AKU-MATU

Why I Started to Rap

Another question that I get asked a lot is, “Why Rap?”  They want to know what motivated me to start rapping, what motivated me to create my rap persona and try rap. 

It all started when I was about 20 years old and I attended a Litefoot concert in Juneau, Alaska.  I was a young person, standing in the crowd of young people, gathered in front of the stage in the ANB/ANS hall.  This concert was the moment in my personal journey that planted the seed, “I can rap!”.  

He was rapping, and we were mesmerized, and then he started to rap a song called “NDN - Native Doing Naughties”.  It was about Native people and sex.  When he started to rap this song, I thought, Are you serious? Is this the best message you have for a captive young audience of Native people?   

I thought about the incredible opportunity he had to shape our consciousness and at that moment, I felt like I could learn to do better than what he just gave us.  I thought, well, if Native people can rap, then I can represent for Alaskan Native people, as a female rap artist.  

I have since connected with Litefoot, and my feelings about his approach and messages are mixed, depending on what I see him do.  I did enjoy his motivational speaking at an event in Tatitlek, Alaska, and I went so far as to buy his book, which has been interesting to pick up.

The main motivation for me to rap has been:  To communicate messages in the language of the youth, to share information, to inspire, to encourage and lift up the hearts of our youth through the medium of rap.   You can get a lot of information condensed in a short period of time through rap, and the youth, once you have their ear, they are more likely to keep listening, if you are interesting and skilled enough to hold their attention.  

The biggest surprise and encouragement that I’ve received from my work as a rap artist is that the Elders - they love my rap and they can actually understand what I am saying to them.  Which means, when I rap to the youth, the Elders can listen in, dance, and enjoy the music that the youth are tuned into.  

I rap because I am talented at it.  Because it is a tool to communicate ideas and to hopefully inspire people to use their creative potential and to become more actively engaged in their communities.  I rap because I am born to be AKU-MATU.  

Introduction of AKU-MATU

I get asked a lot what my rap name,  AKU-MATU means, what it might stand for.  I explain that it is a hyphenation of two of my Iñupiaq names, Akootchook and Matumeak.  Another way of spelling Akootchook is Akutchuq.  So, I took the AKU from Akootchook and the MATU from Matumeak and made my rap name, AKU-MATU.  

When you are born as an Iñupiaq baby, you are given at least one Iñupiaq name, sometimes more.  I have four.  You are usually named after someone who has recently passed on, or someone who the mother or may have dreamt about while pregnant.  

My names were given to me mostly by my grandmother, Mildred Rexford.  My great-grandfather was named Akootchook, and my great-grandmother wanted a girl to be named after him, and it turned out that my Mom didn’t get the name, so - since I was the first granddaughter, I was fortunate to receive the name.  

Matumeak was a great-uncle of mine, who had already passed on by the time I was born.  He was an incredible songwriter, and he also directed and wrote original songs for the church choir.  His wife, Mamie Matumeak, was still alive until I was about 8 years old, and she would treat me like her husband, saying “Hi Honey” and giving me big kisses on the cheek.  

In our Iñupiaq way, when you are given a name, it is like you are that person, re-born.  Relatives of the person you are named after treat you as if you were that person.  For example, the children of Matumeak, when they see me, they say, “Hi, Pop” or “Hi, Dad”.  These children are now in their 60’s, but to them, I say, “Hi, Son”.  

I remember being a little toddler person, lucky enough to be surrounded by my elders, and they would ask me, “What are your Iñupiaq names?”  They would ask me in Iñupiaq. And I would say all my names, and their response was real, it was felt.  ”Wow”, they would say to me.  And then, they would say.  ”Hi Poppa”, for these elders were the children of Akootchook.