Level II

December 4, 2008

Dear Harper Lee,

I’m what you’d call the average half-breed Eskimo. My dad is full blood, and my mom is a mixture of all that European rubbish. It’s never been a big problem for me, but it has been a problem for my parents. It’s like we live in two worlds, and in each separate world you can’t act the same way you do in the other one. When I was reading the part in To Kill a Mockingbird about Jem and Scout going to the Black peoples’ church, it reminded me of my two worlds.

A few years ago my family went to Nome to visit my relatives. One day my Great-Aunt Harriet and I were talking when I brought up the subject of her childhood. When my Great-Aunt was little, white missionary teachers started coming to Alaska. Their main goal was to convert the “barbarous Eskimos” into Christians. They thought that by forcing the children to forget their language and culture they would become Christians. Their plan worked, the children did lose their language and culture and became Christians, but the pain, suffering, and corruption of an entire group was lost. I asked her to tell me a story that described her feelings about it. This is the story she told me:

One memory I have of my childhood was when the white teachers came. They were mean. One day during lunch my friend and I started talking about the seal hunt my Apa [Inupiaq word for “dad”] and her Apa were going to go on. We forgot all about school and the white teachers when by accident my friend spoke a word in Inupiaq. My teacher must have been listening because as soon as my friend said it, she ordered her to go up to the chalkboard. When she went up, the lady put a dot on the board and made my friend put her nose on the dot. I ran home as soon as school was out and cried the story out to my parents. Apa went to the school and tried telling the teacher it was wrong. She wouldn’t listen. No one ever spoke an Inupiaq word in school again.

My great-great grandfather Kugzruk was the most honorable man in Wales, Alaska back in his day. He was the mayor, storekeeper, postmaster and Elder of the village. He never smoked, drank, or took drugs. He didn’t abuse his family like a lot of men did back then either. He was also one of the best hunters in the area, but he hated killing.

My great-great grandfather was like Atticus when he was willing to stand up for what was right, even though no one else would. My great-aunt is like Scout, who never could fully understand how people can judge someone about something; yet not see that they themselves were doing the same thing.

For some reason, people still can’t realize the sorrow that has been going on for centuries over racism and unfair rights. Your story was a major breakthrough in making that sorrow part of the public conversation. Thank you, Harper Lee, from the bottom of my heart for sharing it.

Sincerely,

Meryem Kugzruk

8th grade

Barnette Magnet School, Fairbanks, Alaska

Teacher: Heidi Imhof

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