Un ave en movimiento, 1. Self portrait, 2022, by Blanca Stacey Villalobos.
Image description: A self portrait of Blanca taken on one of the few remaining sand dunes in the Coachella Valley on a sunny day. There are clouds scattered in the blue sky. Blanca, a brown femme, is seen walking towards the horizon, away from the viewer. They are wearing brown boots, black leggings, a tan short sleeve button up and a rust colored cap. Blanca has dark brown hair, almost black and sun tanned arms. To the bottom of the image you can see traces of Blanca's footprints.
This is the third entry in a multi-part series, "2030 Landscapes: Visions for California's Nature and Communities," showcasing community perspectives on how we can protect 30% of lands and waters by 2030. Check back next month for more California landscapes. You can read other entries in the series here:
- 2030 Landscapes: Visions for California's Nature and Communities
- 2030 Landscapes: Shade in LA – Rising Heat Inequity in a Sunburnt City
- 2030 Landscapes: Raízes – From South Central to Pacoima
At 35 years, my life looks like spending a lot of time on private land to protect sacred sites and to observe, survey, and celebrate the vegetation and wildlife of the California deserts. I slowly meander over shifting sand dunes, learning how to read a snake’s story through the shapes they leave on the Earth before the heat hits me with brain fog. Other days I am perched like an owl, moving across a slot canyon to find the best shade all while protecting cultural resources from disruption, extraction, and pollution. It's curious that when one immerses themselves in nature, we are reminded just how much we mirror its behaviors.
Due to my cultural inheritance, I tend to dream about the environments I become immersed in, enamored with or familiar to. More than human species visit me, interact with my dream self and usually inspire me to develop a deeper awareness of their lives through the waking world. My family settled not too far from the Morongo Basin during their migration from México in the 70s and brought along many stories, traditions, and values that still impart knowledge about relationship building with biotic and abiotic communities. What I mean by this is that I happily speak to the wind when it lays gently across my cheek and heed caution when they ask us to take it slow and find refuge while they chaotically shuffle around sand, trash and particulate matter from the desert floor into our atmosphere.
For the most part, when I hear the word “conservation,” an image of white outdoorsmen occupies my mind. Yet, my love of nature is rooted through my sibling’s conocimiento of plant names, my father’s interactions with wildlife, and my mother’s remedios. My first job in this field was as an outdoor educator for a nature preserve that manages a river that is dear to my heart. Yet, due to conservation’s debilitating white supremacist history and inheritance, my time in that role was short and traumatic. The land was never at fault. It is always the lack or absence of accountability from those in positions of power that exhausts those of us who have historically not held positions of power across systems. A femme is tired, ya’ll.
The state of California has a new initiative to protect 30 percent of lands and waters. This is an important and ambitious goal for our state but I don't want to see it as just a reimagining or repackaging of conservation, something that has caused a lot of pain on the land and its people. Rather, my vision for California eight years from now would be for a shift in which outdoor organizations redistribute their power and resources to Black communities, Indigenous communities, and the communities of the global majority. Much of that work is already being done through ongoing land-back efforts, so it is very much possible and an invitation to begin. It is important for me to share this sentiment during Pride Month because much of our LGBTQ+ history has been co-opted by capitalism and the straight community. I see similarities in how public lands are marketed for the economy at the expense of the land. I don’t expect an exact return to what stewardship looked like before colonization, mostly because we are navigating different times and technologies. What I look forward to is an integration of traditional ecological knowledge and cultural practices that are being born every day due to a growing interest in ancestral healing, mutual aid and remembrance.
Image description: A self portrait of Blanca taken on one of the few remaining sand dunes in the Coachella Valley on a sunny day. There are scattered clouds in the blue sky and a slight view of a mountain on the horizon. Blanca, a brown femme, is walking close along the edge of a dune, towards the mountain range. They are wearing brown boots, black leggings and a white rebozo (shawl) with black designs. They have dark brown hair, almost black, and their rebozo is draped around their shoulders. To the bottom right of the image you can see traces of Blanca's footprints leading to where they are walking.
Dedicating one’s life to the protection of our planet is often full of grief as much as it is full of beauty. We have big hearts. I wish I could hug all of you on the days you feel heavy, in those moments when you question your path in this field. If I allow myself to imagine all the possibilities for the future of my colleagues, friends, and peers I think about how much I’d love for these people to enjoy a life of joy, of affordable and secure housing, sustainable wages, healthy relationships, trauma informed care, bodywork, and more. This is my sueño.