By Mahfam Malek, Program Director
Last August, Castanea staff found ourselves landing in Puerto Rico (or Borikén, its indigenous Taíno name) just hours before the arrival of a hurricane. We were on a scouting trip to help us prepare for our upcoming Puerto Rico immersion with Cohort 4 and were struck by the timing. Our partners and friends on the ground remarked through laughter that we had come just in time for a true Puerto Rico experience. It turned out that the eye of the hurricane didn’t pass directly over the big island, so although we got absolutely drenched in sheets of rain in the streets of Old San Juan as we tried to outrun the storm, we, and most importantly the people on the island, passed the night largely without incident.
In the days that followed, the hurricane was a hot topic. I noticed the range of conversations we were having - some people spoke openly about the destruction of Hurricane Maria, and the fear that arose when there was a new hurricane looming. Others downplayed the storm, saying they were island people, used to such weather. One friend at a farmers market pulled out his phone to show us a sophisticated weather app, and told us how he carefully tracked the minute details of the storm passing over the region. Still others did not want to talk much about it at all.
The diversity of responses got me thinking about the range of ways that humans experience, remember, and respond to trauma, from our automatic responses in escalated moments to the intentional rebuilding and healing that comes afterward. Undoubtedly, Hurricane Maria was a mass traumatic event caused by climate change that Puerto Ricans are still processing and rebuilding from. We have seen the long-term impacts of myriad other climate events, ever increasing, all around us. From the Guna in Panama, who have partially relocated as one of their home islands began to disappear due to rising sea levels; to North Carolinians displaced by flooding due to Hurricane Helene in 2024 (as well as the subsequent mismanagement of resources and lack of federal support); to wildfires on the West Coast of the US and across Canada over the past few years - these have shown that the future of unmitigated climate change means volatility, destruction, and building a new path to healing and restoration each time, in each impacted community.
Castanea always aims to show up responsibly and in solidarity with communities that we visit, but now I wondered: beyond our baseline, what is our responsibility to a community who is still healing from this kind of collective climate trauma? Given this context, how do we truly show up in a way that is not extractive, but is mutually beneficial and generative? And how do we set realistic expectations, knowing that a weeklong immersive trip is just enough to sprinkle the seeds of solidarity-building? Could we do this in a way that is trauma-informed?
There is no one path, of course. But we came back, unsurprisingly, to relationships. Deepening our connections with our program partners on the ground and hearing the range of responses to an incoming storm reminded me of the broad range of human experience. It reminded me of the value of moving slowly and with intention. It underscored that we should not be prescriptive in our approach to building with our partners, but that we can do what we have always aimed to do - show up humbly, bring our authentic selves, and come ready to listen to and learn from the people and the land we are privileged to visit.
We build our gatherings with an intention to provide the tools needed for fellows and partners to go on a journey together: grounding in place to let the power of the natural world work through our bodies in healing ways; spending time in physical practices that put us in touch with our nervous systems; the sacred act of sharing meals, which always deepens connection with one another; and of course, guided conversation to help us collectively make sense and make space for the new ideas our movements rely on. These trustworthy and trust-building principles would guide us again.
Whether the source is oppression, colonialism, or climate change, or a tangle of these or other related harms, humans are not hurt or wounded alone - we experience these harms together. And so, we know we can not heal alone. The more webs of trust, support, and solidarity we weave, the more we will know the incredible privilege of healing together.