Beyond Bears Ears

THE REAL FIGHT TO PROTECT AMERICA’S PUBLIC LANDS ISN’T IN UTAH. IT’S RIGHT OUTSIDE OUR BIGGEST CITIES

- Glenn Nelson

THE LAST TIME I visited Yosemite National Park, I made the jaunt to Glacier Point. Standing at the edge of the drop-off, I tried to imagine myself taking in the magnificent vista while discussing the then revolutionary idea of preserving wild places for the public good with Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir, back in 1903.

It would not have gone very well

Like many people of color living in American cities, I don’t see the sense in grand efforts to protect far-off landscapes that don’t intersect with my daily life, either culturally or geographically. More my cup of tea, almost literally, is the Japanese American Exclusion Memorial on Bainbridge Island, across Puget Sound from Seattle, my hometown. Though small—it’s about eight acres—the site is rooted in the American past in a way that feels uniquely personal to me. Its centerpiece is a story wall made of old-growth red cedar, 276 feet long, one foot for each person of Japanese descent—people like me—living on the island at the start of World War II. Most were forcibly removed and exiled to prison camps in California and Idaho. The memorial is nestled in a forest of alders and firs, abutted by shoreline. If I stand in front of the wall, close my eyes, and ignore the occasional blast of a ferry horn, I almost feel like I’m in nearby Olympic National Park.

The Trump administration’s highly publicized review of national monuments last spring was a giant catalyst for the conservation movement. Environmentalists, along with suddenly energized—and surprisingly vocal—outdoor-gear brands, launched million-dollar awareness campaigns focused on Utah’s Bears Ears and Grand Staircase– Escalante. That struggle, as well as bids to preserve the sanctity of Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, has since shifted to enormously expensive lawsuits.