College of Liberal Arts
Kat Reichert, CLA Public Information OfficeFebruary 16, 2026cla-pio@alaska.edu
For UAF anthropology graduate student Melina Arciniega, water is never just water. It is time. Movement. Labor. Choice. Constraint. Memory. Infrastructure. Trust.
It is also deeply personal.
Arciniega, who received the Paul H. McCarthy Award to support research in the Alaska and Polar Regions Collections & Archives (APRCA), is examining how Fairbanks residents, especially those who haul their own water, navigate everyday life. Her project combines surveys, interviews, participant observation and archival research to understand how access, vulnerability and perception shape water use across the community.
“Water in Fairbanks is important for the growth of our community, particularly in terms of access and quality,” Arciniega said. “Residential experiences with local water are fragmented; some have wells or city water connections providing limitless taps in their homes, whereas others manage their water more closely in houses that feature holding tanks (damp houses with plumbing) and dry cabins (housing sans all plumbing).”
After eight years of living in dry cabins herself, she began to notice how thoroughly water structured daily routines. “I realized that my days were coordinated with things like choosing when to shower, where to shower, when to haul water, where to get it from, when to do laundry, and where to go for that,” she said. “It was simply a condition of living the lifestyle, but in turn it made me wonder more about how water organizes time, movement, and decision-making in everyday life in Fairbanks.”
What began as personal observation grew into a larger set of questions: how people access water, where breakdowns occur, and how ideas about quality influence behavior.
“I also noticed a difference in narratives from those living in dry cabins out of economic necessity … compared to those who chose to live in one out of personal preference,” she said. “This initial interest then blossomed into broader questions that centered on how self-haulers are getting water, what vulnerabilities exist to accessing that water, and how perceptions of water quality influence use.”
Her connection to the topic runs deeper still. “In all of the time I’ve spent with water, I’ve learned that it is a powerful teacher demanding patience, calmness in calamity, and respect for personal limits,” she said. “Being underwater is the closest I have come to living in poetry; each current is a stanza, rivers have rhythms, and tides carry stories. The water in Fairbanks is particularly special to me because this is where I learned to dive, it’s where I’ve carried my own water supply by hand for so many years, and it’s a place where I want to continue to see our waterways cared for.”
Knocking on doors
To understand those stories, Arciniega and her team went directly to residents. Using parcel records, satellite imagery and community knowledge, they visited more than 350 dry cabins across the Fairbanks area, ultimately collecting about 150 surveys and conducting in-depth interviews with residents as well as people working in water regulation and distribution.
One discovery immediately challenged her expectations. “I mistakenly assumed that dry cabins would mostly be occupied by younger, maybe college-aged people, but instead I encountered ages between 19 to 81,” she said. “It was so meaningful to hear the perspectives of older residents who have been living in dry cabins for longer than I’ve been alive.”
Those conversations revealed the physical and logistical strain of moving water.
“Fieldwork overall revealed accessibility issues as I heard stories about how residents would have to do things like take an Uber to refill their water jugs after their car broke down, how they faced a lot of difficulty when they experienced injuries that affected their mobility, or how they would avoid using water because they believed it to be lower in quality.”
She was also struck by how ordinary the system has become. Visiting hundreds of homes revealed how widespread self-hauling is as a normalized, everyday feature of life across the community.
Yet normalization can also make experiences invisible.
“As I continue to review fieldnotes alongside interview transcripts and survey results, I am noticing more that water access isn’t as cut-and-dry as I initially thought,” she said. “It’s an experience that carries a set of unique vulnerabilities, challenges, and sometimes preferences. And in turn, I think this aspect of water use remains mostly invisible in formal discussions of water systems.”
Looking backward to understand the present
That is where APRCA comes in.
By tracing historic decisions, regulations and responses to contamination, Arciniega is building a longer view of how today’s realities took shape.
“Archival records demonstrate the persistence of certain aspects of water management, such as the prioritization of fire-fighting, while also revealing shifts in regulation and accountability for quality management,” she said. “All of this truly helps me frame present-day practices and link earlier decisions in water systems management to contemporary circumstances.”
Working in the archives has also sharpened her interviewing skills.
“The more involved I am with this archival data, the better informed I am to ask questions when interviewing those who work in water quality regulation and distribution,” she said.
Moving toward analysis
Now, with data collection nearing completion, Arciniega is turning toward interpretation.
“Since analysis is impending, I’m starting to think more about patterns, themes, and how these different forms of data all speak to one another,” she said.
Her goal is both local and global.
“Ultimately, I hope this research will contribute to broader awareness of water use in Fairbanks, namely by highlighting the experiences of self-haulers and emphasizing issues of accessibility that create water insecurity experiences,” she said. “More broadly within the field of anthropology, I hope that this project can contribute to ongoing conversations about water insecurity while centering sub-arctic and cold region contexts that often feel underrepresented in literature.”
Shaped by mentorship
Arciniega credits the Anthropology MA program for helping her develop the confidence and rigor to pursue such work.
“My committee has encouraged me to trust my approach while also inspiring me to be more rigorous and attentive,” she said. “Their guidance has helped me learn how to balance my passions and curiosity with methodological care and academic integrity.”
Equally important, she says, is the constant reflection encouraged by her peers.
“By continuously engaging in cultural studies, I am more aware of why I ask the questions that I do, how knowledge is produced, and how positionality shapes interpretation and representation.”
The importance of liberal arts
For Arciniega, those lessons extend beyond anthropology.
“To view the world through frameworks of metrics, code, and outcomes is fundamentally misleading and a grave over-simplification of reality,” she said. “To ignore subjectivity and context (and ultimately, culture) is to minimize the human experience.”
Engineers, medical professionals and resource managers, she argues, all rely on cultural understanding whether they name it or not.
“You and I do not exist outside of a culture — we are all cultural beings,” she said. “Best practices, therefore, require that we consider the subjective lens, and this is where liberal arts are essential for enhancing our understanding of the world.”
Staying curious
As her thesis moves forward, Arciniega returns to a principle that has guided her from the beginning.
“I would like to add a last emphasis on choosing a research topic that genuinely fosters joy and curiosity,” she said. “While I don’t see joy as being entirely separate from rigor, I do think that having a sense of excitement feeds tenacity and long-term commitment.”
She hopes others pursue projects that keep them close to what matters most to them. For Arciniega, it is water: carried by hand, stored with care, protected, rationed, and part of the rhythm of daily life.
The Anthropology graduate program at the University of Alaska Fairbanks trains students to investigate complex human questions through rigorous, community-engaged research. Working across cultures, environments and time, students collaborate with partners throughout Alaska and beyond while developing the analytical, ethical and methodological tools that shape careers in research, public service and more.
Gifts to Anthropology at UAF support student research, fieldwork opportunities and the mentorship that helps emerging scholars grow into thoughtful, engaged professionals. Your contribution helps graduate students pursue ambitious projects, work alongside communities and share knowledge that matters in Alaska and around the world.
