My wife Suzanne and I have a tradition of going big for birthdays. We’ve skydived, we’ve done a polar plunge—once we even built an igloo when it was negative forty degrees to have a birthday sleepover. My birthday this year was no exception—we decided to celebrate by planning a surfing and camping birthday getaway!
We chose Morro Bay, California for our adventure. We’ve been to Morro Bay in the past and loved its welcoming atmosphere and gorgeous beaches. Nearly ten of us made the journey and a good number braved the brisk February beach weather to camp alongside us.
We were in Morro Bay to do exactly what the Sierra Club mission encourages everyone to do—explore and enjoy the beauty our natural environment has to offer. But unfortunately hate got in the way.
Our surfing lesson was incredible. We spent hours in the water with an instructor who helped many of us get to our feet in the first few tries! Afterward our adrenaline was rushing from the crashing of waves and the many attempts to get back up time and again. It wasn’t long before our stomachs were rumbling with ravenous hunger and we decided to forego making dinner back at camp and to instead head into town for dinner.
We stopped at a restaurant where we had dined the night before, with live music and dancing. Spirits were high and we were able to dance to a song or two without incident. It wasn’t until the third song that things took a turn for the worst—when the lead singer began making obscene and crude comments into the microphone targeting members of our party, particularly those of us that identify as LGBTQ.
It took us less than a minute to begin walking back to our table, but despite our retreat the comments kept coming. The bandleader’s remarks were not entirely intelligible, but we heard “redefining marriage,” “forcing your agenda,” and “they are always shoving it in our faces.” It was all a bit of a blur as I tried to shut out the negativity and hate, but there were also a number of graphically lewd anatomical remarks that were shouted at us as we left the dance floor.
We asked for our check and the bandleader followed one of the couples from our party into the dining area to continue his hate-filled comments—by this point he was screaming and shouting. I sought out the manager, who was quick to defend the band claiming that “being offensive” was just part of the band’s act and that we were free to leave if we were uncomfortable.
Our festive mood was broken by misogyny, homophobia, and hate. We gathered our things, subdued and disappointed, as restaurant patrons one by one walked up to the band leader to praise his efforts and to compliment the band’s set before the night was ruined by “them”.
You see, I cannot leave my front door without one of my identities. They are what make me who I am—even when I am on a weekend getaway to explore and enjoy the natural environment.
And “them” is what my wife and I are often reduced to. We are people who are continually forced to look over their shoulder for fear of personal safety. We are women who bite their tongues when passersby spout derogatory terms or lewd comments for no reason other than walking by us on the street.
The bottom line is: We left the restaurant because we no longer felt safe.
It is hard not to wonder whether this would have happened before the election, before people felt so empowered to act on their hate due to our new political climate.
The trip was still a great adventure—I’m not about to let anyone ruin my birthday—but the experience made me reflect on the deep connection between the environment and social issues. As director of Equity, Inclusion and Justice at Sierra Club, I often hear the question: why does Sierra Club support Black Lives Matter? Or immigration? Why do we speak out on LGBTQ issues, or call out oppression where we see it?
This story is the answer to that question. This is why we do this work (aside from the fact that it’s just the right thing to do). How am I supposed to enjoy and explore the planet when people with similar identities aren’t welcome in many communities? Must I only explore and enjoy the parts of the planet with progressive social values that practice acceptance or tolerance? We were in California for our surfing trip, so my options would be pretty limited if I only explored places where I’m guaranteed not to experience harassment.
Sadly, this was not the first time I’ve had this kind of experience. Just last month in Oakland my wife and I were getting breakfast after church when the waitress who was staring at us holding hands across the table came by expressly to tell us that “this is a family restaurant.”
Our mission statement calls on all people to “explore, enjoy and protect the wild places of the earth” and to “protect and restore the quality of the natural and human environment.” But people with marginalized identities can’t enjoy the planet if our human environment is toxic and unwelcoming.
I can’t leave my identity behind when I go surfing, camping, biking or hiking. My identity comes with me everywhere I go. I bring it with me every day when I come to work at the Sierra Club. It helps me see what might be invisible to others—the hatred and intolerance that keeps people of color, LGBTQ people and others with marginalized identities away from spaces where we don’t feel safe.
A writer named Rahawa Haile spoke powerfully about her experience being one of the few Black women ever to hike the entirety of the Appalachian Trail. She told Atlas Obscura that she had once had to stay at a hostel along the trail that flew a Confederate flag, noting: “There’s hiking the trail, but there’s also having to go into trail towns. You need food, you need to do that laundry. It’s not the trail that’s the problem with the trail. It’s what it’s like to be bothered in places that don’t expect to see you.”
I’ve been there. My wife and I have conversations all the time about our outdoor adventure plans that include planning for our safety and analyzing the cultural and political context of our destinations—conversations that our straight, white cis-gender friends aren’t forced to have or even consider.
But I won’t let hate stop me from exploring and enjoying the planet. I’ll keep surfing (maybe in warmer weather next time.) And I’ll keep working to make the Sierra Club—and this nation—a more welcoming and inclusive space for people of all identities and experiences.