Today is Earth Day, and I am remembering my years in Costa Rica, helping to plant trees with friends, colleagues, and local community members, including police officers. I am also thinking about policing in America and its partial origins in the slave patrols of the South, which wanted to maintain slavery and stemmed from economic motivations.
Economic motivation may be as old as humanity itself. It’s a derivative of the desire to prosper, which in turn, is descended from the survival instinct.
For many, somewhere along the way, the survival instinct became an unrelenting drive to accumulate and hoard wealth. This most visibly manifests itself in socioeconomic systems, capitalism and socialism alike, that become severely unbalanced, where the “haves” are few, the “have nots” are numerous, and the disparity between them becomes so great that the entire system becomes dangerously strained.
We see this in the natural world, when a particular species takes up all the resources, grows too big for its own good, and the entire ecosystem collapses. Large scale agriculture offers another example. Forest ecosystems that host rich and resilient biodiversity are cleared away to make room for a particular crop, a single species or monoculture. At first, the soil and other growing conditions are excellent for that single crop to thrive. Then, the diminishing returns become increasingly evident. It takes more and more pesticides, herbicides, and other artificial inputs to suppress all the other species of plants and animals that also want to enjoy the soil, space, water, and other resources. Eventually, the soil becomes too infertile and the groundwater too contaminated. Nothing thrives on the land anymore.
“If we pay attention to Nature, we can learn about the importance of diversity and balanced ecosystems”
Luis Villa
Human systems are not exempt from the laws of Nature.
If we pay attention to Nature, we can learn about the importance of diversity and balanced ecosystems. In human systems, pervasive and growing racial, economic, and other social injustices (along with our constructive and destructive responses to these injustices) are either signs or full-blown alarms that something is off-balance. They are an indication that we must nurture more diversity, share the soil, and spread the wealth between ourselves and also with the natural world, which is where all our supply chains begin and is ultimately from where we source all our sustenance and wellbeing.
On this Earth Day, I am thinking about the connection between humanity’s social systems and the Planet’s natural systems. On this day, I am thinking more about sustainability than I am thinking about race, politics, or economics. I am thinking about the need for peace among ourselves and between us and our Planet.
Christina collapsed in a puddle of tears and gasping breath. Her knees and palms were covered in dirt – trekking poles and backpack tossed to the side in frustration. The mountain was taunting her. We were only halfway up.
The largest “mountain” Christina had known prior was the Ravenell Bridge. We both grew up in Charleston, SC. Though, her father had been in the Air Force, so she bounced around a bit more than me. But it was our struggles with identity as people of color, vastly different in our experiences, that led us to this tangled tale.
While I’m Mexican American, I didn’t grow up close to my father’s side of the family. That culture, my birthright, was lost. I was left with a name, a slightly darker complexion, and a lifetime of being the oddball. To my Latinx friends, I was always seen as “the gringo.” And to my non-Latinx friends, I was known as the Mexican. It was a dynamic I didn’t truly understand until much later on in life. To be honest, I felt more “American” than anything else. I was raised on the slow southern customs of Charleston. The grandparents I knew came from Michigan. We’d visit the mountains in the fall and pick apples.
“Well, if we’re going to travel to Ecuador together, we better have dinner first and get to know each other.”
Tina, on the other hand, was a second-generation Ecuadorian. Her mother grew up near Guayaquil while her father was from outside Quito. She came from a large family. Spanish melodies and her Ecuadorian legacy surrounded her. Her Abuela still makes empanadas from scratch, and they eat pernil for Christmas.
Funnily enough, the first conversation Christina and I ever had was about a trip to Ecuador. She and her mother were planning to go, but she wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending so much time together. She jokingly mentioned she could use a travel buddy. Having just visited Peru a couple of years earlier, I’d take any opportunity to get back to South America. Truth be told, I was rather inebriated that evening. It was St. Patty’s Day, and our large group of friends was celebrating appropriately. Christina didn’t believe I would remember a single word of our conversation. But when the next day came, I was the smoothest I had ever been in my entire awkward oddball life. “Well, if we’re going to travel to Ecuador together, we better have dinner first and get to know each other.”
The trip was postponed for a few years, but eventually, I made good on my promise. Eventually, I became that travel buddy.
When I saw where her father was from, so close to the area known as the Avenue of the Volcanoes, I couldn’t believe he didn’t have her hiking before she could crawl! It’s a magical rolling landscape that seems specifically crafted to elicit the most extraordinary adventures. I was completely captivated.
But here Christina was, this person that had never been hiking despite those mountains being in her blood. Part of her birthright had been lost too. She had been dealt dreams of assimilation; dreams in consumption. The lands of her ancestors were forgotten about in the midst of striving for prosperity.
It’s hard to fault her parents, though. If you saw the poverty from which they came, you’d understand wanting to abandon it all – forgetting every ounce of your past. It’s a level of poverty that’s incomprehensible in the US, a level that would influence anyone’s judgment in pursuit of something better.
When Christina and I were planning our trip to Ecuador, I agreed to a week of visiting family if she agreed to a week of hiking around in the mountains with me. It was a deal. I bought her the very first hiking boots she had ever owned. I made sure she was draped in layers of technical fabrics she never knew existed. We even got her a fancy pink backpack for the rest of her essential gear. The mountains were calling, and she was ready.
“Look at where your feet are. You’re standing on the top of a mountain. Did you ever imagine you would be here?”
Pasochoa was our first hike – an extinct volcano sitting at 13,780ft. It was supposed to be our “easy” climb. But you never know how altitude will affect you – especially when you come from a life at sea level. Christina had just run a half marathon a couple of months before. I thought she would be ok. She wasn’t. She struggled. The mountain broke her physically and mentally. It was the most helpless I’ve ever felt. While I faired significantly better, I couldn’t carry her up the mountain. She had to find the strength to get herself up there. She cried. A lot. She stumbled. A lot. But she never gave up. That’s probably why this is one of my favorite memories. She exhibited far more resilience than a mountain has ever required of me.
When we finally reached the peak, I vividly remember telling her to look down. “Look at where your feet are. You’re standing on the top of a mountain. Did you ever imagine you would be here?” She smiled. Be it out of the joy of utter relief; still, she smiled. We had a picnic lunch on the top of Pasochoa before making our way back down to our little hacienda. The impact of that single climb had yet to resonate with us. We were too exhausted. We needed a nap.
In the following days, we climbed Rumiñawi and even spent the night in José F. Ribas Refuge on the side of Cotopaxi. I couldn’t be more proud of Christina or more grateful that she was able to connect with the lands of her people. Her story is one that I will always carry with me – she is the reason why I fight for representation in the outdoors. We are peoples of the land – of the sea – of the mountains and beaches. The outdoors is our right, our very breath, our heartbeat. We are all children of Mother Nature, and thus we long to connect with her. That’s what our single hike did for Christina – she reconnected with another part of her identity, with another piece of her soul.
Christina and I now visit the mountains in the fall and eat pernil for Christmas. She still uses her fancy pink backpack every day.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved being outdoors, I’ve always felt a connection to nature, and I’ve always loved traveling. People always seem surprised when they find out that a nature lover like me grew up in New York City. I can assure you that whether I was living in the Bronx, on Roosevelt Island, or in Manhattan…I always had access to gardens, rivers, parks, and more. As a child, during the summer months, my mother would send me from New York City to Puerto Rico for visits with my grandparents. I remember being in awe of the mountains that looked like giant waves frozen in time. I remember being in awe of the color of the ocean that reminded me of turquoise jewelry. I remember being in awe of the wildlife roaming free in the great outdoors. I remember how happy I saw big skies filled with colorful clouds. I remember how I cried tears of joy the first time I saw stars in the sky outside of a planetarium. That feeling of being in awe of nature’s power still resonates with me today! There is something uplifting, healing, and sacred about being outdoors. I’ve always felt a connection with nature’s energy, whether I’m in the ocean, surrounded by trees, near red rocks, or in the sand! Being outdoors, connecting with nature has always made me happy!
My dream job has always been being a traveling photographer, writer, and artist. I left home at the age of seventeen and have been traveling since. Having lived in New York City, Scotland, London, The U.S. Virgin Islands, and California, and traveling to Japan, Germany, Spain, Italy, Ireland, Netherlands, France, Wales, and all over Great Britain…led me to not only discovering sunrises, sunsets, and night skies, it led me to discover myself. I learned many things, including the fact that I am at my happiest whenever I’m outdoors, experiencing new places, connecting with nature and people while photographing colorful moments, creating videos, and writing about my experiences.
“I remember being in awe of the mountains that looked like giant waves frozen in time. I remember being in awe of the color of the ocean that reminded me of turquoise jewelry. I remember being in awe of the wildlife roaming free in the great outdoors. I remember how happy I saw big skies filled with colorful clouds.”
For many years, I worked for different companies as a professional photographer, and I loved my photography jobs because the work I did involved me doing photography outdoors. That was until I got injured at my last job almost 3 years ago. I ended up getting lost in a corrupt system, ended up with achilles tendon injuries, CRPS, chronic pain, anxiety, sleeping disorder, and other issues…which left me being permanently disabled. I have experienced many obstacles in my life, but the last 3 years have been some of my biggest challenges. I went from crutches, wheelchairs (motorized & manual), rolling walker, cane, and walking sticks, to currently being back on my feet for short periods of time.
As I am a positive person, I do everything I can to stay focused on things that make me happy! Every day is a new day, but with each day comes a new challenge, not only with the chronic pain, CRPS, achilles tendon injuries, and my permanent disability but just trying to live in a world where equality does not exist, especially when it comes to accessibility! I refuse to allow the obstacles to stop me from following my passion, my purpose, or living my dream, so I find ways to get outdoors because nature is healing! Over the last three years, having access to nature and the outdoors helped in my recovery mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and physically.
“I refuse to allow the obstacles to stop me from following my passion, my purpose, or living my dream, so I find ways to get outdoors because nature is healing!”
While facing many challenges, I also noticed that many barriers placed before me are not only due to my personal limitations. For years, I’ve experienced a lack of accessibility to the outdoors, nature, trails, viewpoints, parks, the ocean, and more! I haven’t been able to photograph popular destinations in many State Parks (like Wave in The Valley Of Fire) and some National parks because at some of the parks; there are no ADA Compliant paved trails. While some parks may have one or two “accessible” trails, I’m discovering that many of these trails are not ADA Compliant! We need more ADA Compliant paved walkways, paved trails, and paved viewpoints! As a disabled photographer, I am frustrated with having to be satisfied with either pulling over on the side of the road, being in a parking lot, or in the middle of a road to take photographs! It is not enough, nor is it safe! ADA is the law, and accessibility is a right! If everything happens for a reason, and I went through my experiences to lead me to my purpose, so be it! I am truly happy something positive has come from it!
I created “The Disabled Photographer Project” to bring awareness of what it’s like being a professional traveling photographer, writer, and artist living with a disability. Having access to the outdoors is a fundamental right, and I know too well, having a lifetime of fighting for equal rights as a woman of Puerto Rican descent, how it feels to constantly have to deal with discrimination because of who I am. My purpose in writing blogs and making Youtube videos for my “How Accessible Is Accessible” series is to demonstrate what is really accessible and what isn’t, what changes need to be made by sharing how things are, in hopes of bringing awareness to what can be improved! We are all human beings, and we all have the right to have equal accessibility to nature and the outdoors, whether it’s to connect, to heal, to create, or to be happy. My mission with my work is to also inspire others to slow down long enough to see what we do have: a beautiful world that already exists, that is waiting to be explored, wanting to be appreciated & hoping to be protected. I hope my work can help bring awareness to our beautiful world that needs to be accessible to everyone.
Denise Vásquez is a Puerto Rican, Disabled Photographer, Writer, and Artist who has been published in National Geographic Yourshot, Canon Photo Plus magazine, IMPACT Books, and more! Her photography has been exhibited by the Southwest Environmental Center (Las Cruces, NM), Cleanwave Movement (cleanwave.org), San Diego Fair Exhibition Of Photography (San Diego, CA), Museum Of Ventura County Smith Pavillion (Ventura, CA), and more. Visit www.DeniseVasquezPhotography.com
