Mapping Meaning, the Journal (Issue No. 1)

Identity, Narrative, and Miseducation in a More-Than-Human World
Toni Wynn and Rae Wynn-Grant
the science of conserving nature. My love
for nature sprouted organically, but the
lens through which I operate and study is
grounded in theoretical ecology. I’m glad I
went the academic route, as it helped me
realize that science is one of my strengths —
and, ultimately, my career passion.
Toni Wynn: There’s a false narrative — sold
with urgency by commerce-driven American
society — around how African American
people aren’t terribly keen on nature. I
bought that line as a new adult exercising
her sudden ability to purchase her own
things. But as I commuted across the Golden
Gate Bridge, there was, crucially, nothing
to buy. Nothing to see but natural beauty.
My kids could watch horses on a hill from
their bedroom window when they were
small — the same years when Rae became
hyperaware of the state of the environment.
At night the horses sleep. Come daybreak,
a collie speeds around them. To get them
running? Because they’re pure that way?
Saying what — my eyes can suffer
more beauty?
At night a telescope rings Saturn in, and
four of Jupiter’s moons. Coyotes run, days
later, at dusk, owning the canyon, barking
vapor into air, a passage of fur, feet,
and danger.
from “A Brown Girl’s Nature Poem:
Canyonlands”
Rae Wynn-Grant: There is a critical
intersection of identity, identity politics,
social justice, and inclusivity that is lacking
and yet essential for conservation to be
effective. This was not something always
clear to me.
In summer 2014, I traveled to California
to present my work for the first time at a
prestigious ecology conference. I didn’t
enter the journey confidently, knowing my
performance needed to be particularly
impressive as I would likely be one of the
few, if not only, black scientists presenting
work and would thus stand out. As I always
do, I first flew to the Bay Area to spend a few
days with my family before embarking on
the two-hour drive to Sacramento to finish
last-minute editing of my presentation for
the next day. I listened to NPR during my
drive; the programming focused entirely on
the riots and unrest in Ferguson, Missouri,
following the shooting of Mike Brown only
days earlier. I cried as I drove, cursed as I
drove, grew weary as I drove. By the time I
arrived in Sacramento, I was in a mentally
difficult place. On one hand, the biggest
scientific opportunity of my career thus far
was the next morning, and my presentation
needed practice and polishing. On the other
hand, my soul needed critical care and my
grief was palpable.
I was invited to present a study on the spatial
distribution of human-induced mortality
risk for black bears. And yet the entirety of
my being was consumed with the realities
of racially-motivated mortality risk for
black men. I was pained to know that this
conference of thousands of the world’s
most elite ecologists would not, and possibly
58 Mapping Meaning, the Journal