In the crowd of tourists on
the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, the Griffin family
immediately caught my eye. Allen, Hashmareen and their two
small boys were surrounded by thousands of other visitors, but the Griffins
stood out because they were among only a handful of African-Americans I
encountered in my travels.
People of color are conspicuously absent at national parks
and many other outdoor recreation areas. Why should that be so? Seeking an
answer to that question, I recently drove to various well-known Western natural
landmarks. In addition to the Grand Canyon, I explored Mesa Verde and Yosemite
national parks, and spent time with conservation groups in Los Angeles and San
Francisco.
That day at the Grand Canyon, I introduced myself to Griffin
with a smile and handshake. I briefly explained to him the nature of my project
— I’m hoping to write a story on this issue — and asked if he’d mind
answering a few questions. He was surprised to discover that African-Americans
make up less than 6 percent of visitors to national parks.
“It’s
very disconcerting,” Griffin said. “We (African-Americans) have to be
here. Otherwise, we’re cut out of the opportunity to learn about and be part of
our history and our country.”
Throughout my travels, I was on the lookout for information
and experiences to help me understand why, relatively speaking, so few people
of color recreate in natural areas or pursue careers in conservation-related
fields. At times, my journey resembled a search for a possibly mythological
creature — the kind of exotic beast that is glimpsed from a distance, but
never fully seen in the clear light of day. And after three weeks, I ultimately
found some clarity on two elusive issues: racial diversity in the national parks
and the existence of Bigfoot.
As a person of color with 20 years’ experience in the
outdoor industry, I’ve long wrestled with vague notions about the racial tensions
in this field. Despite a successful career, unfettered access to professional
opportunities and no practical limitations on my enjoyment of the outdoors, I
have always had a terrible feeling that I don’t belong. And as I traveled
around the national parks, I discovered I’m not alone in this perception.
Cliff Spencer, the superintendent of Colorado’s Mesa Verde
National Park, has worked for the Park Service for 27 years. Spencer, who is African-American,
is one of few park superintendents of color in the agency.
“It’s nothing I can prove, nothing I can bring into a
court of law,” Spencer said “But there’s something else, beyond being
an outsider. There’s something there.”
In today’s allegedly “post-racial” America, this
uncomfortable sensation is almost impossible to define. While there are no official
barriers like the Jim Crow segregation laws that once barred blacks from parks,
there remain several uncodified cultural limitations that discourage people of
color from spending time outdoors or pursuing wilderness-related careers. Too
often, when I’ve asked about recreating in nature, I’ve heard the phrase:
“It’s something that black people just don’t do.”
There are no longer signs that read “whites only.”
And there are no gun-toting Ku Klux Klansmen defending the entrances to our national
parks. Despite this, relative to our percentage of the population, racial
minorities in the United States utilize our national parks and recreation areas
significantly less than our white counterparts. We possess an unsubstantiated
belief that we just don’t belong. And so we stay away. But the barriers
blocking us from nature are not real things. Today, they exist only in our own
minds.
Which brings me to Bigfoot. Now, I never entertained
seriously the idea of a gigantic hominoid creature stalking the woods of North
America. But in my first round of traveling through Colorado, I met a true
believer.
Frank Smethurst is a professional fly-fishing guide from Telluride, who co-starred
in the 2010 documentary film Eastern
Rises. Set on the Kamchatka Peninsula of Eastern Russia, the movie details
an amazing journey through one of the last truly pristine trout streams in the
world. During several hilarious moments in the film, Frank expounds upon his
belief in the legendary Bigfoot; there’s even a scene at the end where he pulls
on a hairy black costume. But there was a lot more to what I saw than just a
gimmick intended for comic relief.
At the 5 Point Film Festival in Carbondale, where Eastern Rises was screened, I sidled up
to Frank at a cocktail party. Over margaritas, he shared his beliefs.
“The thing about Bigfoot or Sasquatch or the Yeti or
whatever you want to call it is their ability to suspend people’s
perceptions,” Frank said. “There are things you just can’t explain,
but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.”
At times, throughout the course of my research, I felt like
I was looking for Bigfoot. With little to go on but my own gut feelings and
sporadic sightings of black folks at campsites, I was hard-pressed to find an
actual explanation for a strange phenomena: the fact that so few people of
color spend much time in the natural world. Frank’s words gave me a jolt,
reminding me that just because I couldn’t find a definitive answer did not mean
the problem did not exist.
—-
I left the Grand Canyon and went to Los Angeles, where the
West Los Angeles Chapter of the Sierra Club invited me to visit a California
recreation area. Kenny Hahn State Park is located less than four miles from
where I grew up. Since high school, I’d driven past it thousands of times,
never having realized that it was home to miles of hiking trails and a
reservoir stocked with fish. On this particular occasion, I walked with a group
of African-Americans who had been invited by the Sierra Club to explore a
natural area close to home. Prior to this outing, the hikers never even
realized that such a beautiful and easily accessible patch of nature was there,
located at the very center of their community.
Sometimes, people — regardless of race or ethnicity — fail
to spend time in nature simply because we don’t know it’s there and accessible.
Truly, nature is all around us, but only those who seek it out are going to see
its face.
On our hike, I met Felicia Richard, a 53-year-old
African-American schoolteacher who has traveled all over the world. She told me
of her trips to Europe, Africa and Asia.
“But I’ve never been to a national park,” she
said. “I just never liked the idea of all that camping.”
Richard is well-educated and has the time and income to
travel widely. Yet somehow, she was convinced that visiting a national park
meant roughing it in a tent. And that is something she just
doesn’t do. Her perception is shared by many, people of color and whites alike.
But it’s a limiting one that takes a visit to a park out of the realm of
possibility. And once that perception becomes a reality, Richard, like other
African-Americans, gives up on the national parks. Instead, she seeks out alternative
travel destinations.
“But then I saw Oprah went to Yosemite,” she said.
“And if Oprah can do it so can I.
And just like that, Richard’s perspective changed. Oprah
Winfrey’s televised visit to Yosemite last year showed an audience of millions
that the most prominent African-American citizen after the president of the
United States could enjoy an overnight camping trip. With the right role
models, encouragement, information and positive exposure, there’s no reason in
the world why more people of color can’t spend time in nature –- and enjoy it.
But a change of this magnitude will require a shift in
tactics by organizations like the Sierra Club or The Nature Conservancy –-
groups that want to encourage diversity in the conservation movement. First,
they have to overcome the apprehensions that many minorities feel. As West Los
Angeles Sierra Club chairman David Haake put it, a multi-ethnic cohort could
help to fulfill the organization’s primary mission of preserving wilderness –-
if it could directly engage communities of color.
“The Sierra Club actually comes in all different
colors,” he said. “We need to make a better effort to be inclusive
and help everyone to participate.”
As the demographic landscape of the nation shifts toward a
non-white majority, the conservation movement’s current lack of racial
diversity could become its downfall. Environmental groups will need minorities
(who will soon become the majority) to support state and federal legislation to
preserve our wild places.
In response, conversation groups and the National Park
Service are creating programs that are more welcoming and inclusive. Vanessa
Torrez is a ranger at Teton National Park. As youth and diversity coordinator,
she was instrumental in creating a new program called the NPS Academy. The
program invites college students to visit the park on spring break, and thereby
be exposed to many of the careers open to them in the National Park Service.
Working in conjunction with the Teton Science School and the Student
Conservation Association, the academy drew 29 students of racially diverse
backgrounds from across the country.
“We were looking for students that had leadership
skills, who were interested in the outdoors and wanted to take on this kind of
commitment,” Torrez said, “not just committing their spring break,
but committing to internships during the summer. We placed 21 of the 29
students in summer jobs with the SCA or working for the National Park
Service.”
By inspiring a group of qualified minority applicants,
programs like the NPS Academy are beginning to build a more diverse pool of
Park Service workers. These programs are also creating future ambassadors —
young people who will return to their neighborhoods with positive park
experiences that encourage others to follow in their footsteps.
And who knows? With our
perceptions open to a broad spectrum of options maybe we’ll recognize
that access to wilderness is like Bigfoot. It’s an idea that first takes
shape in our minds, illusive to some and hard to imagine or even see.
But it becomes real when we finally believe that it’s possible
James Mills is a freelance journalist and the creator of the blog/podcast series The Joy Trip Project
Travel for this essay was supported in part by Patagonia.
Republish our articles for free, online or in print, under a Creative Commons license.
