Content warning: This story contains mentions of domestic violence, childhood trauma and sexual assault.
As a child, Anchorage artist RJ Fontaine-McHendry’s primary reading material was a camouflage Bible inscribed with “Army of God.” Isolated from other kids her age and permitted only to wear long dresses, Fontaine-McHendry lived at Mile 13.5 Knik Goose Bay Road in Wasilla with her abusive and religious extremist father and Russian immigrant mother who came to this country looking for a better life.
Fontaine-McHendry recalls her early childhood as a complex web of fallacies constructed by her father, and perpetuated by a local community of religious and political extremists. Her mother, who spoke no English and had attended nursing school in Russia, was isolated from other immigrants and community members by her controlling husband, and completely cut off from the new life she had come to this country so eager to find.
Fontaine-McHendry’s first act of rebellion came at age 10 when she hid “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” in her bible case, a book secretly smuggled home by her mother from the local elementary school library. At age 12, Fontaine-McHendry found herself questioning the extreme doctrines and way of life taught to her by her father. And by 13, with the loving support of a few brave local school teachers and women, McHendry and her mother were finally able to free themselves from their situation.
Exposure as a teenager to what Fontaine-McHendry refers to as the “big wide world” totally blew her mind.
“Access to a public library, where I could choose any book I wanted, to learn anything that I needed to learn, no matter how embarrassing or silly it was, felt like an immense privilege to me,” she said. “I constantly looked over my shoulder while reading, in case my abuser was watching — much in the same way my mother and grandparents looked over their shoulders in Soviet Russia. I was in awe of other kids my age, who [in my eyes] got to experience ‘normal’ things like Pokémon and going to the mall.”
Fontaine-McHendry committed herself to learning how to fit in. Attending public school for the first time in her life, she crafted “surveys” which she gave in the school lunchroom that quizzed her peers on topics ranging from favorite stores at the mall to music and pop questions. She carefully logged everyone’s answers so that she could study them after school, and in doing so, learn about the cultural and social norms she missed as part of her upbringing.
But art and creativity became Fontaine-McHendry’s first real language and vehicle for self-determination.
“Valley Performing Arts (a community theater in Wasilla) saved my life. Community theater became my first introduction to making new friends, expressing my emotions through characters, and learning to meet my neighbors without being afraid,” she said. “At the theater, I got to make friends who were different than me and learn how amazing humans were. They wore jeans! And danced to a beat! And made me laugh!”
Fontaine-McHendry’s eyes had been opened to the transformative power of creativity and art.
With each new experience, she gained empathy, silliness, and an understanding with which to shape her own values, existence and future. She now had the freedom to define herself as the proud child of a Russian immigrant, an artist, an advocate, and as a bisexual/queer person.
“I went absolutely feral with the joy and relief of being, finally, with no imposed conditions,” she said. “I love the word ‘feral’ — feral urges, feral childlike wonder, feral beauty, feral creativity, feral thought set free unto itself, the divine unknowing of human existence.”
Fontaine-McHendry’s love for theater led her to move to Hollywood at age 17, where she attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts and spent nearly a decade onstage, in front of and behind the camera, in collaboration with countless unique, talented, and culturally important artists. But when the pandemic hit in 2020, she found herself back in Alaska.
Upon her return, Fontaine-McHendry went through a severe re-traumatization process when she was sexually assaulted in Wasilla. “I thought I lost my voice forever,” she said. “But I found painting as a way to express myself without words. Once again, art came through for me when I didn’t have any other tools.”
The years since have found Fontaine-McHendry dedicated to service, learning more about her relationship with the land, and reshaping her perspectives of the universe within herself. Painting became part of her process of discovery. Her work, which can be viewed at The Feral Creative, is a mystical, colorful exploration of identity and existence with noticeable homages to her Russian ancestry and her conflicted upbringing.
“I believe with my whole being that the arts — free and uncensored by political or ideological restrictions — are absolutely critical to humanity’s continued existence on Earth,” Fontaine-McHendry said. “We two-legged beings are nothing without our languages, cultures, stories, images, symbols, dreams, empathy, and sense of wonder in connection with life.”
“If it weren’t for lifesaving teachers, access to the arts, and the kindness of human beings,” she added, “I would have succumbed to my early circumstances and become another voiceless statistic.”
Today, Fontaine-McHendry has what she refers to as her “dream job” — manager and community engagement coordinator at The Nave, a Cook Inlet Housing Authority community space dedicated to nurturing and promoting arts, community, and culture in Anchorage. She continues to turn to artistic expression for healing. She says she has never failed to find answers there, or at least better questions, when she “makes stuff.” Her art continues to serve her in humility, learning, and practice. In her private time, she likes to paint or absorb new art. She seeks out play and silliness both on and offstage, believing that both are essential to humility and fun.
“Socialization, access to new ideas, and culture, is a right for both children and adults. The right to a real education; access to information without imposed political/religious limits; the right to determine what reality means for oneself […] these are critical for any sort of free existence,” she said. “Mental illness and trauma are ever-present themes in my creative work, because they are ever-present themes in my life. I paint, write, and speak out about injustice and oppression because those are ever-present themes not only in my life, but in the lives of folks I love.”
This article was published in partnership with Arts Anchorage.
Emily is an Anchorage-based graphic designer, writer and musician. She is the founder of Arts Anchorage.