In this installment of #YoCuento2020, Christian Arana, Policy Director for the Latino Community Foundation, recalls the moment he fell in love with the outdoors and urges us to make our voice and vote count in tomorrow’s Super Tuesday primary elections.
por Christian Arana
I have never been a nature person. In fact, the very thought of spending time outdoors brought misconceived notions of being pestered by bugs, climbing over fallen branches, and having no cell service to connect with the outside world.
Christian Arana, Policy Director for the Latino Community Foundation
But all that changed when I went camping for the first time in the summer of 2018.
Allow me to set the stage. A Latino kid from Los Angeles, CA with no tent, no sleeping pad, and no idea of how to start a fire goes off to Lake Tahoe to sleep outdoors with his friends. Luckily for him, his friends are quite experienced with camping and provide him with the necessary equipment and guidance.
But all goodwill towards this new experience is quickly erased when the campsite is paid a special visit by a brown bear. Not knowing what to do, he defers to his friends to scare off the bear and ensure that all food is securely stored in what I eventually learned is called the “bear box.”
And I’ll admit. I barely slept at all that night. But in the midst of being awake and listening to the sounds of nature, I quickly realized the sacredness of this experience. How clean the air and how bright the stars above me I thought to myself. And despite the fear that a bear visit brought upon me, I also thought of how I was just a visitor to this land, and how future generations can and should experience the beauty of this place and many places like it across the world.
It was a brief, terrifying, but edifying experience. It’s part of the reason why I am turning out to vote on March 3 for the California Presidential Primary.
At stake in this election is selecting a president who will craft policies that will protect our environment. Latinos come from a culture that respects and depends on the outdoors for survival. So, it is imperative that we all do our homework to see who is best positioned to ensure that our community can access and enjoy the outdoors for years to come.
The polling data supports it. According to a poll commissioned by the Latino Community Foundation in November 2019, combating climate change and pollution is one of the top 10 issues on the minds of registered Latino voters. For if climate change continues to erode our ability to breathe clean air, drink clean water, and be at peace in the world via the outdoors, it is not only harmful to our community, but to the world at large.
The author during a joint Latino Community Foundation – Latino Outdoors hike on 9/21/2019 at Lands End, Golden Gate National Recreation Area in San Francisco
On March 3, I ask all of you to think about the moment you fell in love with the natural world. Was it through a quiet walk in the forest? A camping experience on the beach? Or even climbing a mountain in one of our national parks?
Take that moment into the polling place. And exercise your right to vote!
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.
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.
