The fractured fairy tale of her career is a story known all-too-well to anyone with ears: eleven-year-old Alaska, local commercial sweetheart, avid Radio Disney listener, and transcriber of garbled audition announcements, was able to out-cute every other girl Disney came across on their quest to find the perfect Hannah Montana. She was immediately catapulted into a new reality, where tiny Tennessee tomboys became kid-friendly juggernauts and no smile was ever quite bright enough. Seemingly overnight, her skinned knees and barefoot shenanigans were spun into well-coiffed, perfectly-choreographed gold, her face plastered on more merchandise than she could fathom and her brassy Tennessee twang providing a soundtrack to childhoods worldwide.

Alaska served a five-year stint as a minion to Mickey Mouse, and though they polished her to the best of their ability, Disney was no match for the force of adolescence playing out in the public eye. Missteps normally dismissed as growing pains- a misplaced f-bomb here, an underage drink there- were magnified a million times under the microscope of public opinion, making her one of the most polarizing figures in America before she was old enough to drive. Ever emotional and predictably unpredictable, she kept her handlers on their toes as each new piece of unflattering news left them to gamble on her explosive reactions. The suits above them, eyes aglow with dollar signs, decided to spin her perceived teenage rebellion to their advantage. Hannah Montana had barely come to a close before they introduced the "edgy" side of Alaska Baxter in all her black leather, heavy synth, "Can't Be Tamed" glory. Transparently manufactured and a certified flop, the album served as the last straw in an already strained relationship and turned out to be Alaska's last collaboration with the Disney powers-that-be.

Free from her contractual commitments and the daily demands of being Hannah Montana, Alaska all but fled from the public eye, only sporadically appearing on Twitter or at events. Her 18th birthday came and went with little fanfare, but late 2011 saw a spike in headlines with her name attached, though for a reason no one expected: she had shown up in a lecture hall at Columbia University. Outlets buzzed with rumors that she was taking an early retirement from show business, but Alaska offered only radio silence as she navigated her first "real" young adult experience. Even the paparazzi stopped following her to class eventually, once they realized how intent she was on being as blissfully dull and unaware as possible. The academic year stretched on uneventfully; Alaska worked diligently, went to parties, and continued to inspire thinkpieces about the perils of underage everything as she carved out what seemed to be a path toward genuine normalcy. Fall became winter, then spring; her management team had all but given up by the time summer rolled in. Still, Alaska refused to step into her old shoes: no work, no press, no comment. She spent her vacation catching up with friends and making new ones, traveling wherever the wind took her, taking up new hobbies, and stepping into studio sessions for fun. And by the end of the summer, though no one quite knew it yet, she had stumbled upon the barest bones of an album.

The only thing easier than leaving show business, it turned out, was coming back to it. Though she returned to school for a fall semester, Alaska could barely focus on anything but the journey ahead, and she was quick to drop out. She kicked off 2013 with a new management team and a record label that was eager to please, handing over just about anything she wanted for the sake of having her name on the roster. The music she'd experimented with the previous summer went on to become "Bangerz," the critical and commercial success that confirmed both the unquestionable death of Hannah Montana and the birth of a superstar who could do whatever the fuck she wanted. The rollout was nothing short of controversial, given her decidedly sexual image, dirty south hip-hop influences, and general don't-give-a-fuck attitude, and though her team still waited with bated breath for the temper tantrums, the destructive behavior, the spontaneous disappearances, they never came. She had grown up, that much was somewhat true, but she'd also learned that each complaint directly correlated to a spike in her album sales. Content with the catch-22 she'd accidentally created, Alaska set out on a year-long tour, an international sideshow that brought to life the unnervingly raunchy and delightfully bizarre inner workings of her brain.

Radio silence seemed to always be the dangerous precursor to something massive, so no one should have been surprised when, following the explosive success of the Bangerz Tour, Alaska's public presence essentially vanished. Her instagram posts dwindled from several times a day to roughly once a week, and would only feature captionless photos of colorful collages or clumsily constructed art projects, presumably made by Alaska herself. This time, the deafening silence was a lead-in to her strangest venture yet: a 23-track album, announced as a closer to her hosting gig at the 2015 VMA's and uploaded to the internet for free. Alaska Baxter and her Dead Petz seemed to be all those adorably grotesque art projects brought to life, a psychedelic trip of an album recorded in Alaska's LA home with the help of newfound friends ("eternal soulmates," as she calls them), The Flaming Lips. Despite it being a passion project- a free record followed up with a self-funded tour meant that she was just hemorrhaging money, and also that her entire management team was in a constant state of panic- the album got good reviews, and for the first time since she was a pre-teen, Alaska was happy to do publicity. She spoke excitedly and at length about the process, the influences, the charity on the receiving end of her tour proceeds, and whatever else came up. It was like someone had flipped a switch; offers that had been strictly verboten in the years prior were suddenly serious contenders for her time: acting roles, endorsements, reality TV appearances. It seemed that giving her exactly what she wanted was the best way to get Alaska to play fair; for the first time in years, as 2015 came to a close, her team could breathe easy.

With a film under her belt and a comfortable seat on the panel at The Voice, the year 2016 has been kind to Alaska thus far. There are rumors of another forthcoming album, though she has yet to announce anything or shut down her colorfully erratic instagram in preparation. The only thing Alaska has confirmed is that she's doing everything she wants to do at this time and that she's happy. She's still delightfully obnoxious with the same skinned knees and bare feet that she had at eleven, still the cautionary tale to scare wholesome children all along the Bible Belt into saying their prayers at night, still the daughter of a pageant queen and a Tennessee tomboy with a slightly softer twang than she used to have, but she's happy, and in the end, isn't that all that really matters?