Cucuklillruunga!

"Cucuklillruunga" is the Yupik word meaning "I voted." Tuesday, I did my civic duty and voted in my second presidential election. And, while I am ecstatic with the results, I'm not writing this post to gloat or to advertise my own politics. Instead, I wanted to use this space to reflect on what it felt like to vote from somewhere that is so isolated from the rest of the United States.

Honestly, I haven't felt very isolated here in Bethel. I still read the news everyday, and keep in close contact with family and friends. Despite geography, I've never felt too far "off the map." Granted, I've definitely realized that many of the resources available in other places aren't available here (more to come on that in another post), but that has never made me feel isolated - it is just our reality here. However, on Tuesday, watching the election results roll in, I felt truly isolated for the first time.

After work on Tuesday, my roommates, a few of our friends, and I went up to Kasayuli (a Bethel subdivision) to the house we're housesitting. We took advantage of the leather couches and flat screen TV and put on CNN, watching each state change from grey to yellow to the ultimate blue or red. Keep in mind, that the end of our work day was 9p EST, so many states were already declared by the time we started watching. We sat there in anticipation, watching the electoral votes tally. And the whole time, Alaska remained at the corner of the map, cloaked in grey - grey, signifying that the polls were not yet closed. Grey, signifying that the votes hadn't been counted.

Senator Barack Obama was named our president-elect at approximately 8p AST. My friends and community-mates and I yelled and toasted and jumped up and down. I even cried watching Obama's acceptance speech, thinking that this would be one of those moments that I would always remember - a day that history was made. But in the back of my head, I couldn't help wondering, "What about my vote?" Alaska's polls hadn't even closed by the time Obama was named our next president. So, in reality, the vote I cast here in Alaska had no effect on the ultimate outcome of the election. It was not even counted before the ultimate decision was made. This realization went against all my views of our election process.

All day on Tuesday, when I called my clients, I excitedly asked them, "Did you vote? Are you going to vote? Are you excited?!" And, despite my own sentiment, nothing wore off on them. I heard responses like, "No, I don't vote. Nothing ever changes here, why should I vote." All day, I tried to talk them out of it, using my youthful idealism as a tool. I talked about civic duty, and the opportunity to change things, and the one tool that we are all given. They weren't having it. And, after watching the results pour in, I can't say I blame them completely. These people have grown up in a place that is ignored by the rest of the United States, most of them in situations that more closely resemble those in a third-world country than the rest of the US. And, sadly, they are right. Nothing on a federal level effects them. As Sylvia, the legal assistant in my office who grew up in Kasigluk (a village in the YK Delta) so wisely put it, "The only thing that changes for us is the size of our dividend. Life does not change. The issues do not change."

Now, I am not saying I approve of not casting a vote. However, after Tuesday, things are feeling very bittersweet for me here in Bethel. I am overjoyed at the turn the United States has taken, but very dismayed by the sobering reality that Alaska will always remain a "grey" state - both in its own eyes and in the eyes of the rest of the country.