海角破解版

Part 2 of a series

You don鈥檛 have to look very far for events redefining the environmental movement 鈥� in terms of who works for advocacy groups and who they work for. Just go back to 2014.

In April of that year the city of Flint, Mich.,   its source of drinking water from the Detroit River to the Flint River.  Soon residents were complaining about the water, saying it was discolored and smelled.  And the media seized on the crisis.

The news on one TV station blared: 鈥淔amilies in Flint file a federal lawsuit over the city鈥檚 water crisis -- they claim the water made them sick.鈥�

As the crisis unfolded, thousands of residents were exposed to chemicals. And children tested positive for lead poisoning, a condition that can cause developmental delays and seizures.

But it took months for mainstream environmental groups to confront the issues in Flint.  They were involved in projects like cleaning up beaches and keeping Asian carp out of the Great Lakes.  They didn鈥檛 pay much attention to drinking water.

The Flint-headquartered   was a prime example, says Jumana Vasi, who funded Great Lakes environmental work there.

"The foundation when I was there primarily funded mainstream environmental organizations, and they worked on sort of traditional environmental issues: water, land, air," she says. "Focusing on the environmental laws, like the Clean Water Act or the Clean Air Act.鈥�

Vasi, who left her job at Mott in June, sees Flint as a turning point for these mainstream groups. 鈥淒rinking water infrastructure was very invisible for a very long time until the Flint drinking water crisis happened, but that is Great Lakes water flowing through the City of Flint, flowing through Detroit, Milwaukee, Cleveland."

And as Flint pushed groups to look outward and evaluate the issues they supported, another moment in 2014 forced them to look inward.

Just a couple of months after the Flint water switch, a group called Green 2.0   a report detailing the staff diversity of environmental organizations.

The news was bad.

The University of Michigan鈥檚   surveyed nearly 300 organizations and found that people of color made up about 16 percent of staffers.  That鈥檚 less than half of the nationwide percentage of people of color.

And the organizations' stats were even worse for executives and board members.

To Joel Brammeier, president of the Alliance for the Great Lakes, 鈥渋t was a real wake-up call to many folks in the environmental community that there鈥檚 a real gap here.鈥�

Brammeier鈥檚 organization, which works on a wide range of issues, has since started an equity analysis, hiring a consultant to ensure it's serving everyone in the Great Lakes region.

For other environmental organizations, the National Wildlife Federation鈥檚 Simone Lightfoot says funders can provide that push.

鈥淲hat I鈥檝e seen most effective, most immediately is when funders demand a change,鈥� Lightfoot says. 鈥淲hen a funder says, 鈥淵ou are not getting your check this time until I see diversity among your staff,' you鈥檇 be amazed at how many people get hired overnight -- overnight!鈥�

Back in Flint, there鈥檚 been a lot of legal fallout 鈥� 15 people   criminal charges for their roles in the water crisis.

Jeffrey Grayer and his company WT Stevens are helping to   18,000 lead and galvanized steel pipes across the city.  On this day, his crew is stationed in front of a house on a Flint street.  A big piece of machinery sits in the front yard as workers dig under the street to replace pipes for two homes.

But the pipes aren鈥檛 the only thing on his mind when it comes to Flint鈥檚 future.

鈥淢y hope in terms of the future is a drastic change, a turnaround,鈥� Grayer says. 鈥淭he pipes and the water crisis is one thing -- the poverty-stricken area and the lack of education is an entirely other discussion and conversation.鈥�

But there鈥檚 still a question of whether the environmental movement is comfortable with that conversation and ready to change its focus.

Coming in Part 3:

This story was made possible in part by a fellowship with the    .