Leading with intent

It’s easy to dream with others, in community, and in togetherness. In fact, it is in our human nature. In the words of Audre Lorde, “Our visions begin with our desires.”

Our desire to be part of something bigger than ourselves is a movement in itself. I experienced this firsthand while leading Legacy Camp, a multi-day immersive training focused on supporting young adults in growing their outdoor leadership and taking action in their communities. The Children & Nature Network has organized many Legacy Camps since the first was held in 2008, and, after taking a hiatus these past few years, we were excited to revive the event in September 2022.

It was well past sunset when the final guests arrived at Y of the Rockies in Estes Park for the first day of Colorado Legacy Camp 2022. The Natural Leaders were fatigued from traveling up to 250 miles to reach the camp — and from contending with the systemic obstacles that so many must battle throughout their lives. We circled up to get to know each other. Campers ranged in age from 18 to 30 years old. Some were mothers and fathers to little ones whose questions about the world are often difficult to answer. Others were starting new chapters of their lives with their first full-time jobs with benefits. The power of being together gave way to lively conversation filled with joy and wonder, lifting the fatigue away and sparking curiosity for the weekend ahead.

The next day, we deepened our understanding of leadership with the recognition that leadership doesn’t happen by accident. It is derived from our experiences and our dreams — and in this case, inspired by each other’s stories. The mountains and horseback riding were a highlight, and the evening’s “culture share” revealed more about who was in the room: trail keepers, card readers, poets, and those who love to bake, sew and more.

On our final day together, we discussed community organizing and community action. The leaders shared feelings of distrust in nonprofits and institutions, pointing out that the time required to make meaningful change by volunteering is often not sustainable. At the same time, they expressed a deep commitment to change, ambitious visions of what is possible, and ideas for small next steps to maintain momentum. I think of these sessions like a garden, where my co-facilitators and I provide the seeds, and each person plants and cultivates them in their own way.

Following Legacy Camp, we asked a few leaders to reflect on their journey and vision for community action; read on to see their responses.

In my final reflections on the experience, I’ll rest on words from bell hooks: “All too often we think of community in terms of being with folks like ourselves: the same class, same race, same ethnicity, same social standing and the like… I think we need to be wary: we need to work against the danger of evoking something that we don’t challenge ourselves to actually practice.” My hope is that we continue to work in partnership to reach our common goals — and even dream beyond them.

Valentina Valdez

Tell us about the journey that brought you to the intersection of outdoor equity, environmental activism and climate justice.
I come from a long line of farmers and my family has been stewarding the specific land where I live for five generations. Growing up, I couldn’t wait to leave my hometown, go work for a big corporation and never have to think about farming again. But something happened when I left. My appreciation for the clean air and water of my rural home grew when I lived in the city. However, I was conflicted because farming and economic opportunities are not usually aligned. What’s the old joke about how to make a million dollars farming? Start with two million. Not that money is the most important thing in the world because certainly not, but it is important to have some financial stability. At this point I was in business school and thinking about how I could make it work for real to have a life in the country, farming. That’s how I started working in the cannabis industry. I worked in that industry for about four years before switching gears.

The biggest shift for me came when I learned about how bad the cannabis industry is for the environment. So I set about trying to figure out how to address that as a grower. That’s how I learned about regenerative agriculture, living soil and traditional ecological knowledge. Long story short, the power of growing in an ecologically aligned manner swept me up and made me question, “Why are we not growing our food this way?” From there, my focus completely shifted to food sovereignty and addressing how we can better feed our POC [People of Color] communities to truly create changes.

Equity equals reparations, and to me this means figuring out how we’re putting the pieces together for our future generations to have real economic opportunities that feed their mind, body and spirit. How do we engage youth so they can experience spiritual ecology and healing for themselves? How do we create economic opportunities and pathways for those same youth so they might have land-based, agricultural professions that are dignified and pay fairly? I firmly believe that caring for our communities and planet starts with what we’re eating and how we’re growing it, and it’s become my life’s mission to share what I’ve learned so far with others.

What advice would you give to others seeking to create change in their community?
Oof, there’s so much I would say! Take care of yourself (like seriously, please never stop stretching), ask for help, never stop decolonizing, work together, get comfortable with letting go, etc, but maybe the biggest piece of advice I would give is to understand what your strengths and weaknesses are.

I mean this in terms of your skill set, for example, I am not a detail-oriented person. For a long time I pretended I was, and it just made me stressed, made whole projects not to the level they could have been, and it robbed opportunities from folks for whom details were their ministry.

And I also mean strengths and weaknesses in terms of positionality and privilege. When we can be honest about where we’re at, we are all uplifted and the soil is fertile for us to all grow and move forward. It is hard to be authentic in our world that wants us so badly to pretend that we need to be everything and more in order to feel worthy. Except none of us are ever going to be perfect and that’s honestly liberating. So let’s hype ourselves up where the flex is real, but let’s also acknowledge where and what we’re called not to do, what we’re not very good at, and what we don’t know. It helps everyone out in the long run, especially you and your own mental health.

Share a story from your past that shaped who you are today and the ways that you show up in this work.
It’s hard to pick one single story as it’s really the collective story of my life that has led me to where I am, however, there is something that comes to mind.

Like many youth of color, my upbringing wasn’t the most stable. My immediate family grew up in immense poverty and the only thing that was consistent for us was chaos. This led me to have a lot of resentment for our situation and at the time, I just couldn’t understand certain decisions my parents made. I understand now that they were largely operating from places of trauma and doing the best they could. I share this because there are unfortunately few positive memories I have of my father especially.

But one that I do have is the day he taught me how to plant potatoes. I will never forget being about 9 or 10, playing in our front yard, when all of a sudden my dad appeared with a handful of potatoes. He told me to come over and then just right there he dug a few holes in the yard. He took out a small knife and he cut up one of the potatoes. He told me that all I needed to know to plant potatoes was that each chunk of papa [potato] had to have an eye on it in order to grow. He plunked the chunks into the ground and I thought he was just kidding, surely that’s not how you planted potatoes? But later that fall, we had potatoes and I had information that no one could take away from me. Knowledge is power, and so much of it has been lost, especially in POC communities as a result of our generational trauma. Yet there are bits and pieces here and there, and together we can and will remember — and this time we won’t forget.

Which principles, past examples, or past or present leaders guide you in this work? From where do you draw your inspiration?
The two greatest principles that guide my work are to observe and to listen. Observe and listen to the land, what does she want me to know? Observe and listen to the plants, what do they need and how do they work with each other? Observe and listen to others, what might I learn from a different perspective? Observe and listen to myself, what makes the most sense for this moment and am I present?

As for my inspiration, it comes mostly from my Elders, those who know and have seen so much more than I have and who can take me on a journey with their stories and ways of knowing. They are there reminding me that when it gets hard, there is community, and we are in this fight together. There will always be work to do, but things will be okay as long as we show up and put our shovels in the ground.

Sania Qureshi

Tell us about the journey that brought you to the intersection of outdoor equity, environmental activism and climate justice.
Ever since I can remember, I have had a love of animals and desire to protect wildlife habitats. The more I learned, the more the focus evolved to people as well as wildlife. I attribute some of this to hikes with my aunt in Great Falls National Park less than an hour from home. We did the same hike but it never felt the same — the seasons and our conversations would be different every time. Regardless of the weather, we got out to hike the area. She loved being outdoors. And this was a time when I was struggling with my family and appreciated having my aunt as a friend and confidant.

What advice would you give to others seeking to create change in their community?
This learning isn’t to hold inside but to show up to create change. I endeavor to do this, as do others in outdoor leadership roles. We all need to come in as ourselves and put our personalities into our work. Don’t leave yourself behind. I’m practicing this daily.

Which principles, past examples, or past or present leaders guide you in this work? From where do you draw your inspiration?
I’m inspired by my Children & Nature Network colleagues. Inspired by the care they place in tending to young leaders, each other, and themselves. When they speak, I hear their personal perspective and experiences, which I then see in their leadership. What they are saying and who they are are one and the same.

Trevor Taylor

Tell us about the journey that brought you to the intersection of outdoor equity, environmental activism and climate justice.
I grew up in the inner city of Chicago, Illinois. I did not go on big family vacations to national parks or spend weekends camping. I did, however, spend afternoons at the local forest preserve. It was a small 46-acre woods, hemmed in by busy streets on either side. But it was still the outdoors to me. And it was the days spent there chasing turtles, looking for salamanders, or watching bucks challenge each other in the spring, that instilled a love for nature, even in the heart of a city. By high school I joined my first youth crew with Friends of the Forest Preserves and the Student Conservation Association. We worked in the local park, and my fellow crew members were other kids like me who grew up in the city. For most of us the “great outdoors” was inaccessible. But the summers I spent working as a member, and then helping to lead crews deepened my love for nature. Not just as a place for exploration, but as centers for community healing.

I was fortunate enough that after I graduated from college, I was able to serve my first term with Southwest Conservation Corps (SCC) in Salida, Colorado. I worked on a “fourteener” without knowing that it meant a mountain over 14,000 feet tall. I was on a backcountry crew, and I had only been camping once. It took me 21 years, but I finally experienced the “great outdoors” and visited my first national park.

I loved the work, but I did not love what I was seeing. Because I was not seeing a lot of people that looked like me. I didn’t see them recreating in the outdoor spaces where I was working, but I also didn’t see them doing the work, whether that was building trails or using saws. And throughout my first two seasons with SCC, this bothered me. The outdoors are often preached as places of “public access,” places that are “open” to all, yet it took me working in remote places to be able to experience them. It costs hundreds of dollars for gear and equipment, or time off from work that many cannot afford. It was because of these concerns that I worked with SCC to create and lead the Leaders of Color crew, an affinity space for all members of the BIPOC [Black, Indigenous, and People of Color] communities to come for training in the conservation field. A safe space to build not only technical experience but also community for those who are underrepresented in the outdoors. And the work does not stop there. In my current role, I work to broaden the concept of access, not just in terms of race or color, but also addressing the intersection of low-income communities. In my past, I was given the opportunity to explore a career unthinkable to most back home in Chicago. So now I work to make that a reality for those that come next.

Share a story from your past that shaped who you are today and the ways that you show up in this work.
I hope that my work continues in the conservation field. My goal would be to continue to dismantle the barriers of access for underrepresented groups in the outdoors and conservation work. I value recreation as integral to building our relationship with the land, but even that can be extractive and lead to overuse. I view conservation not only as a way to give back, but to also pay it forward. Whether it is building trails, fire management, or forestry work, conservation helps to make sure we are also taking care of the land that we love. For most of this land’s history, that was done holistically by the Indigenous people that live here. Once they were displaced by colonizers, our concept of land management changed. I will not claim to be well-versed in or a representative of Indigenous land management, but I will continue to work to give space to those and other unheard voices in conservation.

Which principles, past examples, or past or present leaders guide you in this work? From where do you draw your inspiration?
Throughout my work, I am guided by the principle of being in relationship, not only with those that I work with, but also with the land that I work on. And through those relationships I value reciprocity. In my role I do a lot of hiring and training. It is my honor and privilege that I may be looked up to as a mentor. Navigating those relationships to be reciprocal and communal is how I strengthen them. I want to meet everyone where they are and accept them without judgment. In that way, they can let me know how I can best support them. It is with that same approach that I interpret my relationship with the land, as well. Through my work I am engaging with living beings beyond just humans. If I lack respect for them, or do not hold the same respect as I would for my human relations, I do not believe that I can do my job well. If I value the healing, learning, and growth that I find in the outdoors, then I must also bring these things to my work and interactions with the land.

What advice would you give to others seeking to create change in their community?
If I were to offer advice to those hoping to get into environmental activism or community organizing, it would be: Those feelings that draw you to this work are your call to action. If some aspect of this work appeals to you, then you feel, as many of us do, that there is something that not only should be done but must be done. And it must be done for the benefit of everyone that shares this planet. No one else can ignite that spark for you. No one else will carry that flame. So, if your heart is pulling you in this direction, follow it. Grab hold of that feeling; get involved; even a small change is a change for the better.

Note: All images courtesy of Legacy Camp participants.

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