11 March 2021 – by Emma Cooper
As climate change and subsequent environmental disasters continue to force people to leave their homes, policymakers and aid organizations must acknowledge that relocation is more difficult for vulnerable populations and low-income communities. Climate migrants are “involuntary movers,” but it is important to investigate the traumas and challenges of “involuntary stayers” in the context of climate crises as well in order to create robust support networks.
In instances of climate-induced displacement, the ordinary stresses of moving are compounded with the stresses of an environmental catastrophe. Not only must migrants account for the significant financial, social, and physical tolls of moving, but also consider the specific implications of the crisis facing their home. Flooding, fires, and other disasters related to climate change require rapid evacuation, forcing migrants to make split-second decisions about their material possessions in order to survive. A 2016 study by the U.S. Global Change Research Program found that many people who are exposed to climate disasters experience a plethora of serious mental health consequences, including depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder. The same study also indicated that children, older adults, and economically disadvantaged individuals are at a higher risk for mental health consequences as a result of exposure to climate disasters. These groups face an additional factor of compounding stress as a result of forced migration which can create additional barriers to relocation that are particularly problematic when an environmental catastrophe posits immediate danger.
The social, political, and economic factors that hinder flight in the aftermath of an environmental crisis are apparent in Flint, Michigan, where the 2014 decision to reroute the city’s water supply through the lead-contaminated Flint River has left the city in an ongoing water crisis. This disaster exacerbated an exodus of residents that has left particularly vulnerable populations behind. The city has seen a population decrease of over 23% since 2000, a lingering symptom of long-term disinvestment that stems from the collapse of Detroit’s auto industry in the late 1960s. As auto industry jobs left the area, affluent white families fled Flint and moved into the suburbs, a textbook example of white Flight. Flint’s low-income residents and communities of color had limited pathways to relocation due to redlining, a racially discriminatory zoning policy that was widely practiced in mid-century America, economic barriers and were left with no choice but to stay. Financial distress has plagued Flint since this collapse: the 2020 average median income was almost $25,000 below the Michigan state average, which is already about $5,000 less than the national average. Buying enough bottled water to meet the weekly needs of your family is a mandatory and significant expense in Flint that tightens budgets and sets the ordeal of moving out of reach for many.
Money is not the only thing that forces people to become “involuntary stayers”. The daily burden of the water crisis has a time cost, for cooking, cleaning, and showering with bottled water require countless errands and energy. “The rhythm of the family is disrupted,” says Dr. Tam Perry, a professor of social work and anthropology at Wayne State University in Detroit. Dr. Perry has been studying the impact of the Flint water crisis on older adults since 2014. Through her ethnographic approach to research in Flint, she has observed the ways in which everyday rituals and cultural practices have been altered to demand more effort, such as the process of cooking collard greens, a vegetable with great historical and traditional significance in Black culture going back to the American civil war. Preparing collard greens is a “source of comfort” and a way for people to “hold onto their cuisine in the face of a crisis,” says Max Smith, a social worker and research assistant to Dr. Perry. However, due to the resource-intensive preparation process, the sheer number of plastic water bottles needed to wash and boil collard greens makes the recipe prohibitive for those who need to conserve water in order to literally survive. This illustrates the cultural damage that can be created by environmental catastrophes for “involuntary stayers” and “involuntary movers” alike, as migrants may also experience feelings of cultural severance upon moving.
Though the contamination of Flint’s water supply was not the direct result of climate change, it stands as a pertinent example of environmental racism and neglect of human rights in a low-income community that is akin to many places currently confronting climate-induced displacement. Warming climates and gradually rising sea levels will produce evacuations over a long-term scale and in this way, Flint provides an important case study to inform future community displacement planning and migration patterns. The burden of the climate crisis will continue to fall most heavily upon low-income areas and communities of color. Governments, NGOs, and other organizations working at the forefront of these issues must consider this disparity in their mitigation approaches to ensure that there is adequate support for vulnerable populations that may not otherwise see relocation as financially, politically, or physically feasible, even in the face of a climate disaster.
Emma Cooper is a Michigan native currently studying at the University of California, Berkeley. This discussion of the cultural toll of environmental disasters builds upon an interview with Dr. Tam Perry, a professor at Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan who has been conducting research on the social impact of the Flint Water Crisis since 2015, and Max Smith, a social worker in the Detroit area, who served as a research to Dr. Perry on several projects.
