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Racial and Gender Justice

Carl Anthony: Earth Day and Environmental Justice - Then and Now

Carl Anthony co-founded Race, Poverty and the Environment in 1990. In this interview with RP&E editor B. Jesse Clarke, Anthony shares his reflections on some of the key milestones that led to the creation of the Journal and its role in the ever-evolving environmental justice movement. Recorded at the studios of the National Radio Project, this interview introduces Radio RP&E—Podcasts and Broadcasts from the national journal of social and environmental justice. Read an edited excerpt below or listen to the full interview.

Carl Anthony 17-1 Jesse Clarke:  Can you talk a little bit about where the environmental movement was on Earth Day 1970?

Carl Anthony: Earth Day 1970 was started, in part, as a result of the work of Rachel Carson who wrote Silent Spring in 1962. That book and similar research on the effects of DDT sparked a growing interest in the environment that went beyond protecting wildlife and open spaces. In some ways, it was paradoxical, because it became a powerful protest movement that was also distancing itself from issues of race and social justice.

Some proponents of environmentalism sought to use it to put a closure on the struggles of the 1960s and launch a new kind of consciousness about the earth and the environment, without really addressing issues of social and racial justice. But in fact, all these movements were interrelated. Many people, for innumerable reasons, were really upset with the dominant society and the way in which it was destroying both culture and places. Indeed, the new environmental movement owed something to the civil rights movement.

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Slide Show (a poem)

Slide Show (January 2009) by Carrie Leilam Love
It can be read in rows left-to-right or in columns top-to-bottom.


this is Oscar Grant bending.
being bent.
this is me waiting at the
window for her to come home.
heart elephant. weighing down
one side, teaching the other
what empty is.
this the biggest boss that we have seen this far, with the baddest bitch
in the game dancing to an old song, at last love, at last love, at last at last thank god almighty we are president at least.
this is Oscar Grant, bent
and headed to the ground.
hit and head to the ground.
this is me waiting at her heart for the window to open. this is Palestine. these are the dead weighing down one side, holding
up the lighter dead. this is the bad
math of mass murder, equation
here we go laughin, cause on a
MTV cribs re-run, only thing in Missy Elliot's bedroom sides a Ferrari bed is a life-size cut-out of Janet Jackson half-naked.
this Annette Garcia, this the Sheriff who shot her in the back. These are her children,
and this is just
how they looked, shocked not surprised, this just how they looked: tough and into distance.
these are my dead: bowler hat and big belly, bowed legs and bright smile, big hands & mad to the marrow. this my grandmama mean as
vinegar and picked through,
preserved against men in the
bone-yard calling: dear wife, dear mother, dear mother, dear grandmother, come join us in the loam.
here we are underground, swinging
on bulb roots, waiting for
the lilies to tell us it's July.
this is Oscar Grant's heart,
opened and filling his empty. this is his back, softer, in this case, than his belly.
this is her back. she welts easily when I scratch. this is a speckled brown egg, narrow end down, yok weighing into the point. This is my back.   this is me, learning empty is full of breath, shoutin: Please don’t shoot!  
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