By Duncan Baumgarten Part 3 of 3 The soft clink of glassware against glassware brewed an ambient atmosphere of community. Crisp coffee soaked into the walls, and into the pores, like smoke. Despite the time of day, the shop was fairly empty, the round tables left vacant. A juxtaposition formed; the darkness of the Fairbanks mid-day, to the warmth and invitation of the soft-brown wood interior. It provided an opportunity for frankness and honesty as I began my conversation with Borough Assembly Member Liz Lyke, on Tuesday, December 11. Lyke, the first transgender woman elected to Fairbanks public office, had been spending a late evening at the city council. Not as a politician, however, but as a citizen, awaiting a verdict on an LGBTQ ordinance. If passed, it would protect those who identify within the LGBTQ community from discrimination. The ordinance was tabled, leaving Lyke feeling disappointed. It was a seamless transition to the topic I wanted to discuss: how politically active is Fairbanks, on a scale of one to ten? “I’d say, overall, it’s about a five,” said Lyke, but stressed that “there’s people on both sides of the spectrum who are a ten.” Her own political involvement reflected her personal views; she served on campaigns for democrats during the midterms, and ran for borough assembly in October. Her ambitions began with something much simpler, however. It was the summer of 2016. Jane Peppy, a friend of Lyke’s, proposed that they begin a small feminist book club. Following the November 2016 elections, with Donald Trump becoming the 45th president of the United States, they decided to commit. As the years passed, it blossomed into what is now known as the Fairbanks Activist Forum, or the FAF. The FAF has dedicated their efforts to protests, rallies, and activism since its inception. Highlights included opposition to Judge Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings, and support for those affected by the Parkland shootings. “We empowered students to rally,” said Lyke, “it’s so good to see so many high school students.” Making the community’s voice heard is vital, said Lyke, stressing the importance of having a balance between an online presence, and being present for rallies and activism. “You have to have both,” she asserted. When it comes to legislature, the borough assembly member could speak from experience about the helpfulness of community input. In terms of community input, protest seemed to be a fairly important facet of Lyke’s political genesis. She spoke at the 2018 Women’s March, a “group of intersectionals”, as she describes. Intersectionality is the concept of gender, race, sexuality, and age as not mutually exclusive, but instead are woven together. She spoke of House Bill 184, which, according to the state legislature, is an act intended to add to the State Commision of Human Rights, “relating to and prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity or expression.” As of December 2018, the bill has not yet been passed.
“Diverse voices,” said Lyke, are essential to the current era of politics. The Women’s March was important not only to those who were present, but was also “important for those who were at home”, those who were not able to attend. However, Lyke sympathized with the idea of there not being enough diversity within the feminist movement. “Typically, white women are given a freer path to leadership,” she lamented, “and there are other minority voices that need to be heard more.” Compared to some more rural areas, however, Fairbanks seems to be fairly progressive. I asked Lyke to respond to Mayor Matherly’s “an island and a hidden gem” assertion. “Yes, in a way,” she replied, it was more progressive, though Anchorage had comparatively more liberal legislation. But that didn’t invalidate how far the Golden Heart City had come in terms of the democratic mindset. “Fairbanks is far more progressive than people realize.” “What people need to realize,” said Lyke, “things are always moving in one direction or the other. Everything is on a continuum. Small groups can change everything.” A small group attempting to change everything were the plaintiffs in the Juliana v. United States case. “It’s an important historical ruling,” she agreed, “and they have a point. There’s a lot of responsibility for climate change.” She lauded the young generation, and their political activism. It probably wouldn’t be her generation to make the big changes that needed to happen, she admitted, but the current generation “could be the one to pass the next New Deal.” That sort of progress doesn’t happen overnight, however. I’d heard arguments ranging from “there should be more complex civics education”, to “leaving the young voice out of the discussion altogether”. I wanted to know, what did Assembly Member Lyke see as young people’s place? With such a “diverse age group”, she admitted, the landscape could become complicated, but providing young people a place at the table was an important move. Having those who had advocated, protested, and organized for forty years, she said, could share their experiences with those just beginning to fight the fight. But, I wondered, what sort of role did voting play? There was a common theme of there’s nothing I can do, I can’t vote, so there’s no point in me being active among young adults and teens. So, really, how important is voting? There’s a lot of talk about voting, Lyke agreed, but “advocating for what you believe in, joining a group, or meeting with a legislator” was not to be invalidated. However, in an environment of protest, counter-protest and occasional violent opposition to those raising their voices, protest and rally seems to have an element of danger to it. There hasn’t been a significant incident quite like Charlotteville in 2017, but as the political climate becomes increasingly volatile, the question had to be asked: should protesters feel safe in Fairbanks? Lyke hesitated, before saying, “I’m not sure I want to answer that.” However, upon further consideration, she pointed to the story of American politician Harvey Milk. Milk was the first openly gay elected official in the history of California, and was a vocal advocate for minority groups in the midst of the era of the 1970s sexual revolution and Equal Rights Amendment. He faced persecution, and continuous threats to his life, for what he was protesting and rallying around. “People have to make a decision,” she said, to weigh the possible cost of speaking out, to the benefits gleaned. Threats have been lodged against those who protest in Fairbanks, she confided, but to choose to be out in public is to prioritize the values and ideas behind the sign, behind the slogan, behind the speech.“It’s about making the decision to go with it, anyway, despite the risk.” I made a comparison between our time, and the time of Milk, and extended it to the infamously explosive 1968. Lyke agreed that “we seem to be living in the same time as Harvey”. She explained that, in her view, the conflicts of the past are proof of the progress of the present, and hope for the future. “The arc of moral history bends towards justice,” she said, referencing the essence of Martin Luther King’s famous quote. In 2018, it seems that the economic, social, and political inequality that has plagued the country since its birth have been “ripped open”, Lyke said. Black Lives Matter is evidence of the same inequality being present, but with increased awareness. As our conversation came to a close, she voiced her overall opinion on the political landscape. “I hope as a country we’ll be okay,” Lyke said. “I have hope that things will get better.” ~~~~~ Protest has always been characteristic of America’s relationship with its government, and as a means by which political groups can voice their displeasure with those on the other side of the social spectrum. In the 1920s, women’s suffragettes picketed the White House, which was met by violent protest on behalf of the public and police. As the war in Vietnam raged on for more than twenty years, the American people had no problem with voicing their outrage at the tunnel with, as journalist Walter Cronkite said, “no light” at the end. In the 1960s, the civil rights movement was defined by the March on Washington. Protests against the government’s silence on the AIDs crisis in the 1980s culminated with the AIDS quilt draped across the national lawn in demonstration. The “Occupy Wall Street” movement of the 2010s brought protest into the 21st century. America has always had protest. It seems Fairbanks is no different. The evolutionary step towards protest for younger age groups is characteristic of the quagmire the country and the world has reached. So, pick up a picket sign. Hold up a poster. Use a bullhorn. Write to your representatives. Vote, if you can. Encourage others to make their opinions heard. Whether it’s environmental activism, social reform, or rooting out corruption, your voice matters. Your opinions matter. No one can speak for you, unless you let them. Raise your voice. The stakes are too high for you to stay silent.
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