In 2017, I was the only black person in my graduating class to earn a degree in Environmental Science. At times, I felt pressure to silence parts of my racial identity. With no representation in my studies (despite the many voices of color that shaped the environmental movement) and even in my textbooks, I felt afraid to disrupt the status quo and advocate for issues of race in the environmental journey.

That feeling did not go away when I joined the climate change movement as a working professional and joined corporate sustainability teams like Patagonia. As I learned about the Clean Air Act (opens in new tab), the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (opens in new tab), and the policies and institutions built to protect both people and the planet, I began to question why black, brown, and low-income communities across America still bear the brunt of environmental injustice I began to question why black, brown, and low-income communities across the United States are still bearing the brunt of environmental injustice. The data on the ways in which climate change disproportionately impacts communities of color, including high levels of air pollution, (opens in new tab) proximity to toxic waste sites (opens in new tab), and lack of access to safe drinking water (opens in new tab) are alarming and beg the question raises the question: who are environmental policies and institutions actually protecting?

The boundaries of environmental protection do not seem to extend equally to the BIPOC community. This is partially because BIPOC is not offered positions at the decision-making table: according to a study by the Green Diversity Initiative (open in new tab), only 12% of employees and leaders of environmental nonprofits, government environmental agencies, and foundations were people of color. Even fewer in government agencies. Historically, the people who should be influencing and creating equitable environmental policy are white. The current Congress may be the most racially diverse Congress (open with a new tab) with 124 members of color, but it is still less diverse than the country as a whole.

On top of that, BIPOC's voice in climate change has a history of being marginalized. Throughout my environmental activism journey, I have often heard teachers and people in the workplace elevate the work of John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt while ignoring the work of BIPOC environmentalists. since the 1970s, Dr. Robert J. Bullard, the father of environmental justice (open in new tab) opens in new tab) has emphasized how people of color have suffered the most from pollution and how low-income and black and brown communities are often located near toxic facilities. Hazel M. Johnson (opens in new tab), the "Mother of Environmental Justice," helped create the 17 Principles of Environmental Justice (opens in new tab). Environmental justice evolved from this, but I did not learn about these principles or the environmental justice movement during high school or while studying for my degree in environmental science. In fact, many environmental curricula consider environmental justice to be merely an elective and not a necessary part of understanding overall environmental impacts.

Even today, many in the environmental movement do not understand or acknowledge how environmental issues and racial injustice are connected; when the "Black Lives Matter" movement reached global proportions in June 2020, many of my environmental activist colleagues remained silent I was frustrated. I was exasperated. I was puzzled when environmentalists and conservationists asked why they insisted on protecting small species but not black lives and endangered people. We humans are inextricably linked to nature.

Innocent black and brown people are most affected by climate change, yet these same people are not engaged in environmental policy. This realization awakened me to the urgent need for diversity and inclusion in the environmental sector and to the fact that an intersectional approach to environmentalism (one that takes into account historical inequalities) is desperately needed to address the climate crisis.

I thought of black feminist theorists who faced similar struggles and were not included or fully seen in white feminist spaces. I recalled how Kimberle Crenshaw created intersectional feminist theory (open in new tab) to fill that void. I coined the term intersectional environmentalism. It refers to an inclusive environmentalism that advocates for the protection of both people and the planet, creating space for nuance in the environmental sector to more closely explore the relationship between social and environmental injustice. It reveals the interconnectedness of marginalized communities and the injustices occurring on the planet, and does not silence social inequalities. Because it will take all of us to save the planet.

I have also been moved by indigenous traditions and land management practices that are inherently sustainable but often excluded from mainstream environmental studies. Indigenous communities (opens in new tab) represent only 5 percent of the world's population, yet they protect 80 percent of the world's biodiversity and manage 35 percent of its forests. They are able to live in harmony with nature, understand the language of Mother Earth, and are connected to her heartbeat.

Last year I spoke at an event with Nemonte Nenkimo, an indigenous activist and member of the Waorani tribe in Ecuador's Amazon region. In her 2020 editorial (opens in new tab), she complained that it is the western world that is killing the planet. While many U.S. corporations and governments are calling for a "just transition" (opens in new tab), a framework that supports "a just transition to an economy that is ecologically sustainable, equitable, and just for all its members" (opens in new tab), they do not even invite indigenous voices to be part of the conversation Instead, they continue to mine and exploit the Nenqimo homeland. I often question what it means for the environmental movement to talk about a "fair transition" without including BIPOC in its work. Prior to founding Intersectional Environmentalist (opens in new tab), a resource and media hub, I interned as a park ranger for the National Park Service and worked for a major sustainable apparel company.

My greatest hope is that more climate justice activists and grassroots organizations are coming to the forefront of intersectional environmental activism, such as WE ACT for Environmental Justice (opens in new tab) and Hip Hop Caucus (opens in new (opens in new tab)" are advancing the climate change movement around the BIPOC community. I am also excited about the launch of The Uproot Project (opens in new tab), a network for journalists of color reporting on environmental issues.

I also believe that 2020 has brought a major shift in the movement: after my Instagram post announcing the intersectional environmentalist pledge (opens in new tab) went viral, the term "intersectional environmentalism" Google search (opens in new tab ), the term skyrocketed in the United States. I see the term being used by Al Gore's nonprofit Climate Reality (open in new tab) and the White House (open in new tab). Previous administrations have promised to take action on behalf of the BIPOC community, but we have not seen significant change. I look forward to seeing President Biden's proposal to invest in environmental justice initiatives (opens in new tab) and was excited when I heard about the White House Environmental Justice Advisory Committee (opens in new tab) made up of diverse environmental justice leaders. This is a start, and intersectional environmentalists around the world will continue to demand accountability for climate change.

Social and environmental injustices continue to plague the Black community. This is especially true because issues of race and the environment are deeply intertwined. Now, I carry my two identities as a Black woman and an environmental activist with me at all times, and I cannot separate the two. As the environmental movement moves forward, I hope that intersectionality will take root in our activism. And we hope that someday there will be no need to separate mainstream environmentalism from intersectional environmentalism. Because our work will make our struggle for a greener, safer, more sustainable planet for all people inclusive and equitable.

Leah Thomas is an environmental activist, author, and founder of Intersectional Environmentalist. Follow her sustainable living Instagram blog, @GreenGirlLeah. (opens in new tab)