My love for the outdoors is tied, inherently, to my childhood: growing up in the greater New York metropolitan area, I spent a lot of time playing sports outside with my friends, going for walks with my dog, and helping my mom, grandmother, and great-grandmother in the garden. I was very much into wildlife, and was always reading and watching shows about big cats, wolves, chimps, and so many other wild critters.
I looked up to people like Steve Irwin and Jane Goodall, who had helped foster not just curiosity for the wild world, but also love and compassion for its inhabitants. These conservationists taught many young minds, like my own at the time, that we should be doing our best to protect mother earth and all of the plants and animals that call this world home. They inspired me to want to work with animals, and so I made that my dream.
I’ve thankfully been able to make a career out of working in the environmental field, which is a blessing in and of itself. Throughout the various positions I’ve held and workplaces I’ve found myself in, I noticed a glaring lack of diversity in the environmental/outdoor/conservation world. As a mixed-race Latino of Puerto Rican descent, it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized how truly underrepresented our people are in the greater conversation about conservationism and environmentalism. Which explains why popular environmental figures never looked, acted, or spoke like us.
As a mixed-race Latino of Puerto Rican descent, it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized how truly underrepresented our people are in the greater conversation about conservationism and environmentalism.
After spending many years bouncing around environmental careers; from education to policy, outdoor recreation, and back into education, I was finally able to make my dream a reality. I started working at the Wolf Conservation Center in early 2022, and just like that my childhood dream to work with animals had come true! It took a lot of time, energy, and effort to make it this far, but perseverance and sense of purpose goes a long way.
At the Wolf Conservation Center, I get to work with wolves on a daily basis and teach programs that discuss the history of wolves throughout North America, the ecological role they play in their habitats, in addition to the human role in protecting their future. We’re currently home to 32 wolves, 30 of whom are critically endangered species who belong to a federally managed wild-release program (we’re a nonprofit who help facilitate and administer the program). The other 2 wolves are our Ambassador wolves, who are essentially wolf teachers and allow folks to experience what it’s like to see and be around wolves.
A lot of the work that we do, not just in terms of education and advocacy, but also through conservation efforts, helps change the negative stigmas and stereotypes about wolves. Like people, wolves live in family units (or packs) and they care deeply for their pack members. They are intelligent, beautiful, and emotional beings, and have every right to exist on this earth as we do. I’m incredibly thankful that my work not only allows me to change the perception of Latinos in the environmental field, but also change how people perceive wolves. While I’m getting to live out this childhood dream, I haven’t lost sight of the ambition that took me to this point, and will use it help make learning about wolves more accessible to disenfranchised and underrepresented communities.
Sean Seary is a 30-year-old environmental educator from the NY metro area who loves spending as much time as he possibly can outdoors. Whether it’s reading, running, hiking, or gardening, you can often find him outside living his best life. Currently, he is a Program Educator II at the Wolf Conservation Center, where he teaches about wolves and the human role in protecting their future.
My uncle came to this country in the bed of a truck. He crossed the desert hidden and hot; nature was not separate and he was connected. To the outdoor industry that I have become part of my uncles’ story is not the typical idea of an experience that builds one’s connection to nature. And though it was not a positive connection, it was potent to his relationship to the desert and to himself as part of nature.
He and many people who don’t have access to interacting with nature as a leisure activity deserve to have moments in nature that are not in passing nor fear. Moments that are not plummeted in the history of the wild and dark being used as a place for violence against themselves and their ancestors, for trauma, or seen as dirty for being in it—but as a place of positive connection, for growth, for home and exploration, a place that can be a refuge.
I was a kid, sitting in a red plastic chair with the words Coca-Cola written on the top, in the heat of Guatemala City. The chair stuck to me no matter how I sat in it. A small parrot cooed. There was no distance between the outside and the inside; I was inside looking up at the sky heavy with weather. The hallway lead from the “patio” to the kitchen, no doors in between and when it rained you would get wet going from the bathroom to the kitchen. The kitchen would be filled with the smell of wet pavement and flowers bobbing under the weight of the midday shower. I was part of nature deeply, the mix of concrete and potted plants was the beginning of my understanding that there is no right way to be the part of nature that you are.
“I was part of nature deeply, the mix of concrete and potted plants was the beginning of my understanding that there is no right way to be the part of nature that you are.”
Jasmin Antonia Estrada
The young people on the trips that I now lead are from wood and concrete structures. They know the taste of tap water and they feel the pollution in their lungs, they are connected. I found my place in connecting them to the trails and the mountains. They knew about the bus stops and the weeds that have the profound ability to break concrete. I wanted them to also see the rivers and the unadulterated morning light. To hear the birds.
We were in the White Mountains at our campsite on the fourth day of two weeks on the trail with a group of majority youth of color we were debriefing the day late into the night, sitting in a circle recalling the success and learning moments. I remember this night is when we discovered that “together as a team, when we are on the same page, we can do anything.” The revelation of success. These young people who have never been backpacking before deciding that their group was a home they could have, that nature was a house they could thrive in. The rest of us didn’t notice it, but when it was Michael’s time to share he was silent. This look of awe and fear fell on his face, “Is that the moon?” the question fell out of his mouth so loudly as if forced out by his brain. We all looked towards the dark silhouetted mountains. The red sliver of the rising moon was sparkling over the peaks. “Yes, that’s the moon.” Miles responded slowly. We sat there in a contracted silence. Ten minutes passed. “I have never seen anything like this.” Michael had tears in his eyes, Miles put his arm around him, and we sat there, all slowly sharing the moon we all knew.
I have many narratives of myself in the wilderness. My history as a mixed person, as colonized and colonizer, my experiences as a child being mesmerized by ants, my time as an educator coming to the understanding that there is no “right” way to be in nature. I have exhausted and am exhausted by the way I have presented my narrative to be part of white institutions, to express a difference yet a similarity that they are comfortable with.
I can see that moon burned into my eyes, that moon for me is the positive connection that we all deserve. Not just the sunny days in a park, but the part of nature that reminds you that you are nature and that that is a beautiful thing. He deserved this. There is no number of glossy photos or gear that can make you more or less part of it, it is in your blood, and it belongs to you, and that moon, it was Michael’s.
Cinema has given many of us fortunate ones valuable experiences, yet the seventh art is not universally accessible. In Durango, México considered ‘the land of Mexican cinema,’ this is particularly embarrassing.
With 70 years of history as a pioneer and reference in the western genre, Durango has been nothing more than a stopover for major studios, a one-night romance that, at dawn, is abandoned to its fate, under the promise that some other Hollywood giant will come to visit. The sweet taste of this masquerade has become bitter over time, turning a cultural legacy into an obsolete lie that convinces neither foreigners nor the people of Durango.
However, under the shadows, an army has begun to form. A generation of emerging filmmakers who have taken on the commitment to redefine the heritage of their land’s already outdated name, to reclaim cinema, transform it, and make it as communal as it always should have been. Through their unique vision and talent, a movement has emerged in the heart of Mexico that has spread to neighboring states, seeking to take the stories of northern Mexican culture to new horizons.
The very specific social issues of their town and the conditions that embrace it have begun to have a face through its people and traveled to unimaginable corners thanks to the big screen and the new formats of today’s cinema.
But not only that. The hunger to reclaim the title of the land of cinema is such that these young people now lead social projects like ‘Cine Nómada,’ which takes knowledge to rural communities in the state to dignify the stories that happen every day, make them visible, and thus begin to awaken a new feeling, one that promises to bring progress to towns that have remained hidden for a long time.
While the potential of the people of Durango is admirable, to transform their reality, more people need to join, beyond its residents. Our greatest contribution will be to become ambassadors of the movement, give them a voice from where we are, and share their cause with the world.
For me, that is the mission. I will continue writing until my words find eyes eager to discover a new adventure that will elevate the lifestyle of people in vulnerable situations through the nobility of culture. Do you accept the challenge?
Alejandro Santillán is an independent writer, convinced that culture is a path to the progress of communities. Currently, he works as a coordinator and communication strategist within the government of the State of Durango. Through his work, he brings visibility to the diverse culture that the northern territory of Mexico possesses, highlighting its needs.
Christian La Mont manages the Yo Cuento storytelling, communications, and advocacy program.
The Rosca de Reyes was cut and the hot chocolate was poured out into small cups.
While Latino Outdoors Los Angeles leader Jesús announced that the hike would begin shortly, advocate Sally García laid out the giveaways from the National Parks Conservation Association on a picnic table. We formed a circle and briefly introduced ourselves, what our names were, and where we were coming from, and gave thanks to the traditional stewards of the lands we now knew as Griffith Park, the Gabrielino-Tongva. Once the rosca had been eaten (no plastic baby in this one), the chocolate caliente drank, and the giveaways handed out, we went over safety tips and trail information reminding all the attendees to hike at their own pace, to leave no trace, to ask questions, and to enjoy this January evening outdoors with fellow community members.
We were there for the now-annual LO and NPCA Día de Reyes sunset hike at Griffith Park in Los Angeles. The plan was to hike as a group to an elevation of approximately 800′ where we would encounter vistas of downtown Los Angeles, the Griffith Observatory, and the famed Hollywood sign. We had a solid turnout: thirty people of all ages, couples, friends, solo hikers, people returning for another LO experience, and first-timers who had never experienced an LO outing.
The diverse group gathered around as Latino Outdoors Policy Advocate, Jazzari “Jazz” Taylor, introduced herself and spoke passionately about LO’s advocacy priorities: park and outdoor equity, environmental justice, and broadening and diversifying the conservation movement to include more voices and communities. As Jazz explained, Latino Outdoors was also working on several public lands campaigns that were focused on the designation of Chuckwalla National Monument, Medicine Lake National Monument, and the expansion of Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument and the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument.
The San Gabriel Mountains are situated within 20-30 miles of Los Angeles’s 4 million residents, presenting a unique opportunity for equitable access to nature. While half the city lacks nearby parks and only 3% of Angelenos live within a 10-minute walk to a park, expanding the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument by 109,000 acres could help bridge this nature gap, especially for underserved immigrant, Latinx, and other BIPOC communities. This expansion would not only safeguard crucial water sources and wildlife corridors but it could also be a space where communities can benefit from the physical and mental health benefits of spending time outdoors, in their own backyard.
While Latino Outdoors hikes and outings are experiences where individuals, families, and friends can experience the thrill of adventure outside regardless of skill level, they also offer a space where these same participants can learn and grow their knowledge and appreciation of the outdoors and the policies that impact the natural places they love.
We often hear about the “accidental environmentalist”, the individual who started going hiking with friends as a social outing and ended up learning about and being passionate about the flora and fauna they were surrounded by. Similarly, these kinds of hikes are also about planting the seeds that will grow into an “accidental advocate”, an individual who is already on a hike, enjoys the views, makes sure to leave no trace, but develops their desire to learn more about the policies that help preserve, protect, or expand the public lands they enjoy. To expand and diversify the current voices and viewpoints in the conservation world, we need to accept and encourage all levels of learning, organizations like Latino Outdoors and NPCA need to be the gateway to learning and involvement, and there’s no better way to recruit these “accidental” environmentalists and advocates then on the trail, surrounded by patient leaders and the beauty of nature all around you.
Jazz encouraged folks to scan QR codes and sign petitions in support of the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument Expansion and the other public lands campaigns she spoke about.
As we wrapped up our conservation conversation, we continued along the trail where we soon left behind the hustle and bustle of bus shuttles full of locals and tourists heading to Griffith Observatory and the traffic near the Greek Theater and hikers jostling for a parking spot near the trailhead. We fell into the familiar beat of footsteps, the dirt of the trail crunching, and the “remind me your name again?” conversations starting up.
When you join LO on a hike or experience, you’ll also find that the people right next to you on the trail are ready to learn, listen, and share as well. The person next to you on the trail can be an absolute beginner or they can be an expert. They can be experts in gardening and landscaping, experts in biology, experts in parenting, or as Evelyn Serrano from the Audubon Center at Debs Park showed us, they can even be experts in community science and birdwatching. Along a bend on the trail, Evelyn spoke loudly enough for our group of 30 to hear, but not loudly enough to scare the wildlife away. She invited us all to tune in to our senses along the trail: what were we hearing? What did we see? What kinds of plants could you touch – or not touch? What did those plants smell like?
While taking in the calm along the chaparral-covered curves of Griffith Park, we learned a little about the red-tailed hawks, red-shouldered hawks, Cooper’s hawks, barn owls, great horned owls, Western screech owls, American kestrels, and peregrine falcons that can be found in Griffith Park. It was also a reminder that even though Griffith Park is an island surrounded by freeways, houses, and boulevards, it is also incredibly resilient like the city it is a part of, rich in biodiversity, stubborn by nature, creative in how it thrives.
The park itself is a mixture of oak and sycamore woodlands, mixed chaparral, coastal sage scrub, hiking and biking trails, helipads, roads, and canyons, and is the site of a former Civilian Conservation Corps camp and later Japanese internment camp during WWII. It is also home to mule deer, bobcats, coyotes, and until recently, also the home of the infamous mountain lion, P-22. The park evolves, the connection to the community and the environment around it constantly growing, expanding its roots.
As we reached a bend along a ridge, we were greeted by an incredible sunset. An orange glow bathed the hikers as people stopped to catch their breath, share a hug, take a selfie, or take in the view in silence. We rounded the bend and saw the Hollywood sign, bold, unmistakable, a mile marker you couldn’t ignore, and yet somehow less impressive than the sunset we were witnessing. The group followed LO Los Angeles leaders Jesús, Elias, and Remi to the overview which would be our turnaround point. The vista, once known as the Mount Hollywood Summit, was recently renamed to the Tom LaBonge Summit in honor of a Los Angeles City Council member who was known for his enthusiastic love of Griffith Park, was frequently seen along the park’s hiking trails, and led the effort to expand the park by 500 acres.
From the summit, we took in a 360-degree view of Griffith Park, Los Angeles, Burbank, the Angeles National Forest, the Santa Monica Mountains, the Verdugo Mountains, and the San Gabriel Mountains. As the sun dipped into the horizon, our group took one last look before gathering for our traditional photo with the Latino Outdoors flag. The sun set and our headlamps and flashlights illuminated the trail as we returned to the parking lot, and we hiked together as group of smiling adventurers and environmentalists, a diverse and multi-generational gathering of familiar faces and first-timers, of newly minted birdwatchers and accidental advocates, honoring our roots, celebrating a new year and the bond of being afuera, juntos.
We invite you to join Latino Outdoors Los Angeles and any of our regional LO teams on an experience where you might run into an old friend or make some new ones, and where you might just walk away with some new knowledge and insight into the outdoor place you’re enjoying, and learn what you can do to protect and preserve it. Visit latinooutdoors.org to find an outing near you.
Stephanie Garcia recently opened Volver Counseling with a passion to connect the natural world, our communities, and bodies in the healing process.
One of my earliest memories is laying in the grass in my aunt’s garden. It was a magical place where I could listen to the birds sing while they splashed in the concrete bird bath that marked the center of the yard and counted the ants that marched in a line going about their daily duties. She passed down to me a deep respect for nature and animals, reminding me to greet the sun every day along with all the beings that lived in this seemingly endless ecosystem in her front yard in Houston. This was the first time I can recall feeling a connection to the natural world. I was remembering something that I had known inside of me and was reignited through my aunt’s invitation. Nature became my first friend.
This remembering has been a theme that has reemerged recently as I have continued to follow my interest in learning about how our connections to nature, our bodies, and one another can be a great source of healing. I had been interested in meditation since first learning about it in college, visiting various Buddhist temples in my city and taking classes led by the monks. It felt like a secret superpower, that when properly accessed, gave me a taste of what it felt like to drop into my body and witness my emotions flow through me, expanding my capacity to be with myself and cultivate a sense of inner peace.
However, it wasn’t until I attended a training on traditional Mexican Sobada, or massage therapy, that the threads of wisdom that my aunt had shared with me so long ago began to weave together. I was thrilled to learn about the wealth of information in indigenous knowledge and I began to realize what incredible gifts have been passed down to us by our ancestors. The more I learned the more I realized that these connections and their capacity for healing were what modern western psychology was slowly becoming more open to and science was now able to “validate”.
As a therapist, I find it incredibly hopeful that there are so many ways to heal and so many different things that can help us in this process. It’s interesting that sometimes there is the idea that there is only one way or the “best” way. As humans we need many different types of medicine including plant, human, animal, and community.
If I could share one message with you from all the healing modalities/healers that I have encountered thus far, I’d share one from the tobacco plant that was delivered by scientist Monica Gagliano, which she speaks about in her book, Thus Spoke the Plant.
“In each moment, humanity can open its eyes to close the rift that separates it from the whole by realizing that there is no rift at all. This realization heals the root cause of humanity’s pain,” says Gagliano.
Why is self-compassion so healing? Because if we can look at ourselves through the lens of how we view the beauty of nature, our favorite pet, or a loved one, we can see that we are so deserving of love, kindness, respect, and care. We ARE all those things; separateness is an illusion. This may take practice and coming back to again and again, but we are worth it.
