A Vibrant Palette of Community

By Lina Karamali, with contributions from Kae Jensen, Kamille Lang, Pierre Sherrill, and Jacky Vera

Anyone familiar with CRC will have heard one word over and over at workshops, team meetings, resilience fairs, on our social media, and on our website: community. In our pursuit of climate justice and equity, community lies at the very core. Those who control resources often eschew those we work with based on their identities, their appearances, their finances, their languages, and more. The individuals within these groups are sidelined not based on any personal merit or demerit, but based on negative perceptions of their community as a whole. These generalizations preclude equity and leave a whole stratum of people with an unacceptable dearth of tools to provide for their climate safety, health, and preparedness for the future.

CRC strives to lift up those who have been left behind, bringing communities together so we can hear what they need and how they want to be protected for the future. As such, much of our practice centers on inclusion; if community members do not feel comfortable or accommodated, how can they be expected to share their sincere needs and vulnerabilities? This practice is invaluable for both our staff and our partners in community. Indeed, one can hope to see it reflected in any (and one day in every) space. 

Being a part of a group historically disenfranchised in this way can feel disheartening, but it can also bring insight and hope to one’s work. June is Pride Month, and this month we put out an ask to our staff who identify as LGBTQIA+ who felt comfortable doing so to share their thoughts on several questions surrounding their identity, community, and their work at CRC. Please read on for their reflections.

Our staff contributors (L to R): Lina Karamali, Pierre Sherrill, Jacky Vera, Kae Jensen, Kamille Lang)

What does building an inclusive community look and feel like to you — especially for people whose identities are often overlooked or marginalized?

Pierre Sherrill, Chief of Staff: When I think about inclusiveness, I connect it to the idea of belonging. It's one thing to get an invitation to a party, it's another thing to feel like you were thought of at the party. It's like understanding and anticipating a person's dietary needs and seeing that reflected on a menu. Belonging goes past tolerance and being included... it empowers typically silenced voices and amplifies typically forgotten perspectives.

Kamille Lang, Director of Outreach and Education: There's a warmth and a glow that comes when you walk in a room filled with community members who are drawn to be in that room for the same reason you are. Our students in the YCC program talk about this a lot too: that when they join this Collective, they feel what it is like to be with a group of people who care about the planet and their communities at the same level of earnestness with which they do, and it is so infectious.

Jacky Vera, Resilient Homes Associate: An inclusive community means that people feel safe to share their identity and express themselves, always having their pronouns/names respected, and making sure their voices and stories are heard and told.

Lina Karamali, Communications Manager: To me, building an inclusive community feels like a warm hug, a feeling that you are accepted and seen without even saying a word. It looks like creating intentional space for those outside the conventional molds, even before knowing whether they're needed or not. Not having to ask but simply feeling one's needs anticipated and one's self reflected in a space make the world feel brighter and softer. When you feel the world embracing rather than tolerating you, everything changes.

Kae Jensen, Resilient Adaptation Program Manager: An inclusive community looks like norms, resources and spaces expanded to center LGBTQ+ voices and needs. Often, society expects that centering a marginalized community inherently sidelines someone else's voice, but a gender-neutral bathroom allows a single father to change his baby with ease, AND for a nonbinary person to feel safe and cared for. An inclusive community looks like understanding that our safety is a collective responsibility. That understanding works for all of us when it is materially reflected in the design of our policies, programs and public spaces.

A community Dia de los Muertos gathering

What gives you hope about the future of LGBTQ+ community and belonging, and what kind of world do you hope we continue building together?

Lina: Seeing more queerness represented in media and among celebrities, as well as seeing more folks feeling comfortable sharing their true selves in my communities, gives me hope for the future of queer community and belonging. It is so easy to feel disheartened amidst anti-trans sentiment and bathroom laws, institutionalized homophobia, and bi erasure, just to name a few, but knowing that normalization of queerness, gender-affirming care, and queer inclusion are blossoming in other spaces sprinkles much-needed water over the delicate flower that is our community. When I was young, I barely understood what half of the letters in LGBTQ signified and it took me years to discover my own queerness. Now, today's youth see their feelings and self-perceptions recognized and understood on a scale unimaginable just a decade or two ago. I hope the garden of the queer community continues to bloom and flourish, with our collective strength overcoming any thorns of prejudice that may appear.

Jacky: What gives me hope is more representation in the media and people being able to express themselves. Being Mexican, it makes me extremely happy that Mexico has an option to put non-binary on passports and that the legalization of gay marriage has passed in some parts of Mexico. A few years ago, Mexico had their first trans woman, Wendy Guevara, win Mexico’s version of the reality show Big Brother (La casa de los famosos). She was a fan favorite. Also seeing people create inclusive words in Spanish for our non binary siblings. Growing up, I did not see any queer representation in the media. I would read Japanese gay (yaoi & yuri) manga in order to see queer romance and stories.

Kae: I find hope for the kind of world we are building together in queer histories and stories. I find it in the vision of safety that Marsha P. Johnson and Silvia Rivera were dreaming of when they threw bricks at Stonewall. I find hope in the tender love and care the people around me are creating, like a few weeks ago, when I observed two queer people of color braiding each other's hair, their eyes shining with a moment of compassion, shared culture, and connection. I also find hope in the kind, gentle, intelligent youth my dear queer friends are raising, who call me "Uncle Frog." I find hope in my ancestors such as Marsha, Silvia and others, and I find hope for what we can build together in their ongoing fight for our right to be safe and belong.

Kamille: As the climate movement diversifies over time and climate change's impact becomes more personal to more communities, I have hope that leadership of this movement expands to include the modern American – who is a beautiful blend of races, religious upbringings, traditions, backgrounds, and ways of loving and being – and brings that into the way they want to protect people and the planet through climate action.

Pierre:  I see the hope in how queerness is embodied by the coming generations. There is an assuredness in how they identify and in their expression. I want to be in a world where humans can just exist, as they are with the opportunity to still become.

Community raffle at the San Bruno Rooted in Resilience Fair

How has your identity influenced your approach to building community with CRC and its wider ecosystem of residents, partners and stakeholders?

Kae: My coworkers will recognize a quote that guides how my identity informs my work: 

“During the darkest days of the AIDS crisis we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night, and it was the dance that kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for.” – Dan Savage

Grief and anxiety is a constant part of community climate work. We lose landscapes, plants, animals, policies, and programs that matter to us all the time, based solely on the whims of political change. At the very worst, we can lose the quality of our health and sometimes people to their exposure to environmental injustice. It is my queer identity that reminds me to hold this grief with care and facilitate joy in our work, as I know that the right to joy and connection is what lies beyond, and sustains us through, the fight for survival.

Jacky: As someone who is pansexual and has a non-binary sibling, I make sure that the language I use is inclusive to everyone. I never want to make anyone feel bad about themselves. It can be as simple as having your pronouns in your bio and name on Zoom. I adore my trans sibling and loved ones. I will always advocate for the trans community.

Kamille: Growing and navigating my gender identity throughout my 20s helped shape my confidence and leadership as a community organizer and as a person who can be a good listener, educator, and decision-maker for the communities we work in and for. Growing up, I refused to go by my first name because I thought it was too girly and it felt like someone who wasn't confident in who they were, like I know I am. Today, I go by my given (and colloquially feminine) name but accept and know that I am confident. I seek the assurance to back my confidence by understanding where my communities are coming from, what they need, and what experiences they have gone through. By doing the research on how much change costs, how the systems function, and what policies and programs are interacting, I can educate residents, get their perspectives, and build relationships with the decision-makers to speak confidently on what needs to change so our residents are no longer on the frontlines, have a sense of belonging, and are decision-makers themselves.

Lina: As someone holding multiple intersectional, marginalized identities, I have always been aware of identity in any space in which I participate. Having seen my communities scapegoated on national television, attacked through targeted legislation, and shunned in social spaces, I understand what it feels like for our residents and stakeholders to have been overlooked and under-resourced for so long. It's easy to make small changes that make folks feel included in various facets, from sharing pronouns to providing multilingual resources to accommodating dietary restrictions. The same principles of building community, inclusion, and belonging that are so important in the queer community remain omnipresent when working with anyone in CRC's wider ecosystem.

Pierre: CRC encounters all types of people in our sphere of influence. There is something special about seeing your identity reflected in the folks that you serve. There can be an unspoken understanding and peace in the awareness that we curate safe space for all people, but with intentionality for marginalized demographics. My queerness colors how I see the world; it heightens my compassion for others. It is my superpower!

We are deeply grateful to all our staff at CRC and each of their individual perspectives and strengths; but this month, we proudly spotlight our queer staff and the reflections they offer, colored by their identities and experiences, blending seamlessly into the vibrant palette of our community. After all, where is a community’s strength, if not in its vibrance and diversity forged by each of our unique hues?