Alaska: Russia's Next Door Neighbor
Ever since visiting Alaska last summer, I've been way more prone to read any news out of the 49th state, as if I have some active interest in the place simply by virtue of having visited.
I can't help myself, and I hope it doesn't come off as insufferable. To my credit: I don't spend every waking moment talking about Alaska as if I'm an expert; I just like to read about it.
The stories are most attractive when it concerns one of the towns I've actually visited, but that wasn't the case with this recent Ian Frazier story in The New Yorker.
Ian Frazier
What stuck with me as I read about a story that focused on Nome were stories of differences between Russia and America and the way many Russians viewed Americans.
For the differences, this passage broke my heart:
There were stories of Russian visitors walking into the biggest supermarket in Nome, the Alaska Commercial Company, known as the A.C., and weeping at the abundance they saw there. A Russian Eskimo who moved to Alaska in 2004 told me that the first time she went into the A.C. she had twenty-five cents in her pocket. “I was leaving the store just behind this couple with a lot of groceries, and the automatic doors opened for them but then closed for me. I thought these smart doors knew I hadn’t bought anything, so I went back in the store and found a piece of candy for twenty-five cents. I paid for it and went to the doors and held my piece of candy up to the doors, and they opened and let me out.
And how the Russians viewed the Americans broke my heart for different reasons:
In general, Matson and the other exchange students didn’t have much to do but be American. People invited them to dinner in their apartments. “There were families that asked me to come just because they wanted an American in their home,” Matson said. “It was humbling. To be treated to a lavish meal, and to have their children put on a special performance for you. And the little girls would give you their favorite doll—it was heartbreaking, and you couldn’t say no. Or they would just gaze at you and want to sit beside you on the couch. They dearly wanted to give to you because you had gifted them with your presence in their home. It was hard for me to know how to navigate that, at age twenty-four.
It's hard to imagine that continuing to be our reception on the world stage. It just feels like that time of easy respect and admiration simply because of American-ness is a thing of the past. I'm not jealous of the reception; I'm not even sure it would have been justified at the time. I just know, from people in my own life, that America's reputation is slipping. And that reality makes me very sad.
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