Chrysalis with John Fiege

When we’re gone from this Earth, what will we leave behind? What will we pass down to those who come after us?

Plastic. If nothing else, lots of plastic. A plastic bag might take 20 years to break down, but harder, thicker plastics, like toothbrushes, might take 500 years or more to break down.

Elizabeth Bradfield is a poet and naturalist who sees first hand, in her work as a marine educator, the ravaging impacts of plastic on marine life. But she also confronts plastic and our collective addiction to it as a subject of poetry.

Her poem, “Plastic: A Personal History,” is what she calls a “cranky naturalist” poem, which is pretty funny, but embedded in the humor are big questions: how has plastic become part of who we are as individuals and as a species? Now that we know the dangers and devastating effects of plastic production and disposal, how must we change our relationship to this petrochemical product? What kind of world are we making, and what alternatives do we have?

Elizabeth Bradfieldis the author of five collections of poetry, including, most recently, Toward Antarctica. She co-edited the newly-released anthology,Cascadia Field Guide: Art, Ecology, Poetry. Her work has appeared inThe New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, Poetry, The Sun, and Orion,and her honors include the Audre Lorde Prize and a Stegner Fellowship. She teaches creative writing at Brandeis University and is founder and editor-in-chief of Broadsided Press. She lives on Cape Cod, where she also works as a naturalist and marine educator.

This episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Poets series. You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Elizabeth Bradfield

Born in Tacoma, Washington, Elizabeth Bradfieldis the author of five collections of poetry, most recentlyToward Antarctica, which uses haibun and her photographs to query the work of guiding tourists in Antarctica,andTheorem, a collaboration with artist Antonia Contro.

Bradfield is also co-editor of the anthologiesCascadia Field Guide: Art, Ecology, Poetry, andBroadsided Press: Fifteen Years of Poetic/Artistic Collaboration, 2005-2020.

A professor and co-director of Creative Writing at Brandeis University, Bradfield has received a great deal of recognition through awards and fellowships. Her work has appeared inThe New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, Poetry, The Sun, Orion,and her honors include the Audre Lorde Prize and a Stegner Fellowship.

Based on Cape Cod, Liz also works as a naturalist, adding an engaging and proactive component to back up the prowess of her evocative literature. She also is the founder and editor-in-chief of Broadsided Press, a journal and grass-roots initiative that, through monthly publications, aims to expose the broader community (beyond academia) to relevant literature and art.

“Plastic: A Personal History”

By Elizabeth Bradfield

How can I find a way to praise it? Do the early inventors & embracers churn with regret? I don’t think my parents —born in the swing toward ubiquity—chew & chew & chew on plastic. But of course they do. Bits in water, food-flesh, air. And their parents? I remember Dad mocking his mother’s drawer of saved rubber bands and his father-in-law’s red, corroded jerry can, patched and patched, never replaced for new, for never- rusting. Cash or plastic? Plastic. Even for gum. We hate the $5 minimum. Bills paperless, automatic, almost unreal. My toys were plastic, castle and circus train and yo-yo. Did my lunches ever get wrapped in waxed paper or was it all Saran, Saran, Saran? Sarah’s mom was given, in Girl Scouts, a blue sheet of plastic to cut, sew, and trim with white piping into pouches for camping. Sarah has it still, brittle but useful. Merit badge for waterproofing. For everlasting. You, too, must have heard stories, now quaint as carriages, of first plastic, pre-plastic. Eras of glass, waxed cloth, and tin. Of shared syringes. All our grocery bags, growing up, were paper. Bottom hefted on forearm, top crunched into grab. We used them to line the kitchen garbage pail. Not that long ago, maybe a decade, I made purses for my sisters out of putty-colored, red-lettered plastic Safeway bags. I’d snag a stack each time I went, then fold and sew, quilt with bright thread, line with thrift store blouses. They were sturdy and beautiful. Rainproof and light. Clever. So clever. I regret them. And the plastic toothpicks, folders, shoes that seemed so cheap, so easy, so use-again and thus less wasteful, then. What did we do before to-go lids? Things must have just spilled and spilled. Do you know what I mean? I mean, what pearl forms around a grain of plastic in an oyster? Is it as beautiful? Would you wear it? Would you buy it for your daughter so she in turn could pass it down and pass it down and pass it down?

Recommended Readings & Media

Transcript

Intro

John Fiege

When we’re gone from this Earth, what will we leave behind? What will we pass down to those who come after us?

Plastic. If nothing else, lots of plastic. A plastic bag might take 20 years to break down, but harder, thicker plastics, like toothbrushes, might take 500 years or more to break down.

Elizabeth Bradfield is a poet and naturalist who sees first hand, in her work as a marine educator, the ravaging impacts of plastic on marine life. But she also confronts plastic and our collective addiction to it as a subject of poetry.

Her poem, “Plastic: A Personal History,” is what she calls a “cranky naturalist” poem, which is pretty funny, but embedded in the humor are big questions: how has plastic become part of who we are as individuals and as a species? Now that we know the dangers and devastating effects of plastic production and disposal, how must we change our relationship to this petrochemical product? What kind of world are we making, and what alternatives do we have?

I’m John Fiege, and this episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Poets series.

Elizabeth Bradfieldis the author of five collections of poetry, including, most recently, Toward Antarctica. She co-edited the newly-released anthology,Cascadia Field Guide: Art, Ecology, Poetry. Her work has appeared inThe New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, Poetry, The Sun, and Orion,and her honors include the Audre Lorde Prize and a Stegner Fellowship. She teaches creative writing at Brandeis University and is founder and editor-in-chief of Broadsided Press. She lives on Cape Cod, where she also works as a naturalist and marine educator.

Here is Elizabeth Bradfield reading her poem, “Plastic: A Personal History.”

---

Poem

Elizabeth Bradfield

“Plastic: A Personal History”

How can I find a way to praise it? Do the early inventors & embracers churn with regret? I don’t think my parents —born in the swing toward ubiquity—chew & chew & chew on plastic. But of course they do. Bits in water, food-flesh, air. And their parents? I remember Dad mocking his mother’s drawer of saved rubber bands and his father-in-law’s red, corroded jerry can, patched and patched, never replaced for new, for never- rusting. Cash or plastic? Plastic. Even for gum. We hate the $5 minimum. Bills paperless, automatic, almost unreal. My toys were plastic, castle and circus train and yo-yo. Did my lunches ever get wrapped in waxed paper or was it all Saran, Saran, Saran? Sarah’s mom was given, in Girl Scouts, a blue sheet of plastic to cut, sew, and trim with white piping into pouches for camping. Sarah has it still, brittle but useful. Merit badge for waterproofing. For everlasting. You, too, must have heard stories, now quaint as carriages, of first plastic, pre-plastic. Eras of glass, waxed cloth, and tin. Of shared syringes. All our grocery bags, growing up, were paper. Bottom hefted on forearm, top crunched into grab. We used them to line the kitchen garbage pail. Not that long ago, maybe a decade, I made purses for my sisters out of putty-colored, red-lettered plastic Safeway bags. I’d snag a stack each time I went, then fold and sew, quilt with bright thread, line with thrift store blouses. They were sturdy and beautiful. Rainproof and light. Clever. So clever. I regret them. And the plastic toothpicks, folders, shoes that seemed so cheap, so easy, so use-again and thus less wasteful, then. What did we do before to-go lids? Things must have just spilled and spilled. Do you know what I mean? I mean, what pearl forms around a grain of plastic in an oyster? Is it as beautiful? Would you wear it? Would you buy it for your daughter so she in turn could pass it down and pass it down and pass it down?

---

Conversation

John Fiege

Thank you, that's so beautiful. And there's so much going on there, in this poem.

Elizabeth Bradfield

It's funny it started, this poem started kind of just, you know, as a bitter rant.

John Fiege

Well, it didn't end there.

Elizabeth Bradfield

No, it didn't end there.

John Fiege

So, tell me about that. What's the bitter rant?

Elizabeth Bradfield

Oh, just plastic. You know? Honestly, the poem started when my friend Sarah, you know, she's my age. I'm 50, 51. And she showed me this little bag her mom made and I started thinking, "Wow, imagine being the generation that discovered plastic, right? Wow, plastic, so handy," tupperware parties, all that stuff, right?

Art can show us the pain and trauma and suffering of the world, and often it does. But art can also go the other direction. It can reveal the beauty, harmony, and unity of the world.

The canvasses in Salma Arastu’s series of paintings, We Are All One, are full of soft colors, continuous lines, immersive habitats that flow into one another, and—sometimes—two-dimensional representations of humans and animals occupying the same space, echoing cave paintings.

Salma found the continuous line in her study of Islamic calligraphy when she was living in the Middle East. She was born into the Sindhi and Hindu traditions in Rajasthan, India, and then embraced Islam after marrying a Muslim.

It was this continuous line that became a central element of her approach to painting and a central technique she uses to express the ecological views she finds in the Quran.

She seeks to transcend difference through her art and find oneness and interconnectedness in a world that continually ravages ecological systems around the planet.

Since the 1970s, Salma has been exhibiting her work nationally and internationally and writing about art. She currently lives in San Francisco, where I had the pleasure of visiting her in her studio and seeing so many of her wonderful paintings.

This episode is part of the Chrysalis Artists series. You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Salma Arastu

An Internationally exhibited artist, Salma was born into the Sindhi and Hindu traditions in Rajasthan, India. She later embraced Islam and moved to USA in 1986. Her work creates harmony by expressing the universality of humanity through paintings, sculpture, calligraphy and poetry. She was inspired by the imagery, sculpture and writings of her Indian heritage and Islamic spirituality. She was born with a left hand without fingers. Because of her all-encompassing God, she was able to transcend the barriers often set-forth in the traditions of religion, culture, and the cultural perceptions of handicaps.

After graduating in Fine Arts from Maharaja Sayajirao University in Baroda, India, she lived and worked in Iran and Kuwait, where she was exposed to a wealth of Islamic arts and Arabic calligraphy. Calligraphy, miniatures, and the folk art of Islam and the Hindu tradition continue to influence her work today. She has been invited to Germany twice, as a Resident Artist at Schwabisch Gmun in 2000 and by the Westphalia Wilhelm University in Münster to publish her paper “Art Informed by Spirituality” in God Loves Beauty: Post Modern Views on Religion and Art. Further she was invited to Morocco for a one- month Artist Residency Program in March of 2018 through Green Olives art Gallery. She has presented work at Stanford University, Commonwealth of San Francisco, Seattle University, Graduate Theological Union at Berkeley, and Museum of Contemporary Religious Art, St. Louis Missouri.

She has displayed at 45 solo shows nationally and internationally and has won many distinctions: the East Bay Community’s Fund for Artists in 2012, and 2014, and 2020, The City of Berkeley’s Individual Artist Grant Award in 2014, 2015, and 2016. She has public art pieces on display in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and San Diego, California and has written and published five books on her art and poetry. Her most recent book deals with ecological consciousness from Quranic verses “Our Earth: Embracing All Communities.”

Selected Works

A more comprehensive collection of work is available here.

Recommended Readings & Media

Salma Arastu Sharing process of her art.

Transcript

Intro

John Fiege

Art can show us the pain and trauma and suffering of the world. And often it does. But art can also go the other direction. It can reveal the beauty, harmony and unity of the world.

The canvases in Salma Arastu’s series of paintings, We Are All One, are full of soft colors, continuous lines, immersive habitats that flow into one another, and—sometimes—two-dimensional representations of humans and animals occupying the same space, echoing cave paintings.

Salma found the continuous line in her study of Islamic calligraphy when she was living in the Middle East. She was born into the Sindhi and Hindu traditions and Rajasthan, India, and then embraced Islam after marrying a Muslim.

It was this continuous line that became a central element of her approach to painting and a central technique she uses to express the ecological views she finds in the Quran. She seeks to transcend difference through her art, and find oneness and interconnectedness in a world that continually ravages ecological systems around the planet.

I'm John Fiege, and this episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Artists series.

Since the 1970s, Salma has been exhibiting her work nationally and internationally, and writing about art. She currently lives in San Francisco, where I had the pleasure of visiting her in her studio last summer and seeing so many of her wonderful paintings. At ChrysalisPodcast.org, you can see some of my photos from that trip and images of her paintings, including those from her We Are All One series.

Here is Salma Arastu.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

Could you start by just telling me a little bit about your project, We Are All One?

Salma Arastu

Yes, I believe in oneness. And these are kind of my oneness projects, you know, like, I want to bring the whole humanity together. And in my work, initially, they were abstract figures, you know, that they are coming together in groups, you know, celebrating together, sharing together, chanting together. So this has been my theme always. And from that, you know, gradually, as I was looking around the nature, I live on the bay in this area. And so nature has been great friend, I would say, you know, I keep watching the plants, the water, the clouds every morning. So this has been part of my daily schedule that I look at the nature and absorb it and go to my studio. And so somehow the nature, the the birds, the animals, and the plants, they all got into my work, and I realized we are all one, we are all breathing, we are all connected. So I think gradually I started doing work, which showed all living beings in my work, and I call it We Are All One.

John Fiege

Great. And And can you talk also about Our Earth, and as part of this project, and what did you do there?

Salma Arastu

As a daily practice, I do read Quran, my book of faith. And, you know, suddenly I started noticing the verses, which talk to me about the planet about, you know, like Earth and the communities. So let me tell you the first verse, which really, really was holding me for some time, you know, before I started the project, and that verse was so related to my thinking, we are all one. So that particular verse, it says, “There's not an animal in the earth, nor a flying creature flying on two wings, but they are communities like you.” So then I went to the description of that verse and amazing results I found because different scholars have given the beautiful description of this verse. And understanding this verse was like a divine invitation to follow the concerns of these all ecologists in our time. So I went deeper into it. And then especially one scholar, Dr. Fred Denny, who said, “The verse presents a paradigm of interconnectedness. Communities necessarily interact with one another. And we are enjoined by the Quran to view the animal world, not merely as parallel to us and organized into communities but signals interconnectedness between their existence and well being and our own, as no community on Earth exist in isolation of the others, and what affects one community ultimately affects other communities.” So this was amazing revelation to me. And then I started you know, noticing these verses which talked about the plants, the mountains, the ships, the see the fish, you know, the ant, bees. It was a beautiful revelation for me, and I started noticing them down and I found 90 verses like that, almost, which is my limited knowledge, you know. Then I started to shorten the list because I really wanted to do this project. I said I want to bring this positive from Quran to the mainstream in the world, so they understand the positive side of Quran.

John Fiege

Oh, that's great. Yeah and it seems like with that project in particular, it's almost a theological process of, it’s almost like through art you have been studying the Quran. Is that accurate?

Salma Arastu

Yeah, I would say through, yeah, through my art, I was reading Quran, in the sense—or from Quran I was doing art. In Quran, the God has ordained us to look at the nature to study the nature, because—I read something here. “Quran describes nature, presents signs of God, as divine is manifest in nature, and guides to study nature as reference to the wisdom of Quran.” So in fact, as I understand, Quran is a textbook, and the nature is a workbook. Believe me, and that's how I worked on it.

John Fiege

Oh wow. That’s great. Yeah and and my understanding of Islamic law is kind of these basic elements of nature, like land, water, fire, forest, light, are all living things, not just humans and animals as living things.

Salma Arastu

Yes, yes.

John Fiege

You have a really interesting relationshi

I’m continually amazed by the immensity of the world that a small poem can conjure. In just a few lines or words, or even just a line break, a poem can travel across time and space. It can jump from the minuscule to the incomprehensible vastness of the universe. And in these inventive leaps, it can create, in our minds, new ideas and images. It can help us see connections that were, before, invisible.

John Shoptaw has conjured such magic with his poem, “Near-Earth Object,” combining the gravity of mass extinction on Earth with the quotidian evanescence of his sprint to catch the bus.

John Shoptaw grew up in the Missouri Bootheel. He picked cotton; he was baptized in a drainage ditch; and he worked in a lumber mill. He now lives a long way from home in Berkeley, California, where I was lucky enough to visit him last summer.

John is the author of the poetry collection, Times Beach, which won the Notre Dame Review Book Prize and the Northern California Book Award in poetry. He is also the author of On The Outside Looking Out, a critical study of John Ashbery’s poetry. He teaches at the University of California, Berkeley.

John has a new poetry collection coming out soon, also called Near-Earth Object.

This episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Poets series, which focuses on a single poems from poets who confront ecological issues in their work.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

John Shoptaw

John Shoptaw is a poet, poetry reader, teacher, and environmentalist. He was raised on the Missouri River bluffs of Omaha, Nebraska and in the Mississippi floodplain of “swampeast” Missouri.He began his education at Southeast Missouri State University and graduated from the University of Missouri at Columbia with BAs in Physics and later in Comparative Literature and English, earned a PhD in English at Harvard University, and taught for some years at Princeton and Yale. He now lives, bikes, gardens, and writes in the Bay Area and teaches poetry and environmental poetry & poetics at UC Berkeley, where he is a member of the Environmental Arts & Humanities Initiative. Shoptaw’s first poetry collection, Times Beach (Notre Dame Press, 2015), won the Notre Dame Review Book Prize and subsequently also the 2016 Northern California Book Award in Poetry; his new collection, Near-Earth Object, is forthcoming in March 2024 at Unbound Edition Press, with a foreword by Jenny Odell.

Both collections embody what Shoptaw calls “a poetics of impurity,” tampering with inherited forms (haiku, masque, sestina, poulter’s measure, the sonnet) while always bringing in the world beyond the poem. But where Times Beach was oriented toward the past (the 1811 New Madrid earthquake, the 1927 Mississippi River flood, the 1983 destruction of Times Beach), in Near-Earth Object Shoptaw focuses on contemporary experience: on what it means to live and write among other creatures in a world deranged by human-caused climate change. These questions are also at the center of his essays “Why Ecopoetry?” (published in 2016 at Poetry Magazine, where a number of his poems, including “Near-Earth Object,” have also appeared) and “The Poetry of Our Climate” (forthcoming at American Poetry Review).

Shoptaw is also the author of a critical study, On the Outside Looking Out: John Ashbery’s Poetry (Harvard University Press); a libretto on the Lincoln assassination for Eric Sawyer’s opera Our American Cousin (recorded by the Boston Modern Orchestra Project); and several essays on poetry and poetics, including “Lyric Cryptography,” “Listening to Dickinson” and an essay, “A Globally Warmed Metamorphoses,” on his Ovidian sequence “Whoa!” (both forthcoming in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Environmental Imagination at Bloomsbury Press in July 2023).

“Near-Earth Object”

Unlike the monarch, though the asteroid also slipped quietly from its colony on its annular migration between Jupiter and Mars, enticed maybe by our planetary pollen as the monarch by my neighbor’s slender-leaved milkweed. Unlike it even when the fragrant Cretaceous atmosphere meteorized the airborne rock, flaring it into what might have looked to the horrid triceratops like a monarch ovipositing (had the butterfly begun before the period broke off). Not much like the monarch I met when I rushed out the door for the 79, though the sulfurous dust from the meteoric impact off the Yucatán took flight for all corners of the heavens much the way the next generation of monarchs took wing from the milkweed for their annual migration to the west of the Yucatán, and their unburdened mother took her final flit up my flagstone walkway, froze and, hurtling downward, impacted my stunned peninsular left foot. Less like the monarch for all this, the globe-clogging asteroid, than like me, one of my kind, bolting for the bus.

Recommended Readings & Media

John Shoptaw reading from his collection Times Beach at the University of California, Berkeley.

Transcript

Intro

John Fiege

I’m continually amazed by the immensity of the world that a small poem can conjure. In just a few lines or words, or even just a line break, a poem can travel across time and space. It can jump from the minuscule to the incomprehensible vastness of the universe. And in these inventive leaps, it can create, in our minds, new ideas and images. It can help us see connections that were, before, invisible.

John Shoptaw has conjured such magic with his poem, “Near-Earth Object,” combining the gravity of mass extinction on Earth with the quotidian evanescence of his sprint to catch the bus.

I’m John Fiege, and this episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Poets series.

John Shoptaw grew up in the Missouri Bootheel. He picked cotton; he was baptized in a drainage ditch; and he worked in a lumber mill. He now lives a long way from home in Berkeley, California, where I was lucky enough to visit him last summer. You can see some of my photos from that visit at ChrysalisPodcast.org, alongside the poem we discuss on this episode.

John is the author of the poetry collection, Times Beach, which won the Notre Dame Review Book Prize and the Northern California Book Award in poetry. He is also the author of On The Outside Looking Out, a critical study of John Ashbery’s poetry. He teaches at the University of California, Berkeley.

John has a new poetry collection coming out soon, also called Near-Earth Object.

Here is John Shoptaw reading his poem, “Near-Earth Object.”

---

Poem

John Shoptaw

“Near-Earth Object”

Unlike the monarch, though

the asteroid also slipped

quietly from its colony

on its annular migration

between Jupiter and Mars,

enticed maybe by

our planetary pollen

as the monarch by my neighbor’s

slender-leaved milkweed.

Unlike it even when

the fragrant Cretaceous

atmosphere meteorized

the airborne rock,

flaring it into what might

have looked to the horrid

triceratops like a monarch

ovipositing (had the butterfly

begun before the period

broke off). Not much like

the monarch I met when I

rushed out the door for the 79,

though the sulfurous dust

from the meteoric impact

off the Yucatán took flight

for all corners of the heavens

much the way the next

generation of monarchs

took wing from the milkweed

for their annual migration

to the west of the Yucatán,

and their unburdened mother

took her final flit

up my flagstone walkway,

froze and, hurtling

downward, impacted

my stunned peninsular

left foot. Less like

the monarch for all this,

the globe-clogging asteroid,

than like me, one of my kind,

bolting for the bus.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

Thank you so much. Well, let's start by talking about this fragrant Cretaceous atmosphere that metorizes the airborne rock, which is is really the most beautiful way I've ever heard of describing the moment when a massive asteroid became a meteor, and impacted the earth 66 million years ago, on the Yucatan Peninsula. And that led to the extinction of about 75% of all species on Earth, including all the dinosaurs. This, of course, is known as the fifth mass extinction event on earth now, now we're in the sixth mass extinction. But but this time, the difference is that the asteroid is us. And, and we're causing species extinctions at even a much faster rate than the asteroid impact did, including the devastation of the monarch butterfly, which migrates between the US and Mexico not far from the Yucatan where the asteroid hit. And in your poem, these analogies metaphors parallels, they all bounce off one another. paralle

Modern society has removed many of us from an intimate connection to the land, the water, and the elements. Air conditioning in cars and artificial light in our homes allow us to carry on without paying much attention at all to the forces of nature around us.

These relationships to ecological surroundings are something entirely different for those who fish artisanally along the coasts of Peru.

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder is an anthropologist who writes beautifully and poetically about the people who catch camarones and the various types of fish used to make cebiche. She explores their intimate and visceral relationships to their environments—writing about a world of tasting the wind, talking to rocks, and listening to rainbows.

She finds that efforts to protect the traditional and artisanal fishing industries in Peru have provided the cultural and political power to protect the ecosystems that support these species.

I find her work particularly interesting in the context of the global seafood industry. The United Nations estimates that almost 90% of fisheries worldwide are either overfished or have already collapsed. To meet rising demand for seafood on a planet with nearly 8 billion people, seafood farming has expanded rapidly and now provides over half of the world’s seafood for human consumption. Fish farms pollute rivers, lakes, and coastal habitats, and escaped fish threaten wild populations with disease and other ecological impacts.

I think Constanza’s work points us toward what a healthy ecological relationship between people and marine life could look like, even as we fight to dismantle the commercial fishing industry and repair our collective relationship to the world’s oceans.

Constanza is from Mexico originally, and she’s married to a Peruvian. She’s now a professor of anthropology at Carleton College, in Northfield, Minnesota.

This episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Kitchen series, which explores questions of the sustainability of our food.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

As an environmental anthropologist, Dr. Ocampo-Raeder’s work focuses on the political ecology of resource management systems in resource-based societies. Her current research projects explore the contradictions between sustainable development goals and policies that impact the livelihoods of small-scale producers, as expressed in initiatives such as food movements, protected areas and ecotourism. Dr. Ocampo-Raeder's current project focuses on the socio-ecological underpinnings of Mexico's diverse culinary traditions where she is exploring and contesting notions of fusion, mestizaje and gendered roles in the booming gastronomic economy. Her research combines ethnographic and ecological methodological frameworks to evaluate the human ecology of indigenous and rural societies in Latin America (Peru and Mexico). Dr. Ocampo-Raeder holds a bachelors’ degree in biology from Grinnell College and doctorate in anthropology from Stanford University. She has published amply in both Spanish and English, often with her undergraduate students, for environmental anthropology, food studies, and human geography journals. Dr. Ocampo-Raeder is currently an Associate Professor at Carleton College where she teaches anthropology, environmental studies and Latin American studies.

Cebiche/Ceviche Recipes from Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

Recommended Readings & Media

Transcript

Intro

John Fiege

Modern society has removed many of us from an intimate connection to the land, the water, and the elements. Air conditioning in cars and artificial light in our homes allow us to carry on without paying much attention at all to the forces of nature around us.

These relationships to ecological surroundings are something entirely different for those who fish artisanally along the coasts of Peru.

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder is an anthropologist who writes beautifully and poetically about the people who catch camarones and the various types of fish used to make cebiche. She explores their intimate and visceral relationships to their environments—writing about a world of tasting the wind, talking to rocks, and listening to rainbows.

She finds that efforts to protect the traditional and artisanal fishing industries in Peru have provided the cultural and political power to protect the ecosystems that support these species.

I find her work particularly interesting in the context of the global seafood industry. The United Nations estimates that almost 90% of fisheries worldwide are either overfished or have already collapsed. To meet rising demand for seafood on a planet with nearly 8 billion people, seafood farming has expanded rapidly and now provides over half of the world’s seafood for human consumption. Fish farms pollute rivers, lakes, and coastal habitats, and escaped fish threaten wild populations with disease and other ecological impacts.

I think Constanza’s work points us toward what a healthy ecological relationship between people and marine life could look like, even as we fight to dismantle the large-scale commercial fishing industry and repair our collective relationship to the world’s oceans.

I’m John Fiege, and this episode of Chrysalis is part of the Chrysalis Kitchen series.

Constanza is from Mexico originally, and she’s married to a Peruvian. She’s now a professor of anthropology at Carleton College, in Northfield, Minnesota.

You can find Constanza’s wide-ranging cebiche recipes and photographs from her fieldwork in Peru at ChrysalisPodcast.org.

Here is Constanza Ocampo-Raeder.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

Well, can you tell me about the recipe brought and how you prepare it? Just take us take us through it a little bit?

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

Yes, so I actually submitted several recipes because some of my work really delved into understanding the tradition of cooking fish with citruses, which is what we know colloquially as cebiche. And most of my work is carried out in Peru, and Peru is the capital of cebiche of the world, you know, they consider it one of the sort of primary dishes of the nation. So one of the things I wanted to do was, you know, depict different cebiche traditions around the world and sort of put them in conversation with some of the, you know, absolutely musts and must not that Peruvians tend to think about when they consider what the perfect speech entails. And I think, you know, one of the fundamental things that they always note is that their cebiche is really good, because of three fundamental issues. One, that they have access to incredibly fresh fish from a sea that actually has, you know, incredible amounts of, you know, biodiversity, both cold weather and tropical weather because it's right on the, you know, the Humboldt, or you know, Peruvian current, because they have a special kind of lime that they claim has a specific kind of acidity that cooks it to the right point, you know, when you when you actually mix it, and three, that it's simple, you know, and they have, you know, they really emphasize the simplicity of it, of not piling it up with too many condiments, which is actually what makes it different from, you know, other cebiche traditions around the world. So I really went out to try to learn how to make cebiche when I was living in Peru, and I learned it from a lot of different types of people from starting out with cookbooks, but just all the people that I knew, making cebiches at home paying attention to how it was done in restaurants, but then a lot of my fieldwork takes place with traditional fishing communities, artisanal fishermen. And we decided I really decided to pay attention to how they made cebiche because if it's, if you can claim it's the freshest cebiche, they were going to be the ones to make it. And it turns out that the best cebiche among the fishing communities tends to be made by teenage boys, because when they are starting—

John Fiege

Wow.

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

Yeah, it's actually really kind of lovely and there's a lot of pride among these teenage boys about making the best cebiche and they just kind of come up onto the boat with like an old knife, their salt, they're, you know, they have this you know, little sometimes they often put in MSG into it, which is really interesting because it kind of tenderizes the fish. So they have these little secret packets, of you know, of their MSG that they bring in. And, and they just wait to see what's actually captured. And the reason why these young men are doing it is because when you start going into, being folded into the labor of a boat, generally the easiest one for somebody who doesn't have a lot of experience on a ship, is to cook, so they you know, so you can kind of climb up the ranks and get good positions if you're a good, you know, sort of cook, so. So that's how I learned how to make it.

John Fiege

MSG doesn't usually go with our idea of freshness.

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

Exactly, which is really sort of unique, that they're actually bringing the Ajinomoto, it comes in these cute little packages that you can buy buy strips in the corner store. And they you know, that's their secret ingredient often they're like, you know, so even in these tours—

John Fiege

The not-so-secret ingredient.

Constanza Ocampo-Raeder

The not-so-

Many assaults on the environment happen slowly and continually, almost invisibly to us: starting a car engine, buying meat at the grocery store, throwing away a plastic straw.

Mountaintop removal is different. It is sudden and violent and intentionally, unmistakably destructive. Coal companies will blow off the tops of mountains with explosives in order to more easily and cheaply access the coal seams underneath vast swaths of forest, streams, and wildlife habitat. They destroy massive areas of wild land to produce a dirty energy that heavily pollutes the atmosphere with greenhouse gases. Their use of explosives also allows them to employ many fewer miners.

Mountaintop removal was one of the big environmental stories in the media in the last couple decades. There were massive protests and a lot of bad press for the coal companies.

Now coal production is down in the US, and dramatic and shocking stories about mountaintop removal have largely disappeared from the headlines, but mountaintop removal has not gone away. As the easier-to-access coal is mined, the amount of land that must be destroyed by mountain removal to produce the same amount of coal has increased.

One report that demonstrates this is from SkyTruth, an environmental advocacy group that uses satellite imagery and remote sensing data to study environmental damage. They published a study showing that the amount of land needed to produce a unit of coal in 2015 was three times more than it had been in 1998.

Vernon Haltom and Junior Walk haven’t forgotten what’s happening in West Virginia and Appalachia, because they live it every day. They both work for Coal River Mountain Watch, the organization previously directed by Judy Bonds, the renowned mountaintop removal activist from West Virginia, who was the daughter of a coal miner and died of cancer in 2011 at age 58.

Vernon and Junior’s stories are urgent environmental ones, but they are also stories about the media and how we forget and move on.

This episode of Chrysalis is the first in the Chrysalis Projects series, which highlights the work of community-based environmental projects.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Vernon Haltom

Vernon Haltom has a BS in Mechanical Engineering (Aerospace Option) from Oklahoma State University and a BA in English Education from Northwestern Oklahoma State University. He served six years as an officer in the US Air Force, specializing in nuclear weapons safety and security. He then taught high school English for two years and English as a Second Language to college students for four years. He began volunteering for Coal River Mountain Watch in 2004 and has served on the staff since 2005, serving as executive director since 2011. He was involved in founding the regional Mountain Justice movement in 2004, the Alliance for Appalachia in 2006, and the Appalachian Community Health Emergency (ACHE) Campaign in 2012.

Junior Walk

Junior Walk grew up on Coal River Mountain in Raleigh County, WV, taking part in traditional Appalachian activities such as harvesting ginseng and mushrooms. He worked for a time in a coal preparation plant and then as a security guard on a mountaintop removal site, where he learned firsthand the damage coal harvesting had on the mountains and the communities below. He began working with Coal River Mountain Watch and other groups in 2009. In 2011 he was awarded the Brower Youth Award. Since that time his work has taken various forms, including lobbying on federal and state levels, gathering data for lawsuits against coal companies, and even getting arrested doing direct action at surface mines and corporate offices. In 2021 he was awarded a fellowship with Public Lab to help support his work monitoring the coal mines in his community via drones. Junior now serves as the outreach coordinator for Coal River Mountain Watch, monitoring coal mines in his community for environmental violations and guiding tours for visiting journalists and student groups.

About Coal River Mountain Watch

Coal River Mountain Watch (CRMW) is a grassroots organization founded in 1998 in response to the fear and frustration of people living near or downstream from huge mountaintop removal sites. They began as a small group of volunteers working to organize the residents of southern West Virginia to fight for social, economic, and environmental justice. From their humble beginnings, they have become a major force in opposition to mountaintop removal. Their outreach coordinator, Julia Bonds, was the 2003 Goldman Prize winner for North America. CRMW's efforts figure prominently in Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.'s book Crimes against Nature. They have been active in federal court to challenge the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers permits for valley fills and made regional news with demonstrations against a sludge dam and preparation plant near Marsh Fork Elementary School. Find CRMW online: Website, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter.

About Judy Bonds

“Born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia, Julia “Judy” Bonds was a coal miner’s daughter and director of Coal River Mountain Watch. Bonds emerged as a formidable community leader against a highly destructive mining practice called mountaintop removal that is steadily ravaging the Appalachian mountain range and forcing many residents, some of whom have lived in the region for generations, to abandon their homes.” - Learn more at The Goldman Environmental Prize Website.

Recommended Readings & Media

See more of Junior’s drone work here and other Coal River Mountain flyovers here.

Transcription

Intro

John Fiege

Many assaults on the environment happen slowly and continually, almost invisibly to us: starting a car engine, buying meat at the grocery store, throwing away a plastic straw.

Mountaintop removal is different. It is sudden and violent and intentionally, unmistakably destructive. Coal companies will blow off the tops of mountains with dynamite in order to more easily and cheaply access the coal seams underneath vast swaths of forest, streams, and wildlife habitat. They destroy massive areas of wild land to produce a dirty energy that heavily pollutes the atmosphere with greenhouse gases. Their use of dynamite also allows them to employ many fewer miners.

Mountaintop removal was one of the big environmental stories in the media in the last couple decades. There were massive protests and a lot of bad press for the coal companies.

Now coal production is down in the US, and dramatic and shocking stories about mountaintop removal have largely disappeared from the headlines, but mountaintop removal has not gone away. As the easier-to-access coal is mined, the amount of land that must be destroyed by mountain removal to produce the same amount of coal has increased.

One report that demonstrates this is from SkyTruth, an environmental advocacy group that uses satellite imagery and remote sensing data to study environmental damage. They published a study showing that the amount of land needed to produce a unit of coal in 2015 was three times more than it had been in 1998.

Vernon Haltom and Junior Walk haven’t forgotten what’s happening in West Virginia and Appalachia, because they live it every day. They both work for Coal River Mountain Watch, the organization previously directed by Judy Bonds, the renowned mountaintop removal activist from West Virginia, who was the daughter of a coal miner and died of cancer in 2011 at age 58.

Vernon and Junior’s stories are urgent environmental ones, but they are also stories about the media and how we forget and move on.

I'm John Fiege, and this conversation about Coal River Mountain Watch is part of the Chrysalis Project series.

Here are Vernon Haltom and Junior Walk.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

I was hoping that you all could start by telling me a bit about your backgrounds and how you both came to work for Coal River Mountain Watch.

Vernon Haltom

My background is, I was raised in Oklahoma, went to Oklahoma State University, went into the Air Force, went back into education, got my English teaching degree, and taught English for a while in high school, taught English as a second language. Just before I moved to West Virginia, I started learning about mountaintop removal. And while I was there I saw it in person and I met Judy Bonds and began volunteering with Coal River Mountain Watch in 2004. Came on staff at the beginning of 2005, and I've been there since.

When I heard Judy Bonds on the radio in 2003, she was the Goldman Environmental Prize winner at the time. She was so inspirational and so motivational that seeing the problem of mountaintop removal and seeing what the coal companies were doing to the communities was unbearable.

John Fiege

And how about you, Junior?

Junior Walk

Yeah, so I graduated high school in 2008

We’re back!

I’m super-excited about the new series of shows we’ve been recording over the past year here at the Chrysalis podcast.

The new series focus on poets, artists, cooks, and community organizers, and we’ll be releasing them alongside more of our original Conversations series that spans a wide range of environmental thought and storytelling—engaging the climate crisis as a cultural crisis.

I interviewed Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, Forrest Gander, and here’s how he described what we’re doing with the podcast:

“A chorus of not just scientists and biologists but a chorus of artists and priests and poets, and that’s what you’ve been doing is putting together this other chorus of responses to our crisis. And I think it’s going to take the voices of a lot of people from a lot of different trajectories to effect any kind of change.”

I completely agree.

Subscribe to the podcast to hear my conversations with this growing ecological chorus, and subscribe to our newsletter to receive poems, artworks, recipes, and ideas on how to support the amazing work of community-based environmental organizations that I highlight on the show.

It’s all at ChrysalisPodcast.org.

And please show your support by telling your friends.

You can find the trailer and the show on Substack, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Audible, Stitcher, iHeart, Google Podcasts, Pocket Casts, and other podcast platforms. Please rate and review to help us spread the word!

Please share the trailer far and wide!

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.chrysalispodcast.org

Here’s something we hear all the time: if only more people knew more about environmental problems, then they would certainly act in some ecologically beneficial way. But the problem is, it’s not true. We’re now deluged with data about the climate crisis; and yet, this abundance of available environmental information has not led to an abundance of environmental action.

This deficit model of climate communication is flawed, even though scientists, environmentalists, and other proponents of climate action continue to speak and act as if people would do more if they just knew more about the climate crisis and understood the science of climate change.

Heather Houser writes about environmental ideas and themes in art, literature, culture, and the humanities. Her work blossoms with keen insights about the importance of culture in confronting ecological crisis.

Heather is Professor of English at The University of Texas at Austin. I met her many years ago in Austin, when I was developing a film about dance and environmental justice. She is both a dancer and an environmental humanities scholar.

Our conversation explores climate information overload, the idea of what she calls eco-sickness in literature, the thorny topic of human population size, and whether artists should reject or rework artistic tools of the past that might be tainted by colonialism, racism, or other forms of oppression.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Heather Houser

Heather Houser, Ph.D, is Professor of English at The University of Texas at Austin, and the author of two brilliant books: Infowhelm: Environmental Art & Literature in an Age of Data (2020), and Ecosickness in Contemporary U.S. Fiction: Environment and Affect (2014), which won the 2015 Association for the Study of the Arts of the Present Book Prize and was shortlisted for the 2014 British Society for Literature and Science Book Prize. She is also a co-founder of Planet Texas 2050, UT Austin’s climate resilience-focused research challenge, and has led the following initiatives for the environmental humanities: 2015-16 Texas Institute for Literary & Textual Studies, Environmental Humanities at the University of Texas at Austin, and Texas Ecocritics Network.

Quotation Read by Heather Houser

“It's astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body - the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. It means that you have a body, too. You will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”

- James Baldwin, If Beale Street Could Talk

Recommended Readings & Media

Intro

John Fiege

Here’s something we hear all the time: if only more people knew more about environmental problems, then they would certainly act in some ecologically beneficial way. But the problem is, it’s not true. We’re now deluged with data about the climate crisis; and yet, this abundance of available environmental information has not led to an abundance of environmental action.

This deficit model of climate communication is flawed, even though scientists, environmentalists, and other proponents of climate action continue to speak and act as if people would do more if they just knew more about the climate crisis and understood the science of climate change.

Heather Houser writes about environmental ideas and themes in art, literature, culture, and the humanities. Her work blossoms with keen insights about the importance of culture in confronting ecological crisis.

Heather Houser

I mean, especially if you are an environmentalist, you pay attention to these issues. But really, even if you're, you know, you're not, there's a lot just so much like information coming at us about, say, the percentage of extinct mammals, right, how many mammal species are extinct, or bird species are extinct? All the data about climate crisis, whether it's like warming temperatures, ocean acidification, you know, how much of the ice sheet has melted? You know, it's all all this data is like, how do you make sense of that? Yeah. What do you do with that? I mean, what do you do with that, not only as a way to understand the phenomena at maybe, you know, objective or straightforward level. But what do you do with that emotionally if you're an artist or communicator.

John Fiege

I’m John Fiege, and this is Chrysalis.

Heather Houser is Professor of English at The University of Texas at Austin. I met her many years ago in Austin, when I was developing a film about dance and environmental justice. Heather is both a dancer and an environmental humanities scholar.

Our conversation explores climate information overload, the idea of what she calls eco-sickness in literature, the thorny topic of human population size, and whether artists should reject or rework artistic tools of the past that might be tainted by colonialism, racism, or other forms of oppression.

Here is Heather Houser.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

So, I'd like to start with an essay you're working on about your childhood, which you shared with me. In this piece, you talk about the instability of your upbringing - from your parents' rocky marriage to their financial woes. And the constant moves that resulted. You moved about thirteen times in your childhood, largely around the Poconos region in Pennsylvania, I think, and to other states as well. In the midst of that instability and constant "shifting ground" as you call it, you found a sense of stability, grounding and joy in dance. You write:

“At this age I hadn't yet met the idea of the plateau or of the precipitous fall. This was the time for the joy of movement, the satisfactions of devotion, and a belief that the alchemy of body, space, music and time can make you other than who you are and where you came from.”

I love this idea of seeing your childhood and who you became through this lens of dance. Can you talk more about where you come from and maybe what your relationship to the rest of nature was as a child? And how this, this alchemy of body, space, music, and time led to your interests in the environment?

Heather Houser

Yeah, thank you. So I was born in the Poconos region of Pennsylvania, which is in the North East part of the state right along the New Jersey border. And if you know it at all, you likely know it as a tourist destination for urbanites, you know. When - this was, I should say I was born there in 1979 and grew up there with one one gap when I lived in Massachusetts, but I lived there from 1979 to 1997.

I think things have changed, but back then, it was - certainly there were a lot of resorts, honeymoon destinations, summer camps, so a large tourist influx from New York and New Jersey and Philadelphia. But then there were the locals like myself, so it was a place of abundant nature, I would say. You know, the Appalachian Trail ended and started there. Lots of lakes. It's a hardwood forest area, lots of ponds and creeks, or, as I say, in that essay, "cricks" my grammy and pappy said. I didn't pick that up, but that's what parts of my family called creeks.

But that was actually not my family's orientation. So I lived in this place with so many things I now wish were right outside my door. And, of course, Austin, TX has its own beautiful environments, but, I honestly did none of that. There was one swimming hole we would go to called the 40-foot. It was a 40-foot jump, which I did not do because I was afraid of heights, but I don't remember swimming in the lakes or the "cricks" aside from that. We never went on hikes, except for maybe, you know, walks in the woods near our house (or houses, since there were many of them).

So that relationship that I now have, like the appreciation and really the need to be outside is, is something that developed really in my college years when I lived in Portland, Oregon. When I think about dance and the environment, personally - and my relationship to it - is about movement. Being able to move in space, I think is one of the continuites from my dance persona to my like, environmental appreciation. And even though those are completely divorced - or separate, just didn't really exist when I was a kid - I feel that continuity now for sure.

John Fiege

And you know when you were in the Poconos area as a child. Did you have a, did you have a sense of people from the cities coming there as like a location of nature and looking for this kind of pristine wilderness experience, did you have a sense of that?

Heather Houser

Oh absolutely, and you know, I mean, this is - I was very hard on the place when I lived there. I mean, I really wanted out. I went almost as far as you could go within the continental United States when I went to college. Kind of foolishly to go to a private liberal arts college across the country. But it worked out OK. But I did not - I mean, I definitely knew that people were coming to the Poconos for that experience of nature, and wilderness. And you would, quite honestly - I interacted a lot with tourists because I worked at an ice cream shop - one of those time-honored things you do on the summer vacation is going to the ice-cream shop.

John Fiege

How iconic.

Heather Houser

But you know, I was there - not stuck there, I wouldn't say that. Because I did like that job and my bosses and coworkers so I didn't feel stuck, but certainly different experience. And so I had a lot of contact with tourists that

Each year, we celebrate Earth Day; and each year, our collective actions lead to more greenhouse gas emissions, more habitat destruction, and more species extinctions. It’s hard for Earth Day not to feel like more of a superficial patting of ourselves on the back or a greenwashing opportunity for corporate sponsors than a serious call for transformative change.

The first Earth Day, on April 22, 1970, was something totally different. With 12,000 events across the country and more than 35,000 speakers from every walk of life—young and old, scientists and preachers, liberals and conservatives—the transformative power of the first Earth Day, conceived as a teach-in rather than a rally or a protest, is hard for us to imagine in our contemporary era of stark political polarization, hashtag protests, and climate denial politics.

Adam Rome is an environmental historian who digs deep into the historical record and emerges with profound insights about the first Earth Day and the origins of the environmental movement. His work reveals the vital importance of understanding our environmental history in order to forge a more promising environmental future.

Adam Rome was my advisor many years ago when I studied environmental history and cultural geography in graduate school at Penn State. And now, I’m very happy that he’s my good friend and colleague here at the University at Buffalo, where he’s Professor of Environment and Sustainability.

My conversation with Adam travels through history, long before and after the first Earth Day, from beaver hats in feudal Europe; to the post-WWII era of prosperity and suburban development; and up to the present, as he probes the business world’s attempts to become more sustainable.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Adam Rome

Adam Rome is professor of environment and sustainability at the University at Buffalo. A leading expert on the history of environmental activism, his first book,The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism, won the Frederick Jackson Turner Award and the Lewis Mumford Prize. His book on the history of the first Earth Day, The Genius of Earth Day: How a 1970 Teach-In Unexpectedly Made the First Green Generation, was featured in The New Yorker. He is co-editor of Green Capitalism? Business and the Environment in the Twentieth Century. From 2002 to 2005, he edited the journal Environmental History. In addition to numerous scholarly publications, he has written essays and op-eds for a variety of publications, including Nature, Smithsonian, The Washington Post, Wired, and The Huffington Post. He has produced two Audible Original audio courses: “The Genius of Earth Day” and “The Enduring Genius of Frederick Law Olmsted.”

Quotation read by Adam Rome

“The question is whether any civilization can wage relentless war on life without destroying itself, and without losing the right to be called civilized.” — Rachel Carson, from Silent Spring

Recommended Readings & Media

Transcription

Intro

John Fiege

Each year we celebrate Earth Day. And each year our collective actions lead to more greenhouse gas emissions, more habitat destruction, and more species extinctions. It's hard for Earth Day not to feel like more of a superficial patting of ourselves on the back, or a greenwashing opportunity for corporate sponsors, then a serious call for transformative change.

The first Earth Day on April 22, 1970 was something totally different. With 12,000 events across the country, and more than 35,000 speakers from every walk of life, young and old scientists and preachers, liberals and conservatives, the transformative power of the first Earth Day, conceived as a teaching rather than a rally or protest is hard for us to imagine in our contemporary era of stark political polarization, hashtag protests, and climate denial politics.

Adam Rome is an environmental historian who digs deep into the historical record and emerges with profound insights about the first Earth Day in the origins of the environmental movement. His work reveals the vital importance of understanding our environmental history in order to forge a more promising environmental future.

Adam Rome

But mobilizing isn't organizing. And mobilizing isn't empowering. It doesn't take people new places, you know, and then you think about other you know, advertising isn't about teaching you anything. It's about getting you to buy, you know, something. Political messaging isn't about educating you. It's about getting you to vote for this guy or woman rather than that person. So, it's yes or no, you know, Earth Day, the original Earth Day was so much more complicated than that. It left it up to millions of individuals to say, what does this mean to me, what am I going to do? It didn't try to marshal them all in one direction, or to enlist them into a preexisting cause.

John Fiege

I'm John Fiege, and this is Chrysalis.

Adam Rome was my advisor many years ago when I studied environmental history and cultural geography in graduate school at Penn State. And now I'm very happy that he's my good friend and colleague here at the University of Buffalo, where he's professor of Environment and Sustainability.

My conversation with Adam travels through history long before and after the first Earth Day, from Beaver hats and feudal Europe to the post World War Two era of prosperity and suburban development, and up to the present, as he probes the business world's attempts to become more sustainable.

Here is Adam Rome.

---

Conversation

John Fiege

If you could just tell, tell me a bit about where you grew up, and about your relationship to the rest of nature when you were a kid.

Adam Rome

I grew up in West Hartford, Connecticut. The town itself is a couple 100 years old. But the particular house that I grew up in, was in a was built in the late 1950s. In what had been a golf course, for some reason, the golf course moved a mile away. And so, when I was growing up, the former golf course was being slowly developed. And in fact, I remember one day, I don't know how old I was maybe eight, seeing bulldozers come and knocking trees down on one of the nearby yards. That that was undeveloped still. And that I think was really crucial, even more than the wild are places that I used to hang out that a couple of friends and I would go in the wild parts, the still undeveloped parts of the old golf course. And back then parents weren't worried about their kids in the way they are now. So, my parents had a big cowbell on their front porch. And when it was, you know, 15 minutes to dinnertime, they would ring the cow bell, and I can hear it anywhere in the neighborhood and come home, and that's so idyllic. But it was a very typical 50s suburban neighborhood.

John Fiege

So, you, you went to college at Yale, and then you were a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford, and then you landed in Kansas. Can you tell me the story of how you got to Kansas and what you did when you were there?

Adam Rome

Kansas interestingly, I'll answer your question in a second but, but I had a much much more overwhelming emotional response to the landscape in Kansas than I ever did to any place around where I grew up, you know, that that

John Fiege

Why do you think that was?

Adam Rome

I think I I loved the vastness of the sky. I love the spectacular sunsets. I love watching clouds move through the sky. I mean, you know, there's there's no tall buildings even in the cities in Kansas, compared to the northeast. So, you could see forever. And another thing that I really loved was, especially in the Western two thirds of the state. Wherever there was a river, you could tell those 15 or 20 miles away, because that would be the only place there would be trees. Right. And I love that the landscape was so powerful a presence, everybody thought about it all the time.

John Fiege

So, you eventually landed at University of Kansas, studying environmental history under Dan Webster, who's one of the great minds and founders of the discipline. Tell me what you got what got you interested in environmental history? Had you done anything with that prior to graduate school? And how did you come with? How did you come to work with Don Wooster?

Adam Rome

Environmental history really didn't exist as a field. That or at least it was in its most infant stage. When I was in college, which was 1976 to 1980. I actually got introduced to Don's work and to one other really renowned, now renowned, environmental historian through this humanities project that I did, about the little-known historical places. One of them was a place that during the dustbowl years of the 1930s, when the great plains were decimated by these unbelievable windstorms that that made up, you know, parts of Kansas look like Cape Cod, the dunes on Cape Cod that I had seen as a kid, devastating dust storms. And the government tried to reclaim some of those lands, it was really a pioneering effort of environmental restoration or ecological restoration. And so, there was this Cimarron grasslands in the very southwest corner of the state. It was one of the little-

Environmental activists often focus on facts and data, as if more climate information will lead to more climate action. That strategy may be effective with some communities, but overall it hasn’t prevented global emissions from climbing year after year or habitats from being destroyed day after day.

Many folks in the environmental movement are thinking a lot about how to make messaging more effective. But it’s not just the message we need to question—it’s also the messenger.

In the U.S., white evangelical Christians are not known for their strong support of environmental protections or for believing that humans are even causing climate change, but maybe they haven’t had the right messengers.

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap is an evangelical Christian climate activist, which is not a combination of descriptors we often hear. Kyle has spent years building a movement of young messengers from within the evangelical community who speak a new language of creation care.

He believes that Christians don’t need to look any further than the Bible to become fierce and passionate advocates for ecological protection and climate action.

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap was National Organizer and Spokesperson for Young Evangelicals for Climate Action before becoming Vice President at the Evangelical Environmental Network.

I met Kyle in 2019 at a week-long climate storytelling retreat in New York City. I was super excited to continue our conversation here and dive deeper into his own ecological awakening, what scripture says about caring for the environment, and how Christians and non-Christians alike can find common values and build power together to care for life on Earth across cultural lines that often divide us.

You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap serves as the Vice President of the Evangelical Environmental Network. He holds an undergraduate degree in religious studies from Calvin University (B.A. '12), a Master of Divinity degree from Western Theological Seminary (M.Div. '16), and is ordained in the Christian Reformed Church in North America (CRCNA). Much of his professional experience has involved the integration of theology, science, and action toward a deeper awareness of the Christian responsibility to care for God's earth and to love one’s neighbors, both at home and around the world. Kyle has been named to Midwest Energy Group's 40 Under 40 and the American Conservation Coalition’s 30 Under 30 cohorts for his work on climate change education and advocacy. Most recently, he was named a Yale Public Voices on the Climate Crisis Fellow for 2020. His work has been featured in national and international news outlets such as PBS, NPR, CNN, NBC News, New York Times, Reuters, and U.S. News and World Report. He is married to Allison and lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan with their son, Simon.

Quotation Read by Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap

The Peace of Wild Things When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. - Wendell Berry

© Wendell Berry. This poem is excerpted from New Collected Poems and is reprinted with permission of the Counterpoint Press.

Recommended Readings & Media

Transcription

Intro

John Fiege

Environmental activists often focus on facts and data, as if more climate information will lead to more climate action. That strategy may be effective with some communities, but overall, it hasn’t prevented global emissions from climbing year after year or habitats from being destroyed day after day.

Many folks in the environmental movement are thinking a lot about how to make messaging more effective. But it’s not just the message we need to question—it’s also the messenger.

In the US, white evangelical Christians are not known for their strong support of environmental protections or for believing that humans are even causing climate change, but maybe they haven’t had the right messengers.

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap is an evangelical Christian climate activist, which is not a combination of descriptors we often hear. Kyle has spent years building a movement of young messengers from within the evangelical community who speak a new language of creation care.

He believes that Christians don’t need to look any further than the Bible to become fierce and passionate advocates for ecological protection and climate action.

Kyle Meyaard-Schaap

So when humans read, have dominion and subdue the earth, and they separate that, from the rest of scriptures witness, which is that Christ is creations true king, then it's easy for us to say, "Well, I guess we have a blank check. Let's do whatever we want." Instead of saying, "Well, let's shape our dominion in our rulership after creation's true king, which is Christ." And when we actually do that, then the way we have dominion and subdue the earth is going to look a whole lot different. It's going to look a whole lot less like privilege and a whole lot more like responsibility.

John Fiege

I’m John Fiege, and this is Chrysalis.

Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap was National Organizer and Spokesperson for Young Evangelicals for Climate Action before becoming Vice President at the Evangelical Environmental Network.

I met Kyle in 2019 at a week-long climate storytelling retreat in New York City. I was super excited to continue our conversation here and dive deeper into his own ecological awakening, what scripture says about caring for the environment, and how Christians and non-Christians alike can find common values and build power together to care for life on Earth across cultural lines that often divide us.

Here is Rev. Kyle Meyaard-Schaap.

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Conversation

John Fiege

You grew up in Michigan. And that's where I wanted to start. Can you tell me where you grew up? And as a child, what was your relationship to the earth, to the forest, to the ocean, to the rest of life on the planet?

Kyle Meyaard-Schaap

Yeah, absolutely. I did. I grew up in Holland, Michigan, which is a beautiful, small town, on the shores of Lake Michigan, western part of the state and grew up, you know, minutes from Lake Michigan. So the beach and dunes were always a big part of my life growing up, as was camping, and just enjoying the beautiful landscapes of Michigan. Northern Michigan, with it's in the lakes and forests, and obviously, Lake Michigan and the coast there. So creation and its beauty, you know, was always a part of my childhood and my upbringing. I can't say it was always a conscious part, though. We didn't talk often about our relationship to the natural world, our responsibilities toward it. My community was a beautiful Christian community, that that taught me lots of really important lessons and values and virtues. But I don't remember a conversation about God's creation and our relationship to it, our responsibility to it, certainly nothing about climate change. And I don't remember outright hostility, to be honest. I think a lot of people expect that from a small Evangelical community like mine. What I remember most was just silence, around climate change, around environmental issues in general, pollution. Except for recycling, which I'm not sure we would have done if the truck didn't pick it up at our curb every other week for us. Except for that, I can't really remember any intentional choices that we made as a family or as a larger Church community. And, and so my childhood was marked by kind of this dissonance between my experience of God's grandeur in these beautiful, breathtaking landscapes that were just a part of me and a part of my life growing up, and the relative silence around those gifts. Silence around what our responsibility would be toward those things. I think it was taken for granted that these things were here, and very little conversation about how to protect them, or what our faith, well how our faith could inform the way we approached questions about how to protect those gifts.

Right. And an interesting thing, though, is even if you're not talking about it, in articulating this connection, you obviously had that really profound experience with the natural world. Even if kind of culturally, politically it wasn't, you know, positioned that way. Do you have any, like, particularly strong memories of an experience that has really stuck with you in terms of being in the natural world?

Yeah, I think more than one experience, I think I have just a general sense memory, of being in the sand and in the water in Lake Michigan. I don't think I ever really reflected on how formative that body of water was to me and continues to be for me. It's almost like a my center of gravity. I travel a lot for my work, but I feel most at home back in this landscape in Michigan, close to the lake. It's my directional guide for someone who str

“Forthright but also full of grace”: that could be a mantra for how we should all live our lives. It’s also how Jacqui Patterson has described her ideal as she fights for environmental justice in a world that can feel like it’s submerged completely in environmental injustice.

From the South Side of Chicago, to Jamaica, to South Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina, Jacqui has continually asked what deep, transformative change looks like. She grounds her theory of change in community-led advocacy. She envisions a world of eco-communities and works with real communities across the country who have already created elements of these utopian visions.

But never does she lose sight of climate change and environmental exploitation as multipliers of injustice.

Jacqui Patterson directed the Environmental and Climate Justice Program at NAACP from 2009 to 2021. Most recently, she is Founder and Executive Director of The Chisholm Legacy Project: A Resource Hub for Black Frontline Climate Justice Leadership.

I’ve had the great privilege of knowing Jacqui for the last few years, and she’s an advisor on my current documentary film in post production, called Raising Aniya.

In our conversation, Jacqui discusses the origins of the environmental justice movement and the importance of community-led activism, and she charts her path to a life devoted to the struggle for environmental justice.

This is the first episode of the Chrysalis podcast! You can listen on Substack, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and other podcast platforms.

Please rate, review, and share to help us spread the word!

Jacqui Patterson

Jacqui Patterson is the Founder and Executive Director atThe Chisholm Legacy Project: A Resource Hub for Black Frontline Climate Justice Leadership. Since 2007, Jacqui has served as coordinator & co-founder of Women of Color United. She directed of theEnvironmental and Climate Justice Program at NAACPfrom 2009 to 2021.

Jacqui has worked as a researcher, program manager, coordinator, advocate and activist working on women‘s rights, violence against women,HIV&AIDS, racial justice, economic justice, and environmental and climate justice. Jacqui served as a Senior Women’s Rights Policy Analyst for ActionAid where she integrated a women’s rights lens for the issues of food rights, macroeconomics, and climate change as well as the intersection of violence against women andHIV&AIDS. Previously, she served as Assistant Vice-President ofHIV/AIDSPrograms forIMAWorld Health providing management and technical assistance to medical facilities and programs in 23 countries in Africa and the Caribbean. Jacqui served as the Outreach Project Associate for the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, and Research Coordinator for Johns Hopkins University. She also served as aU.S.Peace Corps Volunteer in Jamaica, West Indies.

Jacqui holds a master’s degree in social work from the University of Maryland and a master’s degree in public health from Johns Hopkins University. She currently serves on the Steering Committee for Interfaith Moral Action on Climate, Advisory Board for Center for Earth Ethics as well as on the Boards of Directors for the Institute of the Black World, The Hive: Gender and Climate Justice Fund, the American Society of Adaptation Professionals, Greenprint Partners, Bill Anderson Fund and the National Black Workers Center.

Quotations Read by Jacqui Patterson

“If you come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because, you know, and feel that your liberation is bound to mine, let’s walk together.” - Lilla Watson

“you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land” - From "Home" by Warsan Shire

“If one of us is oppressed, none of us are free.” - Unknown

“the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love.” - Che Guevara

Recommended Readings & Media

Transcription

Intro

John Fiege

“Forthright but also full of grace”: that could be a mantra for how we should all live our lives. It’s also how Jacqui Patterson has described her ideal as she fights for environmental justice in a world that can feel like it’s submerged completely in environmental injustice.

From the South Side of Chicago, to Jamaica, to South Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina, Jacqui has continually asked what deep, transformative change looks like. She grounds her theory of change in community-led advocacy. She envisions a world of eco-communities and works with real communities across the country who have already created elements of these utopian visions.

But never does she lose sight of climate change and environmental exploitation as multipliers of injustice.

Jacqui Patterson

For example, if a child is having a hard time paying attention in school, because lead and manganese are some of the toxins that come out of these, these smokestacks, or if a child is having a heart is not able to go to school on poor air quality days, or if the school that 71% of African Americans live in counties in violation of air pollution standards, and an African American family making $50,000 a year is more likely to live next to a toxic facility than the white American family making $15,000 a year. And we know that. But yeah, then on average, if you're living next to a toxic facility, your property values are significantly lower, and property values go directly into funding our school system. So if you have all of these challenges with being in school in the first place, learning in school, and then the school itself doesn't have the level of quality of other schools, then studies show that if you're not on grade level, by the third grade, you're more likely to enter into the school to prison pipeline.

John Fiege

I’m John Fiege, and this is Chrysalis.

Jacqui Patterson directed the Environmental and Climate Justice Program at NAACP from 2009 to 2021. Most recently, she is founder and executive director of The Chisholm Legacy Project: A Resource Hub for Black Frontline Climate Justice Leadership. I’ve had the great privilege of knowing Jacqui for the last few years, and she’s an advisor on my current documentary film in post production, called Raising Aniya.

In our conversation, Jacqui discusses the origins of the environmental justice movement and the importance of community-led activism, and she charts her path to a life devoted to the struggle for environmental justice.

Here is Jacqui Patterson.

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Conversation

John Fiege

You grew up on the South Side of Chicago. Could you start by talking a bit about the neighborhood where you grew up how that shaped you and you know, being an urban environment, how you viewed your relationship to the rest of nature?

Jacqui Patterson

Yeah, growing up on the South Side of Chicago, been an area where it was, there was lots of, of trees, there was lots of I was just talking with someone yesterday about how how we would get excited when we would see a Blue Jay or a Robin in our trees, there were squirrels, there was an occasional rabbit, which was very exciting. And, and there was a lot like summers were all about being outside. Winters were moderately about being outside

John Fiege

If there was snow

Jacqui Patterson

Exactly. Only if there's snow. And otherwise it was being huddled inside and and at the same time, there was the other side's being to being born and raised on the South Side of Chicago, which is that it was a gang land area with the Black P Stone Nation and the El Rukns. As the main gangs and the pressure on boys to to affiliate and the guns, as you hear the challenges you would have. So being outside was also challenged by that as well. I mean, it didn't, I don't remember it being kind of a constant thing, but I don't remember it necessarily meaning that we didn't go outside but I do remember a couple of times where, where, where there were times when they were kind of fights or so forth, it would be inside. So to put my dad was from Jamaica, so we took a trip, we went to the park often and my dad was definitely big on the outdoors. And so we would go to the park frequently, both our local park as well as sometimes going to a national park to hike.

John Fiege

Oh, awesome. And, you know, that must impact your view of what the environment is to when you, you know, you see the birds in the trees and those beautiful, tree lined streets of South Side of Chicago. And at the same time, there's this, like, this potentially dangerous environment you're dealing with sometimes as well.

Jacqui Patterson

Yes, it definitely, definitely makes it a mixed situation. It reminds me of when I was at a conference of the Power Shift Network, I was moderating a panel with youth. And, and this person who was on the panel, I mean, it was a real striking and moving moment because the person was on the panel stood up and she said, You know, I would like for me being you know, I would love to be able to have the luxury to go to the park and so forth. But for me just surviving was the objective and and if I can get beyond jus