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Category: Representation Matters

Advocacy Afuera: ¡Actúa ahora for Public Lands!

Latino Outdoors, alongside local business representatives, recently joined the Conservation Lands Foundation as part of the Protect California Deserts Coalition to advocate for public lands and the communities that depend on them. We began by introducing our organizations and the shared commitment we hold to protecting landscapes that sustain wildlife, provide recreation, and strengthen local economies.  During Congressman Jay Obernolte’s (CA-23) mobile office hours at Big Bear City Hall, we discussed the value of nearby national public lands, which anchor local recreation and small business activity across the region—from the mountains and nearby deserts to their backyards.

At the heart of America’s conservation legacy is the Antiquities Act, a bipartisan law signed in 1906 that has allowed presidents from both parties to protect our nation’s most treasured lands and cultural sites as national monuments. These designations safeguard places like the Sand to Snow and San Jacinto Mountains, which connect to Joshua Tree National Park, the proposed Chuckwalla National Monument, and the San Bernardino Mountains. From desert valleys to high mountain forests, these landscapes are deeply interconnected. Protecting them ensures clean water, thriving ecosystems, and outdoor opportunities for all.

Today, the most pressing concern is the future of the 2001 Roadless Rule (Map), which protects nearly 4 million acres of California’s national forests from harmful industrial activities such as logging, mineral extraction, and oil-and-gas drilling. Rescinding these protections would threaten clean drinking water, animal habitat, and outdoor recreation opportunities. Roads fragment ecosystems, create fire ignition points, and degrade watersheds that supply both rural communities and cities alike. Protecting roadless areas is a bipartisan issue; it ensures that our forests remain intact for current and future generations, while supporting hunting, angling, tourism, and rural economies. Just like the Antiquities Act, the Roadless Rule is about safeguarding irreplaceable lands and the values they hold.

Protecting the outdoors is also closely tied to Latino Conservation Week (September 13–21, 2025), a national initiative that highlights the contributions of Latino communities to conservation and ensures Latino voices are centered in protecting our public lands. The week is about building connections to nature, inspiring stewardship, and showing that conservation is inclusive and benefits everyone. Our stories must be shared to show the many ways people of all backgrounds connect to the outdoors.

Now, we need your voice. The U.S. Forest Service is accepting public comments on the Roadless Rule until Friday, September 19 at 11:59 PM. You can submit your own story—why these forests matter to you, families, businesses, and communities directly to the federal register. Sharing a personal perspective about recreation, clean water, cultural connections, or local livelihoods helps decision-makers understand what is at stake. Submissions can be made individually or as part of a group petition from businesses, nonprofits, and organizations across the region.

How to Comment (It takes less than a minute):

  1. Copy 1-2 talking points that resonate with you.
    1. Protect clean water sources that supply California communities.
    2. Support local economies that depend on outdoor recreation and tourism.
    3. Defend animal habitat and migration corridors.
    4. Reduce fire risks by limiting new road construction.
    5. Preserve cultural and community connections to public lands.
  2. Click here to submit directly: Regulations.gov — Comment Portal.
  3. Paste your comment, or type your own story, and hit submit.

Together, we can ensure that public lands remain protected and accessible, for clean water, healthy animal life, vibrant local economies, and outdoor enjoyment for all. Join Latino Outdoors, Conservation Lands Foundation, and community partners in speaking up before the deadline. Let’s keep working toward an outdoors that is protected and open for everyone.

References

This Salvadoran-American Woman Rock Climbs to Combat Parkinson’s

por Clare Bennett

When my mom Teresa was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, rock climbing wasn’t on her radar as a potential intervention. She’d been dealing with mysterious symptoms for nearly a decade at that point — tremors, a stiff left hand, migraines, a dragging left foot. The Parkinson’s diagnosis hit hard. But Teresa doesn’t give up. When her doctor’s office shared a podcast episode about rock climbing for people with Parkinson’s, it planted a seed.

Rock climbing? For someone whose hands shake and who struggles with balance? The more we learned, the more rock climbing made sense for someone living with Parkinson’s. Using harnesses and rope systems keep climbers safe. The problem-solving on each route, big movements, and strength-building could help slow the progression of Parkinson’s symptoms. For Mother’s Day 2021, we gave Teresa some climbing lessons at local climbing gym SportRock with instructor Molly Donelan-Cupka.

Molly had been running a regular climbing meetup for people with Parkinson’s for years. Teresa’s first lesson started on a short, 25-foot wall, and her nerves were high. But by the end of that session, she was tackling a 40-foot wall. She was hooked. The improvements started to shine through fairly immediately. Teresa’s left hand, once stuck in a cupped position, relaxed and got stronger. Her tremors became less noticeable. No more dragging her left foot — she’s walking with confident, big steps again. Teresa’s doctor had been planning to increase her medication, but after seeing how much better her symptoms were from climbing, he decided to wait.

“Before rock climbing, I used to be very scared about my future with Parkinson’s, and now I don’t think about it as much,” Teresa said. “As long as I can rock climb, I will be fine.”

Teresa’s experience is not only inspiring, it’s evidence of how beneficial movement can be in combating disease. “Before rock climbing, I used to be very scared about my future with Parkinson’s, and now I don’t think about it as much,” Teresa said. “As long as I can rock climb, I will be fine.” Teresa joined Molly’s group of climbers with Parkinson’s who meet multiple times a week. Some are in their 80s, some are new parents in their 40s. Some use wheelchairs. All are determined climbers who’ve become a wonderful community. And when Teresa competed in USA Climbing’s Para Climbing Nationals, they were there cheering her on.

The climbing community Teresa found goes beyond recreation. They’re proving that adaptive sports can be challenging, competitive, and transformative. Molly has since formalized the group into a nonprofit called Up Ending Parkinsons, providing climbing for people with Parkinson’s across the country. They even climb outdoors! Four years later, Teresa continues to climb multiple times a week. She’s added swimming and Pilates as cross-training.

This story raises something important about who gets to recreate outdoors. Often, when people think about rock climbing, they picture young people who certainly don’t have Parkinson’s symptoms. But the outdoors are for everyone. Helping people to get moving and get outside can bring healing, community, and adventure — even if it looks different than what’s more commonly portrayed in popular media. When we make outdoor spaces more welcoming, we discover more possibilities for entire communities.

Returning to My Raíces

por Luisa Vargas

I remember when the summers I spent in Colombia on my grandparent’s farm only required some old rubber boots to keep our feet dry. The moment breakfast was over, we ran out of the house in jeans and cotton sweatshirts, staying out until the sun began to set. We climbed trees and roamed fields, but I couldn’t tell you what we did that took up eight hours of our day. We did this for three months straight and we never got bored.

We didn’t need waterproof hiking shoes, technical pants, or protein bars to fuel our adventures. All we needed were those feijoa fruit trees to pluck off an afternoon snack and the wool ruanas my grandma would have ready for us the moment a breeze started to pick up. 

I remember the camping trips to the Everglades my parents would take us on. We’d pack up inflatable mattresses, frozen arepas, and a few hand-me-down bikes for what I thought was the most exciting weekend of the year. We used the same inflatable mattresses we slept on the first few months of our life in the United States. On special trips, we’d stop at a smoothie shop called Robert is Here on our way to the park, and I can’t think of a time I was happier.

We didn’t need ultralight sleeping pads, down sleeping bags, the latest model of carbon-fiber bikes, or freeze-dried meals to have an epic adventure. The things we brought were familiar, comfortable, and inexpensive. Most importantly, they were all things we had at home which made saying yes to exploring so much easier for our family of four.

I remember when I first started running around my neighborhood in high school. I ran in cotton t-shirts from school-sponsored events, my favorite sneakers were the ones with holes in them, and I didn’t track how fast or far I ran. I started running because my feelings were overwhelming and it was the only time I felt like I could quiet down my thoughts. Most importantly, I didn’t have to ask my parents to pay for a class or a membership to a gym. It was one of the few things I could do independently.

I didn’t need the latest running app, technical gear, or a goal. All I needed was the pure joy of moving my body, a safe neighborhood, and something to cover my feet. It became a daily ritual, rain or shine, to listen to my steps and connect with the ground beneath my feet. 

I don’t remember when I started thinking I needed specific gear to enjoy time in nature. Up until I was 14 years old, going outdoors meant the most humble activity. It required nothing more than the necessities we already owned and taking a step out the door. As time passed, I grew into a world that sold me things to go outside and suddenly I began limiting what I thought I could do.

I don’t remember when “outdoors” became an industry. The outdoors is no longer a place, but an idea. “Going outdoors”, “being outdoorsy”, and “enjoying the outdoors”, have become phrases to encompass more than just being outside, but a set of activities you must do in a certain way and with certain things. It has become a box and with boxes come inequalities. 

Access to public lands disproportionately affects people of color. In Texas, my home state, 95% of land is privately owned, limiting the amount of green spaces available for those who do not own land. Access to parks and green spaces is significantly more difficult for people who don’t own a car. Language barriers can also be a limiting factor for Latine communities getting outdoors. 

Remembering my past has become a tool of empowerment, proof that the outdoors is a place that we get to experience however we feel called to. It doesn’t take much and it doesn’t matter what you choose to do—roam fields, camp, run, paint in a park, or exchange chisme in your backyard—as long as you do it outside, it counts as being outdoors. 

This year, Latino Outdoors is making an intentional effort to honor our raíces. As I began thinking about my own story and roots, I noticed how intertwined they are. Unknowingly, I’ve been reaching for opportunities and a community that carries those same ideas. LO is transforming the outdoors into a place to share and celebrate stories, knowledge, and culture. Little did I know that the little girl roaming fields in Colombia was already doing that. My work as an adult would not only be about sprouting leaves but it would be largely dedicated to digging deep and honoring my raíces with a community by my side.