For the last two years, I’ve worked at an environmental and social justice nonprofit and the experience has been a huge blessing for a few reasons — the fuel its given me in the launch into adulthood, the fertile ground its provided for professional and personal growth, and the opportunity to do work that I can actually see make a tangible, traceable difference in our world.

What I didn’t expect to gain from these last two years was insight into how much of my perception of the work I do is informed by my human experience as a Black woman and the layered truths my introduction to the environmental field would present:

• The environmental or “green” movement is diverse in reality, but not in representation.
• People with melanin and lower incomes are on the frontlines of environmental inequities and climate disasters, but environmental injustice still does not command the mainstream attention that environmental sustainability does.
• I may have had extra difficulty adjusting to the majority-white workspace that hosts my own organization because of my HBCU background.

Let me explain.

Bridging Black and Green: HBCU’s and DEI

During Howard University’s 2017 commencement ceremony, senator Kamala Harris spoke of effecting change regardless of titles or status, rejecting false choices, and speaking truth. And at one point she said:

And I promise you, as you leave this place, you will often find that you’re the only one in the room who looks like you and you’re going to feel very alone. But wherever you are — whether you’re in a courtroom, a board room, or a tech incubator, whether you’re in Washington or Wichita — you must remember: you are never alone.

Roughly two months after graduation I started working as a fellow at my current organization where, almost in a flash, I became one of two Black people at a largely white nonprofit. After working a year and being hired full time, I was the only Black woman and Black staff person period and internalizing Harris’s words proved to be easier said than done. There were times when I found humor in the situation, most often by comparing myself to Insecure’s Issa Dee, circa seasons 1–3, and there were times when I felt stressed, self-conscious and emotionally spent by being the only one.

And still, there were times when I was confused by the intensity of my own emotions, because it’s not like I’d never been in that situation before. Growing up, I’d been in predominantly white classrooms, neighborhoods and summer camps, and I don’t remember being so viscerally uncomfortable with and hyper-conscious of how few there were who looked like me. But I guess there’s something about that brief but indelible HBCU experience that gifted me with a new normal.

So I self-diagnosed, and what I believe I experienced during that first year out of college and beyond was post HBCU separation anxiety (issa thing!).

Though some might misappropriate my experience as proof that being surrounded and incubated with those who look like you doesn’t prepare young people for the real world, the HBCU experience isn’t skin deep. What I really missed, more than seeing my Blackness reflected was seeing it broadened and the many manifestations of diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) that I witnessed on my campus on a daily basis.

There’s no other way that I would know how vastly diverse Blackness is had I not been exposed to Black people with different interests, cultures, faiths, and socioeconomic backgrounds; Considering the miseducation Black people have received from American institutions, the education HBCUs deliver, especially when applied with the purpose of advancing social justice, is a form of equity. And at HBCU’s, everyone is asked to partake in the celebration of Blackness. See swag surfs.

I invoke my HBCU experience because I believe it’s this level of intention to fostering diversity, equity and inclusion that the green movement needs. Green-ness too, can be broadened far beyond its upper-middle class, white archetype. More people can find themselves, their backgrounds, needs, and interests reflected in the work of the environmental movement, if leaders prioritize it.

According to Green 2.0’s 2017 report, Beyond Diversity, 73 percent of full time staff at the top 40 environmental NGOs are white and 86 percent of senior staff are also white. While these numbers are overwhelming, changing this status quo requires some nuance. It requires the understanding that while all people of the same race, gender, sexuality or faith don’t think the same, these identities shape our experiences, and thus our worldviews. And still there’s nuance because a rush toward tokenism, in which staffing X number of people of color at such organizations won’t remedy the problem either. Those involved must identify positions where having diverse voices will make the most impact and learn from others who are centering DEI at the heart of their office culture, campaigns, and outreach.

In other words, it’s not about having diversity that looks good for the sake of quotas and website visits. It’s about having empowering people who bring their perspectives, values and expertise to this work.

Over the last two years, my uncomfortable situation has prompted uncomfortable questions: if green in theory is the championing of both environmental sustainability and social justice, should we not rally the same sense of urgency for them both ? And how can we advocate for environmental sustainability without advocating just as fiercely for environmental justice?

Part of the loneliness I’ve experienced at work is being one of a small cluster of people insisting on asking these questions, in some form or another. But the green movement can make this experience less common if it takes the position that a lack of DEI is just as unsustainable as plastic bags.

What It Really Means To Be Green

So often in my work, I experience moments of visceral tension between environmental sustainability and environmental justice. Whether its writing eco-friendly lifestyle pieces about why tap water is better than buying bottled water or why people should buy organic produce instead of non-organic, I’m confronted with a fundamental failure to include communities facing environmental injustices in this work, like those who don’t live with trustworthy water supplies or access to fresh produce. So while I don’t expect environmental organizations to lead the crusade for every social justice issue, I do expect them to prioritize justice when pursuing environmental causes.

This is the most challenging, rewarding and crucial aspect of this work — reconciling sustainability with justice and even re-framing injustice as a sustainability issue. Because after all, injustice will always be a threat to human existence and societal sustainability.

In 2018, the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change estimated that humanity has about 12 years to reverse global warming before we see dystopian-like impacts on weather, wildlife and crops. As communities of color face higher exposure to air pollution, toxic waste and water contamination, the green movement’s work is two-fold. We must protect future generations AND hold governments and corporations accountable for their environmental injustices, some of which have already compromised the quality of life for entire communities.

I’m inspired by the long history of POC environmentalists who’ve examined the connections between the environment and the quality of human life while recognizing race, class and gender inequities and organizing for system change. It includes leaders like Robert D. Bullard, Hazel M. Johnson, Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta, Wangari Maathai, Vandana Shiva, Dorceta E.Taylor, Majora Carter, Tom B.K. Goldtooth, and Ron Finley to name just a few, and learning about this work, the tangibility of environmental burdens and benefits, and the stake people of color have in reversing the climate crisis has motivated me to find my lane in this movement.

What I believe is healing about this movement for Black people and people of color, is that after being disenfranchised from natural resources and disproportionately exposed to environmental hazards, reclaiming our connection to the environment is a revolutionary act. When I see us doing this in various forms, whether it’s planting food forests in South Central Los Angeles, starting green youth organizations in Atlanta, or beekeeping in Detroit, I see a powerful and enrichening climate vision — the preview of another new normal in which we are living our best lives, most abundantly.