The sun rises and the early morning dew slowly begins to lift, barely clinging to Spanish moss carelessly draping over every live oak in its path. Oak branches are twisting and turning in every direction as if embracing the heavens. And here I stand, a simple blip in their lifespan. I ponder upon the strength and wisdom of these trees and share my gratitude for the short welcome.
Nancy Fernandez holding black skimmer chick that was being tagged at South Bay Salt Works.
“Only a few years ago I had left my home in California for a new beginning in the Georgia coast. Leaving behind everything and everyone I knew was difficult, but I quickly fell in love with a new paradise. The history, its people, and seemingly endless opportunities to be in awe of nature reminded me that home is what you make of it.”
As I traveled back west, familiar sights and smells slowly welcomed me back. People in every corner speaking my native tongue, the smell of eucalyptus trees towering above me, and the ever-present California chaparral embracing my arrival. Although I am back in familiar territory, there is still so much to explore!
Nancy Fernández
I have been blessed with a courageous spirit and I bring that energy to help me take on my next challenge as a park ranger for San Diego National Wildlife Refuge Complex. In this position I hope to continue to learn and grow with my new community and share with them the wonders of nature.
Growing up in an Indiana city near many industrial pollution sources, I did not have much access to nature. However, when family moved to a nearby town that headquarters the Indiana Dunes National Park, I quickly benefited from experiences with the outdoors and environmental education. These experiences influenced my own education and career trajectory in the conservation field. The towns are only 25 miles away, but demographics and experiences in the outdoors vary greatly.
Kasandra in the outdoors
As a kid, my outdoor experiences were connected to family and food. Whether we were in south Texas or northern Indiana, I understood that being outdoors allowed us to connect in a way that not only strengthened our families, but our cultural expression as well. I innately understood the vastness of ecology just by noticing the differences between the sandy soil and cacti at my Grandpa’s house in south Texas and the lushness at my Aunt’s pond in northern Indiana. I was able to build on this understanding when I began participating in a program at my high school where we went camping and hiking in National Parks as part of a summer history course. Exposure to this type of outdoor recreation was so transformative in my formation of identity – it started me on a path of seeing the outdoors as somewhere I belong.
“I’ve since gone on to earn two degrees and work a variety of jobs in the conservation field, and most of these spaces are predominately white. Existing in these spaces leads me to appreciate what’s missing from the conversation about conservation and outdoor recreation and how these practices show up in LatinX culture even more”.
I used to think “how lucky they are” about people whose families grew up camping and doing the kinds of outdoor activities that we see in outdoor magazines. But this time around, at our most recent “Mendoza Family Reunion,” I had the language to describe the land around me in ecological terms. It was then that I realized how lucky I am to have understood the vastness of ecology and biodiversity before I knew the buzzwords of the conservation field.
Mendoza Family Reunion
How I experience nature now is regularly day-hikes, gardening and at least once a year I value spending a few nights camping and exploring a new place alone. These experiences help me keep myself physically and mentally healthy, I struggle with depression and anxiety and being able to put feet to dirt is incredibly helpful for me. Mental illness is at the same time prevalent and stigmatized in the LatinX community. My small way of fighting that stigma is sharing how nature helps me cope with my younger cousins and taking them on hikes when they visit Indiana. By doing this, I’m also able to share the knowledge I’ve built around the ecological world and outdoor recreation to help foster their relationships with nature that can offer them solace in the future. This is why we need more representation in the conservation field, so that people can share these experiences in authentic and meaningful ways and engage their loved ones in new outdoor activities.
“Today, as we spend more time indoors than ever, I’ve found new ways to connect with nature. Planting pollinator gardens for my family and friends has been a welcome outlet for me during the pandemic. Furthermore, witnessing Monarch’s frequent the garden in my family’s yard is a powerful way to connect with my Mexican heritage. The first Monarch that visited after the milkweed flowered, I’m sure was my grandma visiting”.
“I realized the symbolism of how nopal can exist in the Great Lakes, Mexico, and the American Southwest was important to more than just me”
I’ve also started going outdoors with friends more often, as I usually hike by myself, as a way to connect while staying safe. On my most recent meetup, I pointed out the prickly pear growing at the Indiana Dunes to my friend who’s also a Mexican-American living in the Midwest. The joy on her face was palpable, she snapped a picture for her family and I realized the symbolism of how nopal can exist in the Great Lakes, Mexico and the American Southwest was important to more than just me. Familiarity can be so transformative to how people experience nature, whether it’s a familiar plant or butterfly, a family member or friend, or even an affinity group, these connections can help up bring others outdoors in new ways while recognizing our traditional ways of showing up outdoors as equally valid and important. Affinity spaces and groups are what allow me to continue to work in conservation and participate in outdoor recreation, to survive in these predominantly white geographies and workplaces. They offer a space to heal that is necessary to continue to thrive and build networks where the future looks different than our current reality.
Today, Latino Outdoors means many things to me. It’s the joy on my friend’s face when she saw the nopal hiding in the sand. It’s bringing my cousins to my favorite trail as a little break from our loud (and lovable) family. It’s gardening to support pollinators. It’s family reunions with matching t-shirts in a field in South Texas. It’s visiting National Parks. It’s sitting in the yard.
As we celebrate Latino Conservation Week (July 18-26), I have been reflecting on my own experiences as a Chicana and of people who helped shape my views of the conservation movement. For me, conservation means stewarding our lands to preserve and respect all living things. The history of the conservation movement as we know it, is rooted in the destruction of the environment and cultural groups. The indigenous people who preserved and respected the land and the environment, were attacked. Their experiences and voices were ignored and silenced.
My father recently passed away, but he left me the most valuable lessons about people and nature. He believed that people, like plants, need to be cared for and respected.
“At an early age, I learned about the impacts of environmental injustice on our essential agricultural workers. I also learned how to hold a plant in my hand and admire its value and beauty”.
My father, Daniel Morales, was a farmworker and a dedicated environmental justice advocate. In the late 1940s, my father immigrated to California from Durango, Mexico with his parents and siblings in pursuit of the American dream. Growing up as a migrant child, he faced many hardships and his family struggled to make ends meet. At the age of eight, he worked picking prunes, tomatoes, topping garlic among other crops. Back in the ’50s, my father, and many farmworkers like him, experienced discrimination while working in the fields; there were no age restrictions to protect children, no breaks, no clean drinking water, no bathrooms. Today, farmworkers continue to be amongst the most vulnerable in our country; living in substandard housing, subjected to hazardous and inhumane working conditions, experiencing greater health disparities – including high rates of COVID-19, and are denied some of the most basic workplace protections.
Marisol and Dolores Huerta
My father’s rough life made him strong and resilient in the face of adversity. He transcended challenging times by becoming a life-long advocate for social justice. He devoted over four decades of service to the Center for Employment Training (CET) collaborating with the United Farm Workers (UFW). The farmworkers’ movement of the 1960s was a collective effort of diverse voices committed to social and environmental justice. They fought against discriminatory labor laws and advocated for workers’ rights, improved housing conditions for agricultural workers, and better wages for farmworkers. My family was honored in 2019, when California State Assemblyman Ash Kalra awarded my father the Latino Legacy Award for being, “ A staunch civil rights and social justice advocate.” In addition, he acknowledged his contributions to the farmworkers’ struggle for basic human rights.
Ten years ago, my father was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He was invited to participate in a Stanford research study on farmworkers. Researchers were looking at the long-term effects of early pesticide exposure and the correlation to high rates of cancer in adults. After several tests, the results showed that he had DDT (Dichloro-diphenyl-trichloroethane) deposits in his body – the insecticide that was sprayed while he was working in the fields as a child. Similar studies have also shown that migrant children with high exposure to pesticides have significantly higher cancer rates. With more urgency than previous years, he fought for farmworkers’ rights.
I am forever grateful for my father’s compassionate leadership in the community that helped shape my understanding of conservation, advocating for justice for people and our natural resources. He understood the intersectionality between environmental justice, economic justice, and health on our relationship with nature. The memory of my father’s advocacy guides me in my pursuit of justice for communities of color within the conservation movement. Throughout his life, he embodied and shared the view, “Sí Se Puede!” (Yes You Can!). He believed all people can and should live with dignity. He worked with others to help create a better life for themselves, their families, and their communities. Conservation begins with self-respect and preservation of people. Conservation of the whole environment is fighting for justice for people and the protection of our land.
