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Category: Representation Matters

Meandering Ways: Leaning Into My Leadership

por Ruby J. Rodríguez

In my twenties, I often committed to gatherings only to back out when I remembered that I actually prefer to chill at home, usually alone. Now, in my thirties, building community and getting out of my comfort zone is a practice that I value. So, I was fully aware when I signed up for a National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) Executive Leadership course that I would be pushing my boundaries on many levels. Structured as a kayaking expedition on Mexico’s el Mar Bermejo (the Red Sea, otherwise known as the Sea of Cortez), I welcomed the investment in my personal and professional development. That did not stop subtle, brief moments of hesitation (even regret) from creeping up on me as the date approached. This will be good for me, I told myself.

After signing up for the executive leadership course, I participated in Latino Outdoors’ Mapping Migraciones initiative. This year-long collaboration with Audubon explores how birds and people are connected through geography and culture. I learned about my family’s migration story and realized that my great-great-grandmother Guadalupe migrated through the Red Sea, which is the same water I would be on. My relationship with nature, how I move through this world, and some of my leadership challenges, are all intertwined with my desire to heal and evolve from cultural assimilation and intergenerational trauma. That I would return to the same water that she journeyed on was an endeavor I never considered. 

The days went by until my travel date arrived. I triple-checked my gear list and ventured outside of the U.S. for the first time in my life. Upon landing at Loreto Airport, I cried a little when I saw the preciousness of the plants and landscape. A few minutes later, I met my expedition pod of mostly White men. I knew in advance that I was the only woman participant and one of two people of color, and had felt okay with that. I believed that I had a lot to offer the group. But, in my state of vulnerability, I became overwhelmed and felt myself close off.

Following an awkward and sleepy 90-minute drive to the NOLS Mexico campus, I decided to embrace the challenge and remain open to connecting with my pod. We sat and enjoyed a meal together, washed dishes, and moved through a facilitated conversation about our goals and personal contributions towards a successful expedition. I began to really see my pod members. I took a risk and offered my openness and trust, and requested their support of my presence on the expedition in exchange for my support of them. 

Sometimes I am comfortable with using my voice and can do so eloquently. My struggle is with being front and center as a designated leader and knowing that people are waiting to hear my voice. Designated leadership is a key component of NOLS’ training framework, and I was transparent about my desire to work on this during our time together. Well, my day as a designated leader came, and I promptly fumbled. Bleh. 

I had another chance to practice the following day. This time I showed up more prepared and practiced speaking from my diaphragm. I received props for that. We learned that rather than ask someone to adopt an inauthentic leadership style, we can come closer and practice listening intently to soft-spoken leaders like me. For me, it is a two-way street. Finding my signature leadership style is not about becoming a loud, talkative extrovert. It’s about building my confidence and communication skills and leaning into my own strengths. I offered resilience and community building to our expedition: two invaluable skills to have while working together towards a common goal. I also modeled the art of meandering through the subtleties of nature, which I believe supported wellness and introspection during a week of uncertainty. Making space for diverse leadership to develop and thrive will serve our teams, communities, and society in ways that empower us all.

On our last day in the field, I spent some time wondering what my great-great Grandma would think of my time snorkeling and practicing my leadership skills in the Red Sea. Connecting with her through the land and water has encouraged a kind of healing and growth that simply cannot be achieved from the comfort zone of my living room. 

My Journey with NOAA’s Office of National Marine Sanctuaries

por Brijonnay Madrigal

Repost from NOAA. See the full blog here

Over 30 years ago, my father immigrated to the U.S. from Mexico seeking a better life. He began as a migrant worker and was later granted amnesty in 1986. He is one of the hardest workers I have ever met. He never went to college, but understands the importance of education. I was the first person in my family to graduate with a bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, and subsequently will be the first in my family to earn a doctoral degree. As I have continued in higher education, I found that among my peers and colleagues there are less and less people of color and people that look like me. Hispanics are underrepresented in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) fields and the percentage of Hispanic women in higher education is extremely low.

I seek to overcome the statistics and strive to achieve my goal of earning a PhD as a Mexican American woman in marine science. I have been very fortunate to work with NOAA’s Office of National Marine Sanctuaries since high school, and this government organization has provided me with incredible opportunities to thrive, not only as a scientist but as an educator and steward of the ocean.

When I was a junior in high school, I was selected to participate in the Ocean for Life program, an ocean science and cultural exchange program. I joined students from the Middle East and across the U.S. in Santa Barbara, California. It was an incredible experience because as an aspiring marine biologist, I was excited to learn about the work of the National Marine Sanctuary System. We explored Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary through hiking, snorkeling, and kayaking and gained an appreciation for these underwater parks.

This was a special experience for me because it was my first time being in a national marine sanctuary. I connected with students from diverse backgrounds, learned about different cultures and gained an appreciation for the local Chumash community of the Channel Islands area. We learned how to be ocean advocates and the importance of ocean conservation while also cultivating an understanding of other cultures. This field program really ignited my passion for marine science and solidified my desire to commit my life to the ocean. After high school, I moved to Hawaiʽi for college, excited to study marine biology as an undergraduate at the University of Hawaiʽi at Mānoa.

As an undergraduate, I became involved with NOAA’s Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary. I was excited to work with the humpback whale sanctuary because it was the sanctuary right in my backyard! I was an intern for the Sanctuary Ocean Count, a citizen science project where volunteers conduct humpback whale surveys from land and collect data on sightings (number of individuals) and surface-active behaviors. This project engages the community in monitoring this vital migratory species and promotes awareness of humpback whales in Hawaiʽi. My role was to organize volunteers, schedule volunteers for sites across the islands, and conduct site visits on Ocean Count days.

A teenage Brijonnay preparing to snorkel in Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary and National Park as part of her Ocean for Life experience. Photo: Claire Fackler/NOAA

I also was involved in education and outreach and went to various events on the island of Oʽahu to educate the public on humpback whales and the important role the sanctuary plays in the conservation of this species. I enjoyed not only engaging with the volunteers but also doing a little whale watching, too, as I am always amazed by their incredible breaching behavior.

After graduating from the University of Hawaiʽi at Mānoa with a bachelor of science in marine biology, I knew I wanted to continue pursuing higher education. In the heart of Monterey Bay, California is a tiny town called Moss Landing—if you blinked you would miss it. I attended Moss Landing Marine Laboratories where I was a master’s student in the Vertebrate Ecology Laboratory. I am passionate about marine science, so when the opportunity came up to work for the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary Exploration Center, in the education and outreach realm, I jumped at the chance! I enjoy the research side of science, but education and outreach has always been my other passion.

The exploration center is a visitor center off the Santa Cruz wharf almost entirely run by volunteers, docents, and a small staff, which educates the public about Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary. I started working as a program assistant and eventually became the volunteer coordinator. I managed over 60 volunteers at the exploration center and was not only in charge of training docents on how to educate the public about the sanctuary, but also how to engage visitors in using our interactive exhibits. I led education programs, including field trips that took us to the beach, hands-on activities in the classroom, and led interactions with the exhibits at the center.

I loved that my job was hands-on, and I got to work with a broad variety of people from kindergarteners to retired docents. I loved seeing the enthusiasm of the docents when they came in ready for their shift and their excitement when they shared their knowledge of the sanctuary with visitors. Volunteers are truly vital to the success of national marine sanctuary education and outreach and they play an important role in increasing public knowledge and awareness of America’s underwater treasures. I really enjoyed working with sanctuary volunteers, so after nearly three years, I was sad to leave the exploration center, but a new opportunity arose that I couldn’t pass up.

After earning my master’s degree, I applied to the Dr. Nancy Foster Scholarship Program offered by NOAA’s Office of National Marine Sanctuaries. This program funds graduate students conducting marine research within the sanctuary system. I was ecstatic when I received the call—I had gotten the scholarship! This scholarship allowed me to fulfill my lifelong dream of attaining a PhD. I am currently a second year PhD student at the University of Hawaiʽi at Mānoa in the Marine Mammal Research Program. My lab is located on Coconut Island (a.k.a. Gilligan’s Island) at the Hawaiʽi Institute of Marine Biology. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because it is not every day you get to take a boat to work!

Dr. Nancy Foster Scholar, Brijonnay Madrigal, on a research boat conducting marine mammal surveys with MMRP collaborator, Cascadia Research Collective. Photo: Robin Baird/Cascadia Research Collective

I am collaborating with the sanctuary system’s SanctSound acoustic monitoring project, Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary, and the Pacific Islands Fisheries Science Center. For my research, I am using passive acoustic monitoring to understand the occurrence and distribution of two Hawaiian resident toothed whale species; false killer whales and short-finned pilot whales, inside and outside the sanctuary and in Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument. I am also interested in measuring the overall soundscape and quantifying anthropogenic (human made) noise, including shipping and naval sonar. Ultimately, I am interested in understanding how anthropogenic noise may affect false killer whale and pilot whale acoustic behavior. Although I have just completed my first year of my PhD, I am excited to see how the results from my work may influence management and impact conservation efforts in Hawaiʽi.

During my time at Moss Landing Marine Laboratories, on my way to the lab every morning, I would pass by migrant workers picking in the fields, fields where my father and grandfather once worked, and I was always reminded that behind every humble beginning is a big dream. I am proud of my heritage, and I strive to make my father proud as I work towards achieving my goals. Over the last 10 years, NOAA’s Office of National Marine Sanctuaries has provided me with invaluable opportunities and has enabled me to pursue my dream of becoming a marine biologist. Without the support of this government organization, I would not be in the position I am today. Through my story, I hope to inspire Hispanic youth to pursue science and encourage more Latino involvement in STEM. I strive to increase diversity and inclusivity in my field, and I hope that one day we will see more Hispanic representation in marine science.

Moments with My Abuelita

por Andy Galván

Our family mythology starts with my great grandfather rescuing my orphaned great-grandmother from somewhere in the vast foothills of the Sierra Madres. As my grandmother tells it, they were poor moving from town to town, but very loved and very happy. Like my grandmother, and father before me I have memories of sitting in my bisabuela’s kitchen watching her smile as she meticulously slaps tiny balls of masa in her hands into dozens of perfect tortillas. The adults gather in the kitchen trying to help, but she swats them away like flies. We, children, all scurry around the courtyard like birds scrambling amongst the rocks watching her smile at us through the kitchen window waiting for her to drop us scraps of imperfect tortillas before it is time to eat. By the time I met her in her nineties, she still sprung around as agile as a mountain goat. Even at seven years old I towered over her tiny figure. When the end of her life neared, I harkened the call with my grandmother to return to Mexico to say goodbye to our matriarch. When they asked me to carry her, I feared I might hurt the tiny, fragile woman whose strength passed to future generations of women in her family to seek out education, travel the world, and fulfill our dreams. She started life alone in the hills, but left this world surrounded by generations of loved ones.

Time is such a strange thing. Life has not changed in those many years, but now I stand in my own Abuelita’s kitchen, the adult, being swatted away from helping her. I look around at her kitchen, also strewn full of stone tools, clay earthenware, and Catholic saints serving as a loose replacement for ancient gods. This kitchen though has a smart refrigerator and an oven with so many options I wonder if it might be a suitable upgrade to my iPhone. I browse on my laptop while my grandmother chatters to me about the upcoming recall election and reminds me that the Santa Maria flowers dried and burned will keep the mosquitos away.

I cannot imagine she could have ever guessed this is how her life would end up. My Abuelita left Michoacán with a third-grade education and two babies in tow in the 1960s. She followed my grandfather across the frontera to California. She never learned English well. She never worked outside of the home. She lived in a small world, where only Michoacán and Southern California existed, both connected by a singular long road. After my grandfather passed away, she was bedridden with arthritis and sorrow. I feared her world would grow even smaller.

My grandmother is a sheep herder’s daughter. She knew the world was big and there was more she wanted to see. And so, my cousin Jess and I obliged. We explored the world with her, we went to museums, and restaurants, and even to Rome to see the Pope. She chastised us for being more interested in the bones in churches than the masses, but she also pointed to especially gruesome details quietly. She delighted in every new place, experience, and food. She laughed uncontrollably when Roman waiters flirted with her, and she was in awe of the strength of the espresso in their tiny cups. My grandmother always frets that she might exhaust my cousin and me pushing her around in a wheelchair, but even if she were capable of being a burden, we would not feel it.

I moved home this summer after almost a decade away. I asked my grandmother to go with me to Santa Fe for my birthday. She dutifully crosses herself every time I start the engine as we journey across the deserts through indigenous lands and I can’t help, but hope it is a prayer of thanks too. She smiles in awe at the painted deserts, and we watch the sands shift into wildflowers, and then impenetrable forests. We visit churches and national parks. As we journey on, she shares our history via miraculous stories. She recalls words in Purépecha and Huichol to me. She laments disorder on sacred lands tying it to stories of angry spirits. We visit museums and dine at trendy restaurants. She rubs leaves between her fingers, holds them to her nose and tells me what the plant can be used to cure. She recounts recipes and her own journeys into the world. I partake in an ancient ceremony of learning our oral history while Spotify plays Choosey in the background.

My grandmother asks very little of her fourteen grandchildren, to celebrate our lives with us, to be taken to mass on Sunday, and that we twist-off caps for her arthritic hands. I would do anything for her though, I adore my Abuelita, but of me, she asks nothing. When she turned to me and asked if I could do her a favor, I almost screamed.

I nap through the afternoon at the hotel, to rest for our journey. I helped her clamber into the truck then shut the door behind her. I look up which direction to go on the map and head east out of Santa Fe. We meander through the hills that grow darker and darker. Chavela Vargas plays, her deep, echoey voice guiding us higher still. My grandmother assures me if it does not work it will be ok, and when we stop, she sighs in disappointment. I ignore her confusion and open the passenger side door.

Before her she sees the Milky Way, shooting stars, the endless blur of the universe, all waiting for her. My Abuelita who wants for nothing had only one wish – to see the skies from her childhood one more time. And for one moment the ancient light of distant stars accidentally reveals another time, and in that moment, I see my bisabuela standing in ancient hills beneath the starry skies with her daughter. I learned my Abuelita’s world was never small.

Andy Galván earned an MA degree in Violence, Terrorism, and Security from Queen’s University of Belfast in Northern Ireland and her BA in International Relations and Global Politics from The American University of Rome. Andy stands one foot taller than her beloved Abuelita. This year they have visited three national parks and five national forests together. She is especially thankful for dark sky preserves. Instagram: @andyleegee