After only a few weeks in Alaska, I'm convinced of one fact: If Sarah Palin is a racist, it wasn't from her childhood in Wasilla. (What am I doing in Alaska? This.) By most measures, the Anchorage area is more ethnically diverse and integrated than most places I've been in the lower 48. That's not to say Alaskans have not exhibited prejudice; rather, aside from a seething anti-native sentiment, people seem focused on aspects other than race when stereotyping others.
How you're dressed counts for a lot. (Bringing a pea-coat up here, in retrospect, was a poor decision; never have I had an article of clothing inspire such ire.) Anything beyond the practical draws attention, all negative. A thick coating of aggressive humility is requisite. Looking the part of a down-to-earth, humble working man or woman counts for quite a bit, it seems—perhaps even more than acting that part. A piece of the Palin puzzle fell into place when I finally recognized this pattern. To her hometown supporters, I suspect, there was no more damning criticism of Sarah than her costly clothing shopping sprees. It's telling her book and public appearances all strongly deny even the most obvious and demonstrated facts of her campaign-financed wardrobe revamping.
The Alaskans have also proven quite prickly about minor offers of help, basic interactions like holding open a door or offering directions. Being self-reliant, projecting the image of not needing anyone or anything to get about your life, seems to matter deeply. Nowhere else has the phrase “Can I help you find something?” been loaded with such malice. This seems like a place filled with outsiders, individuals who didn't fit in well elsewhere. The general attitude is blurred between a desire for acceptance and interpersonal connection and a sour-grapes fuck-off-I-don't-need-you-anyways. Todd's membership in the AIP clicks for me a bit more now.
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