It’s a long way from El Paso to Alaska. I thought we did pretty well – two pairs of skis on the roof, some rear-view visibility, room for my boyfriend, and the car still had a little bounce. We took nearly a month to get to Juneau, which is still 750 miles from Anchorage. Prior to our departure, we’d been randomly asking friends for advice along the way. It was a good exercise, and we had occasion to need some of the advice, as on any road trip. My friend Cesar imparted what became the most useful. “Make sure you take along some jalapeños." Another friend asked me how many Mexicans were in Alaska. I honestly didn’t know. Somewhere between Utah and Idaho, I began to worry that I might go through full-fledged endorphin withdrawal.
Not to fear. Alaska, along with many other states in Middle America, has changed dramatically since my family lived there in the '70s, and a good part of the growth in diversity has been due to immigration. Further evidence: on Sept. 15, the Mexican government will open its newest consulate, located in Anchorage. Census and consular estimates reveal a Hispanic population of 40,000 in Alaska, with about half claiming Mexican descent.
The day we arrived in Juneau, fresh off the boat, we decided to try one of the Mexican restaurants. After my landlord, Olivia was the second person I met in Alaska. Olivia came to Alaska in 1976 as a single mom, and shortly thereafter began her restaurant. When I spoke to the waitress in Spanish and asked if we could talk to the owner, she came out happily and brought us real salsa, taking away what was on the table. We tried the halibut enchiladas, a delicious culinary blend of Alaska and Mexico. I had an earlier moment of panic after shopping at a lovely all-organic store and only being able to find frozen tortillas that rang up at about 80 cents per tortilla. Olivia told me where I could find a wide array of Mexican imports, and a month later, I had befriended a grocery clerk who routinely gives me free jalapeños that are about to be discarded.
Food is one of the many ways that immigrants worldwide build communities, at the same time enriching the cities in which they arrive. In doing research about Mexican immigrants in Alaska, I came across Sara Komarnisky, a Canadian anthropologist who spent time in both Anchorage and Michoacán, Mexico and studies food as part of transnational identity. In a paper title “Suitcases Full of Mole,” which is being published in December in the Alaska Journal of Anthropology, she writes of how her studies have led her to “reconcile ‘Mexicanness’ with ‘Alaskan’, to think about Alaska in new ways – still as the land of stunning natural beauty and seemingly untouched wilderness, of rich native culture, but also as a more vibrant cosmopolitan and multicultural place, home to many different people from many different parts of the world who bring their foods and ideas about food with them." Komarnisky also told me that in her experience, attitudes towards immigrants were mostly positive in Anchorage.
A week after coming to Alaska, I was house-sitting for a family in downtown Juneau, and got to know four Mexican construction workers who were remodeling a nearby house. They came from the states of Zacatecas and Quintana Roo, and remarked about the relative tranquility of life in Alaska. In Sitka, a town of 9,000, I interviewed Carlos, who had been there six years and estimated there were about 20 Mexicans, among many other Latino, and more recently Romanian immigrants. While he runs a restaurant, most of his compatriots work in the fish-processing plants, of which there are four, each employing several hundred people. Carlos is from Mexico City, but remembers Juarez vividly from standing in the long lines outside the American consulate to get his papers in order.
When I’ve asked about the percentage of Mexican immigrants with legal status, I’ve been told a range of anywhere from “half” to “most.” Many immigrants have spent time in other parts of the U.S. prior to their arrival in Alaska. Some in Alaska are descendants of pipeline workers, others work in fish processing, tourism, construction, and even as morel mushroom pickers.
The presence of the consulate will cement yet another tie between Mexico and Alaska. Like many people back home in El Paso, I see immigration as an enriching and essential part of life in America. Attitudes in Southeast Alaska reflect this reality, as there is demand for workers in many industries, and both skilled and unskilled positions in Alaska can take years to fill, particularly in remote locations.
In addition to its abundant Native Alaskan culture, Alaska since before statehood has been a frontier that has drawn industrious and idiosyncratic people from around the world. If you can get here and work hard, it hasn’t much mattered how old you are or what you look like. To me, that value appears to be fundamentally what the United States preaches as a country. Now we need an immigration policy that merges those values with the current reality.
When I asked Gerardo, one of the construction workers, to sum up what he liked best about Alaska, he looked at me as if I asked him a really stupid question. He was going fishing tomorrow. It was an unusually sunny day in Juneau. He spread his hands widely, as if to take in the mountains and water.
“Es un paraíso.”
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Vanessa Johnson is the former publisher of Newspaper Tree. She is currently living in Douglas, Alaska.
