I was a bit lost after I quit my job in terms of figuring out how to still be a productive member of society. I knew I was passionate about traveling, especially to see the natural wonders of the world, and I wanted to continue working on advancing racial and social justice issues.

Sometimes the universe works in mysterious and beautiful ways.

In this case, it delivered me into the hands of a non-profit called Wild Diversity. Wild Diversity seeks to create a personal connection to the outdoors for Black, Indigenous, all People of Color (BIPOC) and the LGBTQ+ communities through outdoor adventures and education.

I’m honored to use the knowledge and skills I’ve gained through my career as a boring-ole-bureaucrat to volunteer as their grant writer. It’s not a sexy role, but it’s an important one that is vital to helping them secure the funding needed to make their dreams come true.

To celebrate Pride Month this June, I’m joining their fundraising efforts. I’d love for you to join me in supporting this amazing organization! Check-out my video below to learn more, then visit my fundraising page.

Below is something I wrote for a different purpose, but decided to share here because the topics covered are related to the work I am continuing to do in order to become a better human being.

The primary audience for this writing was other people who identify similar to me (white, straight, cis) that are on a similar journey as me of learning (and unlearning) in order to become a better ally to marginalized folks.

Self-Reflection: An important tool in the journey toward allyship.

Being an ally to BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and all People of Color) and other marginalized folks is an intentional journey, not a destination. There is no gold star, trophy, or certificate of completion. The work is never done.  

No matter how nice or well-intentioned I may be…as a white, cis, straight, and able-bodied person, I must constantly strive to see and dismantle systems of oppression that serve to benefit me and those like me, to take accountability for the harm I cause, and to do better going forward. 

One of the ways I am trying to do this is through deep self-reflection (especially when I make mistakes) and curiosity. I often make the most progress on my journey toward allyship when hearing about, and contemplating, the experiences of others on this path as well. 

I am no expert and certainly don’t feel qualified to give advice on this topic…but I hope that other aspiring allies may benefit from me sharing a few of my learning moments related to practicing empathy and respecting Native lands and peoples. 

Learning Moment: Practicing Empathy

White supremacy has ensured that I have an all-access pass to the countless unearned privileges that come with being a member of the dominant culture in the U.S. (white, middle-class, Protestant people of northern European descent). Racism, homophobia, transphobia and ableism are social constructs that concentrate control and power by defining what is “normal” or “right” or “real.” These systems put people like me (white, cis, straight, able-bodied) at the center of the universe. 

As an obese woman (said with no shame or judgement), I try to use my personal experiences with misogyny and fatphobia as a starting point to better understand the greater oppressions others are facing. But even so, I am constantly bumping into instances where my thoughts, words and actions revolve around my own lived experience, often to the exclusion of others. 

We aren’t all the same. Each of us must find our own way of being and of finding happiness, health, and healing in the outdoors. It’s easy to fall into the trap of assuming that everyone else’s hopes, dreams, and fears are the same as mine. One of the ways I’m seeking to decenter myself is to reflect on instances where my assumptions and biases surface. 

For example, I once asked a friend what made her feel more and/or less comfortable in nature. She shared several things, but one unexpected discomfort was bumper stickers. She told me how she and her wife drive through trailhead parking lots looking at the bumper stickers to assess if they feel comfortable hiking the trail. There have been times when they’ve gone elsewhere based on the stickers they saw. In contrast, when my husband and I notice bumper stickers at a trailhead it’s usually to think, “those Subaru-driving peeps like dogs too!” 

My friend and I both love hiking. However, I largely take my safety and sense of belonging on the trail for granted, whereas she assesses her surroundings for potential threats. To me, bumper stickers were just a silly thing people did on their vehicles. Yet bumper stickers are strong signals of someone’s beliefs, world views, priorities and politics. Meeting the owners of those bumper stickers on the trail might be largely immaterial to me but could have real-world consequences for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks.     

Through a discussion about something as seemingly innocuous as bumper stickers, I realized how much work remains for me to deepen my understanding of the experiences of others and to not view everything through my own lens. 

I’ve spent time thinking about the many factors that contribute to someone feeling (and being) safe in the outdoors. I thought about times when I did and didn’t feel safe myself. What made that so? I then tried to expand my understanding of how the lived experiences of others could create safety factors different from my own. I have been trying to use this awareness to continually assess what I may be doing or saying that could be contributing to, or detracting from, the sense of safety in the outdoors for BIPOC, LGBTQ+ and other marginalized people.

Learning Moment: Respecting Indigenous Lands and Peoples

When I am on Native and First Nations lands, I seek to be respectful and follow their wishes and directives. This goes beyond the obvious of obeying any speed limit, trespassing and no-camping signs. However, even though this is my intent…I still screw up from time to time. 

For example, a little over two years ago I was nursing a foot injury, so my husband and I opted to spend the day doing a driving tour. I love finding winding mountain roads on maps and then heading out to see what they’re like in person. The road we took that day carried us through areas with amazing scenery and postcard perfect vistas. There was no other traffic and we joked that if we broke down it would take a long time for someone to find us. 

Eventually, we came to a gate across the road. We could go no further. “Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” I wondered. A gentleman came out of a nearby building, presumably to help us get unlost. He asked where we were going, and I told him about how we were trying to follow the road on the map. He asked if we were enrolled members of the Yakama Nation. I told him no. He then informed us that the road was closed to non-tribal members. I apologized and said I didn’t know that. He asked me why I didn’t know that…given I had just “driven past a sign as big as a car” that clearly stated this fact several miles back.

I had a lot to think about on our drive back from whence we came. I could vaguely recall seeing a big brown wooden sign whiz by out of the corner of my eye. It had the words “closed” and “permit” on it, but I had assumed it was meant for commercial truck traffic, not passenger cars like me. When we stopped to read the sign, it clearly said “Yakama Indian Reservation. Road close to the public except by permit from the Yakama Tribal Council. Action will be brought against all violators.” 

How had I missed that?!?

I thought about what contributed to me blowing past that sign without a care in the world. In the end, it was my white privilege and sense of entitlement. From the map I could tell the road was going to take me through areas with amazing natural beauty and I was excited to see what lay ahead. More than that, I felt entitled to see what lay ahead. I couldn’t fathom that a beautiful, paved road through amazing scenery wouldn’t be open to me. 

I was wrapped up warm in the bosom of white supremacy, which for 100+ years has ensured that white people like me feel entitled to recreate at their leisure on lands stolen from Native communities. The idea that a Native community would guard their remaining lands (rightfully so) and bar my entry had honestly never crossed my mind. As such, I instinctively drove past an important sign without giving it a second thought. 

Although I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself about the whole situation, it was an important learning experience. Sometimes, it is hard to truly understand how deeply internalized white supremacy can be until you get smacked in the face by it. It was a good reminder that my best intentions can only get me so far, and that I must continue to do the hard work of unlearning.   

We Must Do Better

Becoming an authentic ally is a journey. A difficult, uncomfortable, transformational…beautiful journey. It requires intention, accountability, vulnerability, and curiosity. A willingness to take risks and make (and learn from) mistakes is a must. 

Self-reflection is but one of several steps that must be taken simultaneously when working on allyship. Introspection is critical because only through working on ourselves can we evolve our consciousness to become a more effective ally. Without it, our efforts are performative at best and harmful at worst. 

The learning moments I’ve shared here about practicing empathy (the bumper sticker example) and shining a light on my internalized white supremacy (the Native lands road example) are but two of countless lessons I’ve had along the way. My hope in sharing them is that they serve as an invitation for your own self-reflection and growth, especially if you identify similar to me as white, straight, cis and able-bodied.        

I am part of the white, cis, straight, able-bodied population in the U.S. We have designed and continue to perpetuate the systems, institutions, and biases that have resulted in a diversity gap in the outdoors. We created this mess, and it is on us to fix it. 

Our job, as aspiring allies, is to deepen our self-awareness, actively listen to (and believe!) the voices of those most impacted, expand our knowledge and understanding…and then use our power and privilege to demand greater – and safer – access to the outdoors for all.