Family Green

“Yeah, but who is going to keep this going when you’re dead?”

Now there’s a question you don’t hear every day. But there it was, recently directed at me from a group member during a recent tour of West Linn’s White Oak Savanna -- a natural site my husband and I have been working to restore since 2005.

Blunt but interesting, I thought. Because when think about it, this question is something that all of us in the Intertwine (not just those of us with gray hair), should probably ask ourselves more often.

After all, legacy hits at the core of why we conservationists do what we do. Whether we get paid for our work, or volunteer our time, our shared motive is to leave something worth protecting over centuries. While fundraising, politics, and community organizing are certainly important, the ultimate key to our success (or failure)  is whether we can spark a fire in the bellies of our children to serve as stewards of the land after we’re gone.

Especially if the land you’re protecting offers them something in danger of vanishing forever. For over 10 years, many volunteers have helped our small nonprofit, Neighbors for a Livable West Linn, begin to restore the upper 14 of the 20 acres of a rare and majestic spot called the White Oak Savanna.

Today, only two percent remains of the 600,000 acres of White Oak habitat that once stretched up and down the Willamette Valley. Of those 12,000 acres, just one percent is publicly owned -- like our little patch of Savanna. Conserving this beautiful Savanna has to date entailed over 6,800 hours of restoration work, dozens of fundraisers, and plenty of tours -- like the one I mentioned above -- to get the community excited.

But yes, we’ve also taken care to weave kids into our effort. They have worked with us on school plantings, Scout and NW Youth Corps projects, PSU work parties, SOLVE events. They’ve had first sightings with us of coyotes and blue camas. They’ve hopped on tree swings, and come to love this land with us. They are quick studies.

And lately, they show us how it’s done. Young students at a local after-school Camp Fire program at Trillium Creek Primary are now busy doing their own fundraisers for the protection of the lower six acres of our White Oak Savanna. They call themselves the White Oak Savanna Committee.

As a social worker and teacher for more than 35 years, what gives me hope at the end of the day is the potential of our kids to make things better. In classrooms today, I hear kids who are more liberal in their thinking and more accepting of each other than the students I went to school with dozens of years ago.

So when a young person serving me at the local pizza spot remembers me working with their class two years ago, to plant a thousand blue camas bulbs, I feel reassured that we gray-haired conservationists will be leaving The Intertwine in good hands.

Because as I told the site visitor who asked about legacy that day in the Savanna: “It’s the kids who are going to keep things going.”

“If getting our kids out into nature is a search for perfection, or is one more chore, then the belief in perfection and the chore defeats the joy. It's a good thing to learn more about nature in order to share this knowledge with children; it's even better if the adult and child learn about nature together. And it's a lot more fun.” ― Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods

Richard Louv’s bestselling book Last Child in the Woods describes the growing divide between today’s children and the outdoors. But what Louv calls “nature-deficit disorder” is an issue that has plagued the less fortunate for far longer. As a veteran and fly-fisherman, when I look back on how the outdoors has positively influenced my life, it is impossible not to try to share this gift with those I feel would benefit from it the most: inner-city children of color.

Louv writes that the solution to nature-deficit disorder lies in introducing youth to the outdoors through a family member or older mentor, who then shares in these experiences. But the assumptions here, presented from the perspective of a privileged Caucasian American adult male, are that an older generation is available to a child, and that their experience of the outdoors has been positive.

Older African American generations have passed down intense accounts of slaves on the run, and terrifying stories of lynching, adding a dimension of dread and fear to the solitude of the woods, rather than wonder, excitement, and exploration. And for inner-city children, the privilege of experiencing nature is further impeded by inaccessibility, surviving the hustle of the streets, and parents working harder than ever with multiple shifts for dwindling paychecks. When time and cost become impediments, the outdoors unfortunately becomes a luxury.

So how can we reach the Last Child in the Hood? And can the outdoors help them overcome their situation, whether it be a broken home, drug abuse among their peers, financial insecurity, and the accompanying allure of crime as a way out?

Through a pilot expedition on the Deschutes River, I recently had the honor and opportunity of aligning a program of mine, called New Currents, Outdoors, with the Sierra Club. Our unique mentoring program intentionally connects two worlds: veterans and inner-city youth. Youth benefit from spending time with role models who are clearly taking time to teach them and reach out, while veterans benefit from the healing of the outdoors and the fulfilling work of a mentor.  

With the expedition motto “Iron Sharpening Iron,” our group of 15, including eight Portland-based youth and veterans, spent four days on the river teaching each other about themselves and the natural environment. The expedition was both powerful and fun. Although young, the youth involved have had life experiences and struggles that many adults have not faced. And while many were a bit timid at first and didn’t open up right away, Mother Nature worked to tear down the barriers, allowing us to share our lives and connect. “Iron Sharpening Iron” was an incredible experience for everyone involved, with the friendships started on the river following us back to the city.

I believe the magical, life-altering experiences offered by the outdoors can be a game-changer for inner-city children of color. Through the New Currents, Outdoors program, my goal is not just to establish a series adventurous expeditions that offer escape from the pressures of the city. I hope to make a lasting difference in the life of youth by connecting them with talented mentors and volunteers – an older generation who can teach life skills and inspire as role models for years to come.

“Diversity does not just expand the common ground of consensus. It also increases the larger group’s ability to solve problems."  -- Steve Johnson, Future Perfect

In 1970, when I started my first job out of college at the State of California Department of Parks and Recreation, I was asked to investigate why communities of color, youth and the poor weren’t engaging with the Department, and why they didn’t seem to be interested in “wild spaces.”  Four decades later, little has changed -- we’re still asking the same question.

Maybe it’s time to create a deeper conversation. The Civil Rights movement gained strength when it became more than a Black American movement. Perhaps the conservation movement will likewise not realize its true power and potential until it become truly inclusive. Until we learn how to reach all Americans.

Parks for all

For decades the leadership of parks, recreation and conservation organizations has asserted that lack of money, transportation, equipment and awareness are to blame.

But ethnicity, culture, and socioeconomics must also be considered in getting to the complex causes of this challenge. Communities of color are often portrayed as fearful of, indifferent to or bored by nature -- I don’t care about it! I’m afraid of it! It doesn’t have meaning to me! And yet they historically outvote the general public, and even environmentalists, when it comes to conservation issues.

Beyond the Four Hit Theory

To address the lack of equity in our parks, many within the parks, recreation and conservation profession, including myself, have tried nature programs with youth and other communities. But the assumption that creating an environmental steward is as easy as getting someone to strap a 35-pound pack on their back, hike into the wilderness, and sleep on the ground is challenged by findings from the Trust for Public Land. Echoing Covello’s Four Hit Theory, the Trust has shown that it takes a minimum of four meaningful exposures to integrate options like camping, canoeing or other wilderness activities into a person’s recreation inventory.

Engaging long-disenfranchised communities in the conversation will likely take far more work than four iterations. This is where our movement has been stuck, all these decades. To reach these underserved communities -- and get them engaged the mainstream -- we must address racial equity, socioeconomics, and environmental injustices as much as we do salmon, global warming, rainforest, old growth, forest and trails.

A Third Space

How do we move the conservation movement beyond addressing the symptoms (via one-off canoe trips and marketing campaigns) to the deeper reasons behind the physical disruption between nature and people of color, youth and the poor? One option: create a “Third Space” conversation.

An emerging tool based on Ray Oldenburg's eight characteristics of third places and Marshall McLuhan’s belief that solutions to complex challenges emerge in the space between the disciplines, facilitated “Third Space” conversations are designed to draw together those who may be antagonistic, indifferent, or totally unaware of each other. Engaging diverse stakeholders in emotionally challenging conversation within a neutral setting, Third Space conversations focus on what’s possible -- not what’s wrong.

I admit that I don’t know the answer to the question of social and racial equity in our park systems and in the conservation movement. But I do think the time is right for conversations like these -- conversations that, rather than “rescuing” urban youth and communities of color, seek to use nature to help break the restrictive cycles of racism and poverty. I also think the Pacific Northwest is the right place to start.

I welcome your thoughts on how we might begin this important work, to make sure that the next generation of environmental stewards and parks, recreation and conservation leaders reflect our true strength -- our diversity.