“On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 9:35a.m., I am usually in a lecture hall at the university, expounding about botany and ecology — trying, in short, to explain to my students how Skywoman’s gardens, known by some as ‘global ecosystems,’ function.
One otherwise unremarkable morning I gave the students in my General Ecology class a survey. Among other things, they were asked to rate their understanding of the negative interactions between humans and the environment. Nearly every one of the two hundred students said confidently that humans and nature are a bad mix.
The response was, in a way, not very surprising. They were well schooled in the mechanics of climate change, toxins in the land and water, and the crisis of habitat loss. Later in the survey, they were asked to rate their knowledge of positive interactions between people and land. The median response was ‘none.’ I was stunned.
How is it possible that in twenty years of education they cannot think of any beneficial relationships between people and the environment? Perhaps the negative examples they see every day — brown fields,factory farms, suburban sprawl — truncated their ability to see some good between humans and the earth. As the land becomes impoverished, so too does the scope of their vision.
When we talked about this after class, I realized that they could not even imagine what beneficial relations between their species and others might look like. How can we begin to move toward ecological and cultural sustainability if we cannot even imagine what the path feels like?”
Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass
The above passage introduces one of Kimmerer’s primary goals in Braiding Sweetgrass, which is to show us how human beings can cultivate mutual, respectful relationships with the earth and all its creatures. Most of her examples of beneficial interactions stem from the practices and ideologies that various Indigenous communities have held for centuries or even millennia. Indigenous knowledge and wisdom is vital to ecological sustainability.
Questions for Reflection:
Can you think of any positive interactions between humans and other species or the land?
If you can’t think of any (I know I struggled to), I highly recommend reading Braiding Sweetgrass, particularly chapter titled “Mishkos Kenomagwen: The Teachings of Grass,” in which Kimmerer evinces how sweetgrass only thrives when there are humans conscientiously harvesting it, as well as the chapter titled “Wisgaak Gokpenagen: A Black Ash Basket,” in which Kimmerer evinces how Black Ash trees do better when humans cut down some but not all of them in a forest. You can find a pdf of Braiding Sweetgrass online for free.
Why is noticing where and when humans have benefited the our world just as important as owning up to how we’ve injured it? If we don’t believe such interactions exist, how does that hinder efforts at sustainability?
This post on caretaker agriculture
“The Pristine Myth: The Landscape of the Americas in 1492″ - article on human impact on the environment pre-Columbus
This academic article on “Bison, Anthropogenic Fire, and the Origins of Agriculture in Easter North America”
“What Conservation Efforts Can Learn from Indigenous Communities”
Indigenous Knowledge for Disaster Reduction
“Towards Decolonization and Settler Responsibility”
This post is part of a Lenten series for 2021, with daily passages shared from various texts on life and death, suffering and solidarity, and faith at the intersections and the margins.
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