal apology for the U.S. Naval attack on the village of Kake; followed just last week by the formal apology for the attack on the village of Angoon; both occurred in the 1800s.
Meanwhile the television show “Molly of Denali” is winning awards while speaking Gwich’in. And documentaries like “One With The Whale,” which followed St. Lawrence Island Yupiks, are becoming more and more common in popular culture.
Kicking Off The Conference
As the conference began on October 17, fall season was in its final throes in Anchorage as a long line of people curled out of the entrance to the convention center and snaked its way down F street. The mood in line was jovial as the morning light bombarded downtown glass with oranges and purples. Even though the center is only three stories, its architecture is redolent of uber modern skyscrapers seen in Manhattan with all glass, metal, clean angles, and neck-craning high ceilings.
Riding the escalator up towards the main ballroom, a sign in between floors read: “VOTE ANYWAY! Not sure about your registration, voting status, eligibility, or precinct? Vote Anyway! If you aren’t eligible, you’ll simply get a letter saying so. The only time anyone gets in trouble is if they are trying to vote more than once.”
The atmosphere was familial yet hip, with lots of sharply dressed people sporting a wide array of vests, dresses, a fair amount of fur and earrings, the earrings. Kuspuks were the unofficial attire of the event. Though it was noticeable how many men wore Raiders gear. Some men dressed to the nines, sporting bright suits and flashy studs in their ears. Many people greeted one another winsomely, thrilled to bump into their friends and family from across the state. It felt like a reunion rock concert. If there was ever a gathering with cooler earrings, I’ve never seen it.
The opening of the events displayed some of the cultural complexities of Alaska Native culture. The first action on stage was a Russian Orthodox prayer in the form of a beautiful harmonizing song. This was followed by a procession of Native veterans carrying flags to the stage during the National Anthem. Fun fact: Alaskan Natives serve in the U.S. Armed Forces at a higher rate than any other group of Americans.
New Anchorage Mayor Suzanne LaFrance came on stage, stating, “Alaska Native history is the history of this land.” She spoke to the crowd of thousands, hitting political points on public school attendance, winter accommodations for the unhoused, and a joke about Costco that really didn’t land.
Governor Dunleavy couldn’t be bothered to show up in person, apparently, even though he made it to Trump’s rally in Madison Square Garden in NYC the following week, but he sent a video message. He emphasized an increase in public safety during his tenure and noted Alaskan charter schools marked success, the latter of which was curious because he has been trying to reformat our state’s charter school’s bureaucratic structure, the very structure which has been nationally adulated. When Joe Nelson, co-chair of AFN and one of emcees of the event, asked for applause for the governor, the response was tepid; however, when he asked for applause for the governor’s wife, Rose, a Kobuk River Valley Iñupiaq, the crowd went wild.
The keynote speech was delivered by Julie Kitka, who just retired as President of AFN after 33 years in office. All the seats filled up as she began. She touched on her career, the importance of family, the necessity of broadband for all villages, and went on to lose people’s attention by thanking so many people no one could possibly keep track. She emphasized that the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, or ANCSA, the largest land claims settlement in the history of the U.S., is “an experiment.” She presumably framed this as such because a lot of what goes on at AFN conferences is the continual communications and renegotiations of tribal governments' relationships with the federal government. For instance, this year, a lot of speeches and panels were focused on rearranging the current agreements on subsistence hunting and fishing rights.
Her speech was followed by a line of dozens of delegates making their way one-by-one to the stage to offer her gifts. With reading glasses perched on her hair and a soft smile, she humbly accepted them.
Outside the Ballroom
Part of Dena’ina Convention Center’s excellent design is the way in which the building accepts sunlight. In the ballroom, there are olympic pool sized skylights accompanied by recessed lighting. As you step out of the ballroom, on the third floor, 20 foot tall windows allow so much light it’s blinding. Once your eyes adjust, you realize that all the windows frame the Chugach mountains perfectly to the east and south. As if at insistence that the center would not be just another purely modern building, in the sunniest corner of this 3rd story’s atrium-feeling area, there is at the top of the windows a large yet ornate stained glass landscape scene that is strictly Alaska from the mountains and rivers and down to the silhouettes of caribou, moose, wolves, and humans.
In this well-lit area upstairs, booths abounded. Vote No On 2, a movement to keep Ranked Choice Voting in our state, was one of the largest sponsors of AFN and held court outside the ballroom, passing out buttons and pamphlets. Starlink was there, too, right near GCI. University of Alaska, or UA, had a booth with folders containing their Alaska Native Success Initiative Annual Report to AFN that included quite a bit about the new Indigenous Studies Center, amongst other things. The workers at the UA told me that they were resident advisors, though, and couldn’t answer many of my questions. Conversely, when I stopped by the Rasmuson Foundation the extremely well-informed person at their booth turned out to be the CEO and President, Gretchen Guess, and a former Alaska state senator, who encouraged me to encourage students to apply for grants – they offer them to tribes and tribal governments but also to all Alaskan artist of all sorts.
Mike Cronk, currently running for Alaska senate to represent the Interior, let out a friendly chuckle when he knocked a water bottle out of my jacket pocket, but he didn’t try or offer to pick it up from the floor.
All the known names in Alaska media - Andrew Kitchenman, Nat Herz, Wesley Early, Sage Smiley, Yereth Rosen, Anna Lionas, Lori Townsend - were buzzing around like bees to pollen, recording, writing, talking, writing.
On the second floor, there were a bunch of smaller rooms for smaller panels and group talks, such as how to protect personal intellectual property or regional tribe consortium planning meetings, some of which the media was allowed in, and some not. One room’s sign read: Free Legal Advice.
Back on the first floor was a warren of delight. Here booth after booth was profering either artisan goods or wildly diverse information on groups or topics relating to Alaska and its tribes. The Ted Stevens Center for Arctic Security Studies did its best to foster conversation about the needs of Alaska. There was beadwork aplenty and this is where the earring artistry really thrived, along with necklaces, and so many options it was hard to pick. I eventually settled on a dangly pair with otter fur for my girlfriend from Ruby Rouser, an Alutiq-Sugpiaq from Juneau (Insta @ ruby.rouser). There were so many quality options it was dizzying. There was some fur there, too, but nothing like that offered at the Fur Rondy.
Word of the day was “dentalium,” which means tooth shells or tusk shells used for Indigenous jewelry.
I bumped into Bryan Uher, UAF Associate Vice Chancellor of Rural and Workforce Education, milling about the scene. He said he was in town for meetings at UAA but made sure to stop by the conference to see as much as he could.
The FBI had a booth and they were letting people try on flak jackets to pose for pictures in. PBS had a camera set up asking people the question: What does it mean to be a Native American? It was in preparation for a forthcoming documentary celebrating the 250th anniversary of America. An organization called SMART handed out over 500 portable gun locks for free. Naaqtaq Gear store, of Nome, was selling lots of kuspuks.
A short, wiry man with white hair and sharp blue eyes made eye contact with me from across the floor. As we moved closer he said, “Do I know you?” I replied I didn’t think so and he said “You look like a journalist. I’m Seth Katner.” To suddenly meet and be told by perhaps my favorite Alaskan author that I fit the part was a pleasing moment. What wasn’t pleasing was to learn that when Katner returned home in a couple days that he would see most of his worldly possessions destroyed by flood waters in Kotzebue, a stark reminder that climate change is beating on our doors harder in this state than most. The floods not only soaked everything but it also happened at the time of year when a deep cold came, so after buildings and items were soaked, they froze. Many others in the hub town suffered the same fate as well.
All three Alaskan congressional delegates had booths set up on the first floor as well, each manned by professionally attired women.
Alaskan Congressional Delegates
U.S. Representative Mary Peltola spoke on the first day of the convention. With cutouts of her mug on sticks bobbing throughout the crowd, she hit her usual talking points: unity, fish, political moderation and that she is “Team Alaska” before she is part of any party. I never managed to get close to her to ask her questions at the event but, later in the day when I left my Airbnb, Mary was hanging out in the yard next door. Even after a long day of conference she came over and was kind to me and my doggo, remembering me from a recent interview. It reminded me that I like to think of Alaska politics as simultaneously the most expansive and the narrowest. The next day, U.S. Senator Dan Sullivan started with the importance of codifying the legality of using things like feathers and ivory in Native art, then went on to discuss whaling, and buying American fish instead of Chinese or Russian. U.S. Senator Lisa Murkowski made the biggest splash with a discursive speech that seemed a bit odd, which made sense when she explained that less than 24 hours before she was at an Arctic country conference in Iceland and was feeling not just a little jetlagged. She nonetheless emphasized the importance of Natives to her career, saying, “Thank you for opening your hearts. Thank you for opening your communities to me so that I can be a better representative for you.”
After she left the stage, there was a moment for the media to approach Murkowski, so I took advantage to press her about Indigenous Studies Center funding. Of the approximately $55 million needed, there has only been about $5 million raised so far, which in fact came from a joint effort between Peltola and Murkowski. When asked if she planned to help raise more funds, she replied: “My observation is when those in university leadership get focused on a project, they do a pretty good job of working to raise the dollars that are necessary. It is a big step, but I think what we want to see is that commitment coming from a multitude of sources, so that it’s not just on the federal side…I think what we’ll do is when we go back into this next congress and start working on the next round of appropriations bills, by then I think you’ll see the university further along in its fundraising plan and that’s when we’ll sit down and talk about what are the different components that will build this out so we can execute it.”
Musical Nights and Q’u, q’u yet dadhi nuntgheshesht’in yida (“Goodbye, see you later in” Dena’ina language)
Two of the three nights of the convention were topped off with traditional Native dancing from groups from around the state. They performed in the main ballroom under rock n’ roll worthy lights as the full moon swung around the horizon. The tickets sold out fast and early. Groups from Sitka, Anchorage, Savoonga, Utquiagvik, Chevak, Marshall, Bethel, Wainwright and Fairbanks all performed this year.
I was only able to make it to Friday night performances, but I was particularly enamored by the contrast between the Chevak Tanqik and Marshall dance groups. The Chevak performed with a fully feathered regalia to accompany their upbeat songs which were laced with playfulness. Marshall took to the stage donning the red paint hand across their faces to indicate support for the Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women movement, and their songs were threaded with the appropriate pathos for such a set. Both were profoundly moving and left the audience enraptured and hungry for more. Kids played everywhere, with everyone.
We capped off the convention with cocktails overlooking the city and inlet at the Crow’s Nest, the fancy bar and restaurants at the top of the Captain Cook Hotel. While sucking down oysters, Fairbanks-area state legislature representative Maxine Dibert, a Koyukon Athabaskcan, sat down beside us. She told me that she’d read the most recent issue of The Sun Star and that she’d love to do an interview. And with that, and with this story, we will keep telling the stories of Alaska Natives more often and more prominently.