On my most recent visit to the Middlesex Fells, the east side reservoir was frozen over. I thought back to before park authorities impounded a wetland to create this pristine pond, when the Pawtucket people roamed freely - a fact largely absent from park signage. The Fells are well-travelled, teeming with activity year round. Yet I can’t recall the last time I walked around this park, or any park, alone. Christian Cooper knew what Alice Walker meant when she said, “Never be the only one, except, possibly, in your own house.” Though the death of Breonna Taylor and others before her taught us there too can lie danger.
Like many Black womxn, I’m weary, for a myriad of systemic and personal reasons. As a Black Environmentalist, I dream of equitable access to space and the protection of Black people while there. Months into 2021, here are some of the things keeping me up at night.
On Connections to Land
My mother tells me that in rural Jamaica, rolling hills give way to open land sliced into residential compounds, strung together by rough dirt roads. You’re never too far from mangroves or mountains. In the states, my parents learned, there was “nature” and “not nature,” and to connect with the former meant driving to the nearest state park. I spent my early years in South Florida, exploring the state’s butterfly gardens, interpretive trails, and nature centers. Such excursions filled me with the same sense of wonder my mother felt catching guppies and peenie wallies in the bush.
A growing body of research suggests that consistent exposure to natural environments leads to better mental health outcomes among urban dwellers. More than an antidote for stress, connecting with the earth is an opportunity for play and, dare I say, whimsy. I whiled away childhood hours digging in earth like it was my vocation. Searching for worms and the perfect stick from which to craft my magic wand. I am still my most imaginative when I am outdoors. When I harvest the Japanese knotweed growing in my yard to make a bread or test out natural agents to ward off garden slugs, I am the ethereal forest witch of your dreams and mine. Daring to imagine and create in the outdoors is a privilege. I make my living decisions based on where I can be closest to green space in a city with inequitable distribution of park space.
What does it look like to forge relationships with land beyond the trauma of enslavement? As herbal remedies become another casualty of the wellness industrial machine, I remember the herbal traditions passed down to my relatives as bush medicine, derived from West African medicinal practices. African slaves in the New World were well-versed in the botanical resources of the tropics and relied on such skills for nourishment, healing, and survival. When I remember this rich lineage, I see boundless potential for self-determination. Reclaiming means revisiting and remembering; it is to nourish and uplift a relationship that already is.
On racial equity
Like so many professional fields, environmentalism has a racial equity problem. While environmental organizations made great strides in hiring more people of color, they remain in the lowest ranks and occupy less than 2% of leadership positions. You don’t need to be a person of color to advocate for racial justice. But honestly, BIPOC folks, and Black womxn in particular, know how to get things done. We’re the most reliably progressive voting block, and remain engaged in environmental issues. Just as policing and predatory economic systems threaten Black lives everywhere, so do severe weather events and rising sea levels. We need to value the lived experience of those most vulnerable to climate impacts, and that means passing the mic, ceding power, and centering them in a solution.
If you’re tired of hearing this, I’m even more exhausted saying it. In the meantime, hire a Black person from a non-traditional background, mentor young Black folks with promise, partner with Black community leaders. Better yet, normalize reparations for descendants of enslaved people.
On hope
One of the first things West Indian immigrants do when they arrive in the other motherland known as New York, is start a garden. One summer, I stumbled upon a ganja plant growing in a neighbor’s backyard. Rather, they’d grown it from seeds, tending to its needs over the course of several seasons. How funny that a plant first brought to Jamaica by East Indian laborers, would later become a deliciously useful herb in folk medicine throughout the islands and responsible for fueling the carceral state. It takes courage to plant seeds in a hostile world and believe they will grow.
When I see Black people planting seeds - in the form of Black-owned food cooperatives, efforts to curb land-loss in Black communities, and preparing the next generation of environmental stewards - that gives me hope. I’m not interested in a safe space, I want a safe planet. Now and into the future.
Paige Curtis is a resident of Cambridge, MA writing at the intersection of environmentalism, equity, and impact. She’s worked at mission-driven organizations and is most excited by community approaches to the climate crisis. Learn more about her work at paigecurtis.me and connect with her on LinkedIn.
