For Cynthia Philips, it was the sound of bees, willows, crickets, and the hum of a metal Tibetan bowl that helped her overcome some of her fears.
On Memorial Day weekend, Ms. Philips, a 64-year-old entrepreneur, drove to a Black-owned ranch in Crawfordville, Georgia, where she and dozens of other women went camping. Tents were set up under large, majestic trees and hammocks were hung. For two days, the women practiced yoga, walked, meditated, wrote in their diaries and shared their life stories. They were there to heal.
Before the trip, recent events — shootings in New York and Texas, a rise in hate crimes, the reversal of abortion rights — kept Ms. Philips up at night. “What’s happening here is so devastating and toxic,” she said. “I have young black nieces and nephews to worry about.”
During the pandemic, she also had to sell her business, an Atlanta gym that she had put her savings into, leaving her feeling defeated.
At the campsite, Mrs. Philips participated in what is known as a sound bath – use waves of sounds, produced with tools such as metal bowls or gongs, to meditate. “To be in nature and have those sounds around me – there was a calm and a serenity.” It helped her feel connected to the forest, she said, and overcome some of her heartbreak.
While ancient philosophers from Aristotle to Siddhartha have long known that the great outdoors can be an emotional and mental balm, and scientists have documented it repeatedlyPeople of color have not had equal access to some of the spaces that can provide mental health benefits. Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, they were systematically barred from outdoor recreational spaces (until the 1940s and 1950s, many state and national parks had signs that read “Only for white people”) and anything but scrubbed from the mythical tale of the great American outdoors.
Today there are some signs of change. Over the past three years, the number of Hispanic and black people participating in outdoor activities (such as hiking, jogging, fishing and camping) has increased, according to a 2021 report from the Outdoor Foundation, a nonprofit affiliated with an outdoor industry trade group. However, Asian participation declined and most outdoor participants remain predominantly white.
A growing number of organizations and online forums have also sprung up across the country, encouraging communities of color to get out there as a way to improve mental health. The Georgia camp, for example, was organized by Outdoor Journal Tour, a group that also runs day trips around the country. According to Kenya Jackson-Saulters, one of the founders, this year’s turnout was double that of last year.
Other similar organizations, many of which are often centered around black, indigenous and Hispanic communities, such as Outdoor Afro and Hike Clerb, have also seen a surge in participants in recent years. Tickets for hikes would sell out “within minutes” during the pandemic, Hike Clerb founder Evelyn Escobar said. Due to high demand, the group will open a chapter in New York later this year.
“The growth has been truly astronomical,” said Ms Escobar. “There are so many people across the country who just want to feel a sense of belonging and tap into the healing energy of a collective safe space outside.”
From awe to peace
There is a growing body of evidence for the mental health benefits of wilderness and wildlife therapy, often referred to as ecotherapy. The first rigorous science of wilderness healing came from Japan in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Several Japanese researchers collected health data from hikers before and after short excursions in Japan’s lush forests and found it that time spent in nature was correlated with lowered blood pressure and cortisol (a stress hormone) levels, better immune function and improved sleep.
While much of the existing research on ecotherapy has not focused on people of color, one reason experts suggest that nature is effective at enhancing mental health is because of its awe-inspiring ability. Awe is the feeling of being confronted by something so grand that it forces us to rethink our understanding of the world, according to the researchers Dacher Keltner and Jonathan Haidt who published a paper on the emotion in 2010. While “expanse” at the most basic level means physical size and beauty (the ocean or a mountain range), vastness can also refer to less tangible elements, such as the depth of talent (looking at an incredible musician).
One study published in 2018 by researchers at the University of California, Berkeley, found that 124 military veterans and youth from disadvantaged communities reported a 21 percent improvement in PTSD symptoms after whitewater rafting.
While participants, more than half of whom were people of color, felt a range of positive emotions, said Craig Anderson, an author of the article, awe was most strongly correlated with improved well-being. In further studies on the subject, Dr. Anderson that a sense of awe can also come from “fleeting moments in our daily lives,” whether that be watching a sunset or seeing a flower bloom.
Focusing on nature’s complexity — all the different parts working as a cohesive whole — can also reveal its vastness and inspire awe, said Aaron Leonard, a campaign manager at the Sierra Club, which focuses on helping veterans heal. find through outdoor activities. During his travels, Mr. Leonard asks participants to download a free app that helps identify plants using the phone’s camera, which he says always makes participants more appreciative of their environment.
“You have to touch, taste, smell or listen, gain a little knowledge, involve all your senses, to go deeper into the experience,” said Mr. Leonard.
Overcoming the barriers to the outside
At a time when colored people have reported increased levels of stress, trauma and anxiety, experts suggest that wildlife experiences can be a crucial coping tool. But going outside is often easier said than done† a 2020 analysis by the Center for American Progress found that black, Hispanic, and Asian communities are three times more likely than white people to live in areas that are deprived of nature, or areas affected by urban sprawl, drilling, mining or logging. That makes it expensive and time-consuming to get to the nearest park or outdoor area. And without exposure to nature in the first place, many may not discover the benefits of being outdoors or the joy it can bring them.
Awe-inspiring natural areas in the US, such as national parks, are also tainted with racist histories, according to Tracy Perkins, an assistant professor at Arizona State University who studies social inequality and environmental justice. Many environmental conservation efforts from the late 1800s were led by eugenicists, such as: Madison Grantto create spaces for white people to get fresh air and exercise to “maintain the vitality of the white race,” she said.
In addition, the great outdoors can evoke connotations of slavery and lynching for black communities and violent displacement for Indigenous people, and many continue to experience discrimination in outdoor recreational spaces. The bird watcher Christian Cooper’s meeting a white woman in Manhattan’s Central Park in 2020, for example, or the fatal shooting of Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia, while reportedly jogging, has highlighted some of the difficulties of being outdoors as a non-white.
Seemingly simple activities, such as a walk in the park, can unknowingly trigger a fight-or-flight response in some people, making them extra vigilant for dangers, said Laura Marques Brown, a clinician at Anchored Hope Therapy in Maryland who specializes in on nature based therapy for low income people of color. “I remind ecotherapists, especially white ones, to think about how walking through dense forests might feel like a black person.”
Recognizing the racist history of the outdoors is an important first step in making people of color feel safer in nature, said Ms. Marques Brown. For example, she begins her one-on-one outdoor sessions by guiding clients through the history of the native land where the clinic is located, trying to make them feel less alienated in that natural space.
“I tell my clients that when we go out, we are with generations of family,” she said.
For others, joining a group outing can also help break some of that unease. While Mrs. Philips, the 64-year-old camper, went on a solo backpacking trip across Europe years ago, she now feels less confident outdoors in the face of the recent spike in violence against colored people. When she started hiking with Outdoor Journal, she found the group’s diversity comforting. It felt “like a village,” she said.
In 2019, Charmaine Tillet, a 52-year veteran who, after serving 15 years in the military, was coping with PTSD, found a sense of “comradeship” when she took part in one of Mr. Leonard.
“I would almost feel like I was suffocating in the crowd, I had anxiety while driving, I had anxiety in supermarkets, I couldn’t leave the house. I wouldn’t leave the house,” she said.
When she went on her first camping trip with the Sierra Club, with a group of other female veterans, she started to heal, she said. “Just being able to take in the sounds and sights of nature – there were birds, we had a raccoon at our campsite” helped her relax, she said.
At one point, when they were doing yoga by the water, she fell asleep.
“It was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had,” she said.