Sitting on my flight from Seattle to Albuquerque, I wondered if the Western History Association conference would offer insights into the future of academia. What would my colleagues and mentors say about the state of academia, or the government? As I landed and switched my phone out of airplane mode, news notifications filled my screen. October 14^th, the day many conference attendees flew in, was an exceptional day of news in 2025 and in years prior.

The president announced October 14^th would be a National Day of Remembrance for the recently assassinated Charlie Kirk of Turning Point USA. On October 14^th, 1964, Martin Luther King Jr. received the Nobel Peace Prize. George Floyd’s birthday was October 14^th. As my ground transportation left me in front of the lobby at the Clyde Hotel, a group of ‘No Kings’ rally organizers tended to their flyers on a streetlight pole. Coinciding with receiving the Graduate Student Award was the ‘No Kings’ rally through Albuquerque. During the rally, when I walked through the convention center to go to the awards conference room, I passed by several rally participants with capes and paper crowns holding signs like one inscribed “Not my King” and “Deport Musk.” The government shut down two weeks prior to the conference. Pete Hegseth announced that the 1890 murderers at Wounded Knee would keep their Medal of Honor awards.  Do we wait until after the welcoming reception to talk about it? During the reception, my friends and I compared who saw Secretary of Homeland Security Kristie Noem’s videos while in TSA lines and who did not.

My experience, at least at this year’s conference, would be defined by how the Western History Association community tends to the general sense of anxiety around the future of academia. Among the most enriching conversations I participated in was one that included several Indigenous historians. We talked about how excited we were to see so many Indigenous-led panels and roundtables and how excited we were to have a food-focused tour option again. We talked about how many of us see the WHA conference as our conference “home.” We even talked about our chic hotel bar called 1922 and its claims to prohibition-focused cocktails despite the “Lemon Drop” being their featured cocktail. Perhaps most importantly, we talked about future roundtable ideas, presentations we aspire to give, and articles we want to write because the conference environment instigates the most productive conversations. As career outlooks remain bleak, focusing on ways we can contribute to the future of academia feels important. 

Several productive conversations came from panel discussions. I had the privilege of serving on panels about my dissertation research alongside historians I admire.  The people who attended my panel were considerate, asked thought-provoking questions, and made an effort to welcome me deeper into the Western History Association community. Panel discussions included ideas about what our conference theme meant to different individuals. One panelist discussed roots/routes as the deliberate actions someone takes across a geographic space to bind new relationships. Our conference theme—routes and roots: what it means to stay in relation even in times of disenchantment—made me think about the Quinault River in western Washington State. For Quinault people, routedness meant calling upon extended kin networks when our salmon and lands were threatened. Rootedness meant resilience or finding ways to remain in right and respectful relations with our salmon and our river even when those strategies seemed uncustomary to outsiders. These conversations helpfully inspired ideas for next year’s conference in Portland, Oregon on Coast Salish territory.

Ultimately, I left Albuquerque feeling hopeful in doing historical work. Despite the salient contrast between a nation dealing with assassinations, shutdowns, and political extremism, gathering to think, discuss, and teach felt important in a moment that feels unsteady. Communities, like that of the Western History Association, help remind us that scholarship is not created in isolation. The work continues outside scheduled panels in hallway chats, hotel bar introductions, and finally running into that person you hoped you would meet. Academic conferences matter. Academic gatherings, even though they can be expensive, serve as important spaces for nurturing relationships, fostering collaboration, and exchanging great new research. As I flew home, I did not feel defeated by the politics of the moment. I do believe that it’s the relationships we build with others that invigorate our many routes and roots in life.

The Western History Association Graduate Student Prize covered a substantial amount of travel expenses for me this year. This award aided in my professional development and helped me build relationships within the organization.

Siokwil (thank you) to the Western History Association for financial support during this year’s conference.