Por Marisol Vazquez
For many, “outdoor recreation” flashes images of someone hiking in national parks, camping under the stars, or backpacking through forests. But in South Texas, “outdoor recreation” can mean fishing, hunting, or carne asada. For those of us living on the border along the Rio Grande—especially in cities like Laredo, Texas—our connection to the outdoors looks different, but it’s no less real or meaningful.
Growing up here, the river wasn’t just scenery—it was survival. It’s our primary water source, a sacred space, and the heartbeat of our community. The outdoors to us means walking along dusty roads, fishing with uncles on the weekend, or gathering under mesquite trees for that stretch past sunset. We engage with the land through necessity, tradition, and love. Nature here isn’t always green or gentle—but it’s alive and deeply interwoven with who we are.
My personal connection to the outdoors wasn’t inspired by nature documentaries or summer camps. It was because I saw the importance of protecting and conserving the Rio Grande to ensure Laredo is habitable for future generations.
Outdoor engagement must be redefined to include experiences like ours—those rooted in survival, stewardship, and everyday life. We may not have high mountains or tall pine trees, but we have ritual, respect, and history on this land. The outdoors should welcome all forms of connection, especially those that have been ignored or undervalued.
Unfortunately, access to nature along the border comes with barriers. Militarization, pollution, and limited green space often make the outdoors feel like a restricted zone. The river that nurtures us is also guarded by checkpoints and fencing. There’s fear—of surveillance, of displacement, of contamination. Even public parks feel political when you grow up in a place where your backyard is a border.
Still, we find ways to reclaim it. That’s why it’s so important to create an outdoor movement that sees and values diverse experiences. The more we include people like us—who may not look like the “outdoorsy” stereotype—the more we restore justice to our relationship with the land. The Rio Grande reminds us that nature isn’t just out there. It’s here, at home, and it deserves our protection and belonging.
Marisol Vazquez is a recent graduate from Texas A&M International University, where she majored in biology. She aspires to ignite a passion for the outdoors in her community by advocacy, education, and outdoor activities like kayaking, bird watching, and hiking. Marisol’s outdoor adventures began in California, where she learned to kayak and rock climb and gained a love and appreciation for nature.
