By Jazmin Murphy for Yes! Magazine.
Broadcast version by Brett Peveto for North Carolina News Service reporting for the Yes! Media-Public News Service Collaboration

In Monroe, Georgia, on July 31, 1946, The Savannah Tribune reported a "mass lynching," in which a "mob of 20 or more men, who lined up two Negro men and their wives in the woods ... shot them to death."

This horrific practice was as uniquely American in the 1940s as mass shootings are today. The consistency with which they occurred in natural spaces, especially in the South, maintains lasting effects on how African Americans engage with the outdoors. Systematic barriers, such as socioeconomic status, access to transportation, and Jim Crow laws, further compounded to exclude African Americans from natural spaces.

"At some point, we got kind of pushed out of these spaces," says National Park Service ranger Rebekah Smith, age 31, who is Black and grew up enjoying the outdoors in Georgia. She now works as a ranger at the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. Smith is driven to uncover untold stories to reinvigorate Black Americans' love for the outdoors.

It's part of a larger effort for current generations to reclaim their rightful place and sense of belonging in natural spaces.

"It's time for us to go back and reconnect," Smith says.

That's 'White People Stuff'

My maternal grandmother, Delores (known in my family as "Gima"), was born in Louisiana in 1944 and moved to Los Angeles, California, around the age of 3 as part of the Great Migration. She grew up in the Jim Crow era, and while Gima didn't allow her relationship with the natural world to be broken, she knew where outdoor recreation was safest.

Gima was able to enjoy horseback riding, boating, and visiting Lincoln Park and beaches during summer vacation, in part because of how her elders protected her from the harshness of the social climate.

"If you went around certain places, like in Marina del Rey, not all white people, but some of 'em ... you can tell how they was snobby and prejudiced," Gima recounts. "It didn't phase us. It didn't phase me none."

Still, she doesn't venture out into "wild spaces," claiming that Black people realize that these areas are far too dangerous, and implying a sort of naivete that white counterparts display when visiting them.

"We're not fools," she says. "We don't go out there in the wilderness and lay on the ground in a tent."

Unlike Gima, many Black people opted to protect themselves from the vulnerability of wild places by settling for life indoors or close to home. Some culturally evolved to accept the norm that outdoor recreation is "white people stuff."

Today, though threats certainly persist, there is a thriving community of Black recreationists enjoying every aspect of the outdoors. Take, for example, the National Park System (an institution built on a foundation of dispossession and genocide of Indigenous peoples as well as Jim Crow segregation). African Americans make up only 7% of National Park visitors despite comprising 13% of the U.S. population. But many people are working to grow our presence in nature-based recreation through historical education.

In August of 2022, Smith led a program titled "Black People Don't Do That." In it, she explained the ways racism shaped so many of our outdoor spaces. The talk was part of an event hosted by Outdoor Afro, an organization that "celebrates and inspires Black connections and leadership in nature."

Smith described how Doughton Park, a 6,000-acre recreation area along the Blue Ridge Parkway-the scenic road through Shenandoah National Park-was named in 1961 after Robert Lee Doughton, a U.S. House Representative, segregationist, and son of a Confederate soldier. The origins of the parkway can be partly traced to Josephus Daniels, who published racist cartoons in the Raleigh News & Observer and was one of the perpetrators of the 1898 Wilmington Massacre, a coup that burned down the offices of a local African American newspaper, banished democratic lawmakers, and murdered up to 60 people in order to pass Jim Crow laws. In later years, other white supremacists committed lynchings farther north up the Blue Ridge Parkway, in counties adjacent to Shenandoah National Park, according to the Equal Justice Initiative.

If Black people weren't kept away from outdoor spaces by racial terror, they were shut out by socioeconomic status. According to records from the U.S. Department of Commerce, non-white men earned about 41% of the average white man's salary in 1939, while non-white women brought in 36% of a typical white woman's income.

Further challenging access, few Black people owned vehicles. Those who took public transportation endured a unique humiliation. They were relegated to "Jim Crow cars" and mistreatment, only to arrive at Negro-only facilities that were subpar to those reserved for whites, such as Shenandoah National Park's Lewis Mountain.

White people and leaders chalked it up to disinterest. In a 1940 memo, then-director of the National Park Service Arno Berthold Cammerer wrote of the Lewis Mountain cabins, "I myself have felt right along that there was not sufficient demand by negroes for this particular type of accommodations to make it pay."

Yet, despite it all, 10,217 African Americans visited Shenandoah National Park that year.

An Enduring Tradition of Outdoorsmanship

Outdoorsmanship is a longstanding tradition in the Black American community. York, an African man enslaved by Lewis and Clark alongside Sacagawea, ensured the duo's survival with his frontier skills, especially hunting. He and others like him worked as "go-betweens" for communication and trade with the Indigenous people of North America. George Bonga, born to an enslaved person in 1802 and later free, was a renowned fur trapper who worked for the American Fur Company and helped negotiate a treaty with the Ojibwe people in 1820. Before them, maroons, a name for escaped slaves, like the African inhabitants of Virginia and North Carolina's Dismal Swamp in the late 1700s, saw the land as a key to freedom.

In the centuries since, Black people have continued to help mold the culture of American outdoorsmanship. The land has retained its significance as a place of resistance and reclamation, continuing the maroons' tradition.

In addition to Outdoor Afro, organizations like Hunters of Color, Diversify Outdoors, and Black Girls Hike RVA lead the charge in inviting African diasporic people into outdoors-based recreation across the United States.

Black Girls Hike RVA's co-founders, Narshara Tucker and Nicole Boyd, said in an email that in the past, they were often the only people of color (POC) on hiking trips. This repeated experience inspired them to create "space to offer a safe and supportive environment for women of color while on the trails." Since the organization's founding in 2020, they've organized monthly hikes near Richmond, Virginia, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, leading groups of around 20 people on excursions.

"From slavery to lynchings, the outdoors have historically been a painful place for POC," they said. "Seeing, and more importantly, welcoming black people in the outdoor recreation is vital to changing that narrative."

When other hikers see Black Girls Hike RVA on the trail, they assume it's a church group, "as if a group of black women cannot be intentionally on the trail and in the outdoors like everyone else," Tucker and Boyd said. As if Black women's love for natural spaces is abnormal or must be qualified by other, more stereotypical social structures.

On the contrary, the outdoors has long been a place of healing, where many Black people go to convene with the spiritual world.

Reclaiming Connections With the Land

"This is God's country," says my paternal grandmother, Marilynn (known to me as "Ma-Ma"), 68, as she explained to me the significance of her time in the outdoors. "God invented all of this ... and we should be enjoying it."

Her reverence for the outdoors is palpable as she describes what she feels when spending time in nature: "Any and everything that I had in my mind that was negative is gone. I don't even think about it. My mind is just on what I'm seeing, enjoying the breeze, looking at the ducks, hearing the birds," she says. "It's very relaxing."

Ma-Ma's relationship with the outdoors has evolved with each generation and member of our family. As a child in Galveston, Texas, and then Los Angeles, California, she would garden, visit local parks, and even observe nature at the junkyard and airports with her dad. When she met my grandpa, she learned to fish. As a teacher, she's now determined to share the wider world with her students.

"I want the kids to know ... it's other things out there," she says, explaining her motivations for taking her kindergarteners on school trips. "If you've never been shown or introduced to nothing, how are you supposed to know it? White folks, they're forever traveling, taking their kids here and there and showing them things. ... And Black folks, it's like we're scared to get out and know."

I've inherited Ma-Ma's love for the natural world, including her adoration of gardening, animals, and awesome landscapes. These passions have given me and my family outdoor opportunities beyond those afforded to my grandmother in her youth. I enjoy backpacking and scuba diving. My dad and I go off-roading, something we've been able to introduce Ma-Ma to as well. Our relatives admire our adventurous dispositions-and have even joined us on a few excursions-but we've also heard our fair share of accusations, such as, "You tryna act white."

Smith's mom was similarly determined to instill in her a love of nature, and Smith then helped normalize wilderness-based recreation for her father. "He didn't really go to parks or do any outdoor things until I got older and I started bringing him with me to these places," Smith says, "to introduce him and connect with him about my work and what I'm doing."

With such a rich history of outdoor experiences and skills, the idea that "Black people don't go outside" is a relatively new concept-one that contradicts our lived experiences and aspirations. It is the result of extreme systemic exclusion and decades of victim-blaming. We maintain our historical love for the natural world today, though for some, it may be buried under racial stereotypes imposed upon us.

By remembering these histories-both painful and proud-and consciously welcoming loved ones into natural spaces, we can reignite a sense of belonging on this land and overcome generational exclusion in the outdoors.

Smith is hopeful that by sharing stories of Black history in the outdoors, she can help Black people overcome statements like "This stuff isn't for us" and "We don't do that." Black people did and continue to do these things, Smith says. "Really, we're just embracing our ancestry."

This is key to the future envisioned by Tucker and Boyd: "We want black people to be outdoors and viewed as a constant and not an exception."

Today is International Human Rights Day, and much attention has been paid to North Dakota's growing refugee population and an assistance group suggested more individuals will resettle here, creating a number of positives.

In the federal fiscal year that recently ended, the organization Global Refuge said North Dakota welcomed more than 280 refugees, nearly double the previous year.

Dan Hannaher, North Dakota field director for the nonprofit, said there is room for more with employers clamoring for individuals to fill open jobs. He emphasized by welcoming new populations and helping them meet basic needs right off the start, local economies function better.

"Whether it's manufacturing, health care, retail, refugee resettlement and immigration is a key to our economic success," Hannaher contended.

Like other support groups, Hannaher stressed there is a difference between illegal immigration and programs allowing foreign-born individuals to seek a new life in America. He pointed out refugees are here legally but are still sometimes disparaged for "looking different."

State officials have prioritized linking new residents with job opportunities and Hannaher stressed as global conflicts evolve, it is likely more people fleeing those areas will need attention here.

Internationally, one of the main themes for this year's Human Rights Day is correcting misinformation and countering disinformation. Hannaher said even as refugees begin carving out new lives and play a role in their communities, some of their neighbors might still be overcoming preconceived notions.

"So often I feel that is the key to our problem is that it's difficult to recognize the unknown and understand it and get to know it," Hannaher observed.

Around the globe, countries taking in refugees have cited the need to address housing shortages as they try to accommodate new populations. North Dakota government has been brainstorming ideas on broader housing needs, with a series of recommendations recently unveiled.


get more stories like this via email

Ohio voters are facing significant challenges at the ballot box, with some groups expressing concerns over voter roll purges and gerrymandering affecting representation, particularly in Black and other communities of color.

The issues draw attention to Ohio's "use it or lose it" policy.

Molly Shack, executive director of the Ohio Organizing Collaborative, said the policy affects marginalized groups more than others. She explained some voters, especially in underserved communities, may feel disappointed by a system when it does not meet their needs, resulting in fewer people voting and a higher chance of them being removed from the voter rolls.

"Ohio has purged literally millions of voters over the last decade and most recently, close to 160,000," Shack pointed out. "Those are policies that allow voters to be removed from the rolls not because they are ineligible citizens who can't constitutionally cast a ballot but because they haven't voted in a while."

Critics like Shack argued Ohio's current electoral practices contribute to voter suppression, disproportionately affecting low-income individuals, working-class citizens, voters of color and young voters, especially in districts already burdened by participation barriers.

Advocates also expressed concern about Ohio's persistent gerrymandering issues.

Bria Bennett, communications director for the Ohio Organizing Collaborative, asserted such practices dilute Black voter influence by packing and splitting urban areas, a tactic known as "cracking and packing."

"When we're thinking about gerrymandering, many times, that dilutes the Black vote," Bennett observed. "So think of your urban centers, you're packing all your votes into one area so that, yes, that voting block is together. However, it is diluting it everywhere else."

As Ohio voters prepare to decide on Issue One, supporters see the measure as a crucial step toward a fairer, more representative democracy.

Advocates for a voter bill of rights, currently stalled in the Supreme Court, continue to raise awareness about the barriers faced by some communities, emphasizing the need for comprehensive voting reforms to ensure access across the state.


get more stories like this via email

Through this Saturday, Minnesota is recognizing Workplace Rights Week.

From COVID precautions to emerging technology, labor voices said there is key information some workers might not be aware of. Over the past year, Minnesota has phased in new laws such as earned sick-time requirements, which mandate one hour of fully paid sick time for every 30 hours worked.

Jeff Ambroz, director of development and communications for the Minnesota Training Partnership, said as COVID activity continues to circulate and with the cold and flu season almost here, workers should know the requirement is expansive.

"This isn't only sick time for yourself," Ambroz pointed out. "It's time that you can use to care for a sick family member, to get help if you are a victim of domestic abuse or stalking."

Workers are also encouraged to see if they can use their earned time for things such as vaccination appointments. Ambroz noted workplace environments are constantly changing with new equipment and technology. He recommended staff should maintain conversations among each other, elected officials and, if applicable, union representatives in the event such changes harm a workplace setting.

Over the summer, Minnesota also implemented a change to expand penalties and legal options in cases where a company misclassifies an employee as an independent contractor.

John Swanson, political coordinator for the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local 343, said these have long been pervasive issues, especially in the construction trades.

"(These are) some things that should be common sense," Swanson contended. "But we have to have laws now to protect people from being taken advantage of."

Labor leaders said a misclassified worker can miss out on things such as health coverage and overtime pay. Other misclassification provisions specifically dealing with the construction sector go into effect next March.


get more stories like this via email