I’m on a boat headed back to my hometown for the first time in years, and I feel an overwhelming rush of realization that my memory of the village will shift from happiness to melancholy. When we were dropped off, I walked through broken land, stepping into water and mud where dry ground used to be — land where my sisters and I once played, barefoot in the grass, lifting each other in chicken fights and holding little funerals for small dead birds. We walked through a broken piece of land where my sisters and I would pick berries to bring home and show off to our grandparents. It is October 18, 2024, and my classmates and I are back in Niugtaq to photograph our first home, where the past and present quietly blend together.
As soon as we arrived in our hometown, I could tell the memories came rushing back to all six of us. We stood there for a while, sharing the stories of what we remembered from each spot we stood. I held back so many tears, looking around at what was once a crowded, joyful village, now empty, abandoned, and deserted. Walking along the dirt mud, through long, thin grass, I noticed places where the water had dried up, where it used to be moist, where beautiful flowers grew and had a thousand puddles. That is erosion: changing everything into the opposite of how we remember it.
My heart felt heavy, walking through the remains of what used to be. If I, a 17-year-old girl, can feel such immense heartbreak just walking through a cloud of memories, then imagine the heartbreak my mom, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles must have felt when they had no choice but to leave their home — when they had to move, not just for the sake of their kids' lives, but for their own survival.
Niugtaq (Newtok) is a rural village in Western Alaska, and has been home to my people for generations. Located near the coast of the Bering Sea, Newtok had a population of about 400 people and 75 occupied homes in 2019. But as our village faces the harsh realities of climate change, our way of life is threatened in ways many outside our community may not be able to fully comprehend.
Before Newtok became a village there was Old Kealavik, an even smaller village where my grandpa was born. He and many others were forced to relocate for school in 1949. That’s what Newtok was for, the Bureau of Indian Affairs gave them no choice but to move onto an already eroding piece of land and built the village in their convenience. They had chosen to start building where they did because the barge bringing all the construction couldn’t move any further.
For over two decades, the Newtok Village Council has been talking about and setting up relocating our community due to the rapid thawing of permafrost. This thawing is causing the ground beneath our homes to sink, erode, and become increasingly unstable. As a result, we have been preparing to see houses, the school, and infrastructures crumble into the Ningliq River unless they are demolished quickly enough. What was once solid, dependable land is now sinking into the water and being eaten by the river quicker than before.
Six years ago, after years of planning and advocating for change, real action was finally taken. Newtok became the first village in Alaska to begin a full-scale relocation due to climate change. My family was part of the first group to move to Mertarvik, the relocation project site on Nelson Island. While moving was a necessary step, the emotional toll it took on my family and the entire village was huge. Leaving behind our homes, our ancestors' burial grounds, and the land we have lived on for as long as I can remember is not easy in any way.
This relocation is not a simple move to a nearby village; it is a dramatic shift for an entire community. The Mertarvik site on Nelson Island doesn’t have all the infrastructure or resources we need to thrive. While the U.S. government has provided some funding for the relocation effort, it is still a difficult and costly process. Many of my relatives in Newtok have lived on this land for generations, and leaving it behind is a cultural and emotionally drastic change.
What makes our story even more urgent is that Newtok is not alone. Other villages in Alaska are facing similar threats from climate change. In fact, many of the coastal communities in Alaska are experiencing the same issues of flooding, erosion, and thawing permafrost. We are witnessing firsthand the ways that climate change is disrupting communities and ways of life that have been in place for thousands of years.
While it is easy for people outside of our community to view this as just a fixable problem, it really is not. What is happening in Newtok is a warning sign of what could happen to other vulnerable communities around the world if climate change is not addressed. It is not just our village that is at risk, it is the future of entire cultures, ways of life, and communities that have existed for so many generations.
Last fall our village went through the final stages of relocation. All of the families moved over to Mertarvik and our Newtok was shut down. Calvin Tom, the Newtok Tribal Administrator and someone who has been directly involved in the relocation process, spoke about the difficult choices that have been made. He said, “We have to make sure everything is winterized before we (completely) shut Newtok down,” as we prepare for the final stages of moving. It’s a painful reality, but there is no other choice. Eighteen of the remaining families have been moved across the Ningliq River into temporary homes, two to three times smaller than a normal-sized house. It is too dangerous to stay in the village of Newtok. For those who have resisted the move, he acknowledged, “They are pretty much on their own if they decide to stay.” The constant erosion and struggling to keep both villages running make it impossible to live there much longer.
There is a deep spiritual aspect to leaving, even if it is only nine miles off. Just as Calvin said, “In the future, the gravesite will be affected by erosion. I’ll tell the council to see what we can do.” Having to already process losing our home, we can not possibly deal with the loss of ancestral burial grounds. One community member said that she feels, “When they move the graves, it won’t just be physical. It’ll be spiritual, too.” I agree, our identity is deeply tied to the land itself.
Calvin also reflected on the change, saying, “If the erosion didn’t happen, we’d probably still all be there right now. Every year I’d see the land get closer and closer to my grandma’s house. But we’re strong people. Native people do thrive.” His words are a reflection to the resilience of our people, even as we face the heartache of losing our homes. “We’re adapting, that’s what we’ve been doing the last five to six years. We have to adapt. It’s a part of life.”
Even though the move has been hard, there are many more positive aspects to it. Calvin pointed out that Mertarvik is rich. “We’re rich on this part of the island with subsistence. Salmon berries, black berries, red berries, blueberries. It (the move) is a win/win.” But towards freeze-up last fall, there were still families struggling with the decision. “We have five to six families that didn’t want to move. Two decided they did when they were notified the power would be shut off,” he explained. “I don’t know about the other three, hopefully everyone moves over in the next few weeks.” He added, “I wouldn’t wanna be in a town with no power, no water, no fuel.”
As Calvin also pointed out, the visible effects of climate change are all around us. “All the poles. They are leaning due to the melting permafrost. I call it ‘The Leaning Tower(s) of Niugtaq.’” Just as Calvin did, I personally witnessed everything around me change in Newtok. These leaning poles are just another example of how the land beneath us is shifting, affecting everything from infrastructure to the very ground I call my forever home.
My community has been in the midst of a crisis. It is my hope that by sharing our story we can raise awareness about the real-life impacts of climate change on rural communities, and help others understand the urgency of addressing this global issue. Our village is small, but our story is important. Newtok’s relocation is a reminder that climate change is not a far-off problem; it is happening now. We are fighting to survive, but we are also fighting to keep our culture and traditions alive.
"Lessons From Newtok" is led by photographers Katie Baldwin Basile and Emily Schiffer and supported by the Newtok Village Council, Lower Kuskokwim School District, Fox Air, International Teaching Artist Collective, New York Foundation for the Arts, Provincetown School District, Massachusetts Cultural Council, JKW Foundation, and KYUK.