Analyze

publication of data in open science

WHAT (& WHAT FOR): Lead is a metal often found in pipes, and in old paint (before it was banned in paint in the late 1970s). Before 1996, lead also found in vehicle fuel resulting in  soil contamination in many communities from both paint dust and vehicle pollution. 

HEALTH IMPACT: Lead is a neurotoxin and is known to have no safe blood lead level in children. 

Has been linked to:

1. Brain swelling, anemia, seizures, renal failure, reduced IQ, and ADHD

2. Damages brain development in children

3. Connected to behavioral problems like aggression and bullying, and internalizing problems such as depression and anxiety 

LOCAL IMPACT: Recent research in Santa Ana has shown that there is a disproportionately impact of solid lead contamination crisis on lower income, people of color communities. 

POSSIBLE RESPONSES: There are many ways to respond to lead contamination:

1. Providing special health care for children with high blood lead levels, and investigating possible sources of lead exposure in homes, daycares and school, playground, etc.

2. Implement strict housing policies where landlord and city housing officials are required to have lead inspections of homes for lead paint hazards (especially in low income, people of color communities)

3. Requiring a minimum reduction standard for lead paint in older homes 

4. Requiring blood lead level test as part of the routine check up for children (extremely important for children in low-income housing)

WHAT (& WHAT FOR): PFOAS are a group of large manufactured chemicals that are widely used in various everyday items. Often used in waterproof items and nonstick pans among other products.  They are used in a number of industrial processes. Improper disposal of the chemicals from industrial manufacturing has resulted in PFAS seeping down into the ground and into the water supply.  These chemicals are known to be forever chemicals that  do not degrade in the environment. 

HEALTH IMPACT: PFAS are known to be forever chemicals that cause weakened immune systems, increased cholesterol level, increased risk of testicular and kidney cancers, and decreased vaccine response in children. EPA has concluded that exposure to PFOA and PFOS over certain levels may result in developmental effects to fetuses during pregnancy (low birth weight) or breastfed infants (accelerated puberty, skeletal variations). 

LOCAL IMPACT: Both the State Water Board and the Santa Ana Water Board have initiated investigations. The PFAS investigation done by State of California Regional Water Quality Control Board reveals results that show PFAS concentrations above the current Notification Levels for drinking water. Santa Ana Water Board staff is currently working to identify potential sources of the contamination in the groundwater. 

POSSIBLE RESPONSES: 

1. Conduct wellhead treatment to treat PFAS impacted drinking water to levels below state-established PFOA/PFOS notification levels.

2.  Obtain a more comprehensive monitoring information on potential sources of PFAS

3. Set Effluent guidelines, develop analytical methods and issue water quality criteria for PFAS

WHAT (& WHAT FOR): Lead is a metal often found in pipes, and in old paint (before it was banned in paint in the late 1970s). Before 1996, lead also found in vehicle fuel resulting in  soil contamination in many communities from both paint dust and vehicle pollution. 

HEALTH IMPACT: Lead is a neurotoxin and is known to have no safe blood lead level in children. 

Has been linked to:

1. Brain swelling, anemia, seizures, renal failure, reduced IQ, and ADHD

2. Damages brain development in children

3. Connected to behavioral problems like aggression and bullying, and internalizing problems such as depression and anxiety 

LOCAL IMPACT: Recent research in Santa Ana has shown that there is a disproportionately impact of solid lead contamination crisis on lower income, people of color communities. 

POSSIBLE RESPONSES: There are many ways to respond to lead contamination:

1. Providing special health care for children with high blood lead levels, and investigating possible sources of lead exposure in homes, daycares and school, playground, etc.

2. Implement strict housing policies where landlord and city housing officials are required to have lead inspections of homes for lead paint hazards (especially in low income, people of color communities)

3. Requiring a minimum reduction standard for lead paint in older homes 

4. Requiring blood lead level test as part of the routine check up for children (extremely important for children in low-income housing)

Thinking through this article and Vermeylen's, something we might consider in ATX is how we conceptualize community itself. It is so easy in EJ-contexts to make communities our object of study and analysis, which can erase identities and exclusions within them...

How is ecological harm and gentrification experienced by LGBTQ people in Austin? Women? Etcetera? 

What is the energy sector's relationship to racial capitalism? How is its current configuration shaped by legacies of settler colonialism, state bureaucracy, and corporate investment? 

Environmental justice narratives in the U.S. often fall into "sacrifice zone" narratives that universalize experiences on the community-level, reproducing specifically bounded narratives about American lives and livelihoods, relationships to nature and capital, and the kinds of knowledge and authority that matter. Vermeylen's article disrupts this idea, rightfully arguing that environmental justice requires a more upfront confrontation with the socio-historical causes of oppression brought about by coloniality, as well as the fact that we need to question the righteousness of EJ discourses that rely on white settler logics.

For the Austin Field Campus, how can we bring attention to Anglo-American settler colonialism in our approaches to EJ and gentrification? And thinking back to the NOLA Field Campus, what Texas histories should we be drawing from to understand energy transitions in the city? 

Providing a historical overview of EJ-related issues and organzing in Austin, Walsh's piece gestures to the need for deep engagement with those already doing what we might consider 'quotidian anthropocenic' work in our field campus locations. What are our ethical relationships and obligations to those we collaborate with during our time physically in the city? What should they be after? How can our analytical contributions help organizations like PODER and other local activists fighting gentrification and biased zoning laws?

It has become a common refrain to ask how the Anthropocene is experienced locally, but what about corporeally? A growing body of evidence (such as this report from the APA) demonstrates that climate change and its effects are linked to elevated rates of depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, PTSD, and a host of emotions including anger, hopelessness, and despair. After Hurricane Katrina, it was estimated that 1 in 6 survivors experienced PTSD, and Harvard researchers found that suicidal ideation heavily spiked. While discussions of these forms of ecological grief (or "ecoanxiety" by psychologists) have largely focused on mental health, economic impacts, and big storms rather than less spectacular forms of ecological change (especially in New Orleans), I am particularly interested in finding how embodied apprehensions of human vulnerability are experienced within the city, and how these have affected approaches to mortality and practices around death and dying.

Aside from talking to more deathcare professionals in the area (something I hope to do once we arrive), I have found rather robust evidence that there is increased engagement with mortality in New Orleans. Death Cafes, which are community gatherings to discuss death and combat taboos that make it an inappropriate topic of conversation, have regularly met for the past two years. Furthermore, preliminary research on funeral homes in NOLA seems to indicate increased interest in green internment options, with multiple organizations framing green/natural burial as a gentle option that "returns the body to nature." While means of casket burial and cremation have historically worked to “correctly” order death and the dead through preservation or means of obliterating the body as quickly as possible (organizing principles that have that rendered death as an interruption rather than a natural process), these endeavors seem to accept to the pressing realities of individual and earthly mortality by framing death as an opportunity for renewal - a sort of "circle of life." 

Although it is less related to my own area of expertise, one of most surprising discoveries I made was that New Orleans was home to the original "Before I Die" wall. In 2013, artist Connie Chung created a participatory chalkboard in an abandoned house with a fill-in-the-blank question of “Before I die, I want to ______.” (The next day, the wall was completely filled with responses.) Iterations of this project are now in over 75 countries. While Chung does not specifically cite anthropogenics as a source of interest or inspiration, its original placement on a building that stood as a sort of monument to ecological devastation makes me strongly think that there are broader connections to be made here about somatic attunements to climate change. 

As a researcher interested in the growing relationship between ecological grief and rituals surrounding death and dying, New Orleans has always been a place of special curiosity. The city’s historic cemeteries are arguably some of the most beautiful and certainly some of the most visited graveyards in the world. Since New Orleans lies below sea level and generally has soil too water-saturated for earth burial, the dead have historically been buried above ground in “Cities of the Dead,” where rows upon rows of mausoleums are designed to protect casketed bodies from the defilement of water, microbes, and ‘vermin’ as a means of warding off decay. Gesturing towards anxieties about the ontological pollution of the human subject, these structures often seem to be constituted through desires to remain intelligible after death and act to inhibit the incorporation of the corpse into subterranean, more-than-human worlds. 

However, as anthropogenic climate change threatens these kinds of normative deathways, the sustainability of such practices have begun to be called into question. It is estimated that on average, burials in the United States annually use 30,000,000 board feet of wood, 104,000 tons of steel, 1,600,000 tons of concrete, and 800,000 gallons of embalming fluid. (I'm interested in finding out about more specifics about material usage in NOLA, but am still searching for that information.) This becomes even more important when considering that cemeteries within the city have repeatedly been disturbed by hurricanes and floods in recent years, an issue that remains even further inland from Lake Pontchartrain due to now regular flooding.  When a storm hits, it can wreak havoc by destroying or displacing mausoleums, buildings, signs, and decorations. Even more disturbingly, vaults and caskets buried below ground can surge to the surface and float away. This has become a macabre pattern across the South in recent years: the waters brought by Hurricanes Katrina, Gustav, Ike, Irma, and Harvey all washed away caskets, in some cases breaking them apart and leaving local medical examiners and federal mortuary response teams with the rather grim task of identifying remains and parsing the environmental damage caused by potential leakages and run-off. 

This new normal has brought wider attention to how the ways we “do death” affect built and natural environments, enmeshing funeral practices in broader questions of ecologically responsible citizenship and collaborative survival with nonhuman life. How has New Orleans responded to these crises, both materially and existentially? Is there growing recognition of individual and earthly mortality, and how is that reflected in mortuary practice? What options best attend to these forms of climatic upheaval?