When we gather together, we don’t need to arrive with hope, because we have the power to create it. We will dictate the future.
The Quaker Aunts were the stuff of family legend, fearsome women in sensible shoes. Did one of them really smuggle Jewish children across the Alps before World War II?
When you’re little, the backyard of your grandma’s house is an entire universe. Growing up is finding the kid in you and being brave enough to take them outside again – without warning them about coming home before the streetlights come on.
I am a first generation Iranian-Canadian queer on their first trip to Iran at the age of twenty-seven, forming connections to the land.
For one group of Chicago lesbians in the mid-1990s, building a queer community meant sitting around a barrel fire in the freezing, rainy April night, casting smelting nets and awaiting a barrage of tiny fish.
My hunting experiences from youth to adulthood, in relation to my life as a black, queer woman of color.
I take photos because they are true, whether they are true or not.
Great Old Broads for Wilderness is a national grassroots organization, led by women, that engages and inspires activism to preserve and protect wilderness and wild lands.
There’s a look I get from black and biracial women on the trail. And there’s a look I give black and biracial women. It’s recognition: “I see you. We’re the only ones like us out here.”
“For all its vastness, rural life had no room for me.”
Sometimes when you go outside, things don’t go according to plan.
Twenty plus-size women climbed Kilimanjaro in March 2019. They call themselves the Curvy Kili Crew. This is their story.
Black LGBTQ+ people may not be well-represented in mainstream environmental organizations, but we’re creating our own interventions that center the most marginalized among us. If you’re wondering what true environmental justice looks like, meet these five Black LGBTQ+ people who put in MAJOR work to protect Earth.
When I got diagnosed with a life-threatening illness, I dropped everything and moved to the outskirts of the Everglades to die. Pushing my body to its limits brought a healing that I never could’ve found as a healthy person – to finally belong in my own skin.
Mental health, bisexuality, and the great outdoors.
“You girls are the talk of the ice-fishing derby!” I get that a lot. When we’re out hunting or fishing, my wife and I are frequently the only women (much less queer women) present.
What we want is not to be brave, but to be free.
I could carry that heavy canoe further than any of the other teenage girls on my trip. I could carry that canoe, because that meant I didn’t have to carry my grief and my mom had to carry her own weight, because I wasn’t home.
Our favorite ways and places to be outside.
The mountains and forests of Northwest Montana were where I felt the freest as a lesbian, but I didn’t know that feeling had queer roots going back 100 years, to when my doppelgänger was wandering these woods.