Megan Spurrell
CONDE NAST TRAVELER
“We can't save the planet without uplifting the voices of its people, especially those most often unheard,” says Leah Thomas in her new book, The Intersectional Environmentalist: How to Dismantle Systems of Oppression to Protect People + Planet. “We should care about the protection of people as much as we care about the protection of our planet—to me, these fights are the same.”
These two lines at the start of Thomas's first book, released March 8, are easy for any traveler to get behind. The same goes for what follows on the remaining 200 pages. Consider the entire volume an overarching yet detailed introduction to intersectional environmentalism, a term made popular by Thomas in the past couple of years, which considers the intersection between racism, privilege, and environmentalism. Her book outlines theories on the subject, inspecting how Black, Indigenous, and other people of color are impacted by climate injustice. She also share tips for instigating change, frequently nodding back to the generations of Black women in her family that she credits with instilling her sense of sustainability.
For travelers, Thomas's work is essential brain food for how we consider our impact on the places we visit—and the people who call those destinations home. Thomas, after all, agrees that being a good environmentalist doesn't mean you can't travel. (“Imperfect environmentalism” is her other favorite way to describe what she does.)
We chatted with Thomas to hear more about the launch of Intersectional Environmentalist, and how she hopes it can be a guide for all of us. Plus, she shares her approach to mindful travel—and a few places, from Kansas to Portugal, that have inspired her.
“We can't save the planet without uplifting the voices of its people, especially those most often unheard,” says Leah Thomas in her new book, The Intersectional Environmentalist: How to Dismantle Systems of Oppression to Protect People + Planet. “We should care about the protection of people as much as we care about the protection of our planet—to me, these fights are the same.”
These two lines at the start of Thomas's first book, released March 8, are easy for any traveler to get behind. The same goes for what follows on the remaining 200 pages. Consider the entire volume an overarching yet detailed introduction to intersectional environmentalism, a term made popular by Thomas in the past couple of years, which considers the intersection between racism, privilege, and environmentalism. Her book outlines theories on the subject, inspecting how Black, Indigenous, and other people of color are impacted by climate injustice. She also share tips for instigating change, frequently nodding back to the generations of Black women in her family that she credits with instilling her sense of sustainability.
For travelers, Thomas's work is essential brain food for how we consider our impact on the places we visit—and the people who call those destinations home. Thomas, after all, agrees that being a good environmentalist doesn't mean you can't travel. (“Imperfect environmentalism” is her other favorite way to describe what she does.)
We chatted with Thomas to hear more about the launch of Intersectional Environmentalist, and how she hopes it can be a guide for all of us. Plus, she shares her approach to mindful travel—and a few places, from Kansas to Portugal, that have inspired her.
© Cher Martinez Author Leah Thomas
© Sanetra Nere Longno Thomas's first book, The Intersectional Environmentalist, is easy for any traveler to get behind.
How do environmentalism and travel conflict—and intersect—for you?
I'm an avid traveler, even though I'm an environmentalist, which some people think conflicts but I don't agree.
Environmentalism and sustainability aren't just about restriction and punishing yourself, and shame-based motivation. We're existing in imperfect systems, so we cannot be perfect environmentalists. It's okay if we extend ourselves some grace and, for me, travel is one of the ways that I find my inspiration to care for the earth so deeply—because I get to connect with new people and cultures and histories, and see the impact of the climate crisis up close. It also helps me remember how beautiful this earth is.
How does travel typically factor into your life and work?
Not too long ago I took what I call the book babymoon. I went to Portugal and I stayed in these really tiny homes and quiet communities up in the mountains. I ended up staying in an Airbnb in Faro, Portugal, that happened to be designed by an environmental policy analyst. I got to walk around, meet local people, relax, see the forest—things like that. It was exactly what I needed before such a big moment in my life. It brought me back down to earth in a lot of ways.
[Travel is] a reminder of why I care for both people and the planet so much, because there are so many beautiful cultures, many of which are inherently sustainable—a lot of local communities around the world or Indigenous communities are already farming really sustainably or not producing a lot of waste. And it helps me reimagine how systems can be better in places like the United States.
Has any one trip notably impacted your work?
When I was in college, I got a park ranger internship for three months in the rural town of Nicodemus, Kansas, at a historic site which had a lot of Black history—after slavery, free Black people came to this town and made homes from the mud in the ground, known as dugouts.
But I also got to communicate with farmers in the area. Going into the experience, I was such an environmental tyrant. I was a “I hate pesticides, GMOs are horrible” poster child for environmental extremism. But these farmers I met there were like, Oh, hey, you want to work for the Environmental Protection Agency one day? Okay, hop on the tractor with me. They spilled their hearts about having to change what pesticides they're using and how it made them lose money; how they wish that D.C. wasn't so disconnected from them, how they wish people making laws knew about the economic impact of them.
I realized I'm one of those people. And if I would have gotten into policy without actually interacting with low income farmers or people in this historic area, I wouldn't be able to adequately address their really unique needs. It opened my eyes—policy should be approached with nuance and not absolutism because you can learn so much from people if you just have a conversation with them and see them in their element. How would I know what farmers in the Midwest need without actually talking to them?
You mention a lot of intersectional environmentalists in your book. Who should readers be paying attention to right now?
There are so many, but some people that I think are amazing include Pinar, who is mentioned in the book. They have an organization called Queer Nature. They're an Indigenous activist who is also a hunter, and they advocate for queer identity in nature. I really adore Gloria Walton, who wrote the foreword. She's this incredible woman who oversees the organization The Solutions Project, which was actually co-founded by Mark Ruffalo. (Shout out to the Hulk.) In her time that she's been there, Gloria has been able to use celebrity relationships and networks with these big nonprofits to allocate and redistribute millions of dollars in funding to smaller climate justice organizations. I think that's such an incredible display of the privilege of networking.
How do you hope people will use what they learn in this book to travel better?
I would have had a section about travel if I could go back and write it.
I don't want it to seem like I'm giving people extra work to do, but I would say to look up different social and environmental issues that are happening in the place that you're going to. When you do some of that research, remember that where you place your money is really important. Support local artisans if possible, or Indigenous peoples of the land that you're going to. Please don't litter. Ride public transportation, get a bike if you can. Anything to lessen your environmental impact.
How do environmentalism and travel conflict—and intersect—for you?
I'm an avid traveler, even though I'm an environmentalist, which some people think conflicts but I don't agree.
Environmentalism and sustainability aren't just about restriction and punishing yourself, and shame-based motivation. We're existing in imperfect systems, so we cannot be perfect environmentalists. It's okay if we extend ourselves some grace and, for me, travel is one of the ways that I find my inspiration to care for the earth so deeply—because I get to connect with new people and cultures and histories, and see the impact of the climate crisis up close. It also helps me remember how beautiful this earth is.
How does travel typically factor into your life and work?
Not too long ago I took what I call the book babymoon. I went to Portugal and I stayed in these really tiny homes and quiet communities up in the mountains. I ended up staying in an Airbnb in Faro, Portugal, that happened to be designed by an environmental policy analyst. I got to walk around, meet local people, relax, see the forest—things like that. It was exactly what I needed before such a big moment in my life. It brought me back down to earth in a lot of ways.
[Travel is] a reminder of why I care for both people and the planet so much, because there are so many beautiful cultures, many of which are inherently sustainable—a lot of local communities around the world or Indigenous communities are already farming really sustainably or not producing a lot of waste. And it helps me reimagine how systems can be better in places like the United States.
Has any one trip notably impacted your work?
When I was in college, I got a park ranger internship for three months in the rural town of Nicodemus, Kansas, at a historic site which had a lot of Black history—after slavery, free Black people came to this town and made homes from the mud in the ground, known as dugouts.
But I also got to communicate with farmers in the area. Going into the experience, I was such an environmental tyrant. I was a “I hate pesticides, GMOs are horrible” poster child for environmental extremism. But these farmers I met there were like, Oh, hey, you want to work for the Environmental Protection Agency one day? Okay, hop on the tractor with me. They spilled their hearts about having to change what pesticides they're using and how it made them lose money; how they wish that D.C. wasn't so disconnected from them, how they wish people making laws knew about the economic impact of them.
I realized I'm one of those people. And if I would have gotten into policy without actually interacting with low income farmers or people in this historic area, I wouldn't be able to adequately address their really unique needs. It opened my eyes—policy should be approached with nuance and not absolutism because you can learn so much from people if you just have a conversation with them and see them in their element. How would I know what farmers in the Midwest need without actually talking to them?
You mention a lot of intersectional environmentalists in your book. Who should readers be paying attention to right now?
There are so many, but some people that I think are amazing include Pinar, who is mentioned in the book. They have an organization called Queer Nature. They're an Indigenous activist who is also a hunter, and they advocate for queer identity in nature. I really adore Gloria Walton, who wrote the foreword. She's this incredible woman who oversees the organization The Solutions Project, which was actually co-founded by Mark Ruffalo. (Shout out to the Hulk.) In her time that she's been there, Gloria has been able to use celebrity relationships and networks with these big nonprofits to allocate and redistribute millions of dollars in funding to smaller climate justice organizations. I think that's such an incredible display of the privilege of networking.
How do you hope people will use what they learn in this book to travel better?
I would have had a section about travel if I could go back and write it.
I don't want it to seem like I'm giving people extra work to do, but I would say to look up different social and environmental issues that are happening in the place that you're going to. When you do some of that research, remember that where you place your money is really important. Support local artisans if possible, or Indigenous peoples of the land that you're going to. Please don't litter. Ride public transportation, get a bike if you can. Anything to lessen your environmental impact.
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