Deanna Kingston, who taught anthropology at Oregon State University, died Dec. 2 of cancer.

Kingston’s family is Inupiat from King Island, Alaska, and she dedicated her career to studying and honoring the culture of her ancestors, including exploring their rich traditional ecological knowledge. She was an associate professor at OSU.

Her work included research on traditional kinship patterns, songs, and hunting dances. She interned at the Smithsonian’s Arctic Studies Center, and worked on a film collection of last-century King Island life, now housed at the National Museum of Natural History. In 2003 she received a National Science Foundation grant to document and compare scientific knowledge with traditional knowledge of King Island.

Kingston was also a devoted mother to her son Eddie, and outspoken about the trials and tribulations of breast cancer treatments. Her blog on the subject became a source of humor, hope and important medical information to many others fighting breast cancer, and when she recently decided to end her treatment, she was also frank about her decision.

“I’ve decided that’s not the kind of life I want to end with,” she wrote in her blog. “It’s a hard decision because I wanted to do everything possible to fight to be around for Eddie as long as I could. But apparently that’s not in the cards.”

Kingston worked with State Rep. Sara Gelser on a prescription drug repository bill. She was concerned that many uninsured cancer patients couldn’t afford to purchase prescription drugs, while many unused and unopened cancer drugs were thrown away by those whose diagnosis had changed or their treatment been altered.

In 2010, Kingston received the Phyllis S. Lee Award from OSU for her dedication to social justice. In a nominating letter, her department chair David McMurray highlighted the many ways that Kingston fought to make the voices of indigenous people heard.

Wrote McMurray: “Because of her unique status as a Native person and academic/research community member, Professor Kingston can clearly see the way groups with vastly differing worldviews fail to communicate even when they are speaking directly to each other and she struggles to find ways to bridge that chasm.”

“I admire Professor Kingston’s ability to be both a leader and a supporting member of projects addressing human rights and social justice issues,” McMurray said. “Her continuing effort to provide a way for marginalized people to speak for themselves is not the most glamorous or visible platform for self-promotion. And that is the way Professor Kingston wants it. Her focus is on helping others and not on helping herself.”

When Angelo Gomez, interim director of the OSU Office of Equity and Inclusion, was tasked with transferring Native American items from OSU’s Horner Collection back to their tribes of origin, he turned to Kingston for advice on the delicate process.

“Deanna was such a peaceful, kind and thoughtful person,” Gomez said.  “I could always trust her judgment about what I should be doing in my work with tribes.  She was deeply dedicated to the welfare of native people.”

Gomez said even during her darkest struggles with cancer, Kingston retained her kindness.

“I think of her is as someone who stepped softly on the earth yet left such a deep impression because of the effect she had on others,” he said. “She certainly had such an effect on me.”

Mirabelle Fernandes-Paul, director of the OSU Women’s Center and an instructor in anthropology, became friends with Kingston through their mutual academic interests. She said Kingston was unforgettable.

“A respected colleague, incredibly passionate about students, social justice and her work,” she said. “A patient friend, always eager to listen. Above all, a devoted and selfless mother to Eddie.”

Former student and friend Samantha Chisholm Hatfield recently blogged about her admiration of Kingston and her frustration at a life cut short.

“Her light radiated through all of us, and went far beyond research and academics,” she said following news of Kingston’s death. “I had written to her recently that she was a Warrior, her strength and grace was (is, and will continue to be) an inspiration to us all.”

Colleague Bryan Tilt said he cherished her friendship as well as her academic contributions.

“In addition to being a solid scholar and colleague, Deanna was a great friend,” Tilt said. “She had so many connections around Corvallis, the Pacific Northwest, and beyond, and so many people cared about her.”

Kingston received a master of arts in interdisciplinary studies from OSU in 1993 (with a focus on anthropology) and a Ph.D. from the University of Alaska, Fairbanks in 1999.

~ Theresa Hogue

(Lee Sherman contributed to this article)

Deanna Kingston doing work on King Island as part of an NSF grant. (contributed photo)

A number of Deanna Kingston’s long-time friends, students and colleagues have been sharing their memories of Kingston this week. Here are a few samples:

From Allison Davis-White Eyes, coordinator of the Indian Education Office at OSU:

“In remembering Deanna (Dee), I can recall her care for students and her drive to help Native students excel, not simply pass their classes, because they are Native students. She and I shared many conversations about the need for Native students, in fact all students, to have grounding in both western epistemologies as well as indigenous. We both encouraged each other in small ways that helped propel the trajectories of our work, I with my graduate students (which was inspired by Deanna) and she with the publication of her book with the OSU Press.

If there is one thing that can be said for Deanna is that she is courageous, to the point where it was awe-inspiring. I can recall her telling us about what she was going through physically in great detail, as though she, the researcher, were doing a case study on her own condition.

In between her bouts of ill health Deanna exemplified all life had to offer. She was buoyant, always hopeful, engaged with her work, students and colleagues. She was active, and enjoyed the sun and softball on a sunny Oregon day. She travelled extensively and with curiosity and purpose. She had a drive to live life to its fullest potential and to share their drive with others. She did not have patience for silliness, pettiness or egotistical rivalries.

Deanna was, in a sense, a person who sought out life in its purest and fullest form and was never afraid, frightened or deterred from experiencing it. Needless to say, this is more than I can say for most of us.

Deanna also worked with closely with many of us on the OSU Native American Graves and Repatriation project (Horner Museum), assuring that tribes received their sacred and funerary objects that had been held by the University for years. She advocated strongly on behalf of Tribes, raised important questions, and defended Tribal sovereignty in the discussions. If there is one thing Deanna did for all of us here at OSU, she made the word “indigenous” a proud word.

Perhaps the other item that stands out about Deanna is her undying devotion to her son Eddie. Every minute that Dee could muster between her academic life and personal life went to Eddie. In fact, there were times where she simply blocked out the day or half the day and stated, that is my time with Eddie. Eddie is Deanna’s only child, and as such, was not only the grounding and driving force in Deanna’s life, but he is also the love of her life. This young man will have many beautiful memories, and perhaps just as important, the beautiful memories of all of us who remember Deanna to share with him.”

From Renee Roman Nose, former student:

“This is what I would say as someone who worked with her, studied under her, learned from her, was advised by her, served as a GTA for her, was fascinated by her stories and happy to share my own, and was greatly impacted by her while I studied for my degree at OSU.

Deanna touched lives, that’s what she was best at. Once she impacted your life, you knew it, you knew she was someone special and that she was passionate about her family, her research, and her students. We called her Dee, we called her friend, we called her sister. She was more than a professor, more than a mentor, she was family. I celebrate her life, I celebrate the impact she had on my own life, I celebrate what knowledge she gained over her short life and how she lived, really lived, each and every day. I celebrate her courage, her strength, applaud her family for raising such an exceptional person and sharing her with the world.

I will remember her laughter, her kind words, the way she would give a quick nod when you answered her correctly, how she loved hearing jokes. I will remember her well. That’s all I can say without tears.”