*I hope you know you’re supposed to read the title with your best impression of Sting’s reggae-style ‘Englishman in New York’.*
Having roots in Utah, I like to joke that my time in Texas was a two-year mission among the tree people; sharing my love of community spaces and nerding out about plants. As a field botanist (and Certified Arborist), the world of urban forestry is fundamentally interdisciplinary and well-funded.
In reality, my experience wasn’t that lighthearted. I loved many aspects of my job, the agency mission that I supported, the people I worked with, the communities across Texas that I served, but the reality of being on the front lines of the climate crisis was exhausting. Being in a highly visible role while wrestling with the political realities that contradicted good science AND good people was nearly impossible.
Over time, I had to accept that many community leaders had no concept of public land, that plants and trees were alive, nor that parks could be a peaceful havens for the community.
Both Utah and Texas are conservative and deeply red states that have strong, traditional values. However, approaches to educate the general public and community partners about communal property were vastly different.
In Utah, I knew how to convey the importance stewarding public land. Access to public land and conversations about stewardship deeply tied into culture and religious practices, but tend to fully embody western/settler views of ‘wilderness’.
From the perspectives of many Utahns, ‘outsiders’ have negative reputations. The ones I heard growing up usually had to do with littering, fouling communal water sources and destroying established and dispersed camping sites out of ignorance. Most of these environmental abuses I witnessed came from other Utahns, typically in the form of poorly-managed livestock and recreational users on public lands.
When interacting with community members, I knew how to reframe and direct common public land narratives to tie indigenous sovereignty, best management practices and climate change together. In short, I ‘spoke’ the language of the LDS faithful and happily facilitated opportunities to educate inquiring minds. I still do.
Comparatively, Texas has less than 4% public land and a successful targeted anti-littering campaign , but few Texas-specific educational resources address Leave No Trace practices, environmental stewardship and climate change. This is gradually changing due to leaders in environmental education like Texas A&M Forest Service, Texan By Nature, Keep Texas Beautiful, Texas Forestry Association and many others, but it is an uphill battle.
The Texan identity is fundamental to addressing climate change narratives in the state, but developing a love of nature in children there is extraordinarily difficult. In my experience, children from Texas actively disliked and some even feared the outdoors.There’s many reasons, but most of the perspectives I heard seemed related to safety concerns tied to racism and outdoor access, venomous animals, record heat waves, wildfire risk and flooding.
For community members that don’t have the opportunity to build a relationship and responsibility with nature, having regular access to community science educators should be a priority for lawmakers and leaders.
My favorite method of getting families outdoors was partnering with local parks and recreation departments to offer moon-lit Nature and Forest Therapy hikes from late spring to early fall. I developed a hybrid method that made space for participants to feel comfortable outdoors, offer answers to their science questions and practice supervised way-finding.
In other words, it was cooler, the full moon offered enough light to for children to guide their parents on the well-marked trail, reinforced safe interactions with night wildlife, and helped children and adults feel confident to revisit the park during the day.
The roles we play in our careers, interests and communities of origin are an opportunity to foster a love of nature, one of the best ways to inspire hope in young children facing ecological crises in their communities.
My most successful method is building community-led programs that align with narratives which empower undeserved members because that has been my lived experience as a low-income, first generation high school and college graduate.
You may find another method that aligns well with your passions and skills.
As a scientist, I have a responsibility to facilitate conversations and spread knowledge about climate realities. I believe it can be through applied hope and joy. By advocating for responsible stewardship, we can offer culturally-relevant education, skill building, intergenerational investment and personal accountability.
As a person who was once a child, community led me to a career that brings me great joy that I get to share with everyone I meet. How do we foster joy in our relationships to each other and our plant friends?
I think the simplest way is to become friends with a tree.
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