LITMIR.BIZ

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for many everyday items, but U.S. corporations resist labeling their products and politically frame precautions as unnecessary, as if the labels themselves were toxic. Organizations like the Environmental Working Group (EWG) have stepped into the gap to provide important health information to the public, but the struggle for accurate information continues.

      The problem is not just an information deficit. People want to be heard in an unbiased, respectful way (frame dimension 2). Sometimes disrespectful treatment results simply from an overworked bureaucracy, but beyond that, community residents have often felt the sting of second-class citizenship and—in places like Carver Terrace, Flint, and many others—racism. Carver Terrace residents who traveled to Dallas to get more information were locked out of the EPA regional office building and the police were called. Beginning with their lawsuit and extending through their struggle for a fair buyout price, they were assumed to be “wanting something for nothing.” The grassroots Southwest Network for Environmental and Economic Justice provided a space where they could be respected, sending a team door to door to collect residents’ stories, and creating a public forum that included representatives of federal agencies and EJ groups, amplifying the residents’ voices in a system that didn’t want to “hear” them. More recently, the Dakota Access Pipeline protests created a space where Indigenous rights could be affirmed instead of erased from public view, despite strenuous efforts to shut down the protests. Social media, in addition to mainstream and progressive media outlets, spread the word nationally and globally, and the DAPL opposition eventually gained support from the Obama administration. The importance of such “alternative spaces” shouldn’t be underestimated, even if victory isn’t immediately within reach. For example, many conscience constituents have transformative experiences in such spaces, a reframing of personal and collective identity that inspires them to work for social change—like the Native American youth who organized ReZpect Our Water, creating a community of runners who publicized opposition to the pipeline, and organized a protest relay run from North Dakota to Washington, D.C. (Greene, 2017). At the same time, Indigenous Sami youth protested Norway’s investments in DAPL. An energized Indigenous Caucus convened at the U.N. Climate Change conference in Bonn, Germany, to strategize (Monet, 2018). Creating alternative networks and spaces is important, given that the “state” is an unreliable ally—the Trump administration turned a deaf ear to EJ and approved the pipeline. Finding a way to be truly heard remains a creative and challenging struggle, but countless groups are mobilizing for EJ at local, regional, national, and international levels.

      The other EJ frame dimensions I mentioned (the right to democratically decide the future of contaminated communities, the right to compensation, and solidarity with other contaminated communities) also continue to be relevant. I would now simply say “communities,” since toxic contamination isn’t the only issue (and never was). While Carver Terrace fought for a buyout and relocation, some other EJ battles are about staying in place and claiming health, dignity, and other human rights. Flint residents, where children’s development was tragically compromised by lead contamination, had no choice but to stay in place and to call for accountability at all levels of government. By then, a more established and experienced EJ movement came to their assistance, including EJ scholars Paul Mohai (Mohai, Pellow, & Roberts, 2009) and Michael Mascarenhas (2007), who testified before the Michigan Civil Rights Commission (Michigan Department of Civil Rights, 2016). But the question of compensation hovers disturbingly over every EJ case. Who will pay for all the damage done to people’s bodies and dreams when they encounter environmental injustice? Who will pay to relocate Shishmaref, a community whose suffering has been caused by others (especially when the “others” are less visible)? The answer is “no one,” in the absence of strategic organizing and framing that provides an effective leverage point for justice. This makes the fifth EJ frame dimension more important than ever: building solidarity with other communities through sharing information, creating networks, joining in protests, and working at multiple levels for social justice. This means co-inventing an inclusive future that draws on EJ research and that uses imaginative organizing and framing skills to create alliances between groups that can support EJ together, even if temporarily. Coalition building is difficult but necessary work, since not only EJ, but also racism, is receiving new infusions of energy.

      Conclusion

      If ten thousand people camping at Standing Rock to protect the Missouri River could not stop the siege of the Dakota Access Pipeline, then what does it take?...I know, we all know, it will take more. And toward this, our work continues.—Layli Long Soldier (2017)

      This chapter has invited you to explore the environmental justice frame and its evolution over time, using a case study of Carver Terrace as a point of comparison with more contemporary understandings of EJ. Carver Terrace was like many other contaminated communities but also atypical—the first minority community to demand and win a federal buyout. The story is richer and more complex than what I touched on here, but the abridged version allowed us to dive more deeply into a particular time and place and to think about connections and contrasts with other situations. I showed how a sociological framing theory is useful for understanding the EJ frame at multiple levels. Framing theory applies to much more than EJ; it helps you to think about your own life, your meaningful frames, and how they connect to your actions and those of others. It equips you to be more critically aware of the many frames that drift our way through cyberspace, mediascapes, and so many other sources. It gives you tools for social change.

      Here is one last image, which is a contrast with the desolate landscape we encountered earlier. Carver Terrace residents finally won a federal buyout in 1990. Grassroots leaders who told them that “political organizing matters” were right. CTCAG/FUSE persuaded one of their key allies, Texas Democratic Rep. Jim Chapman, a member of the budget appropriations committee for the EPA, to attach a provision to the EPA’s budget that authorized a Carver Terrace buyout. Without CTCAG/FUSE and their mobilizing, organizing, coalition-building, and framing skills, there would be no buyout. Flawed as the political-economic system might be, it pays to know how it works. Yet, consistent with deep and ongoing structural inequalities, the victory was bittersweet. Imagine the residents in new homes that they bought or built, breathing a sigh of relief, enjoying a space away from the toxic contamination. Then realize that some didn’t live to see the relocation, and others died too soon afterward, including Patsy Oliver. Survivors won a safer place to live, but they lost their physical community. For those who moved away, and especially for younger generations, the battle was worth the precious chance for a healthier life and a better future. Yet to truly heal what systematically produces environmental injustice, environmental racism, and global pollution on a massive scale, as Layli Long Soldier says, “it will take more.” The EJ frame will continue to evolve, as it must, if we want to live on a planet that is sustainable, and not only for the privileged few. As researchers, we also evolve (yes, it is happening at this very moment as I write!), discovering new questions and solutions that become part of the collective stream of EJ scholarship and recipes for action. You, too, can be part of this solution.

      Deepening Our Understanding

      1 Search the term environmental justice on the Internet, and see what you turn up. How visible is the EJ frame in cyberspace, and what do you learn from this?

      2 Identify an EJ issue or event (preferably local), and analyze the effects of the framing of that issue. Do you see any evidence of a counterframe?

      3 The way we construct meaning shapes how (and whether) we participate in social movements. Think about your own identity. Can you “see” yourself taking part in a protest action, for example, a march? If so, why? If not, why not?

      4 Framing includes how we interpret everything—“nature,” our bodies, race, gender, who/what we consider to be “other,” and much more. Based on your own identity and, thus, interpretations, where do you draw the line and start feeling uncomfortable?

      5 Social media has become an important part of the EJ movement. A recent strategy has been to post Indigenous names on Instagram during hikes in outdoor recreational areas, calling attention to the missing Indigenous history (https://www.yesmagazine.org/issues/affordable-housing/posting-your-hike-on-instagram-now-you-can-tag-your-locations-indigenous-name-20180523).

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