Decolonizing Environmental Conservation

For a decade now, I have worked diligently for the last ten years to protect the world's precious ecosystems. I pushed myself beyond the limits of physical and mental exhaustion to demonstrate to the world and myself—especially to those in the Western world—that I was worthy of being a conservation scientist. I felt fulfilled because I had both passion and purpose through environmental conservation. I collaborated with some of the world's rarest species in unique locations. During this journey, I encountered the most dedicated scientists who inspired me. Yet, as with every story and truth, a darker side exists. To decolonize environmental conservation, I must share this aspect of my story to help create a fair, equitable, and just environmental movement.

Working in Conservation, I inspired the younger generation of environmental conservationists. As part of my career's mission, I encouraged countless individuals worldwide to pursue their passion for a "tiring" but fulfilling career choice. However, I failed to expose the challenges and barriers of a sector that saw local people as disposable resources to achieve its conservation goals.

Let's begin with some facts; I am a Creole, queer woman of color from an island east of Africa, Mauritius. I am a descendant of indentured laborers and slaves; nothing in my bloodline screamed scholar or international scientist when I was born. I am a first-generation college graduate who won a prestigious scholarship to complete a master's conservation program in the United States. My identity and perspectives are my biggest strengths. Still, I am embarrassed to admit that I tried to fit into the white cultural mold, seeing it as the only way to make me a successful scientist.

I rejected many parts of my identity to belong to the scientific tribe. I was trapped in the mindset that my community did not care about the environment. I did not understand that caring was a privilege that was only possible with the most comfortable socio-economic factors. I did not see that the destruction of my island's biodiversity was not the result of lack of care from community members but the consequence of colonization, which left deep scars and destroyed habitats.

We can create thousands of natural parks and reserves. Still, conservation projects will stagnate and fail as long as we do not invest in community education and empowerment with committed funding. Communities have incredible power and drive to protect their homes when given the opportunity. According to the World Bank, most consumption occurs in industrialized nations; the 2.3 billion residents of low-income countries accounted for less than 3% of public and private consumption in 2004, while the 1 billion residents of high-income countries consumed more than 80% of the global total.

Through travel and education, I broke the veil; I am less "ignorant" of the world. I saw the food waste, the overconsumption, and how easy it was to take, especially in a world where you are disconnected from what you are taking. I lived in the U.S. for three years, getting a good taste of the comfortable life, even with my minimum wage. You can imagine the shock of growing up without 24/7 electricity and living in one room with my parents. I witnessed the disparity, but I have also seen the pain and suffering of this developed society that is no longer in touch with nature. I choose Conservation, and I still choose it because I genuinely want to save myself, my community, and the planet.

But how easy was/is that choice? I made sacrifices and still am. I was convinced I had to accept that the job was underpaid (less than a dollar/hour), overworked (from dusk till dawn), and often without proper living conditions. I was regularly reminded of the privilege that it was to have scientific knowledge passed down to me. I was taught not to question the methods because we had international experts. Yet, the harder I worked, the less I made an impact. Without the feeling of making a significant change, the other struggles started to intensify. The friendship and the growth were insufficient. I felt anxiety when I had to spend 3/4 of my monthly salary on a pair of shoes for work. I felt anxiety when I had no money left, and I slept with friends because I could not afford my place. I still battle with the anxiety of the "What next question"?

Still, I hung on to my passion, but as we all know, passion doesn't pay bills. Being a fighter, I sought more. I could not stand the injustice of working in a company that did not recognize the value of the people working for them. They valued international expertise over local expertise. I left Mauritius for Seychelles, where I found community-integrated conservation efforts. With rekindled hope in my heart, I worked hard to protect these precious habitats. The locals were passionate and active, which made me happy. However, I witnessed the judgment from the Western gaze of their work culture and ethics, as if the Western world had the right to judge. Worst, I was complicit in this judgment.

Like many Mauritians, I believed that making a significant impact in Conservation required leaving my country. This understanding led me to pursue more expansive knowledge and experience to establish a network of Mauritians dedicated to training the next global generation of environmental leaders. As my stay in the U.S. concludes, I am apprehensive about returning to a work environment that, whether knowingly or unknowingly, perpetuates patriarchal, misogynistic, colonial, and white supremacist attitudes. I feel conflicted and unwelcome in my own country.

This message is a powerful testament to my journey and truth. It signifies my healing from generational trauma. I experience a range of emotions, including anger, yet I will harness them constructively through my blogs and in supportive environments to continue sharing my truth. I am not a product of the Western world. Although I received a Western education and speak its language, my resilience is rooted in generations of perseverance. My professional and academic training equipped me for conservation, but I am determined to use these skills and language to break the cycle of environmental injustice. While some hesitate to assess the practicality of conservation efforts, my country's biodiversity is vanishing. People are losing their homes and lives due to increasing natural disasters. The 3% of forested areas are overtaken by invasive species and lost to deforestation. If we don't reevaluate now, when will we?

Once again, mo en fam creole, bisexuelle, la po color marron ki sorti lor un zil l'Afrique de l'est, Moris (I am a creole, queer, a woman of color from an island east of Africa, Mauritius). This identity is my force. I am a small piece of a larger puzzle comprised of other silent, marginalized, and oppressed voices. These voices are the ones that terrify you because you don't understand them; you tokenize them and underestimate them. Yes, I am speaking to you, environmental leaders upholding the white supremacist, homophobic, and misogynistic actions in Environmental Conservation. You will be held accountable. I am also addressing this message to allies who condone these behaviors by choosing silence and inaction. If you want to be allies, we are not obligated to educate you on the "hows" and the "whys." Discover the diversity within our ranks, and listen to our challenges. Lastly, to you, my unique puzzle piece, I want you to know that I care, we care, and we understand. There are days when you feel like you don't fit, that you are not enough, but you are. I wrote this blog because I also felt alone at that time. I am on my path to healing and invite you to find your own. Please take care of yourself so we can collectively care for our planet. Based on heart-centered rather than head-centered leadership values, let us protect our ecosystems and their communities.

The same patriarchal power structure that oppresses and exploits girls, women, and nonbinary people (and constricts and contorts boys and men) also wreaks destruction on the natural world. Dominance, supremacy, violence, extraction, egotism, greed, ruthless competition—these hallmarks of patriarchy fuel the climate crisis just as surely as they do inequality, colluding with racism along the way. Patriarchy silences, breeds contempt, fuels destructive capitalism, and plays a zero-sum game. Its harms are chronic, cumulative, and fundamentally planetary. - All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson (Editor) & Katharine Keeble Wilkinson (Editor)