Pollution at Čhokáŋ Taŋka - Pig's Eye Regional Park

Surrounded by tall grasses, it’s easy to admire the beauty of this place. Countless bird species call to each other over the soft hum of crickets. Pollinators like monarchs and bumblebees abound amongst the wildflowers. I spot gnawed tree stumps courtesy of beavers along the rugged path as a goldfinch darts into view. Just as soon as the senses get a reprieve from city life, a screeching railroad car cuts through the peace followed by beeping trucks somewhere in the distance. Unfortunately, we are not here today to appreciate the wildlife but to assess the damage from a roughly 720-gallon diesel spill in Battle Creek by Canadian Pacific Railway, the effects of which have silenced frogs along the banks heard by park goers just the week before.

Photo taken by park-goer Kathy Sidles the morning before the diesel spill.

Multiple oil booms were placed along Battle Creek by Hazmat crews the week of the spill.

The 1,200-acre public park land in St. Paul known as Pig’s Eye Regional Park is the greenspace that too few people know about but whose story is much the same as Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary/Wakáŋ Tipi. The park is surrounded by private industry on all sides; to the west a wood chipper and soil dump, to the north and east the railroads, and to the south a scrap metal processing facility and asphalt plant, all of which present both a physical and psychological barrier to access the space. Historically, the site also earned the title of the state's largest unpermitted dump, accepting trash from nearby private businesses, industry, and the public for over a decade starting in 1956. To make matters worse, this dump site was put on a crucial floodplain area where waters travel to reach the Mississippi. Although it earned a Superfund site designation in the 90s with cleanup efforts starting in 1999, the site has been all but forgotten. For far too long this land has remained nothing short of a sacrifice zone.

Even amidst these heavy industries and historical pollution, mother nature has staked her claim in the park. Clean soil and new trees planted in the area as part of the initial remediation have allowed winged and four legged relatives like the Great Blue Heron, the red fox, and eagles to return to the area known as Čhokáŋ Taŋka (the “big middle”) by our Dakota ancestors. Less than a mile from Wakáŋ Tipi Cave, it is easy to imagine the village at Kaposia using this land to hunt, fish, and gather in times past as Pig’s Eye Lake was once an area of great beauty, original to the landscape even before the Mississippi River was forced to remain in her current path.

But isolated within an industrial corridor, the burgeoning wildlife currently within Pig’s Eye Regional Park now faces threats of pollution from every side. The most omnipresent force being the railroad; the noise emanating from the railway reaching an eerie pitch every so often. The recent diesel spill that spread into the waters of Battle Creek which feeds directly into Pig’s Eye Lake is nothing new for the railroad industry in this area. In January of 2019, the Star Tribune reported on a 2,000-gallon diesel spill into Battle Creek, with the cold temperatures making cleanup more difficult as the fuel was trapped under ice. Another 3,200-gallon spill in 2018 went directly into the Mississippi after a Union Pacific train derailed at the Hoffman Bridge in St. Paul. Although diesel can evaporate making it shorter lived in the environment than crude oil, it is more acutely toxic to any plant or animal it encounters.

Photo of Pig’s Eye Regional Park with the adjacent railway to the East.

Of course, the larger the spill the more attention the press and the public may give it. But what about spills under 1,000 gallons such as the one last week? Were it not for the presence of community activists like Tom Dimond and Kiki Sonnen (artist who created the watercolor map featured above) to witness the presence of Hazmat crews days after the spill, the City of St. Paul may not have been alerted. The St. Paul Fire Department has its own emergency response team to contribute valuable resources and expertise, but the privately contracted cleanup crews arrived and acted without their input or support. Minnesota law only requires railroad companies to report incidents to the MPCA and not to the city.

To make matters worse, monitoring spills from the railroad through the MPCA database is difficult. While there are dozens if not hundreds of reports made each day throughout Minnesota, spill incidents can only be searched for by who reported it rather than by location. Hundreds of trains pass through the railway system in the area, making potential spills a key concern for the park; but the current tracking system makes it difficult to see any data for spills near and at Pig’s Eye Regional Park or to know the frequency of spill events, as even the smallest spills will have an impact if the trend continues over time.

Questions remain for how to hold railroad companies responsible for the spills they create. Beyond the initial clean-up efforts, will there be fines? And should private polluting industries contribute to habitat restoration if their presence is so heavily felt within the park? Government officials could start by demanding transparency about spills and prompt reporting to government agencies including the city, as this case demonstrates how easily pollution incidents can be swept under the rug. This is especially important in Pig’s Eye Regional Park as the city of St. Paul hopes to increase much needed access to the park and create more recreational opportunities according to their Great River Passage Master Plan. Although the surrounding predominantly BIPOC community in the Battle Creek-Highwood neighborhood could use the greenspace, these communities do not deserve a park that continues to be polluted.

If you are interested in visiting this beautiful park, email neighborhood activists Tom Dimond(tdimond@q.com) and Kiki Sonnen(kikisonnen@gmail.com) who give community tours and visit the park every week on Tuesday and Saturday mornings. 

You can also show support for this park and express your concern over railroad pollution by emailing the local city council (ward7@ci.stpaul.mn.us) represented by Jane Prince, the district council represented by Betsy Mowry Voss (Betsy@southeastside.org) and Minnesota House Representative Jay Xiong (rep.jay.xiong@house.mn) who represents the district 67B containing Pig’s Eye.

Sample email format:

RE: Pig’s Eye Regional Park Pollution 

“Dear (Councilmember/Representative) _____, My name is _____ and I am a (city) community member. The recent and ongoing pollution at Pig’s Eye Regional Park is distressing. I am writing to urge our elected officials to hold polluting industries like the railroad accountable for their actions. This includes timely reporting to the city as well as state agencies to allow for greater visibility. The surrounding communities and ecosystem deserve a clean and safe park space.”

Plants That Doctor The Earth: A Mid-Summer Appreciation of the Cottonwood

In 2021, Wakáŋ Tipi is home to thousands of plant species. Considering the devastating pollution European settlers and industrial capitalists brought to this sacred site, the revival of a diverse and thriving ecosystem is no small feat. Yet there is at least one relative that has borne witness to the destruction and regeneration of this place. A cottonwood tree, potentially over 200 years old, sits at the edge of a wet prairie and looks east to a restored oak savanna. This tree is home to eagles, relatives who have only recently returned to this place. This waǧačhaŋ — this čaŋ wakáŋ — lived at a time when nearly the entire sanctuary surrounding Wakáŋ Tipi was a true floodplain forest, intertwined with the ebbs and floes of the Wakpá Taŋka, and it has remained here as this area becomes cared for and respected once again.

In Gifts of the Cottonwood, our July 7th webinar (full recording here), we explored the strength and versatility of cottonwoods, from their role in traditional Dakota stories and in ceremony, to their gifts of medicine and food to humans and non-humans alike. From salicin to the five-pointed star; from temperature control to cambium — the cottonwood has long been an anchor of the Mississippi River floodplain and a beloved relative to us all.

A slide from our webinar describes the distinctive bark (thick, dark gray, and deeply ridged), leaves (teardrop-shaped, with flat stems and toothed edges), height (from 75 to 100 feet tall), and seeds (cotton-like, white, and fluffy, shed from the branches in the millions in warm-weather seasons) of the cottonwood.

We began the webinar by sharing a story that was once shared with us: the traditional Dakota story of the star in the cottonwood tree, as told by Mary Louise Defender Wilson.

Nakota/Dakota elder Jim Red Eagle carried this story into a beautiful conversation on the deep value of the cottonwood in Dakota culture and lifeways. The language alone — waǧačaŋ, čaŋ wakáŋ, čaŋyaȟu — reflects this. Jim spoke to the many ways cottonwoods feature in Dakota life. Watch the webinar recording from the 21-minute mark to the 32-minute mark, and from the 41-minute mark to the 1:03-minute mark to hear this wonderful knowledge directly from Jim!

In perfect harmony with Jim’s portion of the conversation, Mishaila Bowman, our Cultural Programs Coordinator & Communications Specialist, walked us through the myriad medicinal and edible gifts provided by cottonwoods. The slideshow above describes how the nutrient-rich cambium (inner bark) of a cottonwood trunk can be safely and respectfully harvested for use in food preparations. The slideshow below describes how naturally-occurring salicin (found in the bark) and sticky resin (found in leaf buds) provide numerous medicinal benefits to human bodies.

As valuable as cottonwoods are to us, they are also critical to a healthy ecosystem. As the fastest-growing tree on Turtle Island, cottonwoods rely on resilient characteristics — including an extensive root system and the ability to process up to 200 gallons of water per day — to thrive. But yet another way in which cottonwoods are unique is in their ability to process a range of contaminants and pollutants. This series of processes, collectively known as phytoremediation, is when a plant relative graciously takes toxic substances and makes them less harmful to the surrounding ecosystem, by either trapping and isolating these substances in one spot, filtering the substances through its system, or breaking down and eliminating the substance from the environment altogether!

Keeli Siyaka, our Environmental Justice Educator & Organizer, explained to us how cottonwoods reduce the presence of toxic substances in our soil and water, from elemental heavy metals like nickel and lead, to man-made industrial solvents like trichloroethylene. There is something deeply beautiful about a relative that knows how to gather elements that pollute and harm others, and has learned how to untangle the toxic and unnatural compounds our society has forced upon our world. Cottonwoods, then, don’t just carry out the same functions in the same places year after year — like any good relative, they’re listening and paying attention, adapting to the world around them, and acting not only in their best interests, but in the interests of their surrounding community.

Any conversation about phytoremediation should also include consideration of what causes the need for these restorative practices. Humans have been pumping chemicals like trichlorethylene into the environment for roughly 100 years, but these actions have had devastating, and in many cases, permanent consequences for life on this planet. Poly- and per-fluoroalkyl substances (PFAS), commonly known as forever chemicals, will persist in our soil and water for thousands of years, and to this point, no amount of phytoremediation has been proven to degrade or diminish their volatility.

It should be mentioned that research is underway to study whether plant-based phytoremediation can reduce the impact and presence of PFAS. As exciting as this possibility may be, though, it begs the question: How much should we ask our plant relatives to take on the burden of our mistakes? Is it right to seek reactive practices that address pollution only after it has occurred? In learning more about the deeply fascinating and powerful properties of the cottonwood, we must also reflect on the appropriate ways to work with this knowledge. Below, Sam Wegner, our Environmental Stewardship Program Manager, walked us through some of these considerations.

There are so many more questions we could ask, and so much more we could learn! Please pay the same respect to this knowledge that you would share to cottonwoods themselves — consider whether it is appropriate for you to harvest from cottonwoods, or how you might contribute to their continued health. Consider that cottonwoods are regenerating at a concerningly low rate along the Mississippi River valley, as a result of long-term intervention by humans in the natural ebbs and floes of a floodplain ecosystem, and with increasing pressures from climate change. Consider that Dakota communities have few places where they are able to practice their culture and lifeways, and few opportunities to relate to plant relatives in the ways they are accustomed to. Consider that we are all bound together in this ecosystem, and that we would do well to support each other as cottonwoods support us.

Plant Medicine and Perseverance

On May 26th, LPCP—alongside the Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center and Native Roots Radio—hosted our Traditional Health & Wellbeing During COVID-19 And Beyond webinar! (Watch the recording on our YouTube page!) We welcomed an incredible group of panelists, including Tipiziwiŋ Tolman (Wičhíyena Dakota and Húŋkpapȟa Lakȟóta), Ella Robertson (Sisítuŋwaŋ Dakota), and Hope Flanagan (Seneca, Turtle Clan). We spent a jam-packed two hours learning about the importance of using our traditional plant medicines like cedar, elderberry, bear root, chaga and more through COVID-19 and beyond.

In this month’s blog, we’d like to highlight some of the amazing knowledge that was shared with us. Please remember that the recipes and practices described below come from generations of Indigenous communities. This knowledge has been passed down, almost exclusively as oral history, and is essential to the revitalization of many Native languages and cultures. The relationships that Native people have fostered with plant and animal relatives, and with Uŋči Maka, are sacred, and should be treated as such. With that, it is also our hope that this information strengthens our collective relationships with traditional medicines. We all deserve the opportunity to reconnect with our ecosystem, no matter where we come from or where we live. As our panelists were sure to note, though, we must be mindful of where, when, and how we participate.

Our panelists shared with us the knowledge that has been passed down to them, and below, we pass these teachings on once more. Many of these recipes have been particularly helpful for those suffering from COVID-19—but we find that many of these recipes will still be useful for our communities now and into the future!

Tipiziwiŋ Tolman shared the many ways that she has sought to care for her community in recent years. From the longstanding food apartheid that forces a scarcity of grocery stores and nutritious foods near tribal communities like the Standing Rock Reservation, to the disproportionate impacts of COVID-19 across Indian Country, Tipiziwiŋ has sought to use traditional medicines and non-Western treatments to help address a wide variety of issues. In the past fifteen months of the COVID era, she has produced a number of products, often distributed free of charge, to support Native communities during this isolating time.

Tipiziwin Tolman's Recipes for Health & Wellbeing

From our webinar: "Everything I make, I pray with first, and while I’m making it. If I’m making a large quantity, I make it late in the evening to let it cool overnight. Throughout the time I take to make it, I like to smudge the food medicines that I make, and I pray for the people I’m making these medicines for — I want these medicines to comfort and nourish them. I put all of the love that I have for my people into these medicines."

Mix & pack mixture, weighed down with a heavy plate; solid should be below liquids

SAUERKRAUT

Cabbage + salt

Mix & pack mixture, weighed down with a heavy plate; solid should be below liquids

For amt. of salt, measure 2% of cabbage's weight in grams

This is good for your stomach lining, your gut health, and your immune system!

Let cool, strain, add honey (use in short period of time)

ELDERBERRY SYRUP

1 lb. dried elderberry : 5-6 qts boiling water

Let cool, strain, add honey (use in short period of time)

[This drink was particularly useful as a cough suppressant and immunity booster for those suffering from “COVID cough” symptoms.]

Ella Robertson's Recipes for Health & Wellbeing

Ella shared so much with us—not only in terms of what our plant medicines can do for us, but also with regard to how we build and foster these relationships with our plant relatives. Ella emphasized that so much of this process is about becoming in-tune with mother nature, harvesting in a responsible manner, and being mindful of how and how much we harvest, to leave some for others and to leave some for future years. We were reminded of just how endangered these plant medicines are—whether it is pollution, over-harvesting, or even the unhealthy cultural attitudes that so often dominate the land, we must work to protect and respect these sacred areas so that future generations have access to these relatives and teachings.

One of the most common & simple teas | high in antioxidants

WAȞPÉ - LEADPLANT TEA

Boil water and steep crushed/chopped/bunched leaves

One of the most common & simple teas | high in antioxidants

Add ginger and lavender to use as a spritzer!

Take during the day (not at night - this is a stimulant)

WAȞPÉ WAŠTEMNA

Boil 3-4 coneheads of horsemint / spotted bee balm with 4 cups of water

Take during the day (not at night - this is a stimulant)

Equipment: cutting board, sauce pan, strainers / cheesecloth, containers

PLANTAIN SALVE

Ingredients: one large common plantain leaf, coconut oil, horsemint, beeswax

Equipment: cutting board, sauce pan, strainers / cheesecloth, containers

Cook over low heat for 3-5 minutes; add beeswax until dissolved; strain mixture into containers and let cool

This salve is a wonderful treatment for a range of skin irritants and allergies!

Hope Flanagan's Recipes for Health & Wellbeing

Hope has so many beautiful stories to tell. Her teachings on how we respect and honor our plant relatives have taken up residence in our hearts. We owe our plant relatives a contract to provide them with clean water, clean air, and healthy soil. The plants are older than us; they’re our elders! When you thank our plant relatives, they come closer to you. Hope reminded us to always put down offerings for the gift of medicine. If we don’t thank our elders (plant relatives, animal relatives, humans), they will leave us. Climate change is causing many of our relatives to leave us. This is why it's so important to spend time with the plants, get to know them. It’s the spirit of the plant that you’re working with, as well as its biochemistry.

Grind dried roots together & steep for tea

CLEANSING TEA

Clean and let dry burdock root, dandelion root, and curly dock root

Grind dried roots together & steep for tea

Mixture can also be inhaled (smoke) or absorbed by steam

Harvest these roots in early spring or late fall

This medicine is especially helpful in cleaning the livers and kidneys of human bodies!

Drink once in the morning and once in the evening

CHAGA TEA

Boil water, then submerge & steep chunks of chaga

Drink once in the morning and once in the evening

Chaga is a fungus, containing betulin, that grows from wounded areas on birch trees

This medicine is known to be effective in reducing the size of cancerous tumors!

SALVE

Melt down bear fat over low heat; add spring- harvested tamarack bark, balsam poplar buds, beeswax, and beaver castor

Planting Moon in a Warming Climate

We are in the midst of one of the longest spring seasons in recent memory. In the month of March, statewide, the preliminary average temperature was 7.4 degrees above normal. This spring overall has followed a recent and growing trend of warmer and wetter months.

A 2019 fact sheet from the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources displays the many ways in which our climate is steadily changing. These changes have many direct impacts on our human and non-human relatives throughout the ecosystem.

We could write a separate post dedicated solely to climate change and its disparate impact on lower-income and POC communities. But here in May, as we are surrounded by fragrant blooms, vibrant colors, and the music of birdsong, it feels important to explore and celebrate all of this life bravely bursting forth into our world. Similarly, while we will face increasingly difficult challenges in the quest to keep our ecosystem intact, we can find solace in the strength, wisdom, and beauty of Indigenous ways of knowing, being with, and caring for our Uŋči Maka. These values have been with us for generations, and they will carry forward for the generations to come.

Native prairie grasses sprout up through detritus in an area near one of Wakáŋ Tipi’s three wetlands. Five acres of prairie were treated by prescribed burn in April. Clumps of milkweed fluff—released late from last fall’s pods—cling to the new-growth grass stems.

One such value—the controlled, intentional burning of a landscape—is becoming increasingly important in a rapidly warming climate. With higher average temperatures and extreme weather events fueling rapid oscillations between periods of heavy precipitation and extended drought, our plant communities are more susceptible to wildfires. The settler-colonial management practice of fire suppression has also augmented these risks, prioritizing commercial timber operations and other infrastructure projects over the basic stewardship of fire-dependent ecosystems. An article detailing the efforts of the Yurok Tribe to restore Indigenous ecological management practices to California’s lands describes the context of this settler-colonial philosophy: “Fire-suppression rules have sharply curtailed the ability of Indigenous communities to conduct traditional burns. Native Americans still face persecution and penalty when they try to use fire in line with their traditions—even on public lands where they often hold treaty rights to hunt, fish and gather.” Prescribed burns allow for massive regrowth and encourage biodiversity; without them Indigenous communities not only lose the vital cultural resources provided by this practice—the cultural practices themselves become lost.

It is with this perspective in mind that we approached a five-acre controlled burn at Wakáŋ Tipi / Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary in mid-April. Though this practice is currently conducted by the City of Saint Paul Natural Resources department, it is valuable to have the land cared for in this way, and with coalitions like the Indigenous Peoples Burning Network connecting more groups with one another, Indigenous communities are beginning to reclaim this relationship to land and to fire.

Dakota people have survived and thrived for generations with the passed down knowledge of our traditional foods, plant relatives and medicines. This spring, LPCP’s Communications & Cultural Programs Coordinator, Mishaila Bowman, created this incredible plant medicine guide to continue this legacy of sharing the ways in which our plant relatives care for us.

Join us on Wednesday, May 26th, from 6-8pm, and learn from speakers Tipiziwin Tolman (Wičhíyena Dakota and Húŋkpapȟa Lakȟóta), Ella Robertson (Sisítuŋwaŋ Dakota) and Hope Flanagan (Seneca, Turtle Clan) about the importance of using our traditional plant medicines like cedar, mint, elderberry, bear root, coneflower, rose hips and more through COVID-19 and beyond.

Wičhágnaška (buffalo currant or golden currant) spotted at Wakáŋ Tipi in late April.

Elsewhere at Wakáŋ Tipi, many of our plant relatives are again showing themselves. Buffalo currant, pictured above, is one of many shrubs starting to come into full flower. Both the berries and flowers of this plant are edible! Other fruit-bearing shrubs and trees you may see throughout the sanctuary include elderberry, chokecherry, hackberry, and many more!

As we’ve mentioned in previous blog posts and on our social media, you may also encounter many displaced plant relatives throughout the sanctuary. Displaced plant relatives often discourage the mutual thriving of other species, usually by spreading rapidly, degrading soil quality, and making themselves difficult to remove. Research conducted on-site at Wakáŋ Tipi / Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary has found that many portions of the 27-acre sanctuary have become dominated by displaced plant relatives like burdock, buckthorn, garlic mustard, crown vetch, thistle, and more. Accordingly, in 2021, our first of a five-year Natural Resource Management Plan, our schedule calls for the removal of many displaced plant relatives to encourage healthier soils and increased biodiversity. We accept this practice as necessary for a better ecosystem, but we also find ourselves wanting to respect these displaced relatives, celebrate them for what they provide, and acknowledge the value they hold.

Many of our friends and knowledge keepers have long celebrated and appreciated the value of displaced and discounted plant relatives. The wonderful staff at Dream of Wild Health continued a long legacy of beautiful relationships with our plant relatives during their recent Sacred Medicines & Garden Beginnings workshop. Elsewhere, ethnobotanist and ecologist Linda Black Elk is currently wrapping up a 7-part virtual workshop series focused on Culturally Important Plants and the values, practices, and relationships Indigenous communities have developed with them.

We like to end each blog post with a call to action, in some shape or form. This month, above all else, we encourage you to spend time outside, learning the names of your plant relatives, getting to know them. If you forage or harvest any of these relatives, do so with respect and mindfulness for each plant. Consider the principles of the honorable harvest. Make sure you are not harvesting from a location with high amounts of pollutants and toxicity in the air, water, or soil. And if you remove a displaced plant relative to make room for the thriving of others, remember that this plant, too, has a place and a value in our world. Whatever you do, take a moment to place yourself—and the plant relatives you spend time with—in context with the entirety of our ecosystem.

Environmental Justice and the East Side

No Justice, No Us

April: Earth Month. Ever a season of change, birth, renewal. It is a time when we notice the smell of fresh, warming earth, the feel of sunshine on our cheeks, the sound of migrating birds cheering their return. Here at Lower Phalen Creek Project, April is a time to give thanks to our Uŋčí Maka — our Grandmother Earth —  and a time to express gratitude for all the plant and animal relatives who come back to us and enrich our lives. 

Yet in this season, as we see the snow melting away and the soil laid bare — as our world feels ripe with possibility and an impending burst of life — we also find certain inconvenient truths rising to the surface. Many of us, no matter where we live, can clearly see how climate change is impacting our lives. For many BIPOC communities, though — and right here on the East Side, in fact — a polluted, unsafe environment is nothing new. Industrialization across Turtle Island has brought wealth to some, and sickness to many. This shameful practice is a cornerstone of American society, and it has a name: environmental racism. What does this mean, you ask? We like this definition, from Green Action, which names environmental racism as “the institutional rules, regulations, policies or government and/or corporate decisions that deliberately target certain communities for locally undesirable land uses [...] resulting in communities being disproportionately exposed to toxic and hazardous waste based upon race.” Put more simply, it means that when powerful institutions know the harmful effects of industry and development, they almost always choose to extend that harm from our planet to our people. 

Pictured is a map of Saint Paul’s East Side, with a yellow circle displaying a one-mile radius from Wakáŋ Tipi / Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary. Over 30 sites within the radius currently report toxic releases, water discharges, air pollution, or Brownfields to the Environmental Protection Agency. The map is part of the EPA’s EJSCREEN Mapping Tool.

But what does environmental racism look like? First and foremost, it is about land. It is about the genocide and displacement of Indigenous nations across Turtle Island. It is about the decimation of the bison and the prairie to make room for cattle and for corn. It is about the United States government dishonoring ill-begotten treaties and starving Dakota people on our own homelands, and following this atrocity with war and exile.

Environmental racism continued after the War of 1862 with the development of the City of Saint Paul. The East Side itself is a prime example of this process. First came an altered landscape. The riverbed of the Mississippi was dredged and dumped on the shoreline to create more space for an active port. Railroad companies, seeking a way to transport resources from further inland, blasted Wakáŋ Tipi cave with dynamite to force a pathway up between the sandstone bluffs of the East Side and the hillier parts of downtown Saint Paul. With the expansion of industry across the state of Minnesota, Saint Paul’s population quadrupled — from 33,000 in 1880 to 144,000 in 1890. This boom was good for businesses, but caused the unequal pattern of development, displacement, and neglect that characterizes Saint Paul communities today. In the twentieth century, the practice of redlining designated East Side neighborhoods, inhabited largely by people of color and recent immigrants, as “definitely declining” or even “hazardous” areas. During this time, East Side businesses like 3M, Whirlpool, and Hamm’s Brewery brought thousands of jobs to the area, but ultimately produced significant amounts of industrial pollution and relocated their operations, restarting the cycle of disinvestment and decline.

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Today, the East Side faces many of the same issues it faced over one hundred years ago. Lower health outcomes among East Side residents are augmented by close proximity to highways, a legacy of heavy industry, and limited access to transit, healthcare, and healthy foods. As Zedé Harut of Grand Risings Farm explains it, the resulting situation is not accidental. What we know as “food deserts” are not naturally-occurring nutritional dead zones, but rather the product of processes like redlining and disinvestment. Similarly, the way to resolve these issues is not simply to drop “healthy foods” into these neighborhoods. Much like the process of restoring and remediating polluted land, food deserts require comprehensive changes in policy and social practices so that the residents in these neighborhoods can grow and thrive.

But let us hone in, for a moment, on how one small area can embody the systems we’re discussing. The images above show how the area of Wakáŋ Tipi has been thoroughly shaped by environmental racism — but these images also show it has been reshaped — and reclaimed — through practices of environmental justice.

As the story of Wakáŋ Tipi shows us, environmental racism is not solely a result of industrial production; it is as much a process of neglect as anything else. As much destruction and damage as the railroad caused to this site, years of abandonment allowed over 50 tons of trash and litter to accumulate in this 30-acre parcel of land. Relatedly, the industrial activities on site contaminated the soil with mercury and asbestos. The capitalist practice of using, abusing, and discarding land creates a vicious cycle of waste. But it does not need to be this way. The images above remind us that human beings have lived on this land — cared for it and been cared for by it — for generations. Just as human beings need this land, this land needs human beings.

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There are others who recognize that the justice we seek is one that heals us at the same time that it heals the land. We seek the type of justice that Mexica artist, musician, and activist Xiuhtezcatl Martinez writes about when he describes a shift in our collective conscience. We seek the type of justice first set forth in 17 Principles of Environmental Justice at the First National People of Color Environmental Justice Leadership Summit in October of 1991: namely, an environmental justice that “affirms the sacredness of Mother Earth, ecological unity and the interdependence of all species, and the right to be free from ecological destruction.”

What do these values look like to us? How do we apply them in our lives? If we start with the sacredness of Uŋči Maka, all else follows. This all-encompassing respect for our earth is the basis for Dakota lifeways and so much of traditional ecological knowledge. We see ecological unity reflected in the Dakota value of mitákuye oyásiŋ — we are all related. If we are to view every element of our entire ecosystem not only as living, but as a relative, we recognize our interdependence, and take full responsibility for our mutual thriving. The practice of the honorable harvest bears out this shared responsibility. As Potowatomi scientist and professor Robin Wall Kimmerer describes it: “the Honorable Harvest, a practice both ancient and urgent, applies to every exchange between people and the Earth. Its protocol is not written down, but if it were, it would look something like this:

“Ask permission of the ones whose lives you seek. Abide by the answer.
Never take the first. Never take the last.
Harvest in a way that minimizes harm.
Take only what you need and leave some for others.
Use everything that you take.
Take only that which is given to you.
Share it, as the Earth has shared with you.
Be grateful.
Reciprocate the gift.
Sustain the ones who sustain you, and the Earth will last forever.”

— Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass (p. 183)

As Kimmerer is careful to emphasize, the honorable harvest is not a hard and fast rule but rather a practice, a way of being in and with the world. This month, as we prepare 500 medicine bundles for our Indigenous community members, our minds are occupied with the nature of harvest. When encountering our traditional medicines in their natural habitats, we encourage all of you to consider the honor of your harvest.

Another way in which we see the interdependence of all species is in the conversation surrounding so-called “invasive” plant species. Conventional Western knowledge sees plants as either beneficial to surrounding biodiversity and belonging in a habitat, or detrimental and deserving of removal. And make no mistake — some plant relatives take up more space for themselves, crowding out other species and degrading the quality of the soil they live in. While our habitat restoration projects demand that we remove these misplaced relatives so others can thrive, we seek to do this work in a manner that reflects the agency and life of the so-called “invasives.” For instance, we can find multiple uses — medicinal, edible, functional — for many of these relatives. If we work toward this relational change, we may find it easier to view our ecosystem as a living, breathing, interrelated whole, and in so doing, remember how we used to exist with the land and water and all other beings on this earth: with justice.

This Earth Month, we call on all of our supporters to join us in taking action toward environmental justice. Here are a number of options and opportunities for people to protect and nurture the lands and waterways in the Twin Cities. You can choose one or all or look for other opportunities to get involved in your community. 

1. Volunteer — If you want to be boots on the ground, join us for the CityWide Spring Cleanup on April 24th at Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary or attend one of our  Restore Events. 

2. Learn — Deepen your connection with the local environment and view our recently recorded All About Pollinators! Webinar or Sacred Dakota Lands and Waters, both on our YouTube page.

3. Donate — Help power the work of Lower Phalen Creek Project all throughout the year by donating to our Spring Fundraiser! This year our goal is to raise $7,500 and your support will ensure that our work in Environmental Education, Urban Conservation and Restoration, and Cultural Connections & Healing continues.

We Keep Us Safe

This beautiful billboard is located near the American Indian Community Housing Organization in Duluth MN and features Arne Vainio, MD - a Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe tribal member and family practice physician on the Fond du Lac Reservation in Cloquet.

We Keep Us Safe

Dakota people measure lives by how many winters (waníyetu) we have lived through. To ask someone their age, you would say, “Waníyetu nitóna he?” — “How many winters are you?” While winters are typically a difficult time in this part of the world — resources are often scarce, and the weather is unforgiving — this past winter has felt particularly challenging for so many of us. Climate change is contributing to extreme weather events. Since the year 2000, extreme weather events have increased widespread power outages by 67%. Take, for example, the devastating polar vortex that swept through the country in February, exposing a highly unequal energy infrastructure system in Texas and bringing more attention to our society’s failure to adapt to our changing ecosystem. Similarly, COVID-19 cases in the U.S. peaked this winter after a holiday season that saw many people weigh the need to be with family and loved ones against the increasing health risks associated with travel and contact. This spring, with schools likely to re-open en masse by April, large public events tentatively returning, and with widespread vaccine availability seemingly just weeks or months away, we face a new reality of “normal life” returning — with strings attached. 

[Above are 6 recommendations from “Strengthening Vaccine Efforts in Indian Country,” a report by the Urban Indian Health Institute.]

While this year has led to some new realizations, it has also reminded us of long-suffering hardships. Black, Latinx, and Indigenous people of color have been hit the hardest by the pandemic. Dr. Marcella Nunez-Smith, director of the Equity Research and Innovation Center at Yale School of Medicine, writes: "We know that these racial ethnic disparities in COVID-19 are the result of pre-pandemic realities. It's a legacy of structural discrimination that has limited access to health and wealth for people of color.” The CDC itself has acknowledged the medical racism at the heart of this issue — for many people of color, and for Native Americans more than anyone else, healthcare is inaccessible, unaffordable, and inadequate. The mortality rate from COVID-19 is almost 2 times higher for Native Americans than for white Americans. Is anything going to change that?

[Above, an infographic displays the gradually expanding criteria of eligibility for Minnesota residents waiting to receive a COVID-19 vaccine.]

We may have some reason to be hopeful. By the time this blog is published, almost 20% of Minnesotans will have received at least one dose of a two-shot vaccine, and the imminent availability of a single-shot vaccine with high rates of production will accompany expanded eligibility criteria for the general public. There is additional good news for Minnesota’s Native residents. Only recently, Minnesota has begun releasing vaccination statistics broken down by race and ethnicity, and as of February 27th, Native residents trailed only white residents for the percentage of the population vaccinated. Within that data, over 25% of Native Minnesotans between the ages of 45 and 64 have received at least one vaccine dose, representing the highest vaccination percentage of any race or ethnicity.

[Our medicine bundles from this past spring included cedar, sage, sweetgrass, hand-crafted herbal lotions, immuno-support lozenges, and beautiful tote bags hand-sewn by members of our community.]

As part of this increasingly intensive strategy to provide vaccines to the greatest number of people in the quickest possible timeframe, the state of Minnesota has taken strides to address the hesitancy, fear, and uncertainty many BIPOC communities face regarding government-sponsored public health campaigns. This month, Lower Phalen Creek Project will partner with the Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center and the Minnesota Department of Health on a campaign to raise public awareness about the COVID-19 vaccines. As a part of this project, we will have the chance to develop 500 medicine bundles to help our Native community members persevere through this difficult time. This is a continuation of a project we began in May and June of 2020: as our neighbors took to the streets to protest George Floyd’s murder, we were on the ground as well, providing medic assistance, standing in solidarity, and producing (with the support from many wonderful volunteers and donors!) over 500 medicine bundles packed with traditional medicines to allow our community members moments of rest and opportunities for healing from the traumatic months of police violence and state surveillance.

[Hillary Kempenich designed this public health campaign poster in November 2020 with the American Indian Community Housing Organization .]

Now, 10 months later (and as George Floyd’s killer goes to trial for his crimes), it seems fitting that we again have the chance to provide support and comfort to our community. Not only will these medicine bundles contain gifts purchased from Native-owned businesses — our very own staff has worked with our partners at the Minnesota Indian Women’s Resource Center to harvest and process some of these medicines ourselves. Holding these medicines safe will be 500 hand-sewn tote bags made by a fierce and fearsome crew of volunteer sewers. In addition, and of critical importance, information about these medicines will contain our Native languages and will share traditional cultural uses for each medicine. It is not lost on us that the elders in Native communities are some of our most vulnerable relatives. COVID-19 has already taken too many language speakers, too many knowledge-keepers from our communities. It is our hope that these medicine bundles and the information they contain will serve as reminders of just how sacred and valuable our people are.

It bears repeating that this effort is important for many reasons. The COVID-19 pandemic is far from the first pandemic to disproportionately affect Native communities. The almost unspeakably traumatic history of biological warfare waged by European colonizers against the Indigenous people of Turtle Island was the first of numerous eras of widespread sickness in Native communities. That legacy was with us when the 1918 flu epidemic killed Native Americans living on reservations at a mortality rate four times higher than for the general population; it was with us through the 1980s, after the U.S. government conducted mass forced sterilizations of Native women; and that legacy remains with us today, as many in our communities are hesitant to trust that the U.S. government would take any steps toward keeping our communities healthy.

Artwork from Dakota/Diné artist, Avis Charley, in the latest #VacciNATION campaign from the Urban Indian Health Institute

Nevertheless, with so much to grieve for and so much to fear, Native communities have been proactive about prioritizing health and safety throughout the pandemic. With vaccine distribution in particular, Minnesota tribal nations and urban Native organizations like the Indian Health Board and Native American Community Clinic have kicked into overdrive, in communicating the realities of the COVID-19 vaccines and in coordinating efficient vaccination progress for Native and non-Native community members alike. Even this detail — that one of the most vulnerable communities is helping others as it helps its own — is perhaps the clearest way to embody the Dakota value of mitákuye oyásiŋ — all my relations. This is restorative justice at its most elemental: even when Native lives continue to be devalued, you will see Native people caring for us. All of us.