To Loss Doesn't Have To Be Devastating."
by Joan Naviyuk Kane,
Joan Naviyuk Kane,
by Justin Saglio/Harvard Staff
Joan Naviyuk Kane: Some people call King Island the
heart of a mountain.
My ancestors survived on King Island for millennia, but our
language is facing the pressure of tremendous erasure. But I'm
using my voice, my writing, and my family to preserve my heritage.
[Joan speaking in Inupiaq]
I am a writer, a teacher, and a mother.
King Island is a beautiful granitic rock that rises steeply
out of the Bering Sea.
[Joan's children practice Inupiaq]
There are, I think at last official count, between 100 and
150 speakers of the King Island dialect of Inupiaq.
The language itself is important to me because my grandfather
didn't ever speak a word of English. My mother, during the
assimilation era, as a boarding school student, she was physically
punished for speaking the Inupiaq language. She insisted to
people that King Islanders had to keep our language alive.
But also to honor the long tradition of our languages and
[Joan's son singing in Inupiaq]
I started writing poetry, by hearing poetry before I knew
it was a poem.
Having King Island songs and the language in me, is lyric,
I think has been really important to my sensibilities as a
poet, without knowing, in a way, that it was different.
I would say that I didn't really start writing poems sincerely
until I was an undergraduate at Harvard. I had the experience
of having my work recognized early on, with my first book,
which allowed me to write subsequent five or six books of
As Inupiaq, though people we may be living far from our ancestral
homelands we still have that connection to place and to each
other through language. There are so many things changing,
I think, for people in the arctic. There's an opportunity
to really look at literature as a way to bridge divides, to
speak with their family and their communities about languages
that we still have access to and have not lost.
This poem is called 'Ilu'
Uluaq, ukak, niaqu?
Maatnami imma pitaiqutuq.
Kurgit, nugi, tagiuq
Cheek, tongue, headache
I am a human being.
A shard of rock.
Now what was is no more.
Rivers, wind, salt
A while ago
I got hurt.
You were all unaware.
Mother I forgot.
Alaskan poet Joan Naviyuk Kane is fiercely dedicated to sustaining
her Alaska Native language, a devotion she learned from her grandmother,
who as a young woman had to dig in her heels and defend its importance
against an increasingly hostile English-speaking society.
Kane relates to her grandmother's tough times and challenges. No
corner of the world was remote enough to escape the horrific flu
pandemic of 1918. For Kane's grandmother and her sisters, the death
of their parents at that time meant traveling on foot from Mary's
Igloo, Alaska, their remote Inupiaq reindeer hunting camp on the
Seward Peninsula, to a Catholic mission 20 miles away.
"I think they were 2, 4, and 6 when my grandmother and her older
sister switched off carrying their younger sister along the Pilgrim
and Kuzitrin Rivers," said Kane. "They thought that the way to survive
was to get to where there might still be people living, and they
knew there was a church or mission at this hot-springs location."
1) Alaskan Native poet Joan Naviyuk Kane is teaching her two
sons, John and George, the Qawiaraq dialect of the Inupiaq
language. (Image 2) Walrus and mastodon carvings from the
Kane family. Ivory carving is a discipline handed down through
generations of men in Kane's family. It is her hope that her
two sons will be able to learn, but climate change has drastically
affected the population of walrus, a traditional source of
ivory for the Inupiaq. Stephanie Mitchell/Harvard Staff Photographer
The orphaned sisters were raised by the mission's Ursuline nuns,
who taught them English, French, and Latin. But through that process,
they and other Alaskan Native survivors of the pandemic remained
dedicated to speaking their first language, the Qawiaraq dialect
"This is at a time when many Native people were physically beaten,
even in American schools for speaking anything other than
English," said Kane. But "through this experience of having learned
a number of languages, she was able to instill in King Islanders
of my mother's generation a real pride in the [Inupiaq] language,"
said Kane. "She insisted that King Islanders keep our language alive,
and use it to connect with others." That care and
attention to culture and language carried through the following
generations of Kane's family, down to her own children.
Kane returned to her alma mater this fall as a Hilles Bush Fellow
at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, and while back in
Cambridge she is expanding her written work beyond poetry in a collection
of essays exploring themes of indigeneity, gender, and motherhood.
Kane believes that exposing people to written Inupiaq is essential
to the language's depth and influence. Her poems are written in
both Inupiaq and English, and her family owns the only known written
dictionaries of the dialect, which her older son is working to digitize
so they can be shared within their community and far beyond.
"King Island Inupiaq is predominantly a spoken language, and I
have found as I've developed in my career as a writer and as a teacher
that I really have a responsibility to use the language as a written
language," said Kane. "Because there are so few in-person speakers
of the dialect alive, the written language can extend and reach
far more people than our spoken language can."
Today, there are between 100 and 150 primary speakers of Inupiaq
remaining, a number that Kane hopes will grow through carrying on
and spreading her grandmother's practice of teaching the language.
"When [a] language is lost, when a word is no longer spoken
or invoked or used or remembered, in some ways that is irrecoverable,"
said Kane. "That said, there are so many ways to reconstruct what's
lost, and I think being attentive to loss doesn't have to be devastating.
It can really inform people to take action and to participate
not just keep [something] alive, but actually think about the capacity
of the human imagination to create something new."
ABOUT JOAN NAVIYUK KANE
Joan Naviyuk Kane (A.B. '00) is the author of poetry and prose collections
including 'The Cormorant Hunter's Wife' (2009), 'Hyperboreal' (2013),
'The Straits' (2015), 'Milk Black Carbon' (2017), 'A Few Lines in
the Manifest' (2018), 'Sublingual' (2018), and 'Another Bright Departure'
(2019). Inupiaq with family from King Island (Ugiuvak) and Mary's
Igloo, Alaska, Kane is the 2019-2020 Hilles Bush Fellow at the Radcliffe
Institute for Advanced Study. She was a 2018 Guggenheim Fellow in
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