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Tag: Latino Outdoors

Maria Jose Ramirez leans against a rail with tall natural grass in the background

I am a woman from Santiago Chile

por María José Ramírez

First, I am a woman from Santiago Chile, a city with over 7,000,000 people and with a vibrant city life, but in a country that is frequently considered “the end of the world”. Surrounded by the immensity of the Pacific Ocean, the loneliness of the Atacama Desert and the impenetrability of the Andes cordillera, it could be considered an island. With almost 4,000 miles (6,435km) of coastline, for me, being outdoors meant going to the beach, or any place with a water, biking to the top of the San Cristóbal hill every weekend, and enjoying the city’s parks. However, even if I was very physically active and enjoyed being outside, to the surprise of many, I never considered myself a very “outdoorsy” person. I never really camped, having done so only a handful of times by the age of 30.

From a very young age, I was interested in positive youth development, collaboration and learning how to help people to lead more authentic lives. Although my school focused mostly on academics, it also emphasized involvement in youth sports during middle school and high school. This gave me an appreciation for how out-of-school programs can help young people get to know themselves better, reflect on their values and to determine who they want to be. That interest eventually led me to start a PhD in Experiential Education at the University of Edinburgh in 2016, and then to The Pennsylvania State University for completion of my PhD in Recreation Park and Tourism Management, where I researched the perceived long-term influence of youth expeditions on participants’ lives.

Photo shared by María José Ramírez

“Upon arriving in the UK, I began to learn about youth expeditions and organizations like Outward Bound, NOLS, and The British Exploring Society. Neither I nor my friends had heard about youth expeditions or these organizations, but since I was interested in youth development, this seemed like a good opportunity to expand my knowledge”.

María José Ramírez

Expeditions have a long history, part of which relates to conquering remote places. This was a tradition that I was not familiar with from “the conquering side” but from the “conquered” one – we were taught that America was “discovered and conquered” by European expeditions, and we learned nothing about whether or not indigenous people ever went on expeditions, and if so, what the nature and purpose of these trips were.

During my time at Penn State, I had the opportunity to go on a three-week expedition to the Yukon with the British Exploring Society, and on a 7-day canoe expedition to the Delaware Water Gap with Outward Bound Philadelphia. These experiences broadened my understanding of working with teams in remote situations, learning to trust others and realizing how much more we can achieve if we have people supporting us.

Now, love has brought me to the “country roads” of West Virginia. Living in Morgantown, a city with a population of around 30,000 people in Appalachia has come with its challenges. Being from a big city, planning what to do in the outdoors is overwhelming; kayaking, hiking or blueberry picking are not things I used to do, and there are many other activities that I’m sure I haven’t even heard about yet. One thing that is clear, though, is that West Virginia has a wealth of outdoor recreation opportunities, including biking, climbing, swimming and exploring its rugged, rural landscape.

I am so excited to belong to the Latino Outdoors community, and am looking forward to bringing my research and lived experience to bear as we support each other in exploring the outdoors together!

Growing up in an Indiana City

por Kasandra Richardson

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.

Lessons Learned From My Beloved Father

por Marisol Morales

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.