Community, Activism, and Hope

Hello everyone, and welcome back to another installment of Botanical Sensations.  This time, our conversation is going to be a little different.  Try as I have to focus on the topic I have set out for this series, my mind has been heavy of late with thoughts and fears surrounding current events, and an overarching question… What can I do?

I’ve found it difficult attempting to carry on with business as usual.  With talks by the U.S. Health Secretary of creating a government registry of autistic people, with rhetoric claiming autistic people are nothing but burdens to society, with the furthering of conspiracies marking autism as a disease and with the knowledge that the autistic community is but one of many which has come under attack of late. I find it difficult to write about the sensory profile of a tree.  My hope is to have an honest conversation with you all.  To address some of my concerns, some of our concerns, and what efforts to continue this work may look like moving forward.  Most of all, I want each of us to know that we are not alone. 

I began this work as a grad student as a sense of self exploration and discovery.  I found a need within myself, and knew that I was not alone in my struggles.  I sought to address that need through the lens of my own experience, as well as with input from others.  Originally, I set out to design a toolkit; one which could guide designers in their efforts to create more welcoming and inclusive spaces.  As I began to learn more about autism and neurodiversity, I realized that the first step needs to be to raise awareness, and to build understanding.  To address the struggles of the neurodivergent community, and the role that the places we design have in augmenting or exacerbating those struggles, we first need to more firmly understand what those struggles are.

 So, I wrote my thesis, beginning with this general exploration, then beginning to delve into a toolkit, an endeavor which I have come to realize may take a lifetime, but ideally a lifetime of growth and discovery.  

When I graduated my thesis won an ASLA award, and I was invited as a cofounder of the Neuroscapes Design Collective.  I was full of hope, and looking back, naivety.  I had heard the conspiracies around autism and vaccines, though I had thought they would remain fringe.  With the support I found for my work both at university and in the field, I felt such a momentum moving forward, and a general understanding that most people shared my sentiments; that neurodivergent people are still people, and deserve the same respect and access as anyone else.  Perhaps that is why recent events have hit so hard.  I always understood that acceptance was not universal, but to see how strong, how violent and how explosive the resistance to our existence is… has been astounding.  

So many of us, well beyond the autistic community, have been left reeling by recent events.  The work we pursue, the grants which fund it, and the foundational sense of safety in our lives have come under attack or been removed completely. Infrastructure funding being rescinded has put some of our jobs in questionable positions.  The rescinding of research grants across academia as a whole can seem like an attack on progress; and the removal of and attack on diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and initiatives can at best feel like a personal attack to those of us who fall within that umbrella, and at worst the rhetoric around us poses a danger. In spite of all this the passion to do good, to see a positive change in the world and to author a future which is accepting and accessible to all remains.  It has to.  None of us are alone in this struggle, and I hope, in our conviction to see a brighter future.

So what can we do in the face of all of this?  It has helped me to remember where this all began, as a grassroots effort.  Kathryn, Maci, Mark and I saw a need, and we were not alone in our convictions or pursuits.  The NDC was born of that need, and out of the need for support.  From our first conversation, we discussed building community as one of our main objectives.  We have always understood that many people, both within landscape architecture and beyond, see the needs we all seek to address and endeavor to make a change.  Along with this understanding has come the knowledge that we are all stronger as a community.  Sharing our discoveries, our struggles, and passions, joy, and support are crucial parts to the work we do.  There are as many ways to pursue this activism as there are activists pursuing it.  No one means is right for everyone, and we are stronger when we all support each other's effort. 

On June 25, 2025, activists in wheelchairs staged a sit-in at one of the senate office buildings.  They were handcuffed to their wheelchairs, and arrested.  To me this sparks images of March, 1990.  Before my time, but powerful images all the same, of wheelchair bound protestors dragging themselves up the steps of the capitol to make a statement.  It worked, and the Americans With Disabilities Act became law.  Yet 35 years later, it’s easy to wonder how much progress we have actually made.  This is where our community comes in.  The fact that these kind of protests are necessary once again is terrifying, but the threats and issues we are dealing with today do not erase all the we have made, and regardless of policies and legislation, the communities we have built, the support networks we have developed, and the desire we have to build one another up cannot be so easily stripped away.  

I have often referred to my work as fighting for equity and inclusion.  While this all feels overwhelming and overbearing now, the work we do, creating places which care for people and for the environment is a marathon, not a sprint.  I think all of us chose this field because we want to make a difference; to make a positive impact in the lives of others.  Whether by securing a more ecologically sustainable future, by expanding accessibility and equity in public space, or in providing individuals with places of respite and reprieve in their own backyards we were all drawn to this field to improve the lives of others.  That work, and the need for it, has not disappeared.

I can’t say for anyone reading this what the best course of action moving forward is, other than to begin with being kind to yourself.  The pain, fear, and at times hopelessness are valid feelings and there’s no shame in going through them.  Lord knows I have.  It’s important to start with kindness to ourselves, and not feeling like we have to do or address everything at once.  Like I said, we all are here to make a difference, and it’s ok if we start with ourselves.  This is my advice to each and every one of you; to breathe. Take a moment to feel and process what you have to, and once you’re ready, consider where you can best make an impact.  This work can take any forms, and it won’t always be boots on the ground.  When I feel overwhelmed, the thing that helps me the most is to go outside and go for a walk or hike.  Getting someplace a little more wild, unplugging from the world for a bit, and finding a moment of peace in the chaos helps me to center myself and come back rejuvenated.  It’s good to stay informed, but sometimes I feel like I’m drawing in the news or on social media.  Then, if ever we’re feeling lost as to what we can do, sometimes the biggest thing we can do in the moment is to lift up a friend or neighbor in need.  Resistance, activism, and community are all grassroots efforts, born between neighbors and growing to something larger.  In the face of it all this one fact brings me comfort; none of us are alone.  I would invite all of us to look around us and find our community, whatever form it may take.