I went to college in Galveston, Texas—a coastal town that people frequented for corn dogs and pier fishing but wasn’t exactly known for its beautiful, pristine beaches.
I didn’t care: After growing up further inland, I was so excited to just be by the water. I loved laying on a hot towel, feeling the beads of sweat start to form, and then jumping into the ocean to joyfully shocking myself back into my body.
Living by the beach also taught me to love my skin color: I went to a predominantly white Christian conservative college, which wasn’t the most welcoming place for a little Mexican chick living in Texas. After a day full of sun and water, I felt the most alive, and the most comfortable in my own skin.
But ultimately, the part of Galveston that stuck with me the most was my time volunteering for the Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network, where I helped rehabilitate dolphins. It’s not uncommon for marine mammals to fall ill in the Gulf and wash up to shore. We would have to support them physically to keep them from sinking and essentially giving up on life.
It was rewarding, but obviously incredibly sad, work. I don’t think I realized it at the time but that experience helped set me on the path to thinking about how the same extractive industries that harm the Earth’s wildlife also harm its people.
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