Expedition Reclamation

OUR WHY: CHELSEA MURPHY
As an African American woman who grew up primarily in white spaces, I always struggled with a sense of belonging. I loved spending time in nature, but I wrestled with the notion that recreating outdoors was a white activity, one in which I did not belong. My ancestors are the Congo and Southern Bantu tribes of Africa, and I’ve spent the last year trying to find a connection between them and me. It’s a huge privilege to understand your lineage and know the clear path that connects you to your people. This is a privilege I have yet to be afforded. In the midst of postpartum and the beginning of my journey in motherhood I moved to my husband's hometown in the mountains, a place largely unfamiliar to me. It’s here that I surrendered my fear of being connected to nature and the white culture it’s often intertwined in. I dove in headfirst, into the mountains and forests that surround me and my family, authentically and unreservedly taking up space as I finally stumbled upon what connects me to my ancestors: the outdoors. I began to create awareness around the importance of representation and diversity in the outdoors. This film feels like a natural next step in telling my story and uniting with other BIWOC on my journey to liberation and selfdiscovery. I tell my story to encourage others to tell theirs, to promote belonging with other Black women, and to blaze trails and create space for women who look like me, lifting them as I climb.

OUR WHY: ERIN JOY NASH
As a white woman, my awareness of my privilege has been a gradual awakening, and at times a full-blown reckoning. I grew up in the countryside, surrounded by forest and conservative white folks. As I ran through the woods barefoot, befriending frogs and playing out narratives with imaginary creatures, my love of nature blossomed. As an adult, I was introduced to the “real world,” forced to stare our nation’s true history and systems of oppression in the face, knowing I wasn’t an innocent bystander. This ignited in me a commitment to storytelling at the intersections of antiracism work, womxn’s liberation, and environmental justice. I’ve realized that until all of our stories are heard, none of us can truly heal the generational trauma we have endured or inflicted. By amplifying BIWOC voices through this film, I hope to help push the needle towards equity, inclusion, and justice. As a storyteller, I hope this project serves as an example of how collaborating with intention as an interracial team can radicalize the creative process and inspire others in the field to ask themselves: “Should I spend my time, energy, and resources telling another white narrative? Or can I contribute to collective healing?” Practicing this approach to film, specifically in the context of BIWOC connections to the earth, is restorative. Ultimately, my goal is to help foster belonging for every person in the BIPOC community who’s been told the outdoors is not a space for them. We all deserve access to the healing power of Mother Nature and the ability to run barefoot through the woods in unbridled freedom.

OUR WHY: SANJANA SEKHAR
Growing up an Indian immigrant in a predominantly white town, social survival meant creating two versions of myself: the public facing American Sanjana and the at home Indian Sanjana. Assimilation of this sort was a double-edged sword: it shadowed a part of my soul, but it also gave me access and opportunities I would never have otherwise had. One such privilege was the chance to cultivate a love of outdoor recreation. I still grew up thinking that outdoorsy-ness was a white pursuit, but it was one to which I was sometimes allowed to tag along. I had no idea what I was missing -- the energy, authenticity, and confidence lying dormant in me -- until I came on board for this film. Being in community with other BIWOC in the outdoors for the first time in my life has been profoundly transformative. I feel how they understand things about me at a subliminal level — things I didn’t realize were even waiting to be understood. In capturing their stories, I’ve realized why representation matters so much: seeing someone similar to yourself out there — not just in appearance but in mindset, in ethos — uncovers in every fiber of your being new realms of unending possibilities. It’s like a deep belly breath, a grin, an electric current in your bones. In the company of these women, the two distinct versions of myself are realigning into one as I finally reconnect with and re-legitimize my own cultural roots in Mother Earth.