Freedom to Explore: Unlearning Racism in the Outdoors

PREVIOUS SPREAD Rachelle Wheatley in the crevice caves at Nottawasaga Lookout Provincial Nature Reserve. KRISTIN SCHNELTEN. THIS PAGE, LEFT Demiesha Dennis on the Bighead River. DAVE COULSON. ABOVE Peter Song in The Swamp, Kolapore Uplands. WILL TAM.

Picking up trash left behind on trails or scrubbing crusty dishes somebody negligently left in a cabin is infuriating. And yet irritants of this kind are becoming more common, and aren’t helping to dissolve disgruntled vibes from those frequenting Canada’s wilderness for extended periods. They can be felt in crowded backcountry huts, overflowing parking lots, on welltravelled skin tracks and any other trending outdoor destination. It’s not uncommon to hear whispers and sighs that, “city people and out-of-towners are coming up and taking over.” While we can fault people for being bad stewards, we can’t fault them for wanting to catch their breath and unplug from the hustle of contemporary life—to admire the beauty of these wide-open spaces, and to get those feelgood hormones flowing.

Nature welcomes everyone and we should take notes to do the same.

The idea of racism and prejudice in the outdoors isn’t a common topic of discussion. Yet exclusionary and self-entitled attitudes—as benign as they may seem to their owners—are in fact forms of discrimination. The stealthy thing about prejudices is that unless you’ve been the recipient of them (or been educated about them) they are easy to miss.

The same goes with the concept of privilege. If someone’s upbringing was confined to an insulated and singular perspective both in their family and their friend groups, it would be easy for them to miss where they sit on the societal hierarchy of opportunity. It is imperative that we get introspective on where we stand on this ladder if we are to help create a more inclusive future for the generations to come.

I acknowledge that I have lived a privileged life. There has always been a roof over my head; an abundance of food on the table; access to health care, education, nature; and chances to travel. Financial support to explore extracurricular activities as a kid influenced the direction of my life, including a career as a professional athlete. My biological mother—who gave me up at birth with the selfless hope that the family adopting me would be able to provide more opportunity than her 18-yearold self—would be pleased. Despite being raised in a white, middleclass household and given every chance to thrive in the world, my youth still came with its hiccups. My parents separated early in my childhood and were consumed with navigating their own personal obstacles. And I was being severely bullied at school out of jealousy by a handful of mean girls. Being half-Chinese, racial quips came up often, sometimes about my skin colour, or about why I wasn’t better at math. My graduating year I skipped the majority of school to snowboard (I don’t recommend this, kids) because the mountains provided a place of refuge—a place where I felt safe to be myself.

“Fly fishing is peace for me. It is the one place I can turn to where the noise of everything else quickly dissipates and the loudest, most calming thing becomes the sound of nature. Peace like this should not be hoarded.” – Demeisha Dennis, founder Brown Girl Outdoor World

Snowboarding led me to meet people who surfed and climbed and found happiness in the simplicity of running in the woods. Their generosity to share their knowledge and let me tag along allowed me to integrate nature connections into my life. Time spent outside has shaped me, from feeling the joyful celebration that comes with summiting a mountain and gazing upon a vast expanse of peaks, to the sensation of being in the present moment while floating down thousands of feet of snowflakes or gliding across a glistening wave at sunset. It has also shaped my experiences of despair and grief from loss, as stark reminders of the fragility of life. To breathe in the aroma of the pines, feel the crispness of the cold and hear nothing but the whisper of the wind or the beat of a crow’s wings above is to feel magic itself. Nature has taught me boundless lessons in self-confidence, self-worth, managing anxiety and depression, determination, focus, connection and love. When I reflect on how the outdoors has enhanced not only my physical health but also my mental, emotional and spiritual well-being, it is disheartening to think that not everyone has access to the life-altering experiences that the natural world can provide. Or that self-entitled attitudes may dissuade some from starting or continuing their journey into nature. Consistent exposure to any environment yields more comfort, which means creating opportunities for people to explore and get into the mix of nature is essential for a safer and more welcoming outdoor space. But we also need to dive deeper to understand why these opportunities are lacking to begin with. Social and racial injustices in Canada can be traced back to the country’s inception and have since led to significant class disparities, unequal opportunity and generational trauma.

Some forms of historical and systemic racism are easier to identify— colonialism, for example, in which Indigenous peoples were pushed from their land, had their spiritual practices deemed illegal and were allowed to vote only if they gave up their identity as Indigenous. Residential schools were put in place to forcibly assimilate Indigenous children. Physical, emotional and sexual abuse were widespread at these schools. This is just a glance at the sullied history of Canada.

The idea that exclusion in the outdoors has existed and continues to exist will likely seem outlandish to some. But there is an implicit vibe of discrimination in our outdoor spaces. Minorities have not been present for many reasons, including financial barriers, or their presence was only “tolerated” in public spaces including national parks. According to Alan MacEachern, Professor of History at Western University, “Parks Canada’s entire line has been that these places are for everyone. But you do see little glimmers where underneath the surface people were being turned back… There were a lot of tourist places, including the national parks, which in the ‘30s and ‘40s quietly advertised ‘Restricted Clientele’, that Jews [and people of colour] were not allowed, especially in eastern Canada.”

L-R Vivian Lee, Monika Widjaja-Tam and Neel Parikh in Durham Forest, Ontario. WILL TAM

My graduating year I skipped the majority of school to snowboard (I don’t recommend this, kids) because the mountains provided a place of refuge—a place where I felt safe to be myself.

In the 1960s a guest booked into a hotel in Fundy National Park in New Brunswick and prior to arrival wrote a letter to the accommodations to ensure that his Black friends who would be joining would not be trouble. MacEachern recounts how the recipient of the letter replied, “Your friends better not come up, because they might face racism from white Southerners up here.” Those friends were Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King.

Anti-racism and social justice movements this past year have brought to the surface the fact that discrimination still exists. The power of people speaking up to demand change has undoubtedly catalyzed a movement across all branches in the network of life. Leaders in the outdoor world are chiming in and owning their responsibility to be figureheads in inspiring the masses. Brands are supporting BIPOC exposure in print and marketing, diversifying who they elect as ambassadors and athletes, supporting programs to help welcome minority groups into the outdoor space and creating equal opportunities within their employee framework.

And a recent Parks Canada acquisition heralds a new era of accessibility. Rouge National Urban Park is the first of its kind, established in 2015 in the Rouge River Valley near Toronto. Major cities in Canada are often disproportionately diverse in race and culture, but access to national parks has been very limited. The establishment of this new national park gives hope for a more thoughtful, respectful and inclusive moment.

Individuals taking action on grassroots levels are making a tremendous impact as well. Demeisha Dennis founded Brown Girl Outdoor World, a forprofit organization based in Toronto that creates an inclusive community for adventure in the outdoors via hiking, surfing, fly-fishing and other sports for BIPOC communities, saying, “I wanted to show that there is belonging and community in these places.”

Dennis, a passionate fly-fisher who has tripped in Algonquin Park, the Temagami region and elsewhere, adds: “Fly fishing is peace for me. It is the one place I can turn to where the noise of everything else quickly dissipates and the loudest, most calming thing becomes the sound of nature. Peace like this should not be hoarded.”

A Brown Girl Outdoor World group paddle, Toronto Islands. DAVE COULSON

The ability to safely take up space and be able to express oneself as a perfectly imperfect being is central to experiencing joy on this planet. The impacts of trauma and oppression are real. When people have gone through traumatic experiences it impacts how they are able to show up in the world, and this includes the outdoors. Greg McDonnell, a registered clinical counsellor in Whistler, B.C., weighs in: “The nervous system becomes dysregulated [when you don’t feel confident], which can affect many aspects of our human engagement.” Living in a constant state of stress can impact how people behave and can lead to “addiction, numbing behaviors, anxiety and depression.” But simply being outside can have positive impacts, McDonnell adds, “This is connected to mindfulness. The nervous system becomes deeply connected through our senses [when in nature], which helps guide us how to self-protect in a functional way.” When we feel safe, we are better equipped to show up as our unapologetic selves, our true selves—and this expands to others. Dennis reflects on the shifts she sees when providing people with the chance to truly feel like they belong in the outdoors: “Sometimes you can see the shift physically on a face when someone steps into a space and is either greeted by the silent symphony of nature, or the sense of belonging that creeps in when they show up on a beach and see a group of people who look like them, ready to take on something new.” The future’s looking brighter, but the outdoor community and all Canadians collectively have a long journey ahead in keeping the momentum going towards a social landscape that celebrates and invites all faces, shapes, colours, cultures and spiritual beliefs, and opens up space for marginalized groups to feel comfortable as a part of the outdoor community. Let’s rise to the challenge and act on being activists and true allies. Support BIPOC businesses and initiatives in our communities. Start thinking outside of conventional norms and consider going the extra mile to be welcoming to others at the trailheads and lend helpful knowledge if you have it (e.g., always let someone know they have their wetsuit on backward). And let the true essence of adventure live on.

And above all else, lean into it all with compassion and empathy; while everyone’s experience is vastly different, it is safe to say that we all know what it feels like to feel unwelcome, to feel ignored, to feel vulnerable, to feel that we don’t belong somewhere. And we all want to feel loved, accepted and free.

Everyone deserves the chance to experience the outdoors; everyone has the right to the freedom to explore.

ILANNA BARKUSKY

Taylor Godber is an athlete, a health and wellness fanatic, and a lover of animals and the environment. She has worked with Mountain Life Media as a freelance contributor and as editor of Below Zero°.

Photos by Colin Field

Rolling through the colourful tunnel of trees in Awenda Provincial Park is an absolute dream. That beautiful smooth road, canopied by leaves of every hue, surrounded by hardwood forests; it’s magical. A chance to open her up, lean her over and see what the old motorcycle can do. That’s always the goal. And in Simcoe County there are numerous opportunities to do just that. Not only is Simcoe County blessed with some incredible scenery, there are some stunning strips of tarmac that run through it. With varying terrain from down south in Creemore, to the north in Severn Bridge and from Collingwood to Orillia there’s a route for just about any motorcycle lover. Ride Simcoe County has put together three different signature routes for exploring the region. The Big Chute Loop is the longest route at 400 kilometres, and it covers the entire county with tons of hidden gems throughout. Then there’s the Chute Loop (250 kilometres) and the Saints & Sinners Loop (250 kilometres).To finish reading this story, head to our website at mountainlifemedia.com