Meet Your “Plant-cestors”: On Deepening Your Relationship to Plants

Photo by Clarke Sanders on Unsplash

Written by Tyler Nicole Brockington

As the first buds of spring peek out from the Earth ready to explore the world after the winter frost melts, there has never been a better time to get acquainted with your “plant-cestors”. 

Recognizing and honoring our plant-cestors (a portmanteau of “plant” and “ancestor”) is a way of relating to the natural world that unlocks a deep relationship with plants and highlights the ancestral tradition of land stewardship across the Black Diaspora. 

A hallmark of traditional African spirituality features is animism or the belief that all objects, places, animals, and plants contain a spirit. It was an undeniable fact to our ancestors that plants carried within them an essence, wisdom, and ability to communicate with the world around them—an idea that mainstream Western science is just now beginning to catch up to. 

The turn of the seasons serves as an invitation to reimagine your relationship with the natural world around you. Whether you live in a city, suburb, or sprawling rural area, think of the native flora that thrive around you as ancestors and beings that have watched your lineage grow. 

From the beautiful but unassuming yarrow growing in your yard to the wild stinging nettle blanketing a nearby streambank, plants are the keepers of our history. They tell the stories of our changing communities, embody the medicine for the affiliations that ail us, and hold the key to our past while acting as a bridge to a more grounded, connected future.

Opening yourself to a relationship with plants doesn't require you to quit your day job, go off the grid, and become a farmer—though that’s looking more and more appealing these days. All it takes is curiosity. 

Last summer, the BGE DC crew held an interpretive plant hike where we identified plants in the beautiful Rock Creek Park and I was surprised to find Bloodroot–a plant known in my community for its medicinal properties–tucked away along a trail I walked frequently. 

Finding this potent plant in such an unassuming way served as a beautiful reminder that our history is still living with us today, all we have to do is take a second to look. Do you know what’s growing around you?

BGE DC members on an interpretive hike in 2024

In Art and Practice of Spiritual Herbalism, herbalist Karen Rose writes:

“It is remarkable to choose to be in relationship with a plant ally. Allyship with a plant can look something like spending a dedicated amount of time walking with that plant. Like any other relationship, ask the plant that shows up for you for its permission to walk with it.”

Offerings to Be in Deeper Relationship with Your “Plant-cestors”:

• Ask your parents/grandparents/elders about their favorite flowers from childhood and/or what herbal medicine they remember receiving growing up 

• Take a walk through your neighborhood without headphones and take note of the plants you encounter. Can you name them? (If not, there's an app for that!) Notice the changes these plants go through day by day, month by month

• Apps like Picture This and iNaturalist are helpful tools that can identify any plants that are unfamiliar to you and provide helpful information about them

• Pick a non-toxic flower/herb/plant you’re interested in and start a journal dedicated to learning more about it. Document its appearance, research its medicinal properties, safely and sustainably harvest it, or just spend time communing in whatever way you feel called

• Find ways to honor and care for the plants native to your environment: bringing them water when they look parched, enriching the soil with whatever fertilizers you have available, or simply offering a word or thought of gratitude as you pass by

When spring begins coloring our surroundings with deep greens and vibrant hues of native flora, allow yourself to tap into the deep ancestral knowing that comes from a relationship to the land. As the season spurs our plant-cestors to grow, may we grow with them.

Three Black Girl Environmentalists First Time at NYC Climate Week

Written by three Hazel M. Johnson Fellows, Kike Sanni, Emma Abercrombie Peters, and Amelia Linton

Kike

I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that I am still processing New York Climate Week. That’s because I made defining memories that will stay with me as I assert myself in the environmental space.

For those unfamiliar, it is a week-long worth of climate events sprawled across New York City every year, one of the biggest of its kind. It brings together a world of activists, global leaders, businesses, tech-savvies, civil society, and everyone interested in enforcing climate action. A pressing matter of our time that needs adequate attention.

I happened to just move to NYC a little less than a month for graduate school before attending what would be like the most important event of the academic year. But I wasn’t overwhelmed, in fact, I was quite ready. The summer beforehand I completed the Hazel M. Johnson fellowship, which gave me confidence that voices like mine are needed in the climate sector. So when the founder of Black Girl Environmentalist, Wawa Gatheru, invited me and a few other fellows who would be in the city to shadow her during this period, I was excited to see what this space had for me. 

By attending a lunch co-hosted by Wawa in collaboration with META and Support & Feed, we started the week off strong with community. A recurring theme throughout but especially at the Green Jobs Pavilion hosted by Brown Girl Green. The Green Jobs Board organization focuses on creating accessible pathways between jobs seekers and employers. The event was the first time networking had felt natural. I was able to hear organizations talk authentically about their mission. I made connections with people simply by telling my story and hearing theirs. We were all united because we want to see a change in our system. The event reminded me how everyone’s unique skillset is needed in this industry. Whether you plan to go into tech, law, storytelling, engineering, etcetera. There’s a place for everyone. Diversity is essential for change.

Emma

The first event I had the pleasure of attending was the Earth Sessions NYC: Climate Week Kickoff, and it was the perfect one to begin with! Earth Sessions are community-based, environmental justice-centered, musical spaces first launched in 2022 by Intersectional Environmentalist. This earth session featured Diana Lopez, the GAIA String Quartet, and Earthgang as the headlining musical guest.

As someone who works in sustainable fashion, another one of my favorite events was the Stella McCartney Sustainable Market. Originally debuted at Paris Fashion Week and the COP28 UN Climate Conference, Stella McCartney’s Sustainable market features designs from their collection as well as booths dedicated to emerging materials technology. Some of the featured innovators that caught my eye were NFW and Keel Labs. NFW produces a plastic-free leather alternative called Mirum and Keel Labs (whose founder I actually had the pleasure of speaking with!) produces Kelsun, a cotton alternative made from regenerative seaweed. At the booths we were able to see and feel samples of these sustainable materials, which was very exciting as someone who has spent a long time learning about them from afar!

Amelia

NY Climate Week was also a space for Black creatives and entrepreneurs to showcase their contributions towards climate and sustainability. Rebundle, a brand that sells sustainable, non-toxic braiding hair, hosted an event to bring awareness to an alternative option on the market. Synthetic braiding hair often becomes waste after a single wear, contributing to the overburden of plastic on our planet. It also has been found to contain carcinogens, making it an environmental justice issue. This event was filled with such passionate and talented Black people from all walks of life, all interested in creating a world that centers care, creativity, mutual support and dedication to making our communities stronger and more sustainable. 

Another highlight was speaking on the Black Girl Environmentalist panel hosted by the Marketplace for the Future. Here, us fellows and our internship managers were able to share with the audience the importance of supporting Black women in the environmental field. We were all able to reflect on how empowering it felt to bring our whole selves to the work place this summer and to know that our teams valued all that we bring. This fellowship has been life changing. It was an opportunity to develop deep bonds of friendship with other Black women and gender expansive environmentalists since so often we are the only one in the spaces we inhabit. This fellowship encouraged us to embrace our wholeness so that we are prepared for jobs that don’t exist yet and to live in new realities that we will create. 

The Fear of Being an Outfit Repeater

Written by Kyndal Coleman

I do a lot of shopping. On any given day, you can find me plundering through a thrift store, oftentimes rationalizing my frequent purchases.“If I didn’t buy this shirt it would be in the landfill” I like to tell myself as I sift down the aisles, and while that may be true, it’s only mere deflection for a phenomenon that has become increasingly concerning these days–overconsumption. 

Though I hate to admit it my weekly thrift trips are an obvious indicator of the overconsumption that’s embedded into our society and, it is genuinely impacting us all.  

There’s an undeniable expectation to buy more these days. Buying garments in bulk has become common practice only further normalized by the fashion content we consume. A clothing haul will persuade you to frequently add excessive garments to your wardrobe while daily fit checks will convince you that you can never wear the same outfit twice.

Social media amplifies our fears of outfit-repeating, but our culture of consumerism is the root of it all. Coddling our irrational fears and rewarding us with the ability to buy more, our consumerist society is what causes our aversion to repeating outfits. This paired with the unprecedented ease of acquiring clothing today has functionally created disposable clothes, thus creating an attitude of dispensability reflected in our shopping behavior. 

We no longer shop with longevity or practicality in mind, rather our access to a seemingly endless amount of fast fashion has led us to shop with overindulgent eyes and the expectation that we can buy an entirely new wardrobe at the click of a button if we so pleased. We shop for the fit check, for the hauls, and for the Instagram pictures.

Trends like “Blind Thrifting” exemplify this growing frivolousness with our clothing.

Participants in this ‘challenge’ randomly pick garments at a thrift store and throw together laughably bad outfits to go out in and ultimately post a TikTok about. Not to be a buzzkill but this is extremely wasteful. Now more than ever we intentionally and frequently purchase clothing that we only plan on wearing a few times with no regard for where they’ll end up. Fast Fashion has designed a system that both enables and thrives off this behavior.

In addition to normalizing wastefulness, the fear of being an outfit repeater is slowly chipping away at our styles and identities within our wardrobes.  As we constantly search for something new to buy and wear, we become susceptible to microtrends and fall victim to substituting personal style for what’s popular.

The ability to buy new garments is not a metric of style.

 Take time to figure out what you like and build a wardrobe centered around exactly that. Be skeptical of what’s trending and when you make new clothing purchases buy things because you like and need them, not because you were influenced to.

Developing your style should be a conscious act. Most of us have the privilege of being far removed from the pollution we cause indirectly via the production of our garments, but the reality is there are people directly and severely impacted by our choices.

 Accra, Ghana home to Kantamanto, one of the largest second-hand clothing markets has functionally become a dumping ground for our textile waste. People living there and other places that have become the final resting zones for our unwanted garments pay for our enjoyment of clothing with their entire environments, livelihoods, and futures as they are forced to deal with the immediate consequences of pollution and waste from the linear economy. 

(Muntaka Chasant/Shutterstock)

Recently, fires ravaged the Kantamanto Market not only burning up the source of income for many second-hand traders but also further adding to the environmental catastrophe–pluming chemicals into the air, littering toxic ash across the soil, contaminating the water, and so on. The environmental and health impacts are immeasurable. I encourage everyone to watch this short trailer for Dead White Man’s Clothes to get a better understanding of what’s happening in Kantamanto. 

Lastly, let’s all read the room. There’s a lot happening in the world right now. While your wardrobe might understandably be the least of your worries in these times I urge you that if you have the privilege to comfortably clothe yourself every day, consider adding discipline and solidarity to your wardrobe by opposing consumerism. Shop second-hand, use what you have in new ways, share clothes with friends but seriously shop less!

We may never get over our fears of being outfit repeaters but as warmer months roll around and the seasons change, consider the words of the great and wise Lizzie Mcguire while getting dressed and especially before buying brand-new items,

 “I may be an outfit repeater but you’re an outfit rememberer and that’s just as pathetic.”

Stitching Stories: Reclaiming Our Environmental Heritage

Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming the African American Environmental Heritage, Dianne D. Glave

Hi, my name is Madelyn Collins! I’m part of the Black Girl Environmentalist (BGE) HUB program. I proudly co-lead the Knoxville Hub with fellow environmentalist Wesleigh Wright. I’m excited to announce a new series I’m sharing on the BGE Blog called Stitching Stories. This series will be a unique approach to book reviews that blends books with real-life stories and actions.

To kick it off, I wanted to start with a book that has quite frankly changed my relationship to the work that I do and my identity as an environmentalist. Dianne D. Glave’s Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming The African American Environmental Heritage, is a transformative narrative that will leave one’s mind entangled and whirling with history, possibilities, and dreams. Filled with primary sources and creative re-renderings of Black American experiences from the ocean to the forests and in the gardens, Glave’s clear love and adoration of African American histories and futures in environment weaves together a compelling call to action from beginning to end: Reclaim!

Rooted to the Earth begins with a quote by Thomas Monroe Campbell, one of the many key historical figures living within the book’s binding. In this quote, Campbell is recounting his experience on selecting classes at Tuskegee Institute, the first institution of higher learning for African Americans that was founded by Booker T. Washington. He recounted,

“He inquired if I did not want to take farming, I told him promptly that I had worked enough on a farm and did not care to learn anything more about it. He then asked me if I would like to take agriculture. I said that I thought I would like that very well. So he assigned me to the livestock division. Imagine my surprise when I learned that agriculture was farming.”

Glave expands this quote’s impact by writing, “Stereotypes persist that African Americans are physically and spiritually detached from the environment. This wrong headed notion is so ingrained in our culture that many have begun to believe it ourselves. But nothing could be less true. From ancient Africa to the modern-day United States, people of African descent have continued the legacy of their relationship with the land.”

From here, Glave starts off with one of the biggest sources of detached narratives in her first chapter titled, “The Atlantic Ocean: Currents of Life and Death”.

When I first read this chapter’s title, I assumed the first page would be traumatic. I mentally prepared myself for visual imagery of Africans drowning at sea as I continued the book. But to my surprise, Glave didn’t lead with that dominant narrative. Readers were not thrown into the depths of the transatlantic slave trade, but instead eased into the waves of imagination. Setting the scene for how this book would be written, Glave introduces us to the fictional character Zeus. Zeus is a young enslaved Black boy who toils away on a ship. We learn that Zeus grew up attending to every whim and need of the captain and at the same time is steadily learning important seafaring skills. He’s constantly daydreaming of having his own vessel one day, a dream that keeps him fueled as he works to purchase his future freedom. Zeus’s relationship with water is a multifaceted one, one that leaves room for his love of sea adventures. Enslavement is not the plot of this story, it’s his dreams.

With the flip of a page, Glave transports the readers out of the imagined and into the archived. Zeus’s life at sea is not just a fictional short story, but a reflection of the real narratives of being Black at sea.

Que in Nancy Prince. Glave alchemies to life the story of Nancy, a Black woman in history who was raised by a family of sailors. Battling the high seas, she ventured to strange and far places. From Russia to Jamaica, she felt at home in the choppy waters of the ocean. In addition to her comfortability and knowledge of seafaring, she is also known for foiling a deceptive plan to trick Black ship passengers onto a false course set for slavers. The tides didn’t drag her down, she rode them.

Navigate to the next page and readers are introduced to Abubakari II, the fourteenth century ruler of Mali. Abubakari argued the world was round, a stark contrast to many of the European scientists and philosophers at the time who argued the world was flat. Abubarki stood on business by sending a fleet to cross the Atlantic and then taking a journey himself. The oceans didn’t scare him, he explored them.

Enter stage left, Olaudah Equiano. A West African man who was kidnapped, sold, and forced into the Middle Passage. During his time enslaved he gained invaluable maritime skills and was able to stay a seaman on ships. He recounts many interesting tales on the water, including witnessing the marriage practices of interracial couples seeking safe passage at sea. Weddings between free Blacks and whites on land were illegal and often punishable by death. The waves didn’t push him, he embraced them.

As Glave depicted these various Black historical figures of the sea, my perception of what the ocean meant to me began to culturally shift. The seams that held together so tightly the meaning of swimming while Black began to loosen a bit. It allowed me to unseam and double thread a more expansive narrative: Water can mean more to me. Glave seemed to harmonize with my thoughts at the end of chapter as she commented on the avoidant relationship that Black communities have with water, “This is a shame, since nature, including swimming in our oceans and lakes, feeds the soul.”

As I continued the book to its ends, I found the way Glave quilts together creative short stories with the wisdom, anecdotes, and experiences of Black environmentalists, naturalists, and knowers of the past left me with the same feeling every time-- with a renewed sense of curiosity for my environment. A curiosity so strong, when I finished the book I decided to do what the title of the book says and reclaim my heritage.

In September, BGE Knox Hub led a “Read and Reclaim” event with The Bottom, a local Black-owned bookstore and community center. Like Glave’s process, I imagined what reclamation looked like to me as a Black environmentalist in Knoxville. The story that came to my mind was uncovering an untold history of my family’s stomping grounds, like an archaeologist that just stumbled across the fossils of a lost civilization. Stitching this dream into real-life, I sought out a person who was living this narrative and that person is Mr. George Kemp. Mr. Kemp is a local trailblazer in Knoxville who does the incredibly dire work of preserving slave cemeteries. Odd Fellows Cemetery and Good Citizens Cemetery (also known as Citizens Cemetery or Eastport Cemetery) are two slave cemeteries that Knoxville ReAnimation Coalition, the organization he presides over, preserves. Odd Fellows Cemetery is one of the first and largest historically African American burial grounds in Tennessee that has restoration efforts dating back to 2009.

However the cemetery that BGE Knox Hub chose to assist was Citizens Cemetery, a more recent preservation project that began in 2020 and happened to be minutes away from the neighborhood my family grew up in.

Good Citizens Cemetery

Our small group for the event came with one intention in mind, stitching Glave’s words with the real-life work of environmental reclamation. Throughout the experience, Mr. Kemp gave us a perspective of slave cemeteries that I don’t think is often said. His approach to the grave was not one of sadness and anger, but one of reverence and joy. As Mr. Kemp chatted with our group, I felt a similar shift happen like when I was reading Glave’s book. The dominant narrative of slave cemeteries is frequently painted in one-dimension, a grim reminder of our dark history in America. But Mr. Kemp’s narrative was different, it is a reminder of responsibilities to our kin and community.

BGE Knox Hub participants pictured with Mr. Kemp

As we stood amongst the faded and old grave markers of the cemetery, time slowed down as the chirps of birds amplified. Mr. Kemp, with a calm and unwavering smile, explained his connection to the cemetery. About two feet from his feet sat the grave of his ancestor. In the 1840s, Good Citizens Cemetery was established as a burial place for enslaved and freed people. To be buried in this grave meant your family agreed to upkeep their plot. But as time passed, Black residents of Knoxville had to move or flee for many reasons or some family lines just died out. The once upkept cemetery fell into disarray for many years and generations. Mr. Kemp shared he has memories as a child passing this plot, never realizing this dense section of forest was filled with the bodies and tombs of enslaved and freedmen, and that the land also carried the bodies of his own. So Mr. Kemp did what he felt called to do, take care of his family’s plot.

Work that he now dedicates his retirement to, BGE Knox Hub joined him in the sweat breaking labor of preservation. Using tools and our hands, we contributed to the work of pulling invasives from the ground. Tangibly reclaiming our heritage and the forgotten histories of Knoxville’s Black community. As we buzzed with collective energy, I quietly wondered and mused about the people here. Mr. Kemp told us about a few historical figures buried, from the first Black woman to receive her freedom in Knox County to one of the first African Americans killed in the race riots of 1919. My mind wondered further as my fist pulled at a pile of English ivy, are my ancestors buried here?

Glave’s book enters into my psyche like a lightning strike. The way Glave’s words traveled through the beautiful and sometimes haunting stories of African American environmental experiences in her book demonstrates the exact opposite of “detached from the environment”. Our stories lay hidden within our environment and Glave did an excellent job challenging her readers to question-- what is left to be discovered? And just like how lightning exits the body, Glave’s words threaded into the fibers of my muscles as I reclaimed my environmental heritage one stem at a time.

BGE Knox Hub encourages readers to support Knoxville’s local and Black-owned bookstore, The Bottom. Please consider ordering a copy online through their online storefront at: https://bookshop.org/shop/thebottom.

Remembrance #2: Ancestral food

As we gather around the dinner table, tonight and every night, we encourage you to reflect on the connection you share with your food. Consider its origins and the sacrifices made for it to grace your table.

In the continuation of our Remembrance series, the spotlight is on ancestral foods. These foods predate colonization, and have embarked on transoceanic journeys intertwined with the strands of our ancestors' hair. These foods were meticulously handpicked, carefully hidden, stowed away, and sown with the purpose of nurturing the future. They represent living legacies spanning thousands of years and still remain resilient through our changing climate.

Special thanks to all of the writers and thinkers whose works served as resources for this thread:

Abena Offeh-Gyimah (@livingtheancestralway), her writing and her episode on @for.the.wild podcast

An Afro-Indigenous Approach to Agriculture and Food Security, by farmer and food justice activist Leah Penniman (@leahpenniman)

Seeds of Memory: Botanical Legacies of the African Diaspora by Judith Carney

Remembrance & Internal Landscape

Can plants enable time travel?

I did not grow up living close to the land. However, my childhood memories in suburban Arizona were still colored with plant life; oleander, peacock flower, and bougainvillea. On my way to school, I would carefully examine every seed pod and flower bud, absentmindedly plucking small leaves from palo verde branches. I couldn't recall any of these memories until I was in my late twenties. 

My teenage years and early adulthood were tumultuous. Enduring prolonged trauma gave rise to a state of anxious indifference. Mentally exhausted in Los Angeles, I began to take daily walks alone. As I started to slow down and run my hands along spiky palmate leaves and flowering aloes my tactile memories returned. I spent nearly twenty years without noticing them but, in my dazed meandering, I caught the scent of oleander again. I recalled the bushes with soft white flowers that lined the wall near our mailbox and the sticky (&toxic!) sap that coated my hands when I picked them. As I continued my walks, my youth and early curiosity about the world gradually came into sharp focus. My subconscious finally opened the doors I once believed were locked.

Noticing is a net for catching magic. *

Nerium oleander is a plant native to Europe and Asia

Plants are portals and when we tune into the subtleties of nature we are granted access to our shared internal landscape. These contemplative moments can connect us to our personal history and gently lift the thin belief that we are separate from each other. 

In our ‘Remembrance’ series, we will use personal reflection and historical exploration as a way to forge connection with nature. In our first installment, we explore plants that played a significant role in the physical and spiritual survival of those who endured chattel slavery. 

Enslaved Africans had to create space for themselves on unfamiliar land. They adapted to North America by using plants as a means of resistance and agency. Doorway gardens kept by the enslaved, known as ‘conucos’ in Cuba and ‘coivaras’ in Brazil, allowed them to commune with the land for food, medicine and ritual. 

*this incredible phrase was written by @sensitivesensualist