Amplify Utah supports and facilitates dynamic journalistic storytelling to celebrate diverse points of view. By partnering with traditional media, we cultivate an environment that encourages stories be shared widely and made easily accessible for our communities to read, hear, watch and engage.
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“When you forget your history, you repeat it,” says a 94-year-old Japanese American in the University of Utah student-made documentary.
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When he was a high school student, Jevahjire France spoke at the opening of a new community technology lab dedicated to serving South Salt Lake’s youth.
France, who was a member of Cottonwood High School’s robotics team, knows the challenges many students face accessing the latest technology. During that October 2019 event, France expressed appreciation for the tech center’s establishment and praised the larger community center for hosting the lab.
That community center — dating back more than 100 years — hosts many of South Salt Lake’s activities and events. However, France was bothered that the community center is named in honor of Christopher Columbus.
In August 2020, he wrote a letter to South Salt Lake City Council members asking them to consider a name change.
“In all honesty,” France wrote in the letter, “the name of [the community center] was one that I could never find myself in as a youth.”
“As a young immigrant just like many in South Salt Lake, I have always wondered if the members of the council of this city ever question how a young immigrant or refugee feels knowing that he is frequenting a library named after an oppressor not too different from the one(s) they or their parents were fleeing from back home?”
France, now a student at Salt Lake Community College, moved from Haiti to the United States in 2016 when he was 13. As a high school student taking part in the robotics team, France formed a connection with Promise SSL, a city initiative that provides community and after-school programs with an academic focus.
The Best Buy Teen Tech Center, a Promise SSL project, serves a diverse population, France said, noting he believes the name of the community center should reflect that as well.
Following France’s letter, the City Council tasked the Youth City Council, a group comprised of local high school students, to come up with a name change proposal.
Edward Lopez, an adviser to the YCC, said that while France’s letter initiated the current process, other members of the community had previously supported changing the center’s name.
They provided a finished proposal in April 2021 and outlined the reasons for a name change. They have the support of 17 organizations in and around South Salt Lake.
The English Skills Learning Center, a nonprofit that uses the community center to provide English classes to non-native speakers, was among the supportive organizations.
“When we choose the names of buildings, parks and other community spaces, we are making a public statement about the historical figures we honor and value, and in the process, we may be further silencing already marginalized voices,” wrote Katie Donoviel, the learning center’s executive director, in a letter to Mayor Cherie Wood and the City Council.
Other groups that wrote letters of support for a name change include the Utah Refugee Connection, United Way of Salt Lake and Catholic Community Services.
The proposal also lists three potential new names for the center: Amani, the Swahili word for “peace,” bridges and promise. Lopez said these names are only suggestions, but he noted that the YCC supports a “value based” name rather than naming the center after an individual.
“South Salt Lake is one of the most diverse cities in the whole state,” Lopez said. “We have refugees and immigrants here from dozens and dozens of countries.”
According to the latest data from the U.S. Census Bureau, South Salt Lake’s percentage of foreign-born residents is 24.6%.
“The city talks about being an inviting and inclusive space,” Lopez said. “So, we want to show the community that we invite to live here that we do believe that. We believe that the center can be more representative.”
The City Council held its first and, thus far, only discussion of renaming the Columbus Community Center in July. The meeting attracted concerned residents.
“We look at the great things that people did in their past, and that is why we honor them — because they did great things that changed the world,” said resident Austen Gee. “That is why we honor Columbus.”
Fred Conlon, another resident, also wanted the center to keep its name.
“There are those who say that Columbus doesn’t live up to our modern values and morals — that is true,” Conlon said to the council. “But it is also true that without Columbus our modern values might not very well exist, so I am in favor of keeping the name of the Columbus center.”
Eight residents spoke at that meeting, all expressing opposition to a name change. The council members pushed the decision to an unspecified date to get feedback from a “wide representation” of the community.
Lopez said some people do not feel comfortable appearing at council meetings, and that often includes people from underrepresented communities.
“[A council meeting] is an intimidating platform and not accessible to everyone,” Lopez said.
Council member Sharla Bynum noted during the meeting, there is discussion of implementing an app to survey residents, predicting a roll-out in a “month or two.” As of Oct. 25, the council had not yet introduced a survey app.
Wood, the mayor, has in the past supported the efforts of the YCC, but declined to comment prior to a decision on the center’s name change.
Lopez and France encourage residents to reach out to their respective council representatives.
“Your voice, especially as a youth, matters,” Lopez said, “because you are the ones coming up and who will be the decision makers... The youth are the ones who will be leading our community in the future.”
Cristian Martinez wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
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We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text :This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Cristian Martinez wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
Valene Peratrovich begins her Sunday morning show on Salt Lake City community radio station KRCL with an on-air land acknowledgement.
“We honor the original ancestors of this land and also offer respect to our other tribal member communities, and we acknowledge the history to cultivate respect for and advocate with our Indigenous communities still connected to this land,” says Peratrovich, who is known to listeners as “Valene MC.”
Valene Peratrovich begins her Sunday morning show on Salt Lake City community radio station KRCL with an on-air land acknowledgement.
“We honor the original ancestors of this land and also offer respect to our other tribal member communities, and we acknowledge the history to cultivate respect for and advocate with our Indigenous communities still connected to this land,” says Peratrovich, who is known to listeners as “Valene MC.”
Originally from Alaska, Peratrovich’s Indigenous ancestry comes from three separate tribes. She has lived all over the West Coast of the United States and now holds many titles, including radio host, KRCL staff production assistant, Native outreach coordinator and Salt Lake Community College student – all on top of being a mother of two.
Ask her how she’s done it all, and she likely will point to her Indigenous ancestry and genuine love of music.
Growing up in Anchorage, Peratrovich was heavily influenced by her family’s Native history.
Her grandparents were Native boarding school students who experienced abuse at the hands of the teachers, nuns and missionaries who ran the schools. The forced removal of Native children from their homes in the late 1800s and early 1900s in Alaska started a cycle of generational trauma that trickled down Peratrovich’s family tree.
In Peratrovich’s eyes, it ends with her.
Peratrovich was originally on a pre-medicine track during her undergraduate studies at Oregon State University. She switched to family sciences, she said, in order to learn more about herself and break the cycle of abuse she personally experienced.
“It sounds funny, but almost in an academic sense, I was learning how to be a parent,” Peratrovich said. “Part of breaking that cycle was healing myself, which is partially why college took [16 years] for me.”
As Peratrovich likes to say, she took the “scenic route through college.” While working in a lab as part of her bachelor’s at Oregon State, she and those around her were reminded of her gift of gab, which she remembers being chastised for as far back as elementary school.
“I’ve always loved to talk to people and ask questions,” Peratrovich said. “I found that even when I worked in the lab, I’d get my work done, but I loved to talk and socialize, … so I knew that [the lab work] wasn’t something I wanted to do forever.”
Peratrovich left the lab behind in 2010, around the same time her husband left the military. Four years later, the couple had a major life change — their first child — and decided to move to Salt Lake City.
Once in Salt Lake City, Peratrovich continued to work on her bachelor’s degree online, finishing it remotely in 2016. However, she said, she wasn’t happy with the odd jobs she was working, and yearned to find a new direction.
In 2021, Peratrovich enrolled at SLCC as a radio and TV production major, and almost immediately, she found the college’s classes to be a better fit.
“I went to school at a big university in huge lecture rooms,” Peratrovich said. “At SLCC, people are there because they actually do want to teach, not just because they’re being funded by research.”
In her first semester at SLCC, Peratrovich wrote a Native-focused article about the use of Indigenous mascots in sports that, through the nonprofit Amplify Utah, was published in The Salt Lake Tribune. The story’s subject matter grabbed the attention of Lara Jones, executive producer of “RadioACTive,” KRCL’s weekday activism show.
“When I began to work with [Valene],” said Jones, “It became clear — she can do what I do. Why not pass the microphone and see what she wants to do?”
Jones invited Peratrovich to host a “RadioACTive” Thanksgiving Special, which became “Exploring the Truths of Thanksgiving.” It aired on Thanksgiving Day 2021. Alongside Peratrovich, a distinguished panel of Indigenous leaders and community members discussed Native views of the popular American holiday.
Jones called it “a perfect distillation of what KRCL wants to do. … [We want to] empower storytellers. Especially those who don’t otherwise have access to the microphone, but are ready to step up to the microphone and knock it out of the park.”
Peratrovich’s first effort as a radio talk-show host earned her recognition. The Thanksgiving Special won first place in the public affairs/talk show category at the Utah Society of Professional Journalists’s 2022 contest.
“I finally got a chance to talk about Natives the way I want to talk about Natives,” Peratrovich said. “It was sharing what Thanksgiving means, or non-Thanksgiving, and Indigenizing and telling truths about what Thanksgiving is from different perspectives of people from different Native nations.”
Peratrovich’s Thanksgiving show solidified her switch from family sciences to media storytelling.
Now, as production assistant for “RadioACTive” and co-host of “Living the Circle of Life,” Peratrovich said she strives to entertain and inform – and tops it with her passion for music.
By focusing most of her show on contemporary Native artists like Ya Tseen, Peratrovich said she hopes to break the cycle of Native art being pigeon-holed as something from the past, or that is only traditional.
Carl Moore, a Utah-based advocate for Native issues and co-founder of both Pandos and SLC Air Protectors, said he thinks there needs to be a major shift in the way Native people are recognized today.
“We don’t want to be seen as this ‘historical’ Native American that gets romanticized and fetishized. It locks us into a box, into the past, and it makes us only valid as Indigenous people if we present ourselves in that past,” Moore explained. “It does damage to us, so it’s important [to recognize] that Indigenous people do change and develop.”
People should not forget the past, Moore said, but balance it with an openness of the present. “Our kids should have that ability to do things that speak to them, [whether contemporary or traditional],” he said.
Peratrovich curates her lineup of music in this way, made with the wisdom of ages past, mixed with the common vitality of modern artists.
“Music is how I tell people I love them,” Peratrovich said, smiling.
In only one year, Peratrovich received her associate degree in radio and TV production from SLCC. While in the program, she realized that she also loves being behind the camera, so she’s now pursuing another associate degree in film production.
Looking forward, “Valene MC” said she hopes to keep expressing her diverse history and shed light on contemporary Native culture through media involvement. Public, independent radio is the perfect platform to do so, she said.
“I’m always looking for folks to pass the microphone to,” said Jones. “But [I’m also looking] to say: there’s the next person. The next generation. Valene is eager to tell stories in a variety of formats and I can’t wait to see what she does next.”
“I want to create this vision [of Native culture], where it’s just so normal,” Peratrovich said.
Catch “Valene MC” as she hosts “Living the Circle of Life,” every other Sunday, 7-10 a.m., on KRCL-90.9 FM, or listen live at KRCL.org.
Kyle Forbush wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
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We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text :This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Kyle Forbush wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
Traditional medicine has been a part of Mexican culture for centuries. Although many are accustomed to traditional healing practices, others opt for modern medicine to treat symptoms and illness.
As COVID-19 spread across the globe last year and health experts offered guidance on how to prevent the spread of the virus, some households relied on more traditional practices to fend off the illness.
“In our household we don’t do much of Western medicine,” said Dinorah Segovia, who is studying electrical engineering at Brigham Young University. “Because we are not used to getting medication or antibiotics, it does make us hesitant to get the [COVID-19] vaccine.”
Traditional medicine relies on herbs and certain foods to treat ailments and has been practiced for centuries in Mexican culture. Manuscripts about the use of herbal medicines by indigenous populations in Mexico were written as early as the 16th century and included colored illustrations of medicinal plants used to treat any number of illnesses.
According to the National Institutes of Health, however, there is no scientific evidence alternative remedies, including herbal therapies, can prevent or cure COVID-19.
“In fact, some of them may not be safe to consume,” according to the NIH. “It’s important to understand that although many herbal or dietary supplements … come from natural sources, ‘natural’ does not always mean that it’s a safer or better option for your health.”
When Adriana Camarea, 40, believed she had contracted the virus, she didn’t get tested because she was uncomfortable having the results included in her medical records. Instead, she turned to methods her parents used for treating colds and other viruses.
“I used a mixture of vinegar, salt and water to gurgle, because that’s what my mother taught me to do when I had a sore throat,” she said, noting she decided to try to recover at home and not share she was experiencing COVID-19 symptoms.
Others, like Lorenia Loza, believe the best and most effective medicines are derived from natural sources, like plants.
“I prefer to go that route first instead of turning to chemicals I don’t know,” she said.
For many Mexicans, a history of distrust in the medical and hospital systems in Mexico and the United States has influenced the way they see treatment and prevention of COVID-19. Years of inequity in Mexico’s health system, which spends about a third of what the U.S. does on public health, led to a mistrust of public healthcare, according to the World Health Organization.
For some Mexican Americans, confidence in the U.S. healthcare system is also low because of language and culture barriers, as well as lack of insurance and financial stability.
This history influences trust in the COVID-19 vaccines available in the United States, even as they are safe for emergency use per the Food and Drug Administration and the Centers for Disease Control.
Segovia, who was born in Mexico and moved to Utah at the age of 4, says one of her biggest concerns with the vaccines is a lack of long-term data and research.
“It takes a lot of time to understand the effects of medicine or vaccines in general until you do more research and get more data,” she said. “I want to wait and see if we have more information about short term side effects, long-term side effects and how it can really affect your body.”
Segovia, 27, grew up using traditional medicine and is wary of accepting any medication prescribed by doctors, not just the COVID-19 vaccine.
Loza, a medical assistant at the University of Utah Hospital, receives the latest news on COVID-19 guidelines and information about the vaccines. While she schedules vaccine appointments every day, she has no intention of getting one herself.
“I can say that, as of right now, no, I don’t plan on getting the vaccine,” she said, citing worries about the long-term side effects of a relatively new vaccine treatment.
As of early May 2021, there have been 398,012 cases of COVID19 and 2,204 deaths in Utah. According to the Utah department of health, roughly 20% of all cases have been among Hispanic or Latino residents, who comprise 15% of Utah’s total population.
Andres Cachu, a sociology major at Salt Lake Community College, was raised in a family that practiced traditional medicine but did not shy away from over-the-counter medication and trips to the hospital.
“When the traditional remedies didn’t work, we used modern medicine,” said Cachu, who received the Johnson & Johnson COVID vaccine. “I prefer modern medicine over traditional medicine. It’s more effective than traditional medicine.”
Lili Zamudio, a business and finance major at SLCC, said she grew up with her mother always pushing her towards the traditional side. When she had a sore throat, she was prompted to drink te de limon con ajo, which is said to help soothe the throat.
Still, Zamudio, 23, said the treatments didn’t keep her from getting the Pfizer vaccine earlier this spring.
“My mom and brother advised me to get vaccinated,” she said. “They both got the Pfizer vaccine and felt fine afterwards, so I decided to get it, too.”
Zamudio said she’s so accustomed to traditional practices, however, that she plans to use the remedies she learned as a child when she becomes a mother.
“I’ll [still] teach my kids about traditional medicine,” she said. “When friends tell me they’re sick, that’s the type of stuff I recommend.”
Sabrina and Ben Gallegos had been married for a year when they met Allie Bullock in July 2014. The women were co-workers and became friends, so when Bullock and her boyfriend broke up, the Gallegoses offered her a place to stay while she sorted things out.
The three grew close, and over a period of about seven months, the Gallegoses both decided they wanted Bullock to be more than a friend. As Utahns, their polyamorous “throuple” has been mistaken for polygamy on more than one occasion, but they are part of a growing number of Americans who practice this relationship style.
“I started to see this relationship blossom between the two of them,” Ben Gallegos said. “It was a deep friendship, it was a different kind of connection. I couldn’t help but admire [it], and seeing Sabrina fall in love with Allie, I kind of started to fall in love with Allie through her eyes.”
The concept of a relationship like this was new to him.
“I had no idea that ‘polyamory’ was even a term,” he said. “Looking stuff up online, there’s other people like us, there’s a whole community.”
Polygamy and polyamory are different — the latter is a fluid continuum based on the freedom to love multiple partners consensually, while the former is marriage to multiple people. While not all involved in polyamorous relationships want to get married, both groups at times must navigate issues like hospital visits and insurance coverage.
In February 2020, the Utah Legislature lowered the criminal charge from a felony to a misdemeanor for a married person taking another or multiple spouses.
It was called the bigamy bill, and was aimed at polygamists. Then-Sen. Deidre Henderson, the sponsor of the bill, said, “We removed the fear of otherwise law-abiding polygamists of being jailed or having their children taken away from them.”
While polyamory has not gained legal recognition in Utah, it has elsewhere. In July 2020, polyamorous unions were legalized by the town of Somerville, Massachusetts, providing them the same rights as married couples, like hospital visits and shared health insurance coverage.
Utah state Sen. Derek Kitchen said he is willing to fight for the option to practice polyamory. He has fought before.
Back in 2013, Kitchen was part of the federal case that led to Utah recognizing same-sex marriages. This was before the Supreme Court legalized these unions nationwide.
At the time, as he disclosed for the first time in a New Yorker article published in March 2021, he was practicing polyamory. He opened up about the reactions he has received since that article came out, and about the future of polyamory, in an interview on KUER’s RadioWest in April.
“I never imagined or desired out of the gate a polyamorous relationship, it’s just how a relationship with a primary partner evolved,” he said.
Kitchen told host Doug Fabrizio about his experience fighting for the right to marry his former husband, while still feeling like he couldn’t be honest about his relationship style at the time. But understanding of polyamory has increased since then, and there isn’t as much of a stigma.
“It’s about individual freedom, it’s about liberty, it’s about empowering people to be intentional about their family-making,” he told Fabrizo. “I think we’re able to talk about it in a productive way that allows for a healthy dialogue and discussion without this thick layer of shame or judgment.”
Amy Peterson, a film major at Salt Lake Community College, made a documentary about polyamory this fall called “Love One Another: Polyamory in Utah.”
In her film, Utahns — including the Gallegoses and Bullock — share what polyamory can look like and how they believe it has helped them have healthier, more fulfilling relationships.
“It wasn’t that we felt like there was something missing from our marriage,” Ben Gallegos said. “It just kind of seemed like there was a puzzle piece that we didn’t know needed to be there. And when she was always around, it always felt complete.”
When they came out about their relationship in 2017, friends and family had mixed reactions. Some confronted them angrily, taking issue on religious or moral grounds, and then stopped talking to them.
But for the most part, people have stuck with them in the six years they have been together. Not long into their throuple relationship, Sabrina Gallegos gave birth to a daughter, Emery, in 2015. The new baby helped some family members to overcome their initial problems with their relationship.
“It’s just taken [them] a lot of time, a lot of years, a lot of interactions, a lot of opportunities ... to see our daughter and appreciate the young lady that she’s becoming,” Ben Gallegos said. “The person that [Emery] is today, [Allie] is one-third equally responsible for everything that that little girl is. When Emery was born, Sabrina held her, I held her, Allie held her, and it’s all she’s ever known, she’s just always had three parents.”
For Berk Forbes and Daley Yoshimura, both in their 30s and living in Salt Lake City, polyamory has been a deliberate lifestyle. They live together and have been together romantically since 2019, but they are non-hierarchical and do not call each other their primary partner. For them, the appeal of polyamory is the freedom to love and experience others outside the traditional boundaries of monogamy.
“Daley and I get to come together and be like, OK, this is what we want our relationship to be,’” Forbes said. “And if I have a relationship with someone else, me and that person get to sit down and decide for ourselves just between us, too, what do we want it to be.”
Sometimes they are both dating other people, sometimes just one of them is, and sometimes neither of them are.
“That’s a misconception with polyamory – that you’re always dating multiple people,” Forbes said. “That’s not the case at all. Certainly, space exists for that, but you get to decide and navigate it on your own terms.”
According to Forbes, people sometimes dismiss polyamory because they think it comes from the flawed belief that one person won’t fulfill them. That’s an unrealistic expectation, he said.
“No one single person can give me everything I need in life,” he said. “You’re attaching a negative connotation to that because of how you’ve been conditioned, but there’s actually nothing wrong with that. That’s humbling and valuable to accept. I can’t imagine being everything for Daley or for anyone else. That would exhaust me.”
One difficult aspect of polyamory, Peterson said, is feeling a need to show that this relationship style is legitimate.
“A lot of people don’t understand what it is,” she said. “And so there’s this pressure to show that it’s working, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
Meeting new people, Forbes said, can also be tricky. “I’ve always loved meeting people in real life. I find it really exciting to meet someone and ask for their number, but how do I slip this into conversation casually that I’m polyamorous and I have a partner, but I would love to take you out on a date. It’s weird and it’s awkward sometimes. So I think that’s the crux.”
Dating apps can help, but they are exhausting, said Yoshimura. “I know it’s a tool and it’s really straightforward to weed out who you would get along with or not. But sometimes I get bogged down by the texting back and forth. And then also just living life in general and not trying to be on my phone all the time.”
There are internal struggles, too. Ben Gallegos said, “As a throuple, comparison vs. equality can be hard. We want to treat each other as equals without comparing each other. Comparison will kill joy faster than anything in this lifestyle.”
To get out of the comparison mindset, Gallegos said, “We remind each other that our relationships are unique and each one has different needs. Uniformity wouldn’t fulfill all of our needs.”
For Peterson, whose film attempts to demystify polyamory and who identifies as polyamorous herself, it’s just as important that people understand what it is as what it is not.
“Some people feel this pressure to say they’re polyamorous and that they have to be dating multiple people at the same time, but you can identify as poly and just have one partner,” she said.
Even though polyamory is about realizing a capacity for deep emotional connections with multiple people, Peterson said, it doesn’t have to amount to love, just like in a traditional relationship. “It doesn’t have to be on that level. I have yet to really feel like I’m in love with multiple people at the same time, but I feel strongly that I have that capacity.”
Peterson got married at 20 and found herself struggling with monogamy, ultimately divorcing her husband after two years in 2018. Peterson has been practicing polyamory for about three years.
“Trying to be monogamous just made me feel like there was something wrong with me for wanting something else or for not wanting to spend all my time with one person,” she said. “I could never go back to those rigid ways of doing things, because I like being open to the possibilities.”
Monogamy is undergoing the pressures of a changing world, according to Esther Perel, a bestselling author and psychotherapist, who gave an interview to Lewis Howes for his podcast “The School of Greatness.”
“In the era of self-fulfillment, and the right to happiness, we don’t have more desires today than the previous generations, we just feel more entitled to fulfill our desires,” she said, “and we feel that we have a right to be happy.”
This ideal of the freedom to choose is the driving force of Peterson’s film. She hopes that for those watching, polyamory will be understood less as an avoidance of commitment and more of an intentional decision on when, and with whom, to commit.
“It’s not something that’s trying to tear society apart,” she said. “So much of [polyamory] is about community and supporting one another. It’s about having this network of care and love and the capacity and the availability to love people. From a polyamorous standpoint, there is no limit to the amount of love that we can give.”
Matt Didisheim wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.
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NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text:
This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Matt Didisheim wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.
