Power shifting

At the next meeting, a man showed up dressed in a dashiki, not the typical attire I was used to seeing in conservative rural places. An elected official leaned over and said to me, “That’s Mr. G, he’s a troublemaker.” I had to tamp down my visceral responses to both the dashiki and the comment—the dashiki because I expected people to wear business suits (and, truth be told, I wondered if he was going to confront me about anything) and the comment because I didn’t want any trouble. Mr. G was the only person of color in the room.

As we launched into the meeting agenda, I provided an overview of the grant my land trust had received and the deliverables. I talked about the demographics and poverty statistics in the counties, and referenced a university study that had been done, at the request of my land trust, about the potential for ecotourism as a regional economic opportunity. Mr. G asked hard questions throughout: Why did we only talk about the river and not the people and places along the river? What were the demographics of the expected ecotourists? Who would get help getting jobs or starting businesses? When he read the part of the grant narrative that said we were going to “…empower the communities…” he stood up and asked me, “And just how do you propose to do that?”

I stammered and got defensive and didn’t really know what to say. He asked me if I’d ever met with the community members. Did I know what it took to live in isolated rural places? Did I think people were not smart because they didn’t have money? Did I realize that my land trust couldn’t “empower” the community but, if we worked with them authentically, we could “unleash the power that is already within the community?”

After the meeting, my colleagues and I visited Mr. G’s community, a historic farming community, where we met elders, youth and people of all ages. As we spent that afternoon and other days and evenings meeting with communities up and down the river, we learned about peoples’ lives and how deeply they cared for the land, the river and the wetlands that were their home. I learned that the first and most respectful thing I could do was to listen to their hopes, dreams and vision for the future. I learned how these quiet and vibrant rural communities had survived and thrived because of the power and strength of the individuals and their ancestors who had created a community and built communities that were strong enough to withstand the racial, social, economic and environmental injustices that had been inflicted on them over the years.