By Bianca Alexander
An African-American Treehugger Sounds Off What’s a black girl from the Nation’s Capital (aka: the Chocolate City) care about compact fluorescent light bulbs, reforestation in the Brazilian rainforest, or endangered wolf packs in Colorado? Had you met me ten years ago, I would’ve told you “not a
damn thing!” But today, I stand proudly as an advocate for renewable energy, toxin-free personal care products, and organic food
for the masses.
How could this unexpected metamorphosis happen?
Growing up, I always loved taking long nature walks with my dad in the vast woods behind our house, running through the sprinkler on a hot summer afternoon, making mud pies after a good rain, blowing dandelion seeds in the wind, and snapping fresh green beans with my mom from my grandfather’s garden. But I never thought about being an “environmentalist”.
Not because environmentalists are
bad people. In fact, some of my “best friends” are environmentalists.
Just kidding. In truth, the environmentalist movement has accomplished many great feats, from planet-friendly legislation to helping to spur a
counter-culture where
“gorgeous” and “green” are now synonymous. But as a young teenager, then in college and finally law school, whenever the issue of environmental
ism came up, I always had a negative reaction. A reaction I tend to have about all “
isms”. Why? In my view, they are all are based on some form or another of separation consciousness, an insidious “us vs. them”, a human-designed zero-sum game that keeps the “good cops” and the “bad cops” on different sides of the railroad tracks. Like rac
ism, sex
ism, national
ism and class
ism,
isms have the power to segregate people instead of uniting them--even if in theory, the
ism happens to be for a justifiably good so-called ‘cause’.
Historically, the environmental
ism movement--unlike many more populist movements—has appealed to people who have the luxury of getting
beyond just surviving to contemplate the world at large and their relationship to it. Given the past and present struggles of the African-American community—and other segments of the world population that have traditionally been disenfranchised by the institutionalized
isms of mainstream culture—it’s no surprise that the environmentalist movement has not been of much interest to people of color. Disturbing, yes, but think--when was the last time you saw or even heard about an all-Black rally for Save the Whales?
There are numerous reasons for this. Perhaps, like me, many people of color grew up hearing or believing that “environmentalists care more about penguins than they do black people”. Or perhaps, as my brother-in-Spirit, Van Jones, has so eloquently articulated, the “green movement” has traditionally not put much effort into enrolling or advocating on behalf of people of color, the uneducated masses, and those who cannot afford to shop at Whole Foods. And for this reason, it has yet to reach a tipping point within the mainstream population.
The same is true for all movements designed to benefit just a singular group of people: They fail to speak to and for everyone. Personally, I never felt included or inspired by the green movement. I always felt like I had to choose between caring about the fate of “my people” and caring about the fate of “the planet.” Now
there’s separation consciousness at its finest.
And then I met my husband, Michael. He was the perfect mate: tall, dark and handsome with an athletic build, a brilliant personality and a sharp mind. And best of all, he shared my values. But he was
white, from
San Francisco, and…scariest of all…a passionate
environmentalist.
Not soon after our wedding, he encouraged me to exchange my toxic Tide detergent for eco-friendly Seventh Generation. “Why?” I asked? “Because each cup of chemical-laden detergent you use kills one cubic foot of phytoplankton” he would answer. But why should I, a sister who prided herself on having the freshest smelling clothes on the block, care about a marine organism I couldn’t even see? Because, he said “the phytoplankton in the ocean produce at least 50% of the world’s oxygen and remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere”.
Wow, impressive. Changing my laundry detergent could minimize global warming! I was starting to believe. As an African-American with a life-long passion for justice, caring about
planetary justice seemed like the right thing to do—and best of all, it was an excuse to go shopping!
After that came other green cleaning products, organic food, toxin-free skin care, vegetarianism, carbon-offset credits, CFL light bulbs, sustainable clothing, eco-vacations, saving endangered species,
lots of Dave Matthews, and of course, treehugging. My new life as an African-American treehugger meant I got to choose from the best, or worst, of both worlds: Do I eat fried chicken or fried tofu? Listen to Jay-Z or Bono? Become a member of the NAACP or the Sierra Club? Jesse Jackson, or Al Gore?
As for choosing between saving “my people” and saving “my planet”, I choose both. The truth is, as a complex human being, neither extreme fully embodies my tastes, passions or spiritual aspirations. And with the onslaught of global warming, the larger choice for all human beings is whether we will choose to care more about survival than we do separation. After all, if African-Americans are empowered and world poverty is ended, but the planet’s burned up, would my ancestors call that Freedom? Alternatively, if the environmental status quo fails to understand that people of color and the disenfranchised are a critical component of long-term sustainability in the truest sense, who wins? Until we begin to truly work together as a
one world community for the good of mother earth—who is crying out desperately for help in a myriad of ways--we are doomed as a
human race to reap the consequences of a zero-sum game where everyone loses whether they’re black, white, or
green.
As an African-American treehugger, I’ve still got a ways to go. After all, I could already be driving a hybrid car as opposed to shopping for “the right one”. I might have figured out a way to compost in an apartment complex. I might be living in a custom LEED-certified green home. Better yet, I might already be living off-the-grid altogether on a yurt in the wilderness. Had I been enrolled earlier in the “green movement”, perhaps I’d be further along. But for now, it’s one step at a time. I try to consume consciously. I walk 7 days a week. I try to support local businesses. I reduce, I reuse, and I recycle. And most of all, I work on being the change that I want to see. If they could see me now, I think my ancestors would be proud.
Labels: African Ameican, Bianca Alexander, conscious living, environmentalism, racism, treehugger
