What Made Me, Me?

How else can I start my story of life and environment experiences without my parents? These pictures were taken in 1990 (S. Andrews and J. Creed, Authentic Alaska Voices of Its Native Writers) There was a freeze up in Kotzebue, AK where we lived and the temperature was minus 40 degrees at the time. My dad worked for Public Works for the city. He got calls from the local police about frozen pipes and calls from numerous households. Over 90 homes water lines froze during this time, and it was declared an emergency to fix it. People were hired from out of town to help organize the situation and about 50 local men were hired and separated into two teams to save the main water lines for the whole city. My dad was one of the ones in charge to handle the situation. It took a few days to thaw and fix the main water lines and some households had to wait a longer. I think that this aligns perfect with the eco systems way of life and doing social work for the community. Not only did my dad help the whole city during this disaster, an article that he wrote about it was published in a book, that’s how significant the environmental situation was at that time.

My parents are the ones who grew me up and guided me on how to live an honest life and to hold myself accountable for my personal choices and actions. If one doesn’t hold themselves accountable, who are they? Their names were Benjamin and Laura Brantley. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be here. If it wasn’t for their teachings to me and my siblings, I wouldn’t be here. However, it wasn’t just their teachings, it was how they walked and talked while they lived. It was how they lived their lives. I’m on a very different path than my older brother and younger sisters, it’s like the paths we choose, we’re not even related, we’re different in all that we do. I’m choosing the paths and teaching of my parents, while my siblings choose their own.

I chose this picture as it is exactly portrayed in so many families all around the world. How can anyone break generational trauma if they don’t put any effort into trying to break it? I tell my kids that I love them numerous times a day, it’s just been that way since they were born. My mom asked me for the first time when I was 17 years old why I stopped kissing her and my dad on their cheeks every night before going to bed and telling them I love them. I did that every night until I was 12 years old and I lied to her and didn’t tell her the truth why I stopped. I said that I just grew up. My parents stopped going to church which meant us kids stopped. My parents started drinking and smoking, listening to music I never heard before and dancing. I was 12 years old and didn’t understand, but I didn’t feel the love that I did growing up, as if the atmosphere changed in the home. I don’t know exactly how my dad’s father and grandfather were, but it’s as this picture is of me being shielded by my father. Both my parents watched over us very carefully and taught us right from wrong. I didn’t grow up like many other households, my parents nurtured and reared us to the best of their abilities. The first twelve years of my life I grew up in a home that was full of love, there was no drinking or smoking, no swearing or bad mouthing others. If someone got mad, it would be talked out and resolved, no one fought or bickered.

My wife Cheryl and I at our wedding reception, July 30, 2011. How can I not add anything about her? I wouldn’t have the life that I lead right now if it wasn’t for her. I dropped out of high school in 9th grade when I was 14 years old right after my father passed away from cancer. I became a drunk and drug addict before the age of 15. She encouraged me to get my GED when I was 29, which I did right away. I was 23 when we met and she was 20. She still chose to be with me even though I didn’t have one cent to my name and worked as a janitor, floormen, and kitchen helper, only jobs I was able to get without an education. Out of all the fish in the sea, she didn’t pursue anyone with lots of money, wealth, or position. She chose a guy that is seen in society as a low-life and an uneducated individual. By the time we met she already had two years of college at UAF before she took a break and went to hair school. She also encouraged me to get a degree in college and I took my first college courses at age 32. I now have an associate in business that took me six years to get and halfway done with a bachelor in social work with a minor in Tribal Governance. If I didn’t meet her, none of this would have happened and my life would be a lot different, it would be on the same path as my siblings.

This was during Native Youth Olympics (NYO) a few weeks ago. My oldest daughter Thea is all the way at the left, she got fifth place in the seal hop, which I’m surprised about. My son Corban all the way to the right got forth in an event I don’t know, I wasn’t there. Ever since I drown myself in school, I’ve been missing out on a lot of my families life and activities. My kids are in a lot of cultural activities that I really know nothing about. I moved out of my village at age 15 and assimilated to western society abandoning my Indigenous culture. My wife speaks and understands more of our Inupiat language. I’m what many calls a, “city Native.” This is important to me as it brings the community together, and not only Natives join, many non-Natives are involved and love the NYO. When the community joins together in events such as this, it strengthens everyone’s bonds and the community as a whole. Many meet and some have long lasting friendships and they become very close.

Above photos were taken on Archangel Road in Hatcher’s Pass where we like to pick blueberries every fall, they’re very abundant there. Being there in nature and picking our own berries to keep is very refreshing. Not only is it good physically, but mentally as well, and the berries are very healthy for your body. One can get very deep into their own thoughts and think about anything and everything that is going on in life. One can sit in an area for hours just picking berries, thinking, and getting fresh air. It’s good for the mind, body, and soul.

This is what Europeans call, “stink weed.” It’s called different things in different tribes. But, in my tribe it’s called, sargiq. This is significant to me because it’s a medicinal herb. I make teas, oils, and salves out of it. I picked out small plants along with their roots in streams from outside of Anchorage and transferred them into pots to grow outside our home here in the city. It comes back to life every year to provide us medicine. If I grew it in the ground, it would spread like wildfire, and since we don’t own the home we rent, I keep them in a container. This medicine is abundant in the region where I’m from. I used this plant on my hand after getting speared by a boat while fishing. I got 16 stitches in my hand, but at night I would soak the leaves in water until soft and put it all on my hand and around the stitches and wrapped with a wet bandage. By the time in the morning, it be dry of course, but it healed my hand throughout the night. Than I used my oil during the day and my 16 stitches that the doctor said would take a long time to heal, healed super fast and my doctor and friends were shocked.

These are my four kids left to right; Thea, Benson, Corban, and Tirzah. This was at the Fur Rondy Ice Sculpture this winter. This is another community event that brings people together of all ethnicities. These are the kinds of activities my wife likes to enjoy and participate in. People get to meet one another and join in an activity that all are in commonality with. Regardless of ethnicity you are, everyone gathers together as one and enjoys the scenery.

To me, this one sentence says it all, regardless of what others may think. What’s real to me may not be real to you and what’s real to you may not be real to me. It’s all about perspective. This picture to me means a lot because, regardless of one’s pigmentation, we are all one, together, united. There is no division, no hatred, no jealousy, not thinking one is better than the other. We are all one in God, as long as we are all following His ways. If you would like to discuss any of this, email me personally (victorbrantley6@gmail.com) or message me. I’m an open book and don’t cast any judgement.

Last but not least, this meme speaks volumes. Look at how we’re taught as children growing up in America. We’re taught to obey a flag that doesn’t speak, hear, nor have any form of power, it’s a piece of cloth. But, that piece of cloth holds so much power over many American individuals. This is just a part of white supremacy, think about it. How many Americans wave their flag and say to protect it with all their might and power. We’re taught as kids to adore a piece of cloth and to pledge our entire allegiance to it. Why? Why do we need to pledge our existence to it? “I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America…….” This is just another form of indoctrination, power, and authority. This doesn’t teach any form of good morality, it’s the complete opposite of it. As the meme states, “We should teach them to respect justice and humanity,” why isn’t this taught? It’s as if America teaches the complete opposite of good for it’s gain.