Analyze

The Sampson County landfill can be smelled before seen. This olfactory indicator points toward the sensory scale of these pungent emissions but also toward the geographic scope: this landfill receives waste from as far away as Orange County (the state's most expensive property/tax base), among dozens of other distant counties, making this "hazardous site" a lesson in realizing impact beyond the immediate locale. So when we answer the question, "What is this hazard?" we must think not only about the landfill as a thing in itself but as a set of economic and political relations of capital and the transit of other peoples' trash, into this lower-income, rural, predominantly African-American neighborhood. In this way, 'thinking with a landfill' (like this one in Sampson County) enables us to analyze wider sets of relationships, NIMBY-ist policymaking, consumerism, waste management, and the racialized spatial politics that enable Sampson County to be the recipient of trash from all over the state. At the same time we think spatially and in transit, we can think historically to (a) inquire about the DEQ policies that enable this kind of waste management system; and (b) the emergent "solutions" in the green energy sector that propose to capture the landfill's methane in order to render the stench productive for the future -- that is, to enable more consumption, by turning garbage into gas. As such, the idea of "hazard" can expand beyond the site itself - impactful and affective as that site might be - to examine the uneven relations of exchange and capitalist-driven values of productivity that further entrench infrastructures such as these. [This offers a conceptual corrollary to thinking, as well, about the entrenchment of CAFOs for "green" biogas development, as we address elsewhere in the platform].

Danielle Koonce in an Opinion piece in the Fayetteville Observer, states...

"And it’s not just household garbage coming in — chemical waste and coal ash has also been disposed of in the Sampson County landfill."

"We listened to community members share how they can no longer garden or enjoy the outdoors due to the thick odor and fumes from the landfill."

"We learned that the landfill receives trash from around the state, from as far away as New York City, and even trash that comes in on ship-barges through Wilmington."

While Bryan Wuester, manager for the Sampson County Landfill states in the Sampson Independent...

"The Sampson landfill accepts waste from North Carolina only, about 5,450 tons from 16 different counties a day."

"The landfill accepts three kinds of waste: construction and demolition materials, solid waste and special waste, which are byproducts of industry. No coal ash comes into the Sampson facility..."

These are two different stories of the landfill coming from two different stakeholders, one in which needs the landfill to be in operation for a job and the other a concerned citizen worried about the disproportional impacts her community faces. While Danielle Koonce listens to the realities of the community members located around the landfill who express concern and worry, the landfill manager denies these realities and insists they are not true. This is not only invaliding to the community members who are fighting to get their voices heard but further embeds environmental injustice into the community.  

Drawing on a long career as a Black critical health equity researcher, Bowleg quotes Black feminist Audre Lorde in arguing that the “master’s tools”—in order words, conventional theories and methods—"will never dismantle the master’s house”—intersectional structures of oppression from which health inequities are produced. Bowleg elaborates by explaining that conventional theories and methods “valorize almost exclusively individualistic and social cognitive approaches (Cochran & Mays, 1993; Weber & Parra-Medina, 2003); ignore the foundational roots of structural and intersectional inequality (Bowleg, 2012, 2020); center White, Western, cisgender male, middle-class, and heterosexual people and their experiences as normative (Henrich et al., 2010); prioritize amelioration, not transformation (Fox et al., 2009a); and view Black people primarily through the lens of deficit or pathology” (237).

Thus Bowleg offers 10 critical lessons for Black and other health equity researchers of color that she links with system and structural-level strategies. Bowleg also cautions that these lessons are risky and could damage one’s academic career—but that it is exactly this kind of risk that is necessary for change. Among these include: embrace critical perspectives, embrace a critical qualitative stance, learn research paradigms (e.g. positivist paradigm = a master’s tool, must learn to counter), foster community-based partnerships and collaborations, and highlight black communities’ strengths, assets, and acts of resistance. Bowledge also encourages researchers to “tell it like it is”: “Epistemological ignorance is one of the master’s most formidable tools. Epistemologies of ignorance refer to the examination of different types of ignorance and their production, maintenance, and functions (Sullivan & Tuana, 2007)” (239). Here, Bowleg emphasizes the importance of language by discussing how it can alternatively reveal or obscure structures of oppression as well as it shapes the nature of research.