There’s a reason Alaska is dubbed the “last frontier”. Growing up in Alaska, I noticed that trends tend to come last on our glacial shores. We were the last state to receive electric cars, erect a Costco, and phase out the mule. And the same was found to be true when a certain new virus came out.

In the spring of 2020, when New York hospitals were inundated with Covid-19 patients, Alaska had no cases. But now, in the fall of 2021, our state leads the country in coronavirus hospitalizations. In the last two weeks of September, one in 84 Alaskans tested positive for the virus; the second highest rate was recorded in West Virginia, where one in 164 people tested positive.

Intensive care beds in Alaska’s largest cities have reached their maximum capacity. The state has activated crisis care standards protocols, allowing health facilities to ration care if necessary. The Alaskan Chief Medical Officer stitched up a patient’s lacerated foot as he sat on the floor in the hallway. Doctors at Providence Hospital in Anchorage must now decide who will receive care and who will not. Recently, they were forced to turn away a patient evacuated from a rural community, and that patient later died.

Yet not so long ago, thanks to strong partnerships with state and tribal leaders, Alaska initially led the country on immunization. So how has Alaska accelerated so far in the purple?

Despite the cold weather and accessibility tests, I believe the Alaskan independence fetishism has led to the wave. Proudly self-sufficient, many in the Last Frontier hunt, fish, grow and harvest their own food, cut trees to heat their homes, and live off the grid. Alaskans never hesitate to help dig up a stranger’s car during a snowstorm, but at the end of the day, many just want to be left alone (as indicated by the preponderance of “KEEP OUT” signs).

A nostalgic rural masculinity, which remains dominant even in urban spaces, has led many Alaskans to favor independence over community responsibility. This is evident in the way they vote (conservatives), electing a Republican governor who continues to thwart all efforts to issue a statewide mask mandate, as well as a vocal reluctance against the mandates. mask and vaccine. Only 51% of Alaskans have received the full set of Covid-19 vaccinations, and a large portion of the population lives in areas without a mask requirement.

American author Marcus Sakey once said that Alaskans are “incredibly friendly, interesting and intelligent people, but they also stay out of each other’s affairs.” As a child, I remember a saying often repeated: Most of the people who come to Alaska are running away from something. It hasn’t always been that way. Native Alaskan traditions have long favored collective well-being over individualism. According to a study by the Urban Indian Health Institute, 75% of Native Alaskans and American Indians believe that getting the vaccine is their responsibility to their community. In 2021, vaccination rates among Alaskan natives reached record levels.

Native Alaskan traditions of community centering are also reflected in Native Alaskan fine art. For example, the Chilkat protective mask created by Tlingit artist and weaver Lily Hope “serves as a modified account of how we cared for each other during this time.” Hope explains that just as the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian cultures traditionally shared hunting, harvesting, childcare, and shelter, wearing a mask “is an expression of care for our vulnerable people, families, and people. communities ”.

However, the citizens of Anchorage recently elected a mayor who opposed Covid-19 closures and mask warrants. One Alaskan I spoke with expressed his opinion that individuals should make their own choice to mask or vaccinate. He also felt that masking in schools inflicted more harm than good. “Kids need to see facial expressions,” he said, and he thinks the science behind the masking is questionable. (The CDC has concluded that masking effectively reduces infection and transmission of the coronavirus, and WebMD has said masking is perfectly safe for children.)

Then there is the issue of widespread mistrust. The bitter history of Alaskans with special outside interests has led to suspicion from outsiders, “intellectual elitists” and, by extension, the medical community. Three-quarters of Alaskans who are reluctant to vaccinate said in a survey that they mostly trust family and friends to get information about Covid-19 rather than medical experts, thereby promoting the spread of misinformation. In all fairness, however, most people tend to adopt values ​​and beliefs that align more closely with those with whom they identify and admire.

Some Alaskans claim that natural immunity is a stronger prevention against Covid-19 than a vaccine. A candidate for the Juneau school board argued for “herd immunity” and “natural selection” instead of school-wide masking.

As the snow and cold rain begin to fall, more and more people are socializing indoors without masks, causing more viral spread. Friends who live in Anchorage fear their unvaccinated young children will contract Covid-19. One described a recent encounter with a neighbor who became so ill with the Delta variant that she “almost lost the will to live.” When my friend asked the neighbor if she regretted not having vaccinated, the neighbor replied: “Absolutely not!

Fortunately, Anchorage schools have put in place masking requirements, although Alaskan Parents for Children’s Right to Breathe has coordinated efforts to protest the warrants. Ironic, given that removing mask requirements could lead to an increased spread of Covid and lead to breathing problems and / or possible long-term lung damage.

Alaskans who value their individual freedoms and the health of their community and who are heading indoors as temperatures drop will continue to see an increase in Covid-19 cases. It is time for Last Frontier to follow the lead of Alaska Native traditions and put our communities first.