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Yahoo
23-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Environmental groups sue over Louisiana's ban on community air monitoring
Six grassroots environmental groups filed a federal lawsuit this week that takes aim at a 2024 Louisiana law that essentially crippled community-based air monitoring in the state. The suit, filed Thursday in the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of Louisiana, calls the law an 'industry-friendly ban' that bars groups from using their own independent air monitoring systems to warn residents living in fenceline communities about potential health risks. 'Our legislature and officials should do everything in their power to stop industry from polluting our air in the first place,' said Joy Banner, co-founder of The Descendants Project, one of the six plaintiffs in the lawsuit. 'To attack our First Amendment rights instead is arcane, illegal and dangerous.' The coalition's lawsuit argues that Louisiana's air monitoring law suppresses evidence collected by more affordable air quality monitoring equipment that they use to help 'fenceline' communities better understand the quality of the air they're breathing. The lawsuit alleges the law does this by preventing the use of this data to allege air quality violations, with penalties of up to $32,500 a day, plus $1 million for intentional violations. The plaintiffs argue this violates their right to free speech. The lawsuit comes at a time when a new report from a special legislative task force is urging Louisiana lawmakers to invest millions more in monitoring and real-time notification of hazardous emissions in communities hardest hit by pollution. The Bayou State is one of the most industrialized in the United States, with 476 major air pollution sources — including petroleum, chemical, plastics and sugar facilities — as defined by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. The recommendations from a special legislative task force come nearly a year after lawmakers crippled Louisiana grassroot organizations' efforts to do their own analysis of air quality. The law they passed prohibits data collected from community-run air monitoring programs from being used in enforcement, lawsuits or regulatory actions. The task force was made up of state environmental officials, industry lobbyists and representatives from the nonprofit environmental group that was a target of the new law, which set standards for air monitoring so high that grassroots groups can't meet them. The report submitted last month to the House and Senate legislative environmental committees recommends that lawmakers spend at least $13 million to establish a more robust and localized air monitoring and notification system within the state's Department of Environmental Quality. LDEQ's current system consists of 29 continuous monitoring sites that report annually to the EPA and track real-time data on emissions — including particulate matter, carbon monoxide, ozone, sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxides. It also operates seven non-continuous monitoring sites that help the agency track long-term trends in air quality. And it has four temporary monitoring sites that can be strategically placed in areas of concern, generally collecting a year of data in each location. The report recommends that LDEQ place additional air monitors near the top polluting industrial facilities in the state based on the volume and toxicity of their emissions and their proximity to 'fenceline' communities. The committee estimated these regulatory monitors would cost nearly $800,000 per site and between $150,000 to $200,000 in annual operating and maintenance expenses. It suggested the state could locate them near 10% to 20% of Louisiana's major air pollution sources — which would mean tens of millions of dollars just in capital costs. In addition to more monitoring, the task force recommends a notification system capable of blasting out real-time text and phone call alerts about possible air quality dangers to nearby residents. Such a notification system has an estimated price tag of $5.2 million for initial set up and annual maintenance. The recommendations would require LDEQ to hire 48 new people, to join the team of seven currently dedicated to overseeing the data collected by the existing network of monitoring sites, at an annual cost of about $8.2 million. But there's no indication yet from state leaders or LDEQ that money will be allocated to implement the report's recommendations. The Republican chairs of Louisiana's Senate Environmental Quality Committee and House committee on Natural Resources and Environment did not respond to questions from Floodlight about the report. Inquiries to officials with LDEQ also went unanswered. 'I would hope that the Legislature would believe that having information that affects people's health, affects workers' health and affects communities would be an important priority for them,' said Marylee Orr, executive director of the Louisiana Environmental Action Network (LEAN). LEAN had a seat on the 11-member task force that drafted the report. The organization received $500,000 in federal funding allocated for community-run air monitoring programs in former President Joe Biden's 2022 Inflation Reduction Act (IRA). LEAN used the money to deploy a fleet of mobile air-monitoring vehicles that collected samples along the Mississippi River area in southwest Louisiana known as 'Cancer Alley.' The group also has partnered with a bulk storage facility for liquids — including ethanol, diesel and other petroleum products — in St. Rose, Louisiana, to monitor air quality in nearby neighborhoods. Localized, coordinated air monitoring efforts like LEAN's have been a tool marginalized communities overburdened by polluting industries have tried to demonstrate air quality problems and push state leaders for tougher regulations and enforcement of the Clean Air Act. Orr said LEAN favors this latest step urging the Legislature to act but, 'I don't know where the money's going to be coming from.' Environmental advocates have long criticized Louisiana's existing air monitoring system, calling it insufficient to accurately measure pollution since there aren't enough monitors located where air quality is the most compromised. The state ranks fourth highest among 56 states and territories for toxic emissions per square mile, according to EPA's Toxic Release Inventory. Roughly 400 Louisiana facilities emitted 132 million pounds of toxic pollution in 2022. Chet Wayland, former director of the EPA's Air Quality Assessment Division, said most states' air monitoring systems are designed to meet the minimum standards for ambient air. That means not necessarily putting them near industrial facilities, but rather in more densely populated places to measure air pollutants including particulate matter, ozone and sulfur dioxide, he said. Wayland said states can increase air quality oversight through community-based air monitors. He said such localized air monitoring, as California and New York use, is the best way to track the emissions of the more dangerous air toxins like benzene, toluene, heavy metals and industrial solvents. 'We all would love to see more data available. Clearly we can't monitor every single place that we should be monitoring. The resources aren't there from the federal standpoint and — I get it — they're not there from the state standpoint as well,' Wayland said. He said a 'smart strategy' would be to place monitors in places where people are more likely to be exposed to harmful air pollutants, adding, 'It would be nice to have some indication of what the air quality is in those areas.' The task force report also suggests supplementing new monitors with air quality sensors that are cheaper and could detect pollutants wafting through communities. The report acknowledges these air sensors are 'prone to inaccuracies' and are most useful for offering general insight into air quality — not as a resource for enforcement. Nationally, approximately $117 million was earmarked in the IRA for state, local governments, tribal nations and community groups to implement, upgrade and continue various air monitoring programs in fenceline communities. But Romany Webb, deputy director of the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law, noted that Congress is currently considering a budget proposal that seeks to repeal a lot of those funds and clawback any unobligated money across all IRA-funded initiatives. 'But, as I'm sure you know, the bill still has to pass the Senate and is likely to change (perhaps significantly) before that happens,' Webb said. EPA spokesperson Shayla Powell said the agency is 'reviewing all of its grant programs' to gauge whether they are an 'appropriate use of taxpayer dollars' and 'align with' the current administration's policies. She added, 'Maybe the Biden-Harris administration shouldn't have forced their radical agenda of wasteful DEI programs and 'environmental justice' preferencing the EPA's core mission of protecting human health and the environment.' Jay Benforado, board chair for the Association for Advancing Participatory Sciences, said all signals from the current administration lead him to think that community air monitoring won't survive. As for the task force report, Benforado said its recommendations failed to factor in the valuable role that community members, volunteers and academics could play in monitoring air quality. 'I felt the (task force) report…missed the mark somewhat in terms of garnering the full value of community air monitoring,' Benforado said. 'Their definition of community air monitoring was how a state government runs community air monitoring. There was less emphasis on engaging the community as equal participants in an air monitoring program.' Floodlight is a nonprofit newsroom that investigates the powers stalling climate action.
Yahoo
17-04-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
In Louisiana's ‘Cancer Alley,' where black communities get all of the pollution, few of the jobs
This coverage is made possible through a partnership between Grist and Verite News, a nonprofit news organization with a mission to produce in-depth journalism in underserved communities in the New Orleans area. Residents of the mostly Black communities sandwiched between chemical plants along the lower Mississippi River have long said they get most of the pollution but few of the jobs produced by the region's vast petrochemical industry. A new study led by Tulane University backs up that view, revealing stark racial disparities across the U.S.'s petrochemical workforce. Inequity was especially pronounced in Louisiana, where people of color were underrepresented in both high- and low-paying jobs at chemical plants and refineries. 'It was really surprising how consistently people of color didn't get their fair share of jobs in the petrochemical industry,' said Kimberly Terrell, a research scientist with the Tulane Environmental Law Clinic. 'No matter how you slice or dice the data by states, metro areas or parishes, the data's consistent.' Toxic air pollution in Louisiana's petrochemical corridor, an area often referred to as 'Cancer Alley,' has risen in recent years. The burdens of pollution have been borne mostly by the state's Black and poor communities, according to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. The Tulane study's findings match what Cancer Alley residents have suspected for decades, said Joy Banner, co-founder of the Descendants Project, a nonprofit that advocates for Black communities in the parishes between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. 'You hear it a lot – that Black people are not getting the jobs,' she said. 'But to have the numbers so well documented, and to see just how glaring they are – that was surprising.' People of color were underrepresented in all of the highest-paying jobs among the 30 states with a large petrochemical industry presence, but Louisiana and Texas had 'the most extreme disparities,' according to the study, which was published in the journal Ecological Economics. While several states had poor representation on the upper pay scale, people of color were typically overrepresented in the lower earnings tiers. In Texas, nearly 60 percent of the working-age population is non-white, but people of color hold 39 percent of higher-paying positions and 57 percent of lower-paying jobs in the chemical industry. Louisiana was the only state in which people of color are underrepresented in both pay categories. People who aren't white make up 41 percent of the working-age population but occupy just 21 percent of higher-paying jobs and about 33 percent of lower-paid jobs. The study relied on data from the U.S. Census Bureau, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, the Bureau of Labor Statistics and Louisiana Economic Development. The chemical industry disputed the study's findings. Read Next Another casualty of Trump's funding freeze: New Orleans' tree canopy Tristan Baurick 'We recognize the importance of examining equity in employment, however, this study offers an incomplete and misleading portrayal of our industry and its contributions,' David Cresson, president and CEO of the Louisiana Chemical Association, said in a statement. Cresson pointed to several industry-supported workforce development programs, scholarships and science camps aimed at 'closing the training gap in Louisiana.' But the study indicates education and training levels aren't at the root of underrepresentation among states or metro areas. Louisiana's education gap was modest, with college attainment at 30 percent for white residents and 20 percent for people of color. In places like Lake Charles and St. John the Baptist Parish, where petrochemical jobs are common, the gap was minimal — five percentage points or less. The industry's investments in education are 'just public relations spin,' Banner said. 'The amount of money they're investing in schools and various programs pales in comparison to how much they're profiting in our communities,' she said. 'We sacrifice so much and get so little in return.' Louisiana is also getting little from generous tax breaks aimed at boosting employment, the study found. The state's Industrial Tax Exemption Program has granted 80 percent to 100 percent property tax exemptions to companies that promise to create new jobs. For each job created in Cameron Parish, where large natural gas ports have been built in recent years, companies were exempted from almost $590,000 in local taxes. In St. John, each job equated to about $1 million in uncollected tax revenue. 'This tradeoff of pollution in exchange for jobs was never an equal trade,' said Gianna St. Julien, one of the study's authors. 'But this deal is even worse when the overwhelming majority of these companies' property taxes are not being poured back into these struggling communities.' This story was originally published by Grist with the headline In Louisiana's 'Cancer Alley,' where black communities get all of the pollution, few of the jobs on Apr 17, 2025.
Associated Press
16-04-2025
- Science
- Associated Press
Black residents get most of the pollution but few of the jobs from chemical industry, study finds
Residents of the mostly Black communities sandwiched between chemical plants along the lower Mississippi River have long said they get most of the pollution but few of the jobs produced by the region's vast petrochemical industry. A new study led by Tulane University backs up that view, revealing stark racial disparities across the U.S.'s petrochemical workforce. Inequity was especially pronounced in Louisiana, where people of color were underrepresented in both high- and low-paying jobs at chemical plants and refineries. 'It was really surprising how consistently people of color didn't get their fair share of jobs in the petrochemical industry,' said Kimberly Terrell, a research scientist with the Tulane Environmental Law Clinic. 'No matter how you slice or dice the data by states, metro areas or parishes, the data's consistent.' Toxic air pollution in Louisiana's petrochemical corridor, an area often referred to as ' Cancer Alley,' has risen in recent years. The burdens of pollution have been borne mostly by the state's Black and poor communities, according to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. The Tulane study's findings match what Cancer Alley residents have suspected for decades, said Joy Banner, co-founder of the Descendants Project, a nonprofit that advocates for Black communities in the parishes between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. 'You hear it a lot – that Black people are not getting the jobs,' she said. 'But to have the numbers so well documented, and to see just how glaring they are – that was surprising.' People of color were underrepresented in all of the highest-paying jobs among the 30 states with a large petrochemical industry presence, but Louisiana and Texas had 'the most extreme disparities,' according to the study, which was published in the journal Ecological Economics. While several states had poor representation on the upper pay scale, people of color were typically overrepresented in the lower earnings tiers. In Texas, nearly 60% of the working-age population is non-white, but people of color hold 39% of higher-paying positions and 57% of lower-paying jobs in the chemical industry. Louisiana was the only state in which people of color are underrepresented in both pay categories. People who aren't white make up 41% of the working-age population but occupy just 21% of higher-paying jobs and about 33% of lower-paid jobs. The study relied on data from the U.S. Census Bureau, Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, Bureau of Labor Statistics and Louisiana Economic Development. The chemical industry disputed the study's findings. 'We recognize the importance of examining equity in employment, however, this study offers an incomplete and misleading portrayal of our industry and its contributions,' David Cresson, president and CEO of the Louisiana Chemical Association, said in a statement. Cresson pointed to several industry-supported workforce development programs, scholarships and science camps aimed at 'closing the training gap in Louisiana.' But the study indicates education and training levels aren't at the root of underrepresentation among states or metro areas. Louisiana's education gap was modest, with college attainment at 30% for white residents and 20% for people of color. In places like Lake Charles and St. John the Baptist Parish, where petrochemical jobs are common, the gap was minimal — five percentage points or less. The industry's investments in education are 'just public relations spin,' Banner said. 'The amount of money they're investing in schools and various programs pales in comparison to how much they're profiting in our communities,' she said. 'We sacrifice so much and get so little in return.' Louisiana is also getting little from generous tax breaks aimed at boosting employment, the study found. The state's Industrial Tax Exemption Program has granted 80% to 100% property tax exemptions to companies that promise to create new jobs. For each job created in Cameron Parish, where large natural gas ports have been built in recent years, companies were exempted from almost $590,000 in local taxes. In St. John, each job equated to about $1 million in uncollected tax revenue. 'This tradeoff of pollution in exchange for jobs was never an equal trade,' said Gianna St. Julien, one of the study's authors. 'But this deal is even worse when the overwhelming majority of these companies' property taxes are not being poured back into these struggling communities.' ___ This story was originally published by Verite News and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.
Yahoo
12-02-2025
- General
- Yahoo
A Black Family Now Owns the Site of America's Largest Slave Revolt
ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST PARISH, La. — Growing up, Dayna James never thought she'd willingly step foot on a plantation, let alone thank God for one. On an early Saturday morning last month, she joined about 80 other people to commemorate America's largest slave revolt at the Woodland plantation in LaPlace, Louisiana, where nearly 500 enslaved men and women fought for freedom in January 1811. On that same land where some of their ancestors had been enslaved, James and other visitors danced, sang, worshiped, and laughed over plates of red beans and rice. Throughout the years, James, who runs a tourism transportation company, watched the two dozen former plantations in her county turn into major destinations. Owned by corporations or wealthy white families, they brought in people who did not look like her from all over the country and world. A weird feeling came along with it. 'It blew me away,' she said, because all she knew of her county was hatred and the long, dark shadow it cast over her life. 'I used to wonder why it was so racist.' For many, Woodland now offers even more complicated feelings. Today it's owned by twin Black sisters, Jo and Joy Banner. The sisters, who run the Descendants Project, a community organization focused on supporting formerly enslaved communities across the Gulf Coast, are on a mission. The sisters, whose family roots trace back to those enslaved on local plantations, are reclaiming that narrative power behind their ancestors' story. They want to ensure that the courage of those past revolutionaries is used to illuminate not only the horrors of racism but also serve as a guiding force of strength in the face of modern-day challenges. But first it will require community buy-in to turn a place brimming with tears of pain into a space of celebration. For many visitors, it will require them to confront the traumas and shame that has long been associated with American slavery. 'We're very glad that we can facilitate stewardship of this land,' Joy Banner said, but the sisters also understand that, given the entangled history of plantations, 'we don't need the physical site to uplift the history.' Yet, for residents like James, who grew up in Louisiana's plantation row, the new Black ownership fosters a sense of pride and fills in some holes in her history — even if it is difficult. As a child in Laplace, Louisiana, in the 1970s and '80s, she remembers the Ku Klux Klan rallies that would stretch down her grandma's street, and the dogs sicced on her family when they tried to go to the movies. But beneath those same streets lied a strategically kept secret: the revolt that spread from plantation to plantation across the parish. It wasn't until she was 40 years old that she discovered that those same roads paraded by the Klan had been the site of the revolt. Now at 53, it all makes sense now, she said, that her home's history of racism grew in response to a show of Black force. Last year, the Banners purchased the plantation for $750,000, placing it in Black ownership for the first time in its 230-year history. The January celebration marking the opening of Woodland under the sisters' ownership was crafted to make sure no one grows up without knowing that history in southern Louisiana again. In recent years, industrial companies have snapped up much of the land around the plantation, and the sisters were afraid that the site was in 'danger of being overtaken' and the history being lost with it. They were compelled to buy the plantation so they 'could forever protect not only this place but also the descendant community still surrounding the Woodland plantation,' Banner explained. For James, 'this space is an answer to [her] prayers.' 'I think about the ones who don't know and our kids who are in the school and don't even know this exists,' she said. It's a reality that feels even more stark as the right-wing agenda to bury the country's history of slavery spreads. There are at least dozens of state laws nationwide governing and restricting the teaching of slavery. Banner said it feels like those writing history have conveniently sidelined the 1811 revolt to overlook how it was deeply tied to the revolutionary spirit of other enslaved people like Haitians, and even the way slavery scarred the South's environment. The insurrection of January 1811 was carried out by house servants and field hands. Some were enslaved in Louisiana for generations, while others had just arrived from Africa and the Caribbean. Forced to work on the sugar and cotton plantations of St. Charles and St. John the Baptist Parishes, they banded together across the fields of dozens of plantations to build an army and fight. They made it through miles of plantations, liberating dozens, before state troops stifled the revolt. In the end, nearly 100 revolters were caught and executed, and their heads were displayed on pikes as a warning to other enslaved people. In recent years, industrial companies have snapped up much of the land around the plantation, and the sisters were afraid that the site was in 'danger of being overtaken' and the history being lost with it. They were compelled to buy the plantation so they 'could forever protect not only this place but also the descendant community still surrounding the Woodland plantation,' Banner explained. For James, 'this space is an answer to [her] prayers.' 'I think about the ones who don't know and our kids who are in the school and don't even know this exists,' she said. It's a reality that feels even more stark as the right-wing agenda to bury the country's history of slavery spreads. There are at least dozens of state laws nationwide governing and restricting the teaching of slavery. The sisters are in the process of refurbishing the plantation home and turning it into a museum and community space where visitors can learn about the revolt's history, its connection to present day activism, and a hub for residents to learn how to respond to air pollution threats and prepare for hurricanes. In addition to the growing erasure of Black history, the Banners are concerned with the ways that climate change continues to destroy Black livelihoods and landmarks across the South. The last major hurricane to hit Louisiana in 2021 destroyed dozens of Black history sites, many of which haven't been rebuilt. While the insurrection didn't transform the nation's landscape of slavery, it may have ignited a legacy of defiance. Charles Deslondes, who is largely seen as the leader of revolt, was born in Haiti and trusted by a plantation owner to be an overseer of people enslaved on his land. Writings from the time allege that he was inspired by the Haitian Revolution, which had succeeded less than a decade before. This connection underscores a broader pattern of resistance against oppressive systems, Banner said. 'What Charles and the other revolutionaries strove for that night, in liberation and their freedom, I hope that, in some part, they feel that this is a chapter and another step towards that liberation,' she said. 'We know we need to fight to protect our community and our quality of life, especially as it's impacted by environmental injustice.' Read More: A New Tool Mapped Out Climate Risks for Every Community Nationwide. Check Yours. St. John the Baptist is ranked as the county most threatened by climate change and extreme weather, and is home to one of the highest concentrations of cancer diagnoses connected to air pollution. The slave trade and the rise of plantations across the American South essentially set off a chain reaction — intensive land use through deforestation, soil damage, and overextraction of resources — that eventually evolved into the fossil fuel industry we know today as a major polluter in Black communities. Nationwide, studies show that Black people are already much more likely to learn Black history from their friends and family compared to the traditional school system. It's why Timeless, a poet and artist living in New Orleans, thought it was important to bring his teenage daughter, Yaya, down the Mississippi River to St. John the Baptist Parish. The stories shared at the event were a cache of information that is nearly impossible to find elsewhere. A part of his responsibility to his family, he explained, 'is to share with them the best of what I understand and what I know, and it's much better for your family and children to witness action in the flesh than just to be told things.' With his daughter consuming an intense barrage of news on social media from places like Palestine and the Democratic Republic of Congo — and a growing number of crises at home — the conversations and lessons learned from the revolt offered a potential path forward, Timeless said, even if it was at times uncomfortable to be celebrating at a site that held so much harm and pain for Black people. Events like these, he said, offer us an 'invaluable resource' because they allow people to 'experience a narrative that otherwise is hard to put your hands on, to touch.' When young people see that other people also care and are moved by these issues, 'it makes it easier to make meaning of the world and to try to move humanity forward and to make things better.' Inside the home, the Descendants Project used the commemoration event to preview elements of their upcoming exhibit and allowed people to connect with Black cultural and environmental groups. Attendees learned disturbing history like the story of Marie, a 10-year-old enslaved child who was forced to walk 1,000 miles from Baltimore to New Orleans, after she was sold. But they were also connected with the different groups' teaching skills around things like community farming and how to prepare one's roof before a hurricane. The space offered a place to learn history in a rare way, said Alisha Gaines, an African-American literature professor at Florida State University. 'I can't name the plantation where my folks were from, right? Or where my ancestors were even buried,' explained Gaines. 'There's still so much power in the fact that we as a greater kin can think about how we are connected through these plantation spaces, how Black America is born from the plantation — I think is really important to understand.' Gaines made the six-hour drive from Tallahassee, Florida, to Laplace for the celebration and has spent several years researching the history of plantations in the South spurred by her 'reverse migration to the South.' Read More: Moving South, Black Americans Are Weathering Climate Change 'I've got colleagues who are like, 'What are you doing? Why are you spending so much time on plantations?'' Gaines relayed. For her, it offers 'a different origin story.' 'There's an immediate history that I think we ignore with plantations because there is shame around it or a purposeful strategic forgetting, like this revolt,' she said. 'But I think if we understood that deeply, it would change things.' It's also a privilege and experience that she understands is fleeting. 'We could not do this work in Florida [because of the attack on Black history] and that's a shame. These kinds of spaces and events are a way to think about and preserve Black Studies and education outside of the traditional academy.' The teachings and connections being made at Woodland from slavery to modern environmental health issues are embodied by all the descendants of formerly enslaved communities in the area, said Dianne 'Gumbo Marie' Honoré, whose family can trace its lineage back to slavery in St. Charles Parish. Gumbo Marie is the Big Queen of the Yellow Pocahontas Hunters Black Masking Indian Tribe that performed at the commemoration. Her suit, standing tall behind the tribe as they celebrated, was flanked with breast cancer ribbons. The ribbons marked the third type of cancer she's battled in 38 years. 'It is another reason why this space and this place is just so utterly important to me,' she said. 'It's part of a personal journey and a personal fight that you all have taken on on our behalf,' by elevating the history of the area. The motto for descendants of slavery across the region is 'resistance and resilience,' she said, 'and we have to constantly live up to that, especially today.' The post A Black Family Now Owns the Site of America's Largest Slave Revolt appeared first on Capital B News.
