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Nonabah Lane, Navajo educator and environmental sustainability specialist with numerous ties to MIT, dies at 46

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Tuesday, November 15, 2022

Nonabah Lane, a Navajo educator and environmental sustainability specialist with numerous MIT ties to MIT, passed away in October. She was 46. Lane had recently been an MIT Media Lab Director’s Fellow; MIT Solve 2019 Indigenous Communities Fellow; Department of Urban Studies and Planning guest lecturer and community partner; community partner with the PKG Public Service Center, Terrascope, and D-Lab; and a speaker at this year’s MIT Energy Week. Lane was a passionate sustainability specialist with experience spearheading successful environmental civic science projects focused in agriculture, water science, and energy. Committed to mitigating water pollutants and environmental hazards in tribal communities, she held extensive knowledge of environmental policy and Indigenous water rights.  Lane’s clans were Ta’neezahnii (Tangled People), born for Tł’izíłání (Manygoats People), and her maternal grandfathers are the Kiiyaa’aanii (Towering House People), and paternal grandfathers are Bįįh Bitoo’nii (Deer Spring People). Lane was a member of the Navajo Nation, Nenahnezad Chapter. At Navajo Power, she worked as the lead developer for solar and energy storage projects to benefit tribal communities on the Navajo Nation and other tribal nations in New Mexico. Prior to joining Navajo Power, Lane co-founded Navajo Ethno-Agriculture, a farm that teaches Navajo culture through traditional farming and bilingual education. Lane also launched a campaign to partner with local Navajo schools and tribal colleges to create their own water-testing capabilities and translate data into information to local farmers. “I had the opportunity to collaborate closely with Nonabah on a range of initiatives she was championing on energy, food, justice, water, Indigenous leadership, youth STEM, and more. She was innovative, entrepreneurial, inclusive, heartfelt, and positively impacted MIT on every visit to campus. She articulated important things that needed saying and expanded people's thinking constantly. We will all miss her insights and teamwork,” says Megan Smith ’86, SM ’88, MIT Corporation life member; third U.S. chief technology officer and assistant to the president in the Office of Science and Technology Policy; and founder and CEO of shift7. In March 2019, Lane and her family — parents Gloria and Harry and brother Bruce — welcomed students and staff of the MIT Terrascope first-year learning community to their farm, where they taught unique, hands-on lessons about traditional Diné farming and spirituality. She then continued to collaborate with Terrascope, helping staff and students develop community-based work with partners in Navajo Nation.  Terrascope associate director and lecturer Ari Epstein says, "Nonabah was an inspiring person and a remarkable collaborator; she had a talent for connecting and communicating across disciplinary, organizational, and cultural differences, and she was generous with her expertise and knowledge. We will miss her very much." Lane came to MIT in May 2019 for the MIT Solve Indigenous Communities Fellowship and Solve at MIT event, representing Navajo Ethno-Agriculture with her mother, Gloria Lane, and brother, Bruce Lane, and later serving as a Fellow Leadership Group member.  “Nonabah was an incredible individual who worked tirelessly to better all of her communities, whether it was back home on the Navajo Nation, here at MIT Solve, or supporting her family and friends,” says Alex Amouyel, executive director of MIT Solve. “More than that, Nonabah was a passionate mentor and caring friend of so many, carefully tending the next generation of Indigenous innovators, entrepreneurs, and change-makers. Her loss will be felt deeply by the MIT community, and her legacy of heartfelt service will not be forgotten.” She continued to be heavily involved across the MIT campus — named as a 2019 Media Lab Director’s Fellow, leading a workshop at the 2020 MIT Media Lab Festival of Learning on modernizing Navajo foods using traditional food science and cultural narrative, speaking at the 2022 MIT Energy Conference “Accelerating the Clean Energy Transition,” and taking part in the MIT Center for Bits and Atoms (CBA) innovation weekly co-working groups for Covid-response related innovations.  “My CBA colleagues and I enjoyed working with Nonabah on rapid-prototyping for the Covid response, on expanding access to digital fabrication, and on ambitious proposals for connecting emerging technology with Indigenous knowledge,” says Professor Neil Gershenfeld, director, MIT Center for Bits and Atoms. Nonabah also guest lectured for the MIT Department of Urban Studies and Planning’s Indigenous Environmental Planning class in Spring 2022. Professors Lawrence Susskind and Gabriella Carolini and teaching assistant Dení López led the class in cooperation with Elizabeth Rule, Chickasaw Nation member and professor at American University.  Carolini shares, on behalf of Susskind and the class, “During this time, our teaching team and students from a broad range of fields at MIT had the deep honor of learning from and with the inimitable Nonabah Lane. Nonabah was a dedicated and critical partner to our class, representing in this instance Navajo Power — but of course, also so much more. Her broad experiences and knowledge — working with fellow Navajo members on energy and agriculture sovereignty, as well as in advancing entrepreneurship and innovation — reflected the urgency Nonabah saw in meeting the challenges and opportunities for sustainable and equitable futures in Navajo nation and beyond. She was a pure life force, running on all fires, and brought to our class a dedicated drive to educate, learn, and extend our reference points beyond current knowledge frontiers.”  Three MIT students — junior Isabella Gandara, Alexander Gerszten ’22, and Paul Picciano MS ’22 — who worked closely with Lane on a project with Navajo Power, recalled how she shared herself with them in so many ways, through her truly exceptional work ethic, stories about herself and her family, and the care and thought that she put into her ventures. They noted there was always something new to feel inspired by when in her presence.  “The PKG Public Service Center mourns the passing of Nonabah Lane. Navajo Ethno-Agriculture is a valued PKG Center partner that offers MIT undergraduate students the opportunity to support community-led projects with the Diné Community on Navajo Nation. Nonabah inspired students to examine broad social and technical issues that impact Indigenous communities in Navajo Nation and beyond, in many cases leaving an indelible mark on their personal and professional paths,” says Jill S. Bassett, associate dean and director of the PKG Public Service Center. Lane was a Sequoyah Fellow of the American Indian Science and Engineering Society (AISES) and remained actively engaged in the AISES community by mentoring young people interested in the fields of science, engineering, agriculture, and energy. Over the years, Lane collaborated with leaders across tribal lands and beyond on projects related to agriculture, energy, sustainable chemicals, and finance. Lane had an enormous positive impact on many through her accomplishments and also the countless meaningful connections she helped to form among people in diverse fields. Donations may be made to a memorial fund organized by Navajo Power, PBC in honor of Nonabah Lane, in support of Navajo Ethno-Agriculture, the Native American nonprofit she co-founded and cared deeply for.

Lane leaves a lasting legacy at the Institute and on tribal communities around the country.

Nonabah Lane, a Navajo educator and environmental sustainability specialist with numerous MIT ties to MIT, passed away in October. She was 46.

Lane had recently been an MIT Media Lab Director’s Fellow; MIT Solve 2019 Indigenous Communities Fellow; Department of Urban Studies and Planning guest lecturer and community partner; community partner with the PKG Public Service Center, Terrascope, and D-Lab; and a speaker at this year’s MIT Energy Week.

Lane was a passionate sustainability specialist with experience spearheading successful environmental civic science projects focused in agriculture, water science, and energy. Committed to mitigating water pollutants and environmental hazards in tribal communities, she held extensive knowledge of environmental policy and Indigenous water rights. 

Lane’s clans were Ta’neezahnii (Tangled People), born for Tł’izíłání (Manygoats People), and her maternal grandfathers are the Kiiyaa’aanii (Towering House People), and paternal grandfathers are Bįįh Bitoo’nii (Deer Spring People).

Lane was a member of the Navajo Nation, Nenahnezad Chapter. At Navajo Power, she worked as the lead developer for solar and energy storage projects to benefit tribal communities on the Navajo Nation and other tribal nations in New Mexico. Prior to joining Navajo Power, Lane co-founded Navajo Ethno-Agriculture, a farm that teaches Navajo culture through traditional farming and bilingual education. Lane also launched a campaign to partner with local Navajo schools and tribal colleges to create their own water-testing capabilities and translate data into information to local farmers.

“I had the opportunity to collaborate closely with Nonabah on a range of initiatives she was championing on energy, food, justice, water, Indigenous leadership, youth STEM, and more. She was innovative, entrepreneurial, inclusive, heartfelt, and positively impacted MIT on every visit to campus. She articulated important things that needed saying and expanded people's thinking constantly. We will all miss her insights and teamwork,” says Megan Smith ’86, SM ’88, MIT Corporation life member; third U.S. chief technology officer and assistant to the president in the Office of Science and Technology Policy; and founder and CEO of shift7.

In March 2019, Lane and her family — parents Gloria and Harry and brother Bruce — welcomed students and staff of the MIT Terrascope first-year learning community to their farm, where they taught unique, hands-on lessons about traditional Diné farming and spirituality. She then continued to collaborate with Terrascope, helping staff and students develop community-based work with partners in Navajo Nation. 

Terrascope associate director and lecturer Ari Epstein says, "Nonabah was an inspiring person and a remarkable collaborator; she had a talent for connecting and communicating across disciplinary, organizational, and cultural differences, and she was generous with her expertise and knowledge. We will miss her very much."

Lane came to MIT in May 2019 for the MIT Solve Indigenous Communities Fellowship and Solve at MIT event, representing Navajo Ethno-Agriculture with her mother, Gloria Lane, and brother, Bruce Lane, and later serving as a Fellow Leadership Group member. 

“Nonabah was an incredible individual who worked tirelessly to better all of her communities, whether it was back home on the Navajo Nation, here at MIT Solve, or supporting her family and friends,” says Alex Amouyel, executive director of MIT Solve. “More than that, Nonabah was a passionate mentor and caring friend of so many, carefully tending the next generation of Indigenous innovators, entrepreneurs, and change-makers. Her loss will be felt deeply by the MIT community, and her legacy of heartfelt service will not be forgotten.”

She continued to be heavily involved across the MIT campus — named as a 2019 Media Lab Director’s Fellow, leading a workshop at the 2020 MIT Media Lab Festival of Learning on modernizing Navajo foods using traditional food science and cultural narrative, speaking at the 2022 MIT Energy Conference “Accelerating the Clean Energy Transition,” and taking part in the MIT Center for Bits and Atoms (CBA) innovation weekly co-working groups for Covid-response related innovations. 

“My CBA colleagues and I enjoyed working with Nonabah on rapid-prototyping for the Covid response, on expanding access to digital fabrication, and on ambitious proposals for connecting emerging technology with Indigenous knowledge,” says Professor Neil Gershenfeld, director, MIT Center for Bits and Atoms.

Nonabah also guest lectured for the MIT Department of Urban Studies and Planning’s Indigenous Environmental Planning class in Spring 2022. Professors Lawrence Susskind and Gabriella Carolini and teaching assistant Dení López led the class in cooperation with Elizabeth Rule, Chickasaw Nation member and professor at American University. 

Carolini shares, on behalf of Susskind and the class, “During this time, our teaching team and students from a broad range of fields at MIT had the deep honor of learning from and with the inimitable Nonabah Lane. Nonabah was a dedicated and critical partner to our class, representing in this instance Navajo Power — but of course, also so much more. Her broad experiences and knowledge — working with fellow Navajo members on energy and agriculture sovereignty, as well as in advancing entrepreneurship and innovation — reflected the urgency Nonabah saw in meeting the challenges and opportunities for sustainable and equitable futures in Navajo nation and beyond. She was a pure life force, running on all fires, and brought to our class a dedicated drive to educate, learn, and extend our reference points beyond current knowledge frontiers.” 

Three MIT students — junior Isabella Gandara, Alexander Gerszten ’22, and Paul Picciano MS ’22 — who worked closely with Lane on a project with Navajo Power, recalled how she shared herself with them in so many ways, through her truly exceptional work ethic, stories about herself and her family, and the care and thought that she put into her ventures. They noted there was always something new to feel inspired by when in her presence. 

“The PKG Public Service Center mourns the passing of Nonabah Lane. Navajo Ethno-Agriculture is a valued PKG Center partner that offers MIT undergraduate students the opportunity to support community-led projects with the Diné Community on Navajo Nation. Nonabah inspired students to examine broad social and technical issues that impact Indigenous communities in Navajo Nation and beyond, in many cases leaving an indelible mark on their personal and professional paths,” says Jill S. Bassett, associate dean and director of the PKG Public Service Center.

Lane was a Sequoyah Fellow of the American Indian Science and Engineering Society (AISES) and remained actively engaged in the AISES community by mentoring young people interested in the fields of science, engineering, agriculture, and energy. Over the years, Lane collaborated with leaders across tribal lands and beyond on projects related to agriculture, energy, sustainable chemicals, and finance. Lane had an enormous positive impact on many through her accomplishments and also the countless meaningful connections she helped to form among people in diverse fields.

Donations may be made to a memorial fund organized by Navajo Power, PBC in honor of Nonabah Lane, in support of Navajo Ethno-Agriculture, the Native American nonprofit she co-founded and cared deeply for.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

They left the city for rural Ontario during the pandemic — and they’re still farming

By Alicia Cox Thomson Adventurous customers and open-minded communities proved easier for these racialized farmers to find than affordable land in southern Ontario

By Alicia Cox Thomson In the heart of Prince Edward County, in the fields surrounding Picton, Ont., you’ll find Paper Kite Farm, where hoteliers-turned-organic-farmers Judy and Hans Ning sell produce, eggs and seedlings straight from the land. Prior to the pandemic, the Nings lived in Montreal with their two young children, running a hotel business with Hans’ family. Judy grew up on a homestead in the U.S. and had always harboured dreams of an off-grid life spent cultivating the land — perhaps once their children were old enough to leave home.  Then, in March 2020, COVID-19 arrived. Montreal, an early epicentre of positive cases, closed down and hotel rooms sat empty for months on end. With their source of income shuttered, the Nings contemplated a life-changing choice. Should they buy land in the county, where they spent holidays camping at Sandbanks Provincial Park? They loved vacationing in the area, but how would it be to live there, to begin a sustainable family farm out of nothing? After their search quickly showed that, according to Judy, “Toronto money goes further than Montreal money” when it comes to real estate and farmland in Ontario, they bought a “not-so-great” house outside Picton with “a large, overgrown lawn” that had been on the market for eight months. They moved in January 2021. That spring, Paper Kite Farm was born.  “It’s become this identity project … to learn more about my own culture as a displaced ethnic group, without a country of our own,” Judy says. “So being able to connect to the seeds that my mom brought with her from Laos, I feel really good about it.” Akos Asari of re:Planted Farm & Florals in Deep River, Ont., in the Ottawa Valley, also credits the pandemic for inspiring her life change. Asari and her husband Bernard were both born in Ghana and raised in Toronto. In 2019 they were posted in Alberta, where Bernard was serving in the Canadian Armed Forces, while Asari ran a successful e-commerce business selling custom wigs. When Bernard was transferred to Petawawa, Ont., they decided to settle in Deep River. Fast forward seven months. The world shut down and Asari began craving change and self-sufficiency. “I wanted something more meaningful in life, so we started a garden and I just kind of became obsessed,” she laughs. Having always lived in apartments, she had no prior gardening experience. But a Masterclass with popular YouTube personality the Gangster Gardener — “Just those two words together got me” — led her down the rabbit hole of gardening content online.  The anticipated culture shock of moving to a small town gave way to pleasant surprise for Akos Asari: the population of Deep River, Ont., is more diverse than she expected. Photo: supplied by Akos Asari Asari began growing flowers and variations of vegetables she thought people might like, officially starting re:Planted in April 2021. “I wanted to grow things that were different from the grocery store,” she says. “Take carrots, there are so many more varieties that we never see at the store. I wanted to focus on the things that everyone knows, but offer something new.” It’s a rare thing in Canada to be a farmer of colour running an operation of any size, large or small. It’s even rarer to own the land you’re cultivating. The challenges faced by racialized farmers mirror the challenges people of colour face daily: barriers to access, education, experiences, generational wealth and land ownership, plus blatant racism, microaggressions and threats. When minorities try to infiltrate places, systems and channels historically closed to them, they will always struggle.  Farming is no different; you can’t farm without land and those who have access to arable land, or land at all, often belong to a homogenous club. That the Nings, Asaris and other people whose stories echo theirs are seeing success — even if they’re supplementing their farm income with other work in order to survive — is a testament to the change that is slowly underway.  Hans and Judy Ning ran a hotel business in Montreal before the pandemic. Judy had long dreamed of cultivating land, so they decided to move to Prince Edward County, Ont., and become farmers when their business was shuttered. Growing pains: gaining access to Ontario farmland requires creativity  “Farmland prices are near historical highs when compared to farm income,” reads a March 2023 report from Farm Credit Canada, a commercial Crown corporation that reports to the federal Minister of Agriculture and Agri-Food. (A Crown corporation is a public sector business funded by the provincial or federal government — think CBC or the Bank of Canada.) The spring report said the value of agricultural land in Canada increased by 12.8 per cent in 2022, the largest gain since 2014. Ontario saw the highest provincial increase, up 19.4 per cent year over year.  That cost is likely to increase as farmland shrinks: Statistics Canada put the rate of loss across Canada at 2.8 per cent between 2016 and 2021. Ontario was already losing about 319 acres a day before the province introduced a slew of policy changes meant to accelerate development; since last fall, the Doug Ford government has cut farmland protections multiple times, including forcing Hamilton, Halton and Waterloo to open land to development that local councils wanted to protect.  All of this has left a lot of Canada’s food production, and food security, up to investors and corporations. One organization pushing back is the National Farmers Union, which is dedicated to supporting strong food systems that keep family farms running under families. In 2021, the union passed an amendment to create a Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPOC) Caucus. The amendment also mandated two positions for racialized farmers on its board of directors, as well as a seat on the national executive and on each of eight regional boards. That’s 11 racialized farmers with a spot at the table they didn’t have three years ago, able to speak out against racism and up for change.  According to Farm Credit Canada, the value of agricultural land in Canada increased by 12.8 per cent in 2022, the largest gain since 2014. Ontario saw the highest provincial increase, up 19.4 per cent year over year.  Photo: Wynne Neilly / The Narwhal The inaugural president of the BIPOC Caucus is 25-year-old Cheyenne Sundance, owner and operator of Sundance Harvest, Common and Market, which has locations in Guelph and Bolton, as well as in Downsview Park in Toronto. Sundance grows produce, flowers, herbs, mushrooms and fruit on about four acres with four full-time staff, who all earn a living wage with paid sick days and vacation time.  As a food justice advocate longing to create space for racialized and marginalized people, Sundance founded Growing in the Margins, a 12-week farm incubator program that does just that. She teaches young people about leasing land, planning, growing and harvesting crops and food sovereignty, releasing them into the world to fight food insecurity and injustice, one market garden at a time. One graduate, Aliyah Fraser, founded Lucky Bug Farm in Baden, Ont., near Waterloo, in early 2021. There, she grows produce on rented land in a community garden. Her focus this year is on her Community Supported Agriculture program, which will send a regular box of farm-fresh produce out to subscribers. Such programs are one proven way for small farmers to have a reliable income, and for those who believe in their mission to support them. Spiking land prices across Ontario means buying farmland takes place in a constant seller’s market in which farmers of colour just cannot compete. Photo: Wynne Neilly / The Narwhal As of right now, Fraser is one of many farmers of colour priced out of purchasing land. “Throughout the province, as communities sprawl outwards, farmland is being increasingly purchased for current and future residential use,” she says. “This drives up the price and places land ownership out of reach for many farmers, myself included. I would also add that broadly, land almost anywhere in Ontario is unaffordable for farmers, but specifically for new, young Black, Indigenous or racialized farmers.” We’re investigating Ontario’s environmental cuts The Narwhal’s Ontario bureau is telling stories you won’t find anywhere else. Keep up with the latest scoops by signing up for a weekly dose of our independent journalism. We’re investigating Ontario’s environmental cuts The Narwhal’s Ontario bureau is telling stories you won’t find anywhere else. Keep up with the latest scoops by signing up for a weekly dose of our independent journalism. Spiking land prices create a constant seller’s market in which farmers of colour just cannot compete. Unsurprisingly, ageing farmers willing to sell want the best price possible for their land, while others bequeath it to family when they retire or pass away. This all leaves racialized farmers locked out of the land ownership discussion on multiple fronts.  Finding affordable land meant a big move for Shini Ko, owner of Bao Bao Farm.  Before the pandemic, she was a passionate balcony gardener in Toronto, eager to grow more of the Asian produce she grew up eating as a child of Chinese immigrants living in Japan. “I was specifically learning about growing Asian leafy greens,” she says. “I found certain types really hard to get in Toronto, especially organic, locally grown ones. That’s when the seed was planted. I thought it would be really cool to not only grow them for myself, but for other Asian folks and people.”  Thai basil, holy basil, sweet basil, Chinese garlic chives and lemongrass are among the crops at Paper Kite Farms. “We did want to grow things that were more unique to our heritage,” Hans Ning says. Photo: Wynne Neilly / The Narwhal When both she and her partner began working remotely, Ko realized they didn’t have to live in the city anymore. But even after branching out of the Greater Toronto Area into central southern Ontario, they couldn’t find arable land they could afford. Ottawa appealed because the couple had lived there before and in 2021, they purchased a house on about 10 acres roughly an hour southwest of the capital near Perth, which has a population of less than 7,000.  Ko began researching and got to work on a quarter of an acre, while keeping her day job as a software developer — without which Bao Bao would not exist. She sells produce at the Perth Farmers’ Market, where she is also a recent addition to the board.  “Especially because the demographics here are largely white, it’s interesting,” she says. “A lot of people are curious … so I do get a lot of questions about how to cook the vegetables and what they are at the Perth market.” She’s looking forward to selling at the Parkdale Public Market in Ottawa this year, to see how city dwellers react. “I wanted to grow things that were different from the grocery store,” Akos Asari says of starting re:Planted Farm & Florals. “Take carrots, there are so many more varieties that we never see at the store. I wanted to focus on the things that everyone knows, but offer something new.” Photo: supplied by Akos Asari Uprooting an urban life for one in a rural or smalltown setting is not a decision any person of colour takes lightly. Culture shock is a given, and it goes both ways. There’s a fine line between honest curiosity about the unfamiliar and snide ignorance about change you can’t control. For Asari in Deep River, the anticipated shock gave way to a pleasant surprise. Thanks to the presence of one of the country’s largest nuclear research facilities, the population is more diverse than she expected. “Deep River once had the highest concentration of PhDs in Canada,” Asari says. “People have travelled, they are not as narrow minded.”  Even though farming wasn’t part of the plan when the family moved, finding a home was still a challenge. “All the rental properties were just so expensive that it was actually cheaper to get our own home,” Asari says. “We were extremely fortunate because the house we bought wasn’t even in our budget. It had been on the market for so long that the owner was willing to negotiate.”  They moved into a house on a 1,400-square-foot corner lot in August 2019. A year later, as the pandemic unfolded, housing prices shot up. “We would have never been able to purchase a house had we waited. So it was very, very timely, although we didn’t know it.” As Asari’s farm business has grown, she has expanded into her neighbour’s front lawns in order to grow even more flowers, vegetables and herbs.  The family has a market stand on their property every Friday. “Re:Planted has become something worth investing in, so now we’re putting in permanent infrastructure like hoophouses, walk-in coolers, rainwater collection systems and a dedicated workshop space. It’s become full time. More than full time,” Asari says. BIPOC farmers in smalltown Ontario are connecting food with community Before I visited Paper Kite Farm, it was hard to envision what a quarter of an acre of farmed land looks like. Turning into the driveway, I was struck by how much was already growing in mid-May. They may be a small, two-person operation, but the amount of food Judy and Hans are able to grow on a quarter of an acre is abundant. Seedlings of a variety of heights and shades of green stand heartily in rows of overturned earth. Chickens roam freely in their compound. The Food Forest — a delightful grid of selective plantings intended to mimic nature and produce enough food to feed their family — is in its early stages.  “We figured we might as well make it pretty,” Judy says as we tour the paths. The potential is palpable, but it didn’t start this way.  “There were things growing on the land, grasses and weeds, so we knew things could survive,” Judy says. But it was all a big risk. The couple studied sustainable farming techniques and read about what could grow and thrive in the climate, and tried to match that up with their desired crops. They now use a method called bio-char, where charcoal from burned wood harvested from their land is used as a sustainable soil cleanser and fertilizer.  Judy and Hans Ning studied sustainable techniques when they started their farm. They use a method called bio-char, where charcoal from burned wood harvested from their land is used as a sustainable soil cleanser and fertilizer. Photo: Wynne Neilly / The Narwhal “We did want to grow things that were more unique to our heritage,” Hans says. “Instead of growing just regular cabbages, which we do grow, we also grow Napa cabbages. Instead of regular corn and pole beans, we grow a kind of sticky corn that Asians really love and yard long beans; stuff our parents grew up eating. We wanted to learn how to appreciate those types of things as well and to share that culture.” Becoming part of the community has had its ups and downs. All are Welcome Here is a BIPOC-led local organization that supports diversity in Prince Edward County and offers workshops for locals and established farmers to learn about anti-racism and intersectionality. Judy volunteers and reports that the meetings are “truly wonderful. People are eager to learn and feel comfortable asking questions.”  The county is changing as more people of colour from urban centres move in, bringing their familiarity not only with Asian people, but the produce Paper Kite is selling. “The folks that have lived in cities are familiar with something like bok choy, but there are people who have never been exposed to that … we had someone comment that the ‘lettuce’ we gave them was amazing! It can be fun to teach folks what the vegetable is and how to use it.”  There are an increasing number of people and organizations taking up the challenge of anti-racism work within Canada’s agricultural communities. Fraser, of Little Bug Farm, is eager to pass experience and knowledge on, as was done for her in Sundance’s mentorship program.  “I’m really grateful for Growing in the Margins for giving me my start in agriculture,” she says. “There are so few opportunities for young Black farmers to learn about agriculture in spaces where we feel safe and fully accepted. That’s what [Growing in the Margins] offered to me and, without it, I’m not sure if I would be a farmer.” In the past few years, she has led workshops and panels for the Ecological Farmers Association of Ontario and the National Farmers Union.  In December 2020, the Ecological Farmers Association of Ontario founded the BIPOC Farmers Network to support farmers of colour. The network has about 140 members, including Paper Kite Farm and re:Planted, and helps farmers build ongoing relationships between events and meetings. It’s something the Nings appreciated as farm life got busier and they felt overwhelmed.  “We didn’t really know how important it was for us to be part of this until afterwards,” Judy explains. “We realized, ‘Oh, it feels so satisfying to work towards a common goal with people who look like me.’ It felt really good to have that.” To pay it forward, she has helped local BIPOC farmers with advice and shared what resources she can. In December 2020, the Ecological Farmers Association of Ontario founded the BIPOC Farmers Network. It has about 140 members, including Paper Kite Farm and re:Planted. Photo: Wynne Neilly / The Narwhal Right now, Paper Kite has multiple income sources, including Judy’s part-time job, selling at the farmers’ market, an on-site farmstand and their Community Supported Agriculture program. But things are still precarious. “There are weeks where we’re like, we can’t even eat this, we’ve got to sell it,” Judy says. “And spring brought all of the failures with the snowmelt and seeing our inexperience, which can be daunting and demoralizing.” But they have an inkling of what success could look like. “In the ideal world, we would be self-sustaining and be able to continue to share food with the community and talk about our heritage,” Judy says.  Sharing food is intimate, communal. But the way our food is grown, why it’s grown and by whom can feel like the opposite: inaccessible, lonely. What the Nings, Asaris, Ko and Fraser are doing is somewhat revolutionary. Real change cannot happen without continued effort in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. These obstacles look and feel different for marginalized people, but the work must get done.  “It does feel like important work that we’re doing,” Judy says. “The BIPOC community here is very small. I do feel responsible for shouldering some of that representation in this area. The only way I know how to protest is by taking up space and feeling empowered by that. And I want our kids to learn that, too.” 

Op-ed: Reducing soil toxics in community gardens

As my toddler girls frolic through our community garden picking fresh cherry tomatoes from our plot, I smile at their sense of wonder about growing food. Their eyes widen and their smiles beam as they admire how the seeds we planted earlier in the season are now full-grown plants. The scent of summer rain is in the air and I’m excited to begin harvesting okra, which I will freeze to make gumbo in the fall. Although gardening was not part of my childhood, I reclaimed the connection to the land to continue that legacy for my family. My maternal great-grandparents in Opelousas, Louisiana, grew sweet potatoes, okra, watermelon and other produce to sell at the French Market in New Orleans. My paternal great-grandparents owned vegetable and dairy farms in Mansfield, Louisiana. Local agriculture was not only a source of food and income, but a means of community, partnership and connection. While my youngest daughter is chasing butterflies that frequent the marigolds in a neighboring garden plot, my oldest daughter is examining a ladybug on a cucumber vine. “Mom, what do ladybugs eat? Why are ladybugs good for our garden? But how?” This space is a living classroom that can teach us to question the “what?” “why?” and “how?” of partnerships that benefit all of its members. Community gardening and other types of urban agriculture can be powerful tools to advance food sovereignty, build community connections and educate. As described in Dr. Ashley Gripper’s Agents of Change essay, people of color and grass-root environmental justice organizations have transformed vacant lots and other sites into community gardens and farms that foster spiritual healing, strengthen community-building and combat food apartheid – discriminatory policies and practices that prevent marginalized groups from accessing affordable, sustainable, nutritious, high-quality and culturally connected food. This essay is also available in SpanishUnfortunately, the same communities impacted by food apartheid often live in areas where disinvestment, racial segregation and other inequalities result in disproportionally high exposures to harmful chemicals in air, water and soils – which might be used for urban agriculture. Communities of color are more likely to be near hazardous waste sites, highways and other pollution that may result in elevated heavy metal soil concentrations, such as lead. Data show children from racial and ethnic minority groups and children in low-income communities are more likely to have higher blood lead levels. Some garden practices can introduce chemicals into the garden like pesticides, and gardening materials such as landscape fabrics can be a source of microplastics. I want to be clear: the benefits of gardening in communal settings should not be stifled by potential contaminant risks. Rather, we should look for ways to reduce chemical exposures in gardens. To do that, we need to ensure effective collaborations exist involving every sector interested in community gardens, including education, nutrition, urban planning, research and government. Potential pollution in community gardensUrban soils can harbor dangerous chemicals. It could be that current and historical land uses, like industrial activities or agriculture, exposed the soil to toxics and pesticides. Treated wood, burned tires or pollution runoff can leach chemicals into the soil. Chipping paint from older buildings and heavily trafficked roads might create lead soil deposits. People can be exposed to these chemicals by breathing in soil particles, eating tiny bits of soil that may not have been washed off from produce, or eating produce that has absorbed the contaminants (although this is an unlikely source of exposure, depending on factors such as the plant species and soil composition).Children, however, are at a greater risk, because they often are putting things into their mouths and are more curious than adults. I think about my own toddlers, who enjoy playing in the garden soil and exploring the outdoors with all five senses. It’s scary to think about how even a tiny amount of ingested lead from the soil could damage their growing brains and nervous systems. I also wonder whether gardeners were aware of these chemical risks and what resources could help protect them.These questions led me to focus on how community gardeners could reduce their exposures to heavy metals in soil for my doctoral thesis. Practices such as heavy-metal soil testing, composting, mulching and hand washing can reduce exposure – something that community gardeners are interested in, according to my results. While testing and hand washing are self explanatory, composting can contain organic matter that makes it more difficult for some plants to absorb contaminants and mulching helps to reduce contaminated soil from being redispersed in the air. However, I identified several barriers gardeners face when trying to protect themselves, like soil testing costs, concerns about property values and the legal implications of soil lead, a lack of training to interpret the results, among others. Although my research focused on individual gardener practices to reduce exposures, I became interested in how these findings could materialize into tools and policies that may be adopted in community gardens. There are existing partnerships that address these barriers. For example, soil screening, health, outreach and partnership (soilSHOP) events provide free lead education and soil lead screening to communities in the U.S. As I dug deeper trying to understand how to make these partnerships work, I started to wonder, just like my curious child looking at the mutually beneficial relationships between ladybugs and cucumber vines, how we can make the diverse partners (gardeners, schools, faith-based communities, neighborhoods, non-profit organizations, government) invested in community gardens work together to advance environmental justice and health equity.Turning research into policy: Implementation scienceA possible answer could be implementation science, which means investigating the ways in which research results can become widespread practices and policies. A research study may show that free lead soil screening is an effective community-engagement tool to identify soil lead in gardens. How does this research finding get incorporated into everyday community garden practices? An implementation science approach would examine what makes that practice sustainable and how we can overcome challenges to adopt that practice? Implementation science can also bridge environmental health disparities research to environmental justice action.For example, environmental justice researchers have shown communities of color are impacted by higher heavy metal soil concentrations and a lack of access to affordable, sustainable, nutritious, high-quality and culturally connected food. While the traditional approach focuses on understanding what gardening strategies can increase access to food and why they are working, an implementation science lens could push researchers to explore how policies, practices and diverse partnerships can reduce potential soil contaminant exposures. Just as gardens require careful cultivation to nurture the symbiotic partnerships for the plants and other organisms to thrive, so does understanding how different groups engaged in community gardens cultivate partnerships and practices to reduce harmful chemical exposures. It is possible to ensure gardening spaces are safe, restorative and regenerative, especially for those who are most vulnerable to chemical exposures, such as children. To achieve that, we need to put communities at the forefront. We need to mentor and encourage students to push the boundaries of science, and explore ways to build a symbiotic relationship between research and practice of community gardening, akin to a thriving, interconnected garden.All children should have the opportunity to play and grow food in soil that is free of toxics. As my daughter exemplified in her garden inquiries, a solution may be asking the why, what, and how. This essay was produced through the Agents of Change in Environmental Justice fellowship. Agents of Change empowers emerging leaders from historically excluded backgrounds in science and academia to reimagine solutions for a just and healthy planet.Disclaimer: This essay was written by Dr. Hunter in her personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the US Public Health Service, or the United States government.

As my toddler girls frolic through our community garden picking fresh cherry tomatoes from our plot, I smile at their sense of wonder about growing food. Their eyes widen and their smiles beam as they admire how the seeds we planted earlier in the season are now full-grown plants. The scent of summer rain is in the air and I’m excited to begin harvesting okra, which I will freeze to make gumbo in the fall. Although gardening was not part of my childhood, I reclaimed the connection to the land to continue that legacy for my family. My maternal great-grandparents in Opelousas, Louisiana, grew sweet potatoes, okra, watermelon and other produce to sell at the French Market in New Orleans. My paternal great-grandparents owned vegetable and dairy farms in Mansfield, Louisiana. Local agriculture was not only a source of food and income, but a means of community, partnership and connection. While my youngest daughter is chasing butterflies that frequent the marigolds in a neighboring garden plot, my oldest daughter is examining a ladybug on a cucumber vine. “Mom, what do ladybugs eat? Why are ladybugs good for our garden? But how?” This space is a living classroom that can teach us to question the “what?” “why?” and “how?” of partnerships that benefit all of its members. Community gardening and other types of urban agriculture can be powerful tools to advance food sovereignty, build community connections and educate. As described in Dr. Ashley Gripper’s Agents of Change essay, people of color and grass-root environmental justice organizations have transformed vacant lots and other sites into community gardens and farms that foster spiritual healing, strengthen community-building and combat food apartheid – discriminatory policies and practices that prevent marginalized groups from accessing affordable, sustainable, nutritious, high-quality and culturally connected food. This essay is also available in SpanishUnfortunately, the same communities impacted by food apartheid often live in areas where disinvestment, racial segregation and other inequalities result in disproportionally high exposures to harmful chemicals in air, water and soils – which might be used for urban agriculture. Communities of color are more likely to be near hazardous waste sites, highways and other pollution that may result in elevated heavy metal soil concentrations, such as lead. Data show children from racial and ethnic minority groups and children in low-income communities are more likely to have higher blood lead levels. Some garden practices can introduce chemicals into the garden like pesticides, and gardening materials such as landscape fabrics can be a source of microplastics. I want to be clear: the benefits of gardening in communal settings should not be stifled by potential contaminant risks. Rather, we should look for ways to reduce chemical exposures in gardens. To do that, we need to ensure effective collaborations exist involving every sector interested in community gardens, including education, nutrition, urban planning, research and government. Potential pollution in community gardensUrban soils can harbor dangerous chemicals. It could be that current and historical land uses, like industrial activities or agriculture, exposed the soil to toxics and pesticides. Treated wood, burned tires or pollution runoff can leach chemicals into the soil. Chipping paint from older buildings and heavily trafficked roads might create lead soil deposits. People can be exposed to these chemicals by breathing in soil particles, eating tiny bits of soil that may not have been washed off from produce, or eating produce that has absorbed the contaminants (although this is an unlikely source of exposure, depending on factors such as the plant species and soil composition).Children, however, are at a greater risk, because they often are putting things into their mouths and are more curious than adults. I think about my own toddlers, who enjoy playing in the garden soil and exploring the outdoors with all five senses. It’s scary to think about how even a tiny amount of ingested lead from the soil could damage their growing brains and nervous systems. I also wonder whether gardeners were aware of these chemical risks and what resources could help protect them.These questions led me to focus on how community gardeners could reduce their exposures to heavy metals in soil for my doctoral thesis. Practices such as heavy-metal soil testing, composting, mulching and hand washing can reduce exposure – something that community gardeners are interested in, according to my results. While testing and hand washing are self explanatory, composting can contain organic matter that makes it more difficult for some plants to absorb contaminants and mulching helps to reduce contaminated soil from being redispersed in the air. However, I identified several barriers gardeners face when trying to protect themselves, like soil testing costs, concerns about property values and the legal implications of soil lead, a lack of training to interpret the results, among others. Although my research focused on individual gardener practices to reduce exposures, I became interested in how these findings could materialize into tools and policies that may be adopted in community gardens. There are existing partnerships that address these barriers. For example, soil screening, health, outreach and partnership (soilSHOP) events provide free lead education and soil lead screening to communities in the U.S. As I dug deeper trying to understand how to make these partnerships work, I started to wonder, just like my curious child looking at the mutually beneficial relationships between ladybugs and cucumber vines, how we can make the diverse partners (gardeners, schools, faith-based communities, neighborhoods, non-profit organizations, government) invested in community gardens work together to advance environmental justice and health equity.Turning research into policy: Implementation scienceA possible answer could be implementation science, which means investigating the ways in which research results can become widespread practices and policies. A research study may show that free lead soil screening is an effective community-engagement tool to identify soil lead in gardens. How does this research finding get incorporated into everyday community garden practices? An implementation science approach would examine what makes that practice sustainable and how we can overcome challenges to adopt that practice? Implementation science can also bridge environmental health disparities research to environmental justice action.For example, environmental justice researchers have shown communities of color are impacted by higher heavy metal soil concentrations and a lack of access to affordable, sustainable, nutritious, high-quality and culturally connected food. While the traditional approach focuses on understanding what gardening strategies can increase access to food and why they are working, an implementation science lens could push researchers to explore how policies, practices and diverse partnerships can reduce potential soil contaminant exposures. Just as gardens require careful cultivation to nurture the symbiotic partnerships for the plants and other organisms to thrive, so does understanding how different groups engaged in community gardens cultivate partnerships and practices to reduce harmful chemical exposures. It is possible to ensure gardening spaces are safe, restorative and regenerative, especially for those who are most vulnerable to chemical exposures, such as children. To achieve that, we need to put communities at the forefront. We need to mentor and encourage students to push the boundaries of science, and explore ways to build a symbiotic relationship between research and practice of community gardening, akin to a thriving, interconnected garden.All children should have the opportunity to play and grow food in soil that is free of toxics. As my daughter exemplified in her garden inquiries, a solution may be asking the why, what, and how. This essay was produced through the Agents of Change in Environmental Justice fellowship. Agents of Change empowers emerging leaders from historically excluded backgrounds in science and academia to reimagine solutions for a just and healthy planet.Disclaimer: This essay was written by Dr. Hunter in her personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the US Public Health Service, or the United States government.

Protecting Costa Rica’s Bees: Urgent Action Needed

On World Bee Day, the Costa Rican environmental organization Bloque Verde issued a crucial call for action, demanding greater protection for bees. These invaluable insects are facing a grave threat from toxic products such as fipronil and neonicotinoids, which have caused extensive intoxications, resulting in the loss of millions of bees, irreparable damage to biodiversity, […] The post Protecting Costa Rica’s Bees: Urgent Action Needed appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

On World Bee Day, the Costa Rican environmental organization Bloque Verde issued a crucial call for action, demanding greater protection for bees. These invaluable insects are facing a grave threat from toxic products such as fipronil and neonicotinoids, which have caused extensive intoxications, resulting in the loss of millions of bees, irreparable damage to biodiversity, and contamination of ecosystems. Alarming statistics reveal a significant decline in bee populations, with the potential of Costa Rica running out of bees by 2035 if the current rate persists. It is imperative that immediate measures be taken to safeguard these vital pollinators and the environment they sustain. The Toll on Bee Population and Ecosystems According to the National Beekeeping Promotion Chamber, the Los Santos area alone witnessed the loss of 2,200 hives between 2010 and 2020. Shockingly, approximately 30 major bee poisonings were recorded during this period, resulting in the death of around 100 million bees. Such devastating losses not only harm bee populations but also have far-reaching consequences for the delicate balance of ecosystems. Bees play a critical role in pollinating various crops, including avocado, chayote, coffee, tomato, melon, and watermelon, ensuring food security and supporting the livelihoods of 1,500 families engaged in beekeeping nationwide. The Need to Ban Fipronil and Neonicotinoids Fipronil, known to be highly hazardous to bees, insects, and agricultural ecosystems, has already been banned in over 30 countries, including the European Union. However, in Costa Rica, its use in agriculture remains unrestricted despite the severe ecological and economic consequences. In 2019, the Constitutional Chamber directed the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock (MAG) to conduct a scientific study on the effects of agrochemicals containing neonicotinoids, further highlighting the urgency of the situation. Even with subsequent recommendations from the Ministries of Health, Agriculture, and Livestock (MAG) and Environment and Energy (MINAE) to prohibit the use of Fipronil, Executive Decree No. 43767-S-MINAE issued by the current government in November 2022 fell short by only banning its industrial use. The Value of Bees and the Responsibility to Act Costa Rica boasts a rich diversity of more than 650 bee species, including 58 native stingless bee species, as confirmed by the Tropical Bee Research Center (CINAT) and the National University (UNA). These bees are vital for conserving tropical ecosystems, ensuring pollination of a wide range of plants, and maintaining food security. Recognizing the importance of beekeeping, Costa Rica has declared it as a matter of ‘public interest’ and established National Bee Day. Therefore, the country has a moral and legal obligation to take swift action to protect bees and the environment they contribute to. Final Thoughts The decline in global bee populations is a cause for grave concern, demanding immediate attention. Costa Rica, renowned for its commitment to environmental preservation, must lead by example and prioritize the protection of bees. The banning of fipronil and neonicotinoids in all forms, including agricultural use, is crucial to halt the destructive impact on bees, ecosystems, and food security. As a nation that values beekeeping and acknowledges its significance, Costa Rica must take bold steps to safeguard this vital species and ensure a sustainable future for both bees and humans alike. Together, we can create an environment where bees can thrive, fostering the prosperity of our ecosystems and our nation. The post Protecting Costa Rica’s Bees: Urgent Action Needed appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

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