Voices

Villages must lead in ending Alaska's self-repeating violence epidemic

A report from an Alaska village last week detailed a violent incident that included a man shooting four bullets into the wall next to where his sister was standing. She has two children whom he also threatened. Here's the relevant paragraph:

"Jennings then held a .40-caliber handgun to the man's head and threatened to kill him, troopers said. Jennings turned the gun on another occupant of the house, his sister, and told her he'd kill her and her two children if she called law enforcement, troopers said. Before he, Kelly and Jimmy fled, Jennings fired four rounds. The bullets struck a wall near his sister."

When I first read that, I shook my head, thought to myself that it was business as usual since alcohol was involved, and moved on to Dear Amy. But then something stopped me and I went back and read the story again. It seems as though TV has so habituated me to the idea that people get shot at all the time -- shrug it off and just go have a cup of coffee when it's over -- that I had to make a conscious effort to realize this wasn't TV. This woman wasn't going to be able to just shrug it off anymore than any of us could. Think about standing there terrified while your brother shoots a gun toward you and there is nothing you can do but remain frozen with fear.

You don't just walk away from that moment unchanged. You don't just forget it and continue exchanging witty banter with your team. It sears your soul with a force beyond description. It's one reason why so many of our villagers suffer from PTSD.

In this particular case, the woman's children were also threatened by, of all people, their own uncle. The biggest threat my Uncle Joe ever made to me was that if I ran barefoot through the house one more time without putting slippers on, I'd truly regret it. I never thought that threat came with any real potential for violence. He was my uncle. He was a person I ran to for safety, not away from in fear.

This incident once again brings up the potential terror of life in a village where public safety is not always available but store-bought or homemade hooch almost always is. It brings to the forefront the feelings of total helplessness felt when your very life is threatened by someone who should be protecting you. It makes the causes of continued village dysfunction stand out in stark relief. If this woman's children were either in the house when the incident happened or have heard the threats made, then they too are now proceeding along the path to lifelong PTSD problems.

Common sense tells us it is always easier to prevent this problem than correct it after it becomes part of a person's emotional baggage. But common sense boggles at the thought of trying to come up with a solution that includes prevention and treatment at a cost society is willing to pay. The fact that society will eventually pay one way or the other is a hard sell. We are a people famous for putting off until tomorrow anything that isn't really causing us discomfort today. Think about America's crumbling infrastructure if you have any doubts about that.

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The start for any solution to this level of violence and dysfunction bleeding down through generations can only come from those people who are still healthy within these villages. Solutions brought in from the outside are always going to be expensive, dependent on yearly funding that may or may not materialize, and are not necessarily very culturally relevant. All of which is a succinct explanation as to why, despite the hundreds of millions of dollars pumped into social services and counseling programs over the years, we still have what seems like insurmountable problems of violence in our villages. And for each generation that grows up with some level of PTSD as part of their emotional heritage, the prospects for a healthier and happier future grow dimmer and dimmer.

We can't force a healthy way of life on anybody. We should do all we can to support their efforts toward that goal. But first, they have to make that effort, and that means taking a stand about what will and won't be tolerated in their own communities. The healing has to start at home.

Elise Patkotak's latest book, "Coming Into the City," is available at AlaskaBooksandCalendars.com and at local bookstores.

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.

Elise Patkotak

Elise Patkotak is an Alaska columnist and author. Her book "Coming Into the City" is available at AlaskaBooksandCalendars.com and at local bookstores.

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