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Category: Careers Outdoors

Taki-lovin’ Park Ranger Shares Her Story and Insight

For the first Yo Cuento Blog installment of 2020, immigrant and NPS Park Ranger, Cristina Martínez, generously shared some of her story with Christian La Mont, LO’s Social Media and Los Angeles Program Coordinator.

Christian La Mont: What is your name and where do you currently live?

Cristina Martínez: I am Cristina Martínez from Los Angeles, CA.

CLM: What was your first memory of the outdoors?

CM: Either looking for bugs in my abuela’s garden or going to a city park.

Abuela’s garden

CLM: Can you give us some background about your personal and professional relationship to the outdoors? 

CM: For a significant part of my life, I have considered urban parks my “great outdoors.” I grew up in a Mexico City neighborhood that had quite a number of urban parks and deportivos (parks with fields for different kinds of sports) within walking distance, so I spent a lot of time playing soccer with other kids. My family would also take frequent trips to el Bosque de Chapultepec, one of the largest urban parks in the Western Hemisphere.

“For a significant part of my life, I have considered urban parks my “great outdoors.”

Cristina Martínez

Not long after I turned 9 years old, my mom made the tough decision to leave the country and migrate to the “U.S.” in the search of “better opportunities.” This meant leaving behind my home, family members, friends, and also my connection to parks that had been an integral part of my childhood.

Once in this country, I wasn’t spending a lot of time in the outdoors for different reasons our community is too familiar with: (1) discriminatory policies that have placed more refineries than green spaces where we lived in Wilmington, CA; (2) no reliable transportation to go anywhere far, as we couldn’t afford a car for many years; (3) my mom was working multiple jobs as a housekeeper, making free time a luxury that wasn’t going to be spent going outdoors.

9th grade Cristina on her first overnight outing

It wasn’t until high school that I got to reconnect with the outdoors in a larger capacity when I became a member of my high school’s Environmental Club and got to partake in outings to places such as the so called San Bernardino and Santa Monica Mountains. Thanks to a special partnership with the Sierra Club, this organization sponsored our outings by providing transportation, gear, and guides so that we would have accessible and safe trips. I once again began to have an intimate relationship with the outdoors that continued to flourish and eventually influence my career interests.

Through classes offered by my college’s environmental science department, I was given the privilege to conduct ecology research in some incredible ecosystems.  My introduction to the US National Park System was through a marine ecology field course that took place in Virgin Islands National Park, the very first National Park I visited.

CLM: What is the Latino Heritage Internship Program, and how did you first hear about it? 

CM: The Latino Heritage Internship program (LHIP) is part of a larger initiative by Hispanic Access Foundation to increase the involvement and representation of Latinxs in “public” lands. The internship program does so by collaborating with the National Park Service and offering paid internships for underrepresented groups to work in various National Park Service units across the nation.

I heard about LHIP through social media, in what I would say was a stroke of luck. I happened to be scrolling down my feed on Facebook when I saw an older student at my undergrad institution share it on Facebook.

Cristina, during her Latino Conservation Week event as part of LHIP

CLM: Is that how you started your career with the National Park Service?

CM: Definitely. I would not have considered a career with the NPS if it wasn’t for LHIP.

“I would not have considered a career with the NPS if it wasn’t for LHIP”.

Cristina Martínez

CLM: Tell us about some of your impressions and experiences as a Latina in the National Park Service?

CM: Though I have been grateful to work in some truly gorgeous and dynamic places, it has come at the cost of being away from my community and dealing with constant microaggressions. Being a seasonal Park Ranger comes with a lot of challenges already, a big one being not having guaranteed employment year round, which is not sustainable and serves as an institutional barrier towards low-income individuals. Add to that the challenges that come with being a woman of color, and it can be discouraging to remain in this line of work. It is clear as day that the workforce of the National Park Service does not reflect the demographics of our country, which is why programs such as LHIP exist as a response to the lack of representation of individuals from various groups.

Along those lines, I’ve had many Latinx visitors come up to me and express how excited they are to see for the first time a Park Ranger that “looks like them.” These are interactions I have treasured, for not only do they validate the significance of having our communities represented, but serve as reminder to continue pushing the agency towards actions to create a truly inclusive workplace. I am extremely grateful for the many individuals that have and continue to put in the work towards transforming the “NPS culture” as a whole.

CLM: You’ve taken amazing photos of your time in the NPS, how important is storytelling to you as a Latina in the outdoors?

CM: Storytelling is transformative, validating, and a way of communication that I am still learning a lot about. When I read stories from other people who’ve had similar life experiences, it validates my feelings and has served as a huge part of healing for myself.  As an interpreter and storyteller, I have the platform to tell the stories that places hold to visitors, especially the stories that are difficult but important to share. I have the platform to figuratively and literally pass the mic to voices that continue to be erased so that they tell their story. And with this platform, I have also found it important to share my personal story with the outdoors to visitors. Not because I am seeking acceptance from them; but instead, to disrupt the “mainstream” outdoor narrative. I tell my story for those in the audience that have similar experiences as mine, for it may make them realize they are not alone in the way they have experienced the outdoors.

“And with this platform, I have also found it important to share my personal story with the outdoors to visitors. Not because I am seeking acceptance from them; but instead, to disrupt the “mainstream” outdoor narrative”.

Cristina Martínez

CLM: What are some of your favorite memories of nature: sights, sounds, smells, etc?

CM: I love the smell and sound of the ocean.

Kayaking!

CLM: How did it feel to go from a city like Los Angeles to a vast wilderness?

CM: It was quite the transition in many different ways. For instance, I went from L.A. traffic to a place that only has one road and no stoplights. Though not dealing with traffic was nice, it was isolating to be away from my family and ethnic community.  I mean, the one grocery store in town didn’t have Takis!

CLM: What advice would you give to a young Latinx person who might be interested in a career in the outdoors?

CM: There will be people like professors and academic “advisors” that will push the importance of internships, even if they’re unpaid because at least it’s “good experience.”  Although it may be tempting to go for the unpaid internship since the environmental field is flooded with them (though I am noticing more paid opportunities in the field), time and labor should be paid. While there is potential worth in doing an unpaid internship (I did one summer of 2015 while working simultaneously at another job), the priority should be well-being. It is so crucial to ask oneself if having little to no income will create a stressful situation and if this stress is worth the “experience” of said opportunity. It is also important to remind yourself of your worth and be surrounded by a community that will remind you of that when you can’t yourself. “Imposter syndrome” made me feel inadequate to apply for paid internships that I did come across, making me believe that I was only worthy of “unpaid” opportunities. In conclusion: Apply for paid opportunities if that’s what you need, because they will expose you to different ways one can have a career in the outdoors.

CLM: What advice would you give yourself from 10 years ago?

CM: Don’t be so critical and harsh on yourself; and that the boy your after isn’t gonna matter!

CLM: Any last thoughts or closing words? 

CM: I am so thankful for this community that challenges me to be better and continue learning (and unlearning) even if it makes me uncomfortable. That is why I consider storytelling transformative: because it is a powerful tool that changes perspectives. Thank you for having a platform where we can share those stories.

In Your Blood

por Jasmin Antonia Estrada

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.

The Outdoors over Stores

por Luis Villa

As we begin the home stretch of this hike we call 2019, many of us are starting to turn our attention to the flurry of year-end holidays that annually announces its arrival in the form of candy and mask-stocked store shelves and goes out with a literal bang on the last day of the year. Shoe-horned in between is a notorious Friday that has been Frankensteined into an unofficial shopping holiday, serving as a gaudy example of the rampant consumerism that seems to take center stage during the last several weeks of each year. It is precisely during this time that we have the opportunity to become more cognizant of the forces that pressure us towards a way of life that puts a premium on having more material possessions, prioritizes quantity over quality, and defines “bigger” as being synonymous with “better.”

We owe it to ourselves to question this. I am trying hard to check my own consumptive habits and behaviors, and I admit there is plenty of room for improvement. I buy things that are unnecessary and do not add to the quality of my life, likely even detracting from it. I eat more meat than is necessary and healthy. I often miss opportunities to reduce or reutilize, mistakenly thinking that recycling is enough. I don’t always vote for a sustainable economy with my dollars.

Still, I try to be better each day. I begin by asking myself a simple question: Do I really need this? Then, I do my best to answer honestly, without being influenced by the barrage of media messaging insisting that I cannot do without this or that product or service.

“I begin by asking myself a simple question: Do I really need this? Then, I do my best to answer honestly, without being influenced by the barrage of media messaging insisting that I cannot do without this or that product or service.”

Luis Villa

The author chooses outdoors over stores.

Still, I try to be better each day. I begin by asking myself a simple question: Do I really need this? Then, I do my best to answer honestly, without being influenced by the barrage of media messaging insisting that I cannot do without this or that product or service.

Besides trying to distinguish between necessity and frivolous desire, I also reflect on how a consumptive act on my part, no matter how seemingly small, comes with a corresponding effect on the natural environment. At the beginning of (and elsewhere along) the supply chain leading to a particular good or service, we will find extractive actions exerted upon the planet’s stock of natural resources. Rivers were diverted, trees were felled, metals and coal were mined, oil and natural gas were drilled for (and subsequently burned). A measure of natural capital was somehow converted to manufactured capital. Something was taken from the Earth so that I could have my stuff. For me, one of the starkest examples of this comes from Costa Rica, a country in Central America that I was fortunate enough to call home for 12 years, doing conservation and ecological restoration work there with Nectandra Institute and the rural communities of the Balsa River watershed. In the 1940s, around 80 percent of this tropical country was covered in old-growth forests. During the following decades, that number plummeted to approximately 25 percent, as rain forests and other native woodlands were cut down to make room for grazing lands for the production of beef. Much of that beef was exported to the United States. Forests were cleared from Costa Rica so that some people could have hamburgers.

Finally, I try harder by redefining the idea of “quality of life” and paying attention to how having more material possessions rarely makes me happier in any meaningful way. At Latino Outdoors we are expanding the definition of “outdoor engagement” to be more culturally relevant and representative of the different ways in which Latinxs connect with the outside world, often emphasizing familia y comunidad over individualistic pursuit. In similar fashion and as a global society, we should reimagine the notion of “happiness.” We should better leverage the potential for achieving fulfillment through experiences, not purchases. Madre Naturaleza offers us a wonderful outdoor setting in which to enjoy such experiences, whether individually or together with friends and family.

In a world of ever growing socio-environmental challenges, it’s time we all moved away from the unsustainable idea that bigger is better. Instead, let’s improve the quality of our lives through an approach that emphasizes that actually, less is more.

Let’s choose the outdoors over stores.