OLYMPIA, WA, February 13, 2026 /24-7PressRelease/ -- Before Voshte Gustafson led a business, served on boards, or represented tribal citizens in Washington State, she was 14 years old, learning to cook on a commercial fishing boat in Southeast Alaska.

That boat—the Voshte Lynn, named by her father—wasn't just a summer job. It was a floating school of hard work, independence, and survival.

"I was the cook, which meant planning, shopping, and preparing every meal for a crew of four or five men. We were out for weeks. I had to figure it out fast," she says. "Rough waters, tight quarters, long days. You're up by 5:30 a.m., making a full hot breakfast and coffee before anyone pulls on their rain gear."

Her crew fished using purse seines, a physically demanding method where nets are set and pulled multiple times a day. Gustafson wasn't just feeding the team. She was part of it. She jumped into the chaos between sets to make snacks, prepare lunch, and keep everyone going. Then did it again the next day.

"Fishing taught me to do things right the first time. Not because it's convenient, but because mistakes on the water are dangerous," she says. "We worked hard every day, even when we were docked. My dad believed if there was gear to fix or a deck to clean, it got done."

It wasn't easy. But it paid off. Her summers on the boat funded her college education, her first car, and a deep understanding of discipline that would outlast any paycheck.

Those years also brought her closer to her roots. Gustafson's Tlingit family is based in Klawock, a coastal village where generations of Native families return each summer. "It always felt like coming home," she says. "Cousins, elders, food, stories—it wasn't just about fishing. It was about living in our culture."

Even now, based in Washington, she keeps that connection alive. She returns to Alaska when she can. She participates in totem pole raisings, food preservation, and community gatherings. And she serves as a delegate for the Central Council of the Tlingit & Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska, helping to represent thousands of tribal members living outside the state.

That same connection to culture shows up in her work at Color Graphics, a promotional products company she and her husband Kiley operate. As a Native and woman-owned business, they serve a wide range of clients—but tribal organizations hold a special place.

"We understand the cultural significance behind the work. It's not just a logo on a product," she says. "Sometimes we're creating items for potlatches, community outreach, or honoring ceremonies. We help clients find products that reflect who they are."

She says her heritage helps her build trust in those relationships. "When people see me at events, they know I get it. I'm not just dropping off boxes. I listen. I make suggestions. I follow through."

That follow-through has earned Color Graphics a strong referral and retention rate. And Gustafson makes it clear—that's no accident.

"We take deadlines seriously. We take details seriously. We care if something looks good. We care if it shows up on time. If we say we'll make something happen, we do."

That mindset isn't separate from her past. It's built on it. "Growing up in a fishing family, we didn't take shortcuts. We worked until the job was done, even if it was late, even if it was raining. That's what I bring to my clients now."

When asked what she wants people to understand about Native-owned businesses, she keeps it simple: "We care. We want your event to succeed. We want your team to feel proud. And we want to make the process easy for you."

In every part of her work—whether she's hauling gear on a boat or hauling boxes into a trade show—Gustafson leads with that same grit. It's not flashy. It's not always seen. But it shows up in the way her clients stay, the way her community trusts her, and the way she keeps moving forward.

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