Environmentalism and social structures are deeply intertwined; therefore, addressing racial disparities for communities of Color is crucial for attaining justice for our natural world and the people within. A white narrative heavily influences outdoor leisure in the U.S. with little insight from other racial groups. The purpose of this study is to explore how the natural world influences Chicana/o families' sense of belonging within their communities. I used testimonios as a methodology coupled with a LatCrit theoretical framework to collect counterstories (to white narratives). After intergenerational family interviews, including my own family, I curated excerpts that reflected core ideas of belonging, connection to the land, and experiences of injustice. These testimonios mirror messages of societal belonging or exclusion within the context of critical social issues for Latine people. The testimonios end with consejos: words of wisdom for future generations. I conclude the results with reflexive poems comprised of the testimonios shared using antropoesía. This study aims to deconstruct racialized hetero-normative narratives of the outdoors and "hold space" (Cairo, 2021) for Latine stories and perspectives.I intend the structure of this thesis to reflect my pedagogical and epistemological stance: knowledge creation is an individual and collective process . Our ancestral knowledge continues through the sharing of stories and oral traditions, an ancient human art form. To honor collective consciousness from (one of the many) iconic Chicana/o authors, I bring forward an excerpt from Gloria Anzaldua's poetry as the second piece.
(Excerpt from) El camino de la mestiza / The Mestiza WayBy: Gloria Anzaldúa (1987) Caught between the sudden contradiction, the breath sucked in and the endless space, the Brown woman stands still, looks at the sky. She decides to go down, digging her way along the roots of trees. Sifting through bones, she shakes them to see if there is any marrow in them. Then, touching the dirt to her forehead, to her tongue, she takes a few bones, leaves the rest in their burial place. She goes through her backpack, keeps her journal and address book, throws away the muni-bart metro-maps. The coins are heavy and they go next, then the green backs flutter through the air. She keeps her knife, can opener and eyebrow pencil. She puts bones, pieces of bark, hierbas, eagle feather, snakeskin, tape recorder, the rattle and drum in her pack and sets out to become the complete Tolteca. (p. 104)In the second poetic piece, Anzaldúa, who self-identifies as a queer Chicana from a neighboring border city near where I also grew up, reflects, "when I saw poetry written in Tex-Mex for the first time, a feeling of pure joy flashed through me. I felt like I really existed as a people" (p. 82). I feel similar when I read Anzaluda's (1987) poetry and other work by Latina authors that fueled this thesis. These writers powerfully interweave language and culture; they artfully re-tell a narrative not defined by borders.