The Movement to Eradicate Environmental Racism
Most of us love delicious food, good company, a nice stroll through the park. These are some of the magical elements of life. Yet each year, such simple luxuries are altered dramatically by climate change, and for some of our nation’s communities, the impacts are deep.
The current climate crisis not only unravels the Earth and its cycles, it exacerbates inequities and injustices linked with systemic racism, overconsumption and social welfare. Climate change clouds the air and water with waste, and disrupts the food we put on the table. Worse, it does not strike evenly. Those carrying a heavier burden are disproportionately members of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People Of Color) and low income communities.
Environmental Racism inhabits many forms, and can be evidenced in poisoned resources that result from proximity to landfills and industrial sites; a lack of green spaces and sidewalks; and perhaps most importantly, a limited say in the matter. A report by the NRDC found that more than half of the people who live within 1.86 miles of toxic waste facilities in the United States are BIPOC. They are nearly twice as likely as white residents to live within a fence-line zone of an industrial facility. Black people are exposed to about 1.5 times more particulate matter from industrial sites than white people, and Hispanics are exposed to about 1.2 times more.
Photography by Eyesplash.
Toxic substances invade these communities from all angles. Researchers have found the presence of benzene and other dangerous aromatic chemicals in housing structures and parks, and there’s a long history of lead poisoning in communities of color. A study by the CDC determined that 11.2 percent of African American children and 4.0 percent of Mexican American children are poisoned by lead, compared with 2.3 percent of white children. Lead poisoning can result in a wide range of health problems, such as anemia, seizures, and brain development issues. Further, when pollution envelops the playground, seeps into drainpipes, and infiltrates developing brains, data shows the results can be lower IQ and mental illness.
The concept of Environmental Racism was posed in 1982 by African American civil rights leader Benjamin Chavis to describe “racial discrimination in environmental policy-making, the enforcement of regulations and laws, the deliberate targeting of communities of color for toxic waste facilities, the official sanctioning of the life-threatening presence of poisons and pollutants in our communities, and the history of excluding people of color from leadership of the ecology movements.” Socioeconomics play a role, but as Chavis points out, so does race. The nation’s history of redlining has prevented Black families from living equitably with their white counterparts regardless of class or income.
In her book, “A Terrible Thing to Waste,” Harriet Washington outlines the depth of Environmental Racism at present, traversing the country to uncover its impacts. In Baltimore, she found a disease-causing-algae leaking from sewage into water where BIPOC primarily lived; it was tested to be more than 2,000 times the healthy level. Additionally, three out of every four landfills were located in predominately BIPOC, low income communities. In New York City, African Americans and Hispanic Americans were three to four times more likely than whites to be hospitalized or die from asthma, according to Washington’s research.
Food also comes into play when discussing Environmental Racism. The term “food apartheid” refers to the limited availability and affordability of nutritious foods in specific areas, particularly in BIPOC communities. There may be no grocery stores or markets for miles, an abundance of advertisements promoting liquor and fast food, and excessively high prices for fresh produce.
Replate spoke to Tanika Williams, an African-Jamaican writer, community chef and performance artist, whose family history of food and activism has guided her career in New York City. Williams worked for years with food justice organization Just Food, and served as a chef educator, conducting courses on food preparation and cooking for New Yorkers of all ages.
From her perspective, not only is there a lack of accessibility, but education.
“I was surprised and saddened to find that people thought their ability to find or obtain or make food was contingent on outside factors like housing or medical issues, very rarely did they feel that food was an empowering experience,” Williams recalls. “But for example, during the pandemic, there were a lot of videos going around of people turning scraps into meals....For me, that’s how I learned to exist with food. You can take anything and make more of it, from it. The dominant conversation of the last two generations has been you only have access to food if you have resources. One thing that became very apparent in my work was how much people didn’t know they could continue to procure and prepare food regardless of their resources.”
Williams made it a mission to counter these beliefs. She went to retirement homes and showed senior citizens how to carefully prepare canned beans. She mentored youth and taught them how to utilize all parts of fruits and vegetables.
“My greatest lesson is to keep things as simple and basic as possible,” she explains. “Showing kids you can eat all three parts of a beet, for example. You don’t need to throw anything away. You can use the stems in this dish, cook the leaves in another dish, add the root to another dish.”
On the topic of food justice, Williams believes that it’s as much a geographical issue as it is a racial or economic problem. Some communities are allowed to eat specific foods at a reasonable price point, others are not.
“Food is not inherently regarded as universal here, and neither is the right to food choices,” she adds. “There are many different ways we’re allowed to access food that results in that breakdown.”
While Environmental Racism continues to be an overlooked issue in the U.S., the good news is there is a network of people working to counter these injustices. They are activists and supporters in a community who make up the Environmental Justice movement. They build and foster what others prefer to waste or avoid. They educate, inspire and empower communities to be sustainable and prosperous. They are artists and activists, cooks and educators. They are people like Williams.
Williams suggests using art to spark and inspire conversations about environmental and food justice, and to support local food movements. It’s a notion called food sovereignty, or the right to utilize the land around you for the benefit of the community. When communities are no longer reliant on outside sources to provide them with nutritious options, when they have the power to add green spaces, urban gardens and other resources to the block, they can sustain themselves and improve their own ways of living. This may take the form of using abandoned lots for farming or parks, planting trees that filter carbon dioxide from the air, setting up farmer’s markets with local produce.
In fact, Williams has a garden at her home, and shares produce with her neighbors.
“You can find food sources in your neighborhood,” she says. “I encourage people to walk around, look and see what’s there. We’ve become so dependent on looking outside, but we have to recognize what’s right in front of us.”
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