por Felipe Vieyra

I share this story with the hope and intention that by doing so, our comunidades latinas (latino communities), that we start reclaiming the outdoor narrative here in the United States, and that more BIPOC folks lift up their stories and connection to the outdoors, we can inspire folks into action for those who want to build a more inclusive and diverse outdoor community.

I remember my dad sitting my brother, sister, and me down on our living room carpet, so excited to share a story about our abuelita. Our abuelita was going to be staying with us for a few years in our home in Fort Morgan, Colorado. Fort Morgan was a small agricultural town in the eastern plains of Colorado. My parents and I had immigrated to this cow-town in the early 90s from Mexico in the pursuit of our “American Dream”. We were excited to hear about our abuelita. I apparently met her when I was a baby but you hardly ever hold onto your early childhood memories so she was someone who I was barely getting to know but someone that held a special place in my father’s life. My siblings were born in Colorado so they would truly be meeting her for the first time.

Your abuelita grew up in the sierras of Michoacan. Our family had a ranch and I remember growing up on it and exploring the mountainsides with your uncles and aunts and your abuelito and abueltia my father would say. I could barely fathom how it must have been to grow up in the mountains of Michoacan. What a life! I exclaimed! It was a hard life but one with good food, hard work, family, and best of all, the mountains we shared my father responded with.

My abuelita would later share with me that they were forced to sell that ranch and that they eventually moved into the city in Morelia, Michoacan. Being newcomers to the United States, my family and I didn’t have much growing up. Both of my parents worked at the meatpacking plant in Fort Morgan and my father would often work overtime but what I could always count on when spring and summer would come would be our family trips up to Estes Park and Rocky Mountain National Park. It’s those trips and car rides that I nostalgically remember from my childhood. The band Sonora Dinamita music playing on the way there, the picnics we would have along the way, and then sitting down around the campfires sharing moments that we would never forget with each other. That was the connection we built as a family, that I built with the outdoors. While our family went through a lot with the US immigration system, our escape was the outdoors. Exploring the mountains and outdoors of Colorado brought us together.

My abuelita came, stayed with us, lived a long life alongside our family, and passed away while I was in college. She was buried right next to my abuelito in a beautiful rainbow grave in the mountains of Michoacan. While we got to enjoy the outdoors and explore the mountains as a family, I realized that there were so many other activities and ways in which we could enjoy the outdoors. I remember mostly white students skipping school to go snowboarding while I was in high school, it wasn’t a luxury I could afford because of cost, the need to do well in school so my parents sacrifices of coming to this country wasn’t in vain and also how far away we were living in the eastern plains and also the perception that it was something only white folks did. My siblings and I grew up. I went to college and it was the same in college. I didn’t get the chance to enjoy snowboarding, mountain biking, and backpacking in those four years at the University of Denver because of the cost, the lack of representation of BIPOC folks in those spaces that made me feel like I didn’t belong.

While I loved the outdoors, the mountains, all of it because of my experiences growing up, it was something that I couldn’t fully enjoy because of how expensive it cost sometimes to access the outdoors and also to often find yourself as the only person of color on the trails. This would get me in my head, trying to think of why I’m one of the few people of color who love backpacking. When I return from my trips, I always come back to the same thoughts:

• Income Inequality (outdoor products are expensive)
• The perception that only “White Folks” do these activities (lack of representative media)
• NO major outdoor brands that create culturally relevant products (especially food products)

There comes a moment when you have to realize that the “system” wasn’t built to be inclusive and has extensive barriers in place that discourage black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), would-be adventurers from participating in wilderness activities. You realize that you need to claim space and that the outdoors ARE for us to enjoy and share. I think of my abuelitos whenever I hit a trail and I think of my family’s joy in being in the outdoors together growing up. I hold onto those memories and remember who I love when I am out and about and if any form of doubt creeps into my head. I remind myself that these are mountains to be shared, mountains that my abuelita would have loved to have explored herself.

As BIPOC folks, we need to remind ourselves of who we love and remind ourselves that we belong in the outdoors. That these mountains are to be shared and that we should feel empowered to be the ones creating new outdoor gear brands, leading outdoor recreational organizations and excursions. We should be at the table demanding change. Felipe is originally from Morelia, Michoacán Mexico but has lived in Colorado since he was 4. He started lifting up his voice regarding educational inequity because of being an immigrant, man of color in school systems that were never meant for either identity.

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Felipe is active in the Denver community by being involved with various different boards and commissions. He is currently the co-chair of the Young Latino Philanthropist, the Secretary of Colorado Peoples Alliance C3 board. He also coaches competitive soccer with Club C&C and loves volunteering his time to issues that he cares about and being outdoors and a co-founder of Oso Adventure Meals!