Abre Los Ojos

por Margarita Vargas Patrón

My mamá immigrated here when she was 20 years old, leaving her home, dreams, and loved ones behind on a questionable promise that she would return. Roughly 40 years later, she is in her home in San Diego talking to me on the phone. We call each other at least three times a week to talk about everything. It almost always ends with my questions about her childhood, my abuelitos, her hometown, and her life before us, her kids. On this particular call, I ask why she thinks I love the outdoors; was there a history of camping in our family?

From her perspective, this question was like most of my probing ones- random and filled with curiosity. This time, there was a purpose because I had never shared my love of the outdoors with her. Now I did, to make up for lost time. I’ve told her about my small hikes, the parks around my neighborhood, and the beaches we’ll explore when she comes to visit me. Before getting to this point, she helped me heal first.

“Allí, tu abuelita hacía de cenar y nos contaba historias bajo las estrellas.”

I considered a biology camping trip my first real encounter with nature. It required all the supplies I thought made it official: a tent (I rented), a sleeping bag (I borrowed), and no indoor plumbing for miles. I loved everything: the fresh air, the campfire, and sleeping under the stars. After that experience, I didn’t question my love for the outdoors. Except for the fact that amongst my friends it was considered a white people thing; it was something that required money- something my family and I didn’t have. Growing up, the common phrase was “no tenemos dinero.” Whenever I overheard a classmate share their upcoming family camping trip or their annual skiing trip, to me there was an unspoken barrier of access and a common thread that only white people had access. That classist and racial distinction made it easier to shrug those experiences as white people things. Internalizing whiteness prevented me from connecting with my mom on something that I didn’t know we both loved- the outdoors.

Because my idea of the outdoors was remarkably limited, I chose not to share my experiences with my mamá. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings; I didn’t want her to say that she wished she could do more. So, I buried this experience and thought I was doing both of us a favor. What I really did was give whiteness all the power to erase my experiences and define the outdoors. Returning to that phone call, her answer was a dose of healing:

“Claro. Íbamos a una casita más allá de la milpa. Allí, tu abuelita hacía de cenar y nos contaba historias bajo las estrellas. Íbamos para ayudarle con las cosechas de frijoles. No mas no le decíamos ‘camping’. Y aunque nosotros no tengamos mucho aquí, sí los llevaba al parque, a la playa, y caminar para tomar aire fresco. Eres libre y la naturaleza está a tu alrededor. Nada más abre tus ojitos, mijita.”

Thanks, mamá.

Margarita is a first-generation immigrant and the first in her family to graduate college. She enjoys reading, cycling, and learning new things. She honors the folks who came before her, who paved the way for any success that has come her way.

Mapping Migraciones: Product of Migration

por Tototl Barajas

Like many, my parents emigrated to California during the 1960s as teenagers in search of a better life. Ironically they were both born in nearby towns in Ajijic and San Miguel el Alto, MX, but they didn’t meet until later in Santa Ana, California. There, they married, settled, and created their own nest and flock, like birds that migrate in search of new nesting sites and food for foraging to provide for their families.

I feel a deep connection to birds. I feed the Wildbirds, provide water sources, and watch them in amazement for hours on end. I engage with my local crows and corvids; they are incredibly smart. I always feel like they converse back and forth in dialogue. They remind me that their flocks have lived in and around the trees longer than I and that I am on their territory. I always look forward to the spring visits of the orioles, grackles, and mourning doves as they begin breeding in the trees. They are incredibly resilient and ingenious with their nesting skills. I see the growth of their fledglings, and it’s endearing. Some birds migrate, and some are natives. Just a constant reminder that we are in their world.

I am no longer a fledgling. I have migrated myself towards Riverside, and am creating my own nest.

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A Change in Perspective

por Esme Plascencia

I felt a turn in the tide when I changed my major to Outdoor Recreation. I did not learn about Outdoor Recreation as a field of study until my second year of college. A family friend asked me, “Hey Esme, have you thought about studying Parks and Rec?” I was quite appalled that I had no clue that the activities I loved to do most were part of something bigger or could be part of a field of study. When I started college, I declared Photography as my major as I enjoyed photographing people and places.

“Hey Esme, have you thought about studying Parks and Rec?”

I grew up in Fort Bragg, CA, a popular tourist town along the California coast, where I would spend hours at the beach photographing the landscapes and sunsets. During my high school years, I took portraits of friends for their senior portraits and started a Facebook page of my photography so that people could see my work and refer me to their friends. It was a “side hustle” that I started for myself and one of my first experiences in entrepreneurship. Soon after, friends from my hometown started asking me if I could photograph them for their Quinceañeras! It felt fulfilling to be present for other people during their ceremony. It is truly a blessing to be able to capture the precious moments of a special occasion.

When we go through life changes, we can almost intuitively sense that we are passing into a new chapter of our lives; I certainly felt that when I changed my major. After practicing photography as a job, I realized that I did not want to do that for a living. I did not like the aspect of sitting behind a computer for hours editing pictures. I just wanted to be outside every opportunity that I got! My favorite part of photography was being outside and just being in the moment. It will always be a part of me, and I will still practice my skills when I get the chance.

This past summer, I was able to practice my photography skills on Black Oystercatchers. I used my 75-300 mm telephoto lens to capture close images of the birds. My observation partner, Dave, guided me towards all the spots where the Black Oystercatchers would be nesting over the summer to lay their eggs, feed, and care for their young. There were about seven different pairs of Black Oystercatchers we would visit weekly. Tracking the weather, seasonal changes, and the state of the Black Oystercatchers’ nests as the chicks grew offered quite a unique experience.

It all began when I was invited by my family friend to volunteer with California State Parks for this Audubon Bird Survey.

It all began when I was invited by my family friend to volunteer with California State Parks for this Audubon Bird Survey. The orientation meeting was held at the California State Russian Gulch Recreation Center, where I learned that this was the ninth year that the Bird Survey was going strong. There were several people who were experienced and some for whom it was their first time, such as myself. As I sat and listened to the presentation about Black Oystercatchers, I learned about the different behavior patterns of the birds and how to navigate along the coast to spot the birds. As I looked around, I found I was not only one of the youngest people in the room but also the only person of color.

As I looked around, I found I was not only one of the youngest people in the room but also the only person of color.

This had not been the first time that this occurred to me. I was used to this in the field, though I do not always feel comfortable in these moments. Yet I know deep in my soul that it is in these moments that personal growth happens. When I step outside of my own perspective to learn from others and about myself, I begin to understand the barriers that hold me or others like me back from these types of experiences. It may be time, finances, or not having the resources to try something new. It is not always easy for people to commit themselves to something outside of their own knowledge or understanding. It takes courage, which is something I believe every person has. Some just need a little guidance to realize their potential.

As the young Black Oystercatchers go through different stages in their life and learn to survive and grow in the environment around them, so too do people.

As the young Black Oystercatchers go through different stages in their life and learn to survive and grow in the environment around them, so too do people. We all need someone to guide us, and it takes time and commitment. Although it is now winter, when I go outside on a walk to the coastal trails I sometimes hear and listen to the call of the Black Oyster. They remind me of the sunny days and the definition of resilience. If they can survive the cold and harsh tides, then so can we.

Esme Plascencia is a first generation immigrant and college student. She was born in Guadalajara, Jalisco Mexico and raised in Fort Bragg, California. Upon graduating Fort Bragg High School, she moved to Sacramento to start her journey in higher education at Sacramento State University. She is currently a senior student majoring in Recreational Parks and Tourism Administration and aspires to become an outdoor educator/guide.