Alaskans should rise above the New York-as-alien cliche

This weekend, I was saddened to see a fresh iteration of the typical "NYC vs. rural Alaska" story by none other than Seth Kantner. The reasons for my disappointment are numerous, one being the author's success as a writer. If anyone should resist the temptation to draw divisive lines, it should be people like him: people whose voices are already heard, respected and read, looked to for guidance.

I was also saddened as native of New Jersey (and New York), now living in Alaska. I wish I could say I came here, to a place where people lived their lives at the edge of the civilized world, with less judgment and disdain for people who are different… but that would not be true. It seems it is common in these parts to share the following narrative: Life is empty in (any large city, but most frequently New York), filled with vapid vessels of greed who have no idea what it's like to really live.

For my part, I was born in Passaic County, roughly 20 miles from Midtown Manhattan, and spent a vast majority of my adolescence in the northern Catskills (a further 100 miles from NYC). I went to college, as many Northeastern people do, in Boston. In August 2012, I moved to Alaska and am currently living in the Interior.

It's difficult to pass up an opportunity to remind Mr. Kantner of something he might have missed during his short trip to Manhattan: a short train ride from Grand Central will land you deep in the woods, with black bears, white-tail deer, bobcats, foxes and coyotes in your company. People ski, camp, hike, use snowmachines, ice fish, fly fish, hunt and climb in the Northeast, just like we do in Alaska (but even if they didn't, are they worth less as people?)

The countless parks and landmarks are visited frequently by those "plastic faces" and "aliens wearing headphones," who you may be surprised to hear are people just like you. That they live somewhere different, experience different things, wait a bit longer in line for coffee (but not much longer, because we move very fast) and take the subway to work instead of a snowmachine does not make them worse — or you better.

A friend of mine posted a request recently while visiting Manhattan, asking for recommendations: while suggesting she visit MoMA, The Guggenheim and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I happened to see a reply from one of her other friends: "Avoid it… is that an option?"

Can someone please enlighten me as to why someone from one place would avoid another, solely for the sake of doing so? New York's only crime as it stands in Alaska is that it's different from here. The beauty of this country, and indeed much of the world is our freedom of choice: a girl from North Jersey can pick up and move to Alaska; and a caribou hunter can take a weekend voyage to Midtown Manhattan.

Perhaps Mr. Kantner should have hopped a ferry to the Statue of Liberty, or even Ellis Island, the first stop of millions of our ancestors, fleeing from persecution in their own countries for committing the same crime: possessing belief systems that diverged from the majority. He conveniently skipped over the miracle of modernity: that one can shoot and skin a caribou on the tundra, hop on a plane and be in New York half a day later, and proceeded directly to the "immense wealth" of the skyscrapers (an extreme simplification).

My issue is not that some people don't like New York… it is the lack of curiosity and open-mindedness, and the propensity, especially in today's political climate, to so easily find reasons to detest people who live different lives in different places. Instead of looking for the good and the interesting, people find reasons to feel our lives are the ones all people should live, and to not choose the same is to be devoid of something important. We all spend our lives wondering what is real, what is important, but those conclusions are individual, not universal — and to muddy the romance of Alaska with judgment of those who don't share your landscape, your life choices, your priorities, is to rob it of its essential beauty.

I dreamed for much of my life of living somewhere like this. On my next trip home, I will remember with sadness that even in the wildest, most beautiful place on Earth exist people who, despite being surrounded by unsurpassed beauty and calm, will always look for reasons to feel disdain for others who don't share their lives and their priorities.

Jessica Pezak is an Alaska-based Market Manager for Expedia Inc. She owns a house in Girdwood, but currently splits her time between Southcentral and Fairbanks.

The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by the Anchorage Daily News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@adn.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@adn.com or click here to submit via any web browser.