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I fell in love with the backcountry on my first multi-day backpacking trip. It was in the late 90s in Vermont’s Green Mountains which were formed, an Abenaki creation story tells us, when ancestor Gluskabe formed himself out of dust, transforming the landscape into valleys and peaks. I don’t remember the exact section I traversed, but I do remember the rolling green hills and the challenging climbs to expansive viewpoints. I was impressed by the well maintained tent sites with dish washing stations and grates to spit toothpaste into. There were even compost toilets with signs requesting users to not pee in the privy as it slowed down the composting process. 

That trip inspired me to embrace backpacking as a lifelong pursuit and I’ve often returned to Vermont for it’s stunning scenery and excellent trail systems such as the Long Trail which runs for 272 miles from Massachusetts to Canada.

I’ve organized a destination backpacking trip every summer for the last six years. It’s always a wonderful time spent with amazing people. Multi-day backcountry trips can be physically and mentally challenging, however, they also provide opportunities to rest and connect with nature. Because there are so many factors that go into each trip—free time, skills and experience, equipment and group alignment—it can take some work to put a compatible team together. 

For the first four years of the trip, I was the only person of color. I didn't have many Black or Brown adventurers in my personal network at the time, and even though my white friends were lovely people and great companions, aspects of the group dynamic were challenging. It can be emotionally taxing to go on long hikes or multi-day trips with even the most anti-racist minded white folks. If you’re a white person heading on a trip with Black or Brown people, here are a few problematic dynamics to be aware of and some recommendations for how you can disrupt them to create an inclusive culture. 

1) Get comfortable with examining white culture

As a Black woman, one key reason that it can be difficult to spend a lot of time in the backcountry with white people is that they’re generally not taught to notice how they center their beliefs, values and habits over those of people of color. In fact, our society reinforces the idea that white people, white culture and white norms are unassailably at the center. Whiteness becomes the standard. It is positively or neutrally perceived while anything or anyone that does not fall in this category is viewed as other.

In my experience, it’s overly common for white folks to use coded language to discuss and critique other racial groups while at the same time it is taboo to even discuss whiteness. (If you’re feeling uncomfortable with the number of times I’ve already said “white people'' so far, then this piece is for you.) The inequality isn’t consciously acknowledged, but rather, is baked into every layer of society. 

This can look like viewing one’s choices through an objective (absolute) rather than preferential lens. One example is the guy at our weekend basecamp campfire who loudly announced that he hated hip hop and then listed the reasons why. He failed to consider that he didn’t grow up listening to it. Hip hop wasn’t part of his cultural experience. Viewing white customs as normal and Black or Brown customs as aberrations is racist—whether it’s a consciously held or subconsciously held belief. How is it odd that I, as a Jamaican American, eat fish and stir fried vegetables for breakfast while you eat grains that have been processed into funny shapes, with cow’s milk poured on top? 

Another common example is moralizing about other folk’s non-harmful behaviors that are outside of your culture. I am honestly exhausted by the number of white people who complain about hearing another hiker’s music while passing them on the trail. Unless it’s so loud that you are hearing it when the person is out of sight, is it really so disruptive to you? These feelings of being violated often come out of an unexamined assumption that you own the space and that your cultural norms should be adhered to above all others.

Try this:

The first step is to accept that whiteness is a racial identity with it’s own set of cultural norms. These norms aren’t absolute—and while they may provide you with an unwritten set of rules for existing in outdoor spaces, or in society, they don't give you the right to police others for simply living by a different set of cultural norms. It doesn’t mean all of your choices or preferences are good and it doesn’t mean that others’ choices or preferences are bad. 

Get comfortable with examining white culture—naming, examining and potentially deconstructing what you’ve always considered to be normal, or the standard. Recognize that every single one of your preferences is shaped, first and foremost, by your culture--not your independent mind. Whiteness grants itself the privilege of viewing white people as individuals first while people of color are stereotyped through the lens of their race or ethnicity. This isn’t okay. It’s another way to deny a fellow human the agency and individuality that you give yourself.  

The biggest takeaway is that all of us are the product of our experiences, ethnicity, race, heritage and social location.  So before you pass judgment on someone who is experiencing the outdoors differently than you, take a timeout to figure out why this difference is so offensive to you. 

2) Avoid microaggressions

I often experience this as a series of behaviors, statements and questions that, while not as severe as an explicitly racist act, are emotionally violent and add up quickly. So many people of color face microaggressions in our professional lives. To also face them in outdoor spaces—the very places we retreat to on the weekend in search of peace—is another level of exhausting. Shouldn’t I be able to leave all that mess behind and simply enjoy nature? This is why joining campfire conversations, carpools and long hikes as the only person of color can provoke a sense of dread—even if you’re a good person and even if we like you.

Recently, a Black friend told me she didn’t want to camp with a mostly white group because she didn’t want her nighttime hair routine scrutinized. She was unwilling to subject herself to dehumanizing comments and questions to satisfy white curiosity. 

Another example is a common question that I receive from white folks while during outdoor trips:

“Why don’t more Black people _________ (hike, camp, swim, climb)?”

If you’re genuinely curious, there is so much great content on this subject and it’s easily accessibly online. What I’d like to highlight here is how the question is phrased as a problem or deficit, which can immediately put your conversation partner on edge. Instead of asking what is wrong with us, let’s talk about systemic racism and classism and how that has limited access to outdoor activities for many Black and Brown people. Additionally, white people would be better served by first asking themselves which social factors made it “natural” for them to learn about and pursue these activities. Contrary to popular opinion, a love of the outdoors doesn’t spring forth fully formed from rugged individualism and Thoreau-like contemplation of the natural world. It requires access to safe, local green spaces, access to affordable transportation, and the availability of mentors and parent figures to teach and pass on knowledge—often during childhood.

Try this:

Read the room. Listen to your companions, observe the dynamics of the group and be sure to step back so that BIPOC have at least an equal share of time directing the flow of conversation. Please don’t interrogate your conversation partner to satisfy your own curiosity.

Avoid making uninvited observations or comments about another person’s race, appearance or ethnicity.  I welcome thoughtful conversations about race with people with whom I have established a rapport, but that’s my personal preference. Some people just want to take a break so that they can enjoy nature. Or they might not want to have that conversation with you, and that’s okay.

On the flip side, don’t shy from naming your whiteness as you talk about your own life experiences.  It’s healthy to acknowledge your own privilege and the ways that your racial identity has always been at the center.

3) Slow down every once in awhile

Assuming that bigger and faster goals are superior is problematic.

There’s nothing wrong with training to compete or achieve a personal best. There’s nothing wrong with summiting a mountain, however, it’s also helpful to be aware of where that drive is coming from. Remember, our goals aren’t the product of our independent mind! They’re shaped and influenced by our experiences, culture, racial identity and more. Our capitalistic culture glorifies the unrelenting pursuit of ‘the next big thing’—even at the expense of our mental and physical health; even at the expense of our relationships; and even at great cost to the environment. Capitalism also teaches us that we can own nature and dominate it—in direct opposition to Indigenous beliefs and practices.

Not all traditions are useful—some are downright harmful and that includes the themes of conquest, dominance and ownership that pervade outdoor culture. These are outgrowths of colonialism and capitalism. Increasing our self awareness of how these harmful traditions influence our thoughts and actions is a good first step that will enable us to decenter whiteness and make space for other ways of thinking. How would you experience the outdoors if you didn’t feel the desire to conquer every summit or achieve a personal best on every hike? What would that look like if you took time to observe the plants, trees and traces of wildlife around you?

It’s important to know too, that this is an area of white supremacy that people of every race might struggle with, because it has become a core belief for so many of us.

Try this:

I will confess right here that this one is hard for me! I love peak-bagging and sometimes I find myself wanting to hike to a busy summit on the weekend even when I know that I could lessen the environmental impact by choosing a less popular hike. While I still set goals, push myself and aspire to reach mountaintops, I have developed practices that remind me to focus on establishing a healthier relationship with nature. Here are a few things we can both try:

• Go on a nature walk or hike without a summit or overlook in mind. Instead, focus on being present and making observations about the natural world around you. Set a goal of learning more about the native plant life and geology in your area. Recently, I went hiking with a friend who stopped to marvel over every single mushroom. I’m not a mushroom person, but by the end of the day, I felt a sense of wonder towards the great variety in color, shape, size and texture of each fungus. 

• If you’re able, volunteer to help maintain or clean-up a local trail or park. It’s a great way to cultivate a relationship with green spaces (and land managers) in your local area. 

• Learn Indigenous place names, support Native-owned businesses and the fight to reclaim Indigenous place names. Avoid “Native-inspired” goods and purchase directly from Native makers and designers. 

• On a longer backcountry trip, schedule a rest day to just exist in nature without a specific goal in mind.