through social gatherings and workshops led by indigenous mentors, the program seeks to build community and communication skills to empower the next generation of indigenous storytellers. planet forward’s lisa palmer recently spoke with cotnoir and lafrance about what inspired them to create the program. 

palmer: can you tell us about your background and what made you want to focus on creating a space for indigenous environmental storytellers? 

cotnoir: kwaï! ndeliwizi alexander. nojiawi mamlawbagok. my name is alexander, and i grew up along the shores of lake memphremagog. i am a citizen of the nulhegan band of the coosuk-abenaki tribe. my family comes from trois-rivières along the saint françois river, as well as coaticook, quebec and vermont’s northeast kingdom. i’m passionate about food systems and understanding how climate change impacts northern forests, including the species and communities that depend upon them, given my experiences growing up in a family and community that makes maple syrup from the woods behind our home each spring, carrying on our community’s long tradition of making local food. i’ve witnessed firsthand how many of our local practices — from ice fishing, snowshoeing, and ash basket making to maple sugaring — are threatened by warmer winters and the associated influx of invasive species brought about by climate change. 

lafrance: kahay! baalaashe iichiinmaatchileesh huuk. basammalíaxxia biiuuwuutasshiik deelé koon biixúhkaalaxchebaakaatik. binnéesappeele kookakawook. iikooshtakáatbaatchaache kookakawook. hello. my apsáalooke name is fortunate with horses and my english name is joree lafrance. i come from the greasy mouth clan and i am a child of the ties the bundle clan. i come from the river crow band. i am from the mighty few district at the foothills of the big horn mountains on the crow reservation in southeastern montana. 

cotnoir: my passion for environmental storytelling comes from recognizing that, although indigenous communities have contributed little to global carbon emissions, we are disproportionately impacted by the loss of species and habitats brought about by global warming. this disproportionate impact is because our spirituality and identities are formed through interactions with local plants, animals, medicines, land, and waters. thus, anything that threatens the health of local ecosystems threatens our community’s health.

today, my work in science communication is grounded in the recognition that science is but one among several ways of understanding the world. if we are to fully combat and adapt to climate change, we need policymakers and scientists to value other ways of knowing, including indigenous knowledge. indigenous knowledge is powerful because it is imbued with ethics, and it’s time and field-tested. indigenous knowledge teaches us what to look for — so it can help us better predict and adapt to environmental changes. i seek to honor indigenous ways of knowing, as well as the knowledge-bearers that have passed down their experiences to the younger generations through the stories i tell. 

lafrance: i am the 7th generation of chief déaxitchish/pretty eagle, the last principal chief of the apsáalooke nation, and one of the first five apsáalooke delegation members to travel to washington, d.c., on behalf of our people. i am proud to come from families who are known for our horsemanship, horse parade sets, our original red elk tooth dress, kindness, love, and hard work. my ultimate goal is to return to my homelands and continue my heart’s work. i strive to live in a world where my people can be unapologetically apsáalooke and am working hard to be a good ancestor.

palmer: where did the idea for the ilíiaitchik: indigenous correspondents program come from? what are you hoping to accomplish with this program?

cotnoir: we recognized the need for an indigenous space where students interested in sharing their experiences and communicating environmental issues to the general public can gather, form a community, and strengthen their communication skills by learning directly from indigenous leaders in the communication field. 

lafrance: although representation of indigenous writers, podcasters, filmmakers, and storytellers has grown in recent years, reporting about science and the environment has not always been inclusive nor respectful of indigenous communities and knowledge systems. 

cotnoir: in the past, reporting on “native issues” was typically done solely by non-indigenous reporters, with little to no continued connections to the communities they reported on beyond the interview period. today, a lot of work remains to make journalism — a process steeped in colonial ideas about who holds the right to tell stories — more accessible and equitable for native people. 

lafrance: although indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by climate change and global biodiversity loss, only a very small percentage of scientists, professors, and science journalists at u.s. universities and news organizations are indigenous. despite modest increases in indigenous representation among stem professionals in recent years, recent research from the institute for scientific information shows that between 2010 and 2020, there “was virtually no change in the representation of black, hispanic, and native american researchers among authors of scientific publications” a symptom of structural inequality, including underfunding of bipoc academics. this lack of resources and representation influences the coverage and perspectives around environmental justice, climate adaptation, and environmental policy issues while perpetuating harmful stereotypes about native communities. 

now is the time for indigenous people to write their own stories about their communities. we have the power to tell our own stories, we just need the space and the right tools. as indigenous graduate students working in environmental storytelling, we have worked hard to build the ilíiaitchik: indigenous correspondents program in the hopes that it will create a native space where our voices and perspectives inform and uplift one another.

***

stay tuned to planetfoward.org for an introduction of the incredible indigenous correspondent team and updates from the program!

it felt nice to feel so small. everyday i’m the center of my world, and it’s easy to get caught up in everything i have going on. but to feel tiny and insignificant gave me the freedom to slow down and take a breath. to walk through a forest that predates glaciers really puts my little life in perspective. and it feels so good to get lost in the wilderness (metaphorically, hopefully never literally). alaska is a place to go to lose yourself, and i think eventually find yourself.

––

editor’s note: lindblad expeditions, our planet forward storyfest competition partner, made this series possible by providing winners with an experiential learning opportunity aboard one of their ships. all editorial content is created independently. we thank lindblad expeditions for their continued support of our project. read all the stories from the expedition in our astonishing alaska series.

i was grateful to feel that on the boat as well. everyone on board had gratitude for the spaces we were able to explore and learn from. alaska has a long history of extraction where people have come to take advantage of the resources, animals, and people there, and before my trip, i was nervous about contributing to that. but now after talking to the naturalists and other guests, i’ve come to accept that humans, just like other animals do need and use parts of the environment. our responsibility is to not cause damage and be as subsistent as we can. along with the attention to not take away too much, i also realized i need to give back to spaces i’m in. i took away food, water, memories, and knowledge from alaska, and in return i made sure to pick up trash, spread seeds, and not bother animals when i could. going back to dc, i’m eager to grow the connections i have to the natural elements of my urban space so that eventually with volunteering i help can grow forests where we once had a yard; a river where we once had a stream; a family where we once had a group of strangers. i’m so grateful for this experience and am eager provide you with alaska’s story around lipids, from candlefish to whales to oil reserves.

––

editor’s note: lindblad expeditions, our planet forward storyfest competition partner, made this series possible by providing winners with an experiential learning opportunity aboard one of their ships. all editorial content is created independently. we thank lindblad expeditions for their continued support of our project. read all the stories from the expedition in our astonishing alaska series.

my intellectual curiosities were stoked by the seemingly endless knowledge of the many naturalists on board. the naturalists had incredible presentations about geology, glaciology, marine ecology, and even squid physiology (complete with a on-deck dissection of a squid we found on a beach)! i found myself falling deeper in love with the natural world and finding new exciting disciplines — like geology. i’ll be writing my story about the language of rocks — so stay tuned!

––

editor’s note: lindblad expeditions, our planet forward storyfest competition partner, made this series possible by providing winners with an experiential learning opportunity aboard one of their ships. all editorial content is created independently. we thank lindblad expeditions for their continued support of our project. read all the stories from the expedition in our astonishing alaska series.

another highlight of the trip was the experiences lindblad scheduled for the passengers. we were able to pack crusading by the glaciers, kayaking, and hiking into one day — and that was only on day two! my favorite excursion was biking in lutak. i would never have imagined saying i biked 9 miles watching the snowy mountains and the vast oceans in alaska, but now i can!

––

editor’s note: lindblad expeditions, our planet forward storyfest competition partner, made this series possible by providing winners with an experiential learning opportunity aboard one of their ships. all editorial content is created independently. we thank lindblad expeditions for their continued support of our project. read all the stories from the expedition in our astonishing alaska series.

national geographic explorer arati kumar-rao is on a mission to document what she calls “the slow violence of climate change” through visual storytelling over time. in this keynote presentation, she transports us to the flooded banks of the ganges river through photography and verse, and asks us to consider the responsibility we bear as chroniclers of the land in the midst of continuing crisis.

afterward, arati engages in a virtual q&a with students. learn more about her work on her website.

in this conversation from the 2022 planet forward summit, mala sharma, vice president and general manager of adobe creative cloud, shares her creative expertise, inspiration, and advice for emerging storytellers with planet 世界杯欧洲预选赛免费直播 diana quintero.

planet forward was honored to be featured as a creative changemaker at the 2021 adobe max conference. more here!

this year’s student storytelling was – in a word – exceptional, and the competition for the title of storyfest 2022 winner was incredibly tough. our finalists covered everything from musicians and scientists to farmers and community activists, and highlighted solutions on everything from new irrigation technology to mammoth resurrection. you can see all our amazing finalists’ pieces right here on planetforward.org.

after a great deal of deliberation from our committee of judges, we are excited to share our our 2022 winners:

most compelling character

plantita power: microgreens in the district

jennifer cuyuch, george washington university

the judges say:

through her warm interviews and vibrant use of music and graphics, the judges say jennifer not only conveys the character of plantita power’s founder, steph, but also their community and spirit of care and life – plants! – that they cultivate.

most creative story

‘coastal degradation through fresh eyes’: a picture book come to life

delaney graham, suny-esf

the judges say:

a thoroughly absorbing story built around storybook characters. amka’s friend, is a puffin who is homeless because of coastal erosion. they embark on a journey of discovery and hope. the story works and the characters pop. the judges were taken by the character – and the content.

best scalable innovation

farzona comnas, george washington university

the judges say:

beautifully written and photographed, this story is personal to farzona, focusing on deserts in her native country of jordan. they’re becoming hotter and drier as a result of climate change. farzona proposes planting forests in desert. sound impossible? she cites an initiative in lebanon that has done just that. the practice is called afforestation. project drawdown rates it 15th of the most significant steps we could take to reverse global warming. the judges say, this story delivers!

best science narrative

a tale of two mountains: battling climate change and wildfires at home and abroad

ryan bieber, ithaca college

the judges say:

ryan weaves a compelling narrative built on the science. it is a tale of two sierras. in california, the sierra nevada has experienced “nine out of ten of the state’s largest wildfires … in the last decade.” in spain, monoculture replanting in the sierra nevada became a fire trap. this story is a compelling narrative of learning and loss showing distinct ways that human activity has led to devastating wildfires. 

best use of science & data

hope flows through the heart of tucson: the santa cruz river heritage project

halley hughes, the university of arizona

the judges say:

halley brings the science and data to real-world life in her story about the santa cruz river heritage project. a “trickle of water” that represents “enormous change.” the story captures the heart and soul of the living desert. as halley writes, “making tucson more drought resilient, conserving water resources, supporting critical biodiversity, connecting a city to its heritage, and educating a new generation.”

––

congratulations to our winners — and a huge thank you to all the students who entered this year. we are so proud of the stories you are telling to 2022年卡塔尔世界杯官网 !

“we were kind of bored in the beginning,” juan carlos says. “back in those years the trails weren’t paved. you had to walk across lava rocks to go anywhere so we always came home with bruises and injuries on our knees.” 

earlier in his childhood, juan carlos grew up in the vibrant cloud forests of mainland ecuador. the region is considered one of the single richest biological hotspots on the planet. juan carlos could recall walking through the forest spotting a seemingly endless number of colorful birds, monkeys, and armadillos. when he moved to the galápagos islands, all he could see in the surrounding highlands of santa cruz island were just some dark colored finches. little did juan carlos know at the time that these very same finches helped charles darwin produce his theory of evolution, which changed the way in how we all understand the natural world. 

even darwin shared similar thoughts when he first landed on the galapagos 154 years before juan carlos: “nothing could be less inviting than the first appearance. a broken field of black basaltic lava, thrown into the most rugged waves, and crossed by great fissures, is everywhere covered by stunted, sun-burnt brushwood, which shows little signs of life.” 

juan carlos recalled the moment when he changed his mind about life on the enchanted islands after seeing a giant tortoise for the first time. “i couldn’t believe these big things could walk! when we were kids, there were no tvs and no electricity, so we would just get close to the giant tortoises and watch them for hours!”

as a kid growing up on the galápagos islands, juan carlos didn’t have the same access to what the tourists would see. that all changed when he won a voyage on a ship in high school to visit several other islands. 

“everything was different to me, beginning with the rocks,” he says. before his famed voyage on the h.m.s. beagle, darwin was a disinterested medical student who later found his pathway into naturalism through geology. darwin, too, made careful observations about the geological differences within the galápagos islands.

“when i arrived at north seymour island for the first time, i started to compare how it was different from santa cruz,” juan carlos says. there, he could see vast colonies of frigate birds with their characteristic red pouches, blue-footed boobies engaged in courtship rituals, and land iguanas scattered across the decorative landscape. 

“i was like, ‘oh my god! everything is so different from santa cruz!’”

as juan carlos continued his journey to the islands of espanola and floreana, he started to learn more about the human history of the galápagos. well before juan carlos’s family, and even before darwin himself arrived, many pirates, whalers, and naturalists paid the archipelago a visit. “they paved the road for people like my family to eventually come and do farming,” says juan carlos, who also now owns a farm on santa cruz island, like his father before him. 

after graduating high school, juan carlos was set on becoming a mechanical engineer on a boat, before stumbling on an opportunity to become a naturalist guide. “once i became a naturalist, i realized this is what i wanted to do (with my life),” he says. 

juan carlos has now been a naturalist guide with lindblad expeditions for 16 years. as the expedition leader aboard the national geographic endeavour ii, he enjoys working for a company like lindblad that is deeply and actively involved in the conservation of the islands. “it’s not like we just operate here, bring visitors, take photographs and then they go away. it is about bringing visitors who would like to do something to preserve these natural places,” he says. “they want to be a part of long-lasting change, and that’s what i like about this company. that is why i am here.”  

to juan carlos, the job of a naturalist has changed a lot since the days of darwin. “back in those years of exploration, during the time of darwin, a naturalist would catch and shoot animals, do taxidermy, and sell their specimens to museums and universities as a type of business,” he says. 

today, a naturalist must be a permanent resident on the galápagos islands. they no longer catch and kill animals; instead, they must keep visitors from disturbing them. “today, the connotation of a naturalist is something different. they must be somebody who knows a lot about nature, biology, and geology. they must embody the spirit of conservation and be good at passing down the messages and concepts of natural history,” juan carlos says.  

while the galápagos islands face several threats like climate change and invasive species, naturalists like juan carlos are working hard to ensure their home can continue to inspire future generations who wish to visit and conserve these enchanted islands. 

there’s certainly no lack of social justice issues to choose from in the 21st century, but i was particularly interested in songs about climate change. i didn’t expect much in the mainstream way — somehow ariana grande’s new song from the movie “don’t look up,” featuring the line “get your head out of your a**. listen to the goddamn qualified scientists. we really f****d it up, f****d it up this time,” didn’t seem as poetically transcendent as a bob dylan verse. 

instead, i looked back in the direction of folk and found pinegrove, an indie rock band with a new album titled “11:11” on the way. from the first single on the album, titled “orange” –– which was inspired by photos of an oregon wildfire circulating the web –– to songs such as “flora,” “respirate,” and “11th hour,” the themes of the environment and the increasing pressure of the climate crisis are clear.

in a recent interview, evan stephens hall, singer-songwriter and frontman for pinegrove, walked me through his songwriting process and inspiration behind the album. he also gave insight on how he incorporates activism in his daily life and how he copes with the current state of climate change.

this interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

q: looking at the tracklist, most songs have some form of allusion to nature and climate change. was this intentional from the start or was the larger theme revealed to you the more you wrote and recorded?

a: i always go in wanting to write honestly about whatever i’m thinking about and especially whenever i’m feeling. between march and may of 2020, i was feeling a lot of pretty new things, and a lot of pretty intense things, and so it’s no surprise to me that a lot of climate anxiety made it onto the album. once i started to see those themes, then i wanted to emphasize or strengthen the themes, so that each song could sort of speak to the other songs without, ideally, being too redundant.

q: in the youtube description of the song orange, you describe “the ethereal, almost dissociative feeling of being alive at the end of history.” in particular, you sing the lyrics, “i try to laugh, or sleep it off. that awful feeling something’s off.”

is this feeling –– that we’re witnessing the beginning of the end –– something that weighs on you often? how do you cope? and do you remain optimistic?

a: yeah, you know, for every year between 2016 and 2020, i was so despondent. i cope with it by writing music –– and i also have to say one incredible way to work through it is to get involved. i’ve volunteered dozens of hours phone banking for bernie [sanders] and it really felt good to have conversations with people. i’ve moved from a place of actual despondency about our future to something a little bit… you might almost call it optimistic.

q: how do you balance making a song that’s catchy and enjoyable to listen to while conveying a message about a topic as serious, and at times as complex, as climate change?

a: i do try to avoid being too didactic. i’ve always thought that it’s important for there to be enough space for the listener to put themselves in and step into the song and imagine it. at least for my vision, it needs to be sort of accessible in some way, and also abstract enough. there’s something interesting about saying something, but kind of reframing it as something more accessible. for me, it’s more like a catchy melody or something like that, but the idea is that there’s something for everybody there.

q: as you said, often in music, people find comfort in relatability, where they can recognize themselves or their experiences in the lyrics. the interesting thing is as climate change affects more and more people globally, this too will have a greater sense of universality. do you think in this respect, the number of songs about climate change will increase in the coming years? 

a: how could it be any other way? more people will personally know somebody who’s affected or they themselves will be affected and i think we’re just going to see more people talking about it. hopefully that results in some real change. but i wouldn’t think of it as a trend, it’s more of just like an alarm bell.

q: it’s interesting because when i look to the past i see music and activism being so tightly linked. where is the anthem for this generation?

a: i think that the way people consume music is a little bit different. i feel like everybody’s listening habits are very decentralized… but you’re right that music is a great format for activism. i think that [just music] won’t do on its own, but it’s part of the conversation.

q: there’s certainly a faction of music lovers who believe musicians shouldn’t be activists and simply just want to hear them make music. there’s a certain ‘shut up and play’ aspect to it. do you think musicians have a role as activists, to use their platforms for a greater cause?

a: there’s not a template that you can superimpose on every other artist, so i want to speak very narrowly here, but the way i feel is that i have a microphone and i want to say what’s on my mind. i’m making the sort of art that i want to make and people engaging with it is completely voluntary, so i really have no interest in entertaining this ‘shut up and play’ crowd. 

of course they’re saying stuff in the comments occasionally. but you know what, there are many, many more people who are saying like, ‘thanks for speaking about this,’ or best yet, ‘i haven’t thought about it in this way.’

q: would you consider yourself an activist? would you consider the music you create a form of activism?

a: i would, but i also want to push back slightly against just categorizing myself as an activist because in a certain way that says that i’m different than a regular person or regular citizen. in reality, the barrier to entry is non-existent. absolutely anybody can be an activist. and i think that even if you’re thinking remotely revolutionary thoughts, or you’re interested, or you’re just feeling upset about the climate, to feel that grief fully is a revolutionary action, and we need you in the movement.

i’m not a policy expert, i’m not a climate scientist, but i do have a lot of experience writing songs. this is just what i have to give and i think that everybody has a role in the coming times, and we need to kind of humbly embrace what that is and do it, to the best effect. that’s the way community works.

q: what are you hoping people will take away after listening to the album?

a: i hope that there are some people who will feel a little bit of comfort hearing these songs. it’s, in some small way, optimistic, though it’s honest about the challenges we face. hopefully it’s a bit of a rorschach. you can find what you need in the moment and that’s all welcome and that’s all good. i’m just happy people are listening.

— 

the new pinegrove album “11:11” is out now.