Empowering Myself By Empowering Youth

Words by Alyssa Carpenter; Photo by Pat Kane

PAARUTIT (GREETINGS). Atira (my name is) Alyssa Jeanne Carpenter. I am shy of turning 30 years old and embracing all that comes my way. I am a new mother. I am in a healthy loving and supportive relationship. I am an emerging community leader and mental health advocate. I am a northern social worker. I am re-connecting with my Inuvialuit and Dene cultures and languages. Most importantly, I am heavily invested in selfcare; however, it took years to love myself and accept that I am enough.

I was born in Inuvik, but I lived between Inuvik, Calgary, and Sachs Harbour until I was seven years old, as my parents attended schooling in Inuvik and Calgary. We settled in Sachs Harbour for a few years as my mother worked for the Hamlet and my father worked for the NWT Housing Corporation. My brothers Dwight and Will were born in 1992 and 1996; my sister Marie was born later in 2004.

We moved to Inuvik in 1997, where my mother worked for Municipal and Community Affairs and my father was promoted within the Housing Corporation. I went to Sir Alexander Mackenzie School and Samuel Hearne Secondary School. There, I actively volunteered in the community with Northern Games, hamper programs, fundraisers, and traveled for speedskating, soccer, hockey, and volleyball tournaments throughout the year. I was fortunate to have attended the Arctic Winter Games, National Aboriginal Hockey Championships, Canada Summer/Winter Games, and North American Indigenous Games. I have also represented my community and region at youth conferences over the years.

I had many early experiences on the land with my family and it has shaped me in ways I didn’t understand until it was no longer a part of my life. As a child in Sachs Harbour, I remember exploring Banks Island on a quad or skidoo, geese hunting in the spring, and fishing in the warmer months. I remember doing this with my family in the community and appreciating that we would gather to support one another. In Inuvik, we went up the river to my grandparents’ cabin, or drove up the Dempster to hunt caribou and pick berries. However, as I got older, I did not realize how much I would miss being on the land. I reminisce and hold on to those experiences greatly. Today, I crave them and hope that readers with those opportunities take them.

Community-based activities and on-the-land experiences were my social outlet and safety net; however, I have also seen what happens when these opportunities are not available. Life has exposed me to stories of sadness, neglect, abuse, addictions, and loss. I remember moving between my grandparents' homes before finding our own, and when my parents, my two brothers and I were all living in a single room. Like many Northern families—thankfully—we had support around us. However, there were still moments of being indirectly exposed to toxic behaviours, coping with substances, and unhealthy relationships. Community helpers with empathy and compassion raised me, but it took me years to understand why some people I love experience challenges in their life.

Fast forward years later—I graduated high school, then moved to college and university. Being away from home showed that intergenerational trauma was real, and being hopelessly disconnected from identity, culture, and language was a negative impact of ongoing colonization. In a classroom surrounded by more than 100 students, too often I was the only Indigenous one. I sometimes felt tokenized or targeted by assumptions, judgment, and stereotypical information, and could not relate meaningfully with my peers. I felt simply alone and lost, asking why I was there. My early traumas caught up to me when I left my support system for another that could not support me. I coped the best I could with their resources, but still experienced severe depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts as I isolated myself and minimized the seriousness of it all.

At the age of 21, I came home for Christmas and could no longer hide that I was suffering. I had tried asking from help from campus counsellors, RAs, or nurses when I was able to leave my apartment—let alone eat or shower. I had tried to smile and pretend that it was just stress, but I needed serious help. I could no longer suppress the emotions that have built up for so long. I had to ask for help because I had a plan to end my life after months of negative thoughts, behaviours, and neglect to my health and wellbeing.

That year, I explored counselling (in-person and online), life coaching, restorative yoga, daily exercise, healthy eating, boundary-setting, elimination of alcohol, traditional medicine, and connecting to land and culture. It was not easy, but it was necessary—otherwise I would not be here. To this day, I continue to prioritize my wellness even though I still experience depression and anxiety, but I have learned to better care for myself. Instead of having escalating thoughts and behaviours, I have the strength to acknowledge that I need help. If I can do this, others can too.

Today, I am a Northern social worker—since I was born and raised in the North and studied at Aurora College and Yukon University. Most of my work is done within the non-profit sector with governments, and primarily with Indigenous people and Northern youth. My personal upbringing

has also provided valuable insight within this profession that is truly needed among our Northern helping professions. I currently work for BYTE: Empowering Youth as a Community Outreach Manager, where I help create spaces for youth to lead. It is a dream job as I am helping youth in a way I needed when I was younger; it is truly rewarding and fulfilling.

This organization has allowed my skills and knowledge to be utilized in meaningful ways when working with Northern youth. It has also pushed me to continue my western and traditional education, and become a safeTALK instructor to help communities become suicide-alert. I grew up where conversations on mental health, bullying, sexual health, depression, suicide, trauma, assimilation, and colonization were not openly discussed, and social issues were normalized in our communities. My life’s work so far in community involvement, engagement, and leadership can help reverse the effects of the illness, anger, hopelessness, and toxicity seen in Northern communities.

My major goal is to break the cycle of normalizing harmful behaviours in our families and our communities. I am starting with myself, by challenging the status quo to create spaces of acceptance, inclusion, passion, empathy, and love.

I was recently accepted for the Jane Glassco Northern Fellowship for 2020-2021, where I will continue advocacy, development, and policy work focused on life promotion and suicide prevention. This work requires commitment if we are to address the reality of mental health, suicide, and lack of appropriate or accessible resources in the North. I am eager for the next two years and the connections I will form with other like-minded allies. I will continue creating spaces for youth to have those much-needed conversations on what resonates with them—whether it be climate action, language revitalization, mental health, or simply talking about what it means to be a young person today.

Nowadays, I am on this new adventure of motherhood. I had promised myself that I would feel safe, be educated, have job security, and have a loyal partner before this; I saw how hard my parents worked to create a safe environment for their kids to grow up in. My daughter Scarlett was a lovely surprise. There is honestly no word to describe the love you have for another person until you have your own child—it was instant and overwhelming. It has been incredible to watch this little person grow, but postpartum depression was a real reminder for me to slow down, ask for help, and be gentle on myself. I will try creating an environment of openness, encouragement, and kindness—values that my family promoted. I am now reconnecting to my cultural identity, so creating that space for her to explore our land, cultures, and languages is what I want for her. I want her to have supporters who accept and believe in her, and ultimately to have a safe and loving space to grow into the person she is meant to be—whatever she decides to be.

Lastly, whoever needs to hear this: I want you to explore who you are. Push yourself to find yourself and persevere because you are stronger than you think. Go beyond your comfort zone to learn and connect with others that cross your journey—travel to another continent, learn a language, publish that poem, #beadthisinyourstyle, take that photography class, go hunting, or have a child. If you need to make that change to improve your situation, do it—leave that relationship, stop numbing with substances, turn off social media, move, or be honest with those who matter to you. There will be times when you may feel alone, upset, angry, lost, hopeless, or overwhelmed by life’s choices; it is okay to not have everything figured out. Please do not give up on yourself when that happens and remember that it will pass. Moments can change us when we need it. Individuals like myself are here for you and believe in you because you make the world a better place by being here.