In a dramatic turn of events, a group of Salisbury, Massachusetts homeowners saw their expensive effort to protect their beachfront homes vanish within days.
A costly sand dune, built by beachfront property owners in Salisbury, Massachusetts to guard against coastal erosion, was washed away in just 72 hours.
Despite the dune's quick disappearance, the Salisbury Beach Citizens for Change claim it played a crucial role in preventing further damage from encroaching tides.
The failure of the sand dune project highlights the broader issue of increasing coastal erosion, attributed to rising sea levels and more extreme weather due to climate change.
Key quote:
"Their proximity to the Atlantic Ocean gives them a source of moisture and their northern latitude also firmly places them under the powerful jet stream during much of the year."
— Jonathan Belles, digital meteorologist, The Weather Channel
Why this matters:
This incident not only illustrates the financial risks homeowners are willing to take to protect their properties but also serves as a microcosm for the larger, global challenges of rising sea levels and coastal erosion.
Texas' unprecedented wildfire has devastated ranchlands, leaving thousands of cattle dead and jeopardizing the livelihoods of multi-generational family farms.
Ranchers are now grappling with both the immediate impacts of the disaster and the broader challenge of adapting to the escalating severity of climate-related weather events.
Despite the devastation, the spirit of resilience and community support shines through as ranchers and neighbors come together to aid recovery efforts.
Key quote:
"We don’t have grass. We don’t have water."
— Gary Joiner, spokesperson for the Texas Farm Bureau
Why this matters:
The Texas fires, intensified by a mix of prolonged droughts and heatwaves—a telltale sign of shifting climate patterns—are not just consuming vast stretches of land but are altering the very fabric of the natural and economic landscape. For the ranching industry, the consequences are dire. Wildfires not only destroy grazing lands, leaving cattle without food, but they also can lead to direct livestock losses and damage to property and infrastructure, such as fences and water supplies.
A scientific paper warns that melting ice could lead to a significant drop in temperatures in parts of Europe, alongside other global climate effects.
The Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC), crucial for regulating global climate, faces the risk of a "death spiral" due to freshwater influx.
This scenario, while uncertain, underlines the need for immediate climate action to prevent possible drastic changes.
Key quote:
“The trickiest part about modeling this is the whole system is very dependent on how the ocean and the atmosphere interact with each other.”
— Till Wagner, atmospheric and ocean scientist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison
Why this matters:
Warmer waters can disrupt the habitats of many marine species, leading to shifts in species distributions as fish and marine mammals migrate to cooler areas. This can impact food webs and the livelihoods of communities dependent on fishing.
Ocean heat waves, which can push out fish, plankton and other aquatic life, are happening far more frequently than previously thought.
Global warming poses a dire threat to public health, with effects ranging from extreme heat deaths to increased disease spread, says the director of The Lancet Countdown. But policies designed to combat climate change while protecting public health can build resilience.
Extreme weather and rising temperatures are linked to approximately 500,000 deaths annually, with projections indicating a potential fivefold increase by 2050.
The Lancet Countdown, a global research collaboration, provides evidence of climate change's current and future health risks, and urges immediate policy changes.
The organization points out multiple benefits from combating climate change: reducing pollution while improving health and quality of life through greener cities and better diets.
Key quote:
"When we talk about climate change, we’re not talking about the future. The cost of inaction is that we pay with people’s lives."
— Marina Romanello, executive director of the Lancet Countdown
CLOVERLEAF — On a hot, humid October day, Cristina Lazo readies her youngest daughter for a bike ride and whispers in Spanish, I pray to God nothing happens to you.
Lazo, who wears a Rebelde band T-shirt and biker shorts, takes Alina, an energetic 7-year-old, outdoors for short periods because it only takes a few minutes before Alina’s eyes get red and her coughing starts.
“ Vámonos,” Lazo yells, lengthening the last syllabus as she begins pedaling through the streets of Cloverleaf, an unincorporated area about 15 miles east of downtown Houston. Alina starts coughing immediately.
Lazo, a 42-year-old mother of six, knows that tonight she’ll rub Vick’s Vaporub on her daughter’s chest, and in the morning Alina will still wake up with congestion and what Lazo calls "itchy spider webs” in her eyes.
Even though doctors haven’t been able to pinpoint what causes Alina’s symptoms, Lazo suspects the air outside, which she said often reeks of chemicals — she calls it a “poison-like smell.” So she limits Alina’s outdoor activities and buys an antibiotic ointment at a Salvadoran pharmacy for her daughter’s itchy eyes.
Cloverleaf, where 79.4% of its 24,100 residents are Hispanic, is one of a string of communities that sits in the shadow of the 52-mile-long Houston Ship Channel, one of the world’s largest petrochemical complexes where more than 200 facilities process fossil fuels into plastics, fertilizers and pesticides.
Lazo can’t see the smokestacks from her home, but most days they release dark clouds of chemicals that permeate Cloverleaf and nearby communities like Channelview, Galena Park and Pasadena.
The emissions include particulate matter — microscopic particles that can penetrate deep into the lungs and cause irregular heartbeats, aggravate asthma and other respiratory ailments — which some scientists call the deadliest form of air pollution. A recent air quality analysis by Air Alliance Houston using industry emissions data submitted to the state found a higher annual average concentration of particulate matter the closer people live to the Ship Channel.
The plants also spew cancer-causing chemicals like benzene that can irritate the throat and eyes when large amounts are inhaled.
In Cloverleaf and nearby communities, locals say the air often smells like rotten eggs, nail polish or burning tires. Many residents said they suffer from respiratory problems, asthma and skin ailments, and they wonder if the air they’re breathing is the culprit.
Yet information about what they're breathing every day is hard to find, despite the presence of 23 state air monitoring sites near the Houston Ship Channel.
People walk through San Jacinto Park as a tanker ship passes through the Houston Ship Channel in La Porte. Thousands of families live and play near the world’s largest petrochemical complex.
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
Hundreds of chemical plants, refineries and terminals line the Ship Channel as seen in Pasadena, less than 15 miles southeast of downtown Houston. According to a report by Amnesty International, people living near the Houston Ship Channel, often low-income communities of color, have lower life expectancies than those living in wealthier, mostly white neighborhoods further from the industrial area.
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality’s decades-old air monitoring system does not measure many of the known pollutants coming from the nearby petrochemical plants. For example, the closest monitor to Cloverleaf does not measure particulate matter or sulfur dioxide — two of the six health-threatening airborne pollutants that the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has strictly limited to protect human health.
Jeff Robinson, an EPA official who manages the air monitoring division, said federal law does not require states to measure all six criteria pollutants at every air monitoring site.
Each pollutant has a set of rules that helps states determine how many monitors they need to measure its presence in an area. The rules include installing air monitors based on population numbers and the number of emission sources in a region.
Robinson added that “there's nothing that precludes a state from over monitoring.”
The information that the TCEQ’s air monitoring system does collect is difficult for the average resident to understand and usually only in English. That’s a challenge for people in places like Cloverleaf, where more than 71% of residents speak Spanish at home.
“There's nothing that precludes a state from over monitoring.” - Jeff Robinson, EPA official
Federal law doesn’t say how the information should be presented to the public, Robinson said.
Dozens of residents told The Texas Tribune/Environmental Health News/Altavoz Lab they did not know that the state had an air monitoring network.
Deysy Canales, 34, a mother of three who likes to spend time outdoors relaxing in her hammock or tending to her aloe vera plants, has battled chronic asthma since moving to Cloverleaf. She was surprised to hear about the state air monitors.
"It is important for [TCEQ] to inform the population about air quality and pollution so that asthmatic people like me can take better care of ourselves," she said in Spanish.
Patricia Prado, a 43-year-old Cloverleaf resident, has asthma and regularly experiences congestion and severe allergies. Her daughter Jocelyn Prado, 21, said she deals with throbbing, uncontrollable migraines, allergies and a persistent skin condition that makes her itchy.
They also didn’t know about the state air monitoring system. Jocelyn Prado said it "was shocking to me and to my mom. It's something that we never knew. The government doesn't tell us."
She added that air quality information would be useful when she sees petrochemical facilities' towers burning like enormous candles from her home.
“With that information, I feel like we could put on a mask, limit the time of being outside or just be aware,” she said.
While TCEQ said it has worked to make their air quality data easy to understand, locals and advocates say it’s not enough. Data on the TCEQ’s public website does not connect the dots for residents, offering no explanation or context to help users decipher what they’re seeing.
“There is a need for broader ways of communicating what this means for health. What does this level mean?” said Natalie Johnson, an environmental toxicologist at the Texas A&M University School of Public Health. “That currently is hard to interpret.”
Erandi Treviño, who lives in a neighborhood 19 miles south of Cloverleaf and is a coalition organizer for the environmental nonprofit Healthy Port Communities Coalition, said the air monitoring network is essentially worthless for people in her community.
“A big problem still with TCEQ is that the information they do share is too dense and difficult to understand,” Treviño said. “They need to communicate in a clear way and with simple language that can be understood by the average person in the community.”
Victoria Cann, a spokesperson for the TCEQ, said in an email that the air monitoring network’s primary intent is to use the data collected to determine compliance with federal regulations, forecast air quality conditions, evaluate air pollution trends and study air quality’s impact to human health to inform regulatory decisions.
In response to critiques from advocates and researchers, Cann said in an email that the public can use information from the TCEQ air monitors “to assist them in making decisions about their personal exposure to current air quality conditions in their area” and added that the agency has improved accessibility throughout the years. Recently, TCEQ launched a dashboard that shows air pollution levels with a speedometer-style graphic, a tool Cann said the agency plans to further enhance.
“A big problem still with TCEQ is that the information they do share is too dense and difficult to understand." - Erandi Treviño, Healthy Port Communities Coalition
However, the state network’s blind spots were exposed in a yearlong study funded by EPA in 2021, when the Houston Health Department investigated air quality in Cloverleaf, Channelview and Galena Park and found high concentrations of formaldehyde, a colorless, flammable gas generated by plastics manufacturing that can irritate the skin, throat, lungs and eyes; repeated exposure can lead to cancer.
In Cloverleaf, the department analyzed air data from 2019 to 2020 and detected formaldehyde levels more than 13 times the EPA’s chronic health screening level, a limit that suggests long-term exposure to the substance may pose health risks. In Galena Park, the level was seven times higher, while in Channelview it was five times higher.
The study’s authors asked TCEQ to tighten its rules to reduce emissions of volatile organic compounds and ramp up monitoring of formaldehyde levels. At the time, only two air monitors near the Ship Channel, in Galena Park and Deer Park, measured formaldehyde. Three years later, Cloverleaf’s air monitor still does not measure formaldehyde.
TCEQ took no action. Cann said in an email that the formaldehyde levels found in the study fell below the agency’s threshold for further investigation and those levels “are not considered to cause any adverse health effects in the population.” She added that the agency’s threshold “is based on a more recent review of the science” than the EPA’s.
Steve Smith, chairman of the Houston Regional Monitoring (HRM), a network of more than 30 petrochemical companies that own the Cloverleaf air monitor and three others in the TCEQ network, said “there's certainly room for improvement in getting the word out, sharing with people, with the communities, what resources are out there, what data is available … that has always been a struggle, in terms of trying to translate that into something that all of us can understand,” he said.
Alina Lazo plays with her parents at Peter Piper Pizza in Houston. Due to her mother’s concerns about air pollution, she keeps Alina inside as much as she can. “But obviously, I’d like for her to get out, for her to be able to enjoy nature,” she said. “She loves to go to parks.”
Credit: Danielle Villasana for The Texas Tribune
Hector Rivero, president & CEO of the Texas Chemistry Council, an industry group representing over 200 chemical manufacturing facilities, added that the industry “remains steadfast in our support for air monitoring initiatives across the state.”
Environmental organizations like Air Alliance Houston — which has installed its own air monitors in some Ship Channel neighborhoods — and Fenceline Watch worry that the lack of air quality information in other languages is preventing residents from knowing when it's safe to go outside. They added that accessible, multilingual information about air quality would help residents pressure authorities to address hazardous air quality in their communities.
Back in Cloverleaf, Lazo said air quality information has not reached her community and people are dealing with the consequences.
“Cloverleaf is not being paid attention to,” she said. “Not as deeply as [the state] should."
Dirty air, silent costs in “sacrifice zone”
A few blocks from the Lazos’ house, Canales, a petite woman with curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail and sun-kissed skin, watches her kids playing with a ball outside their mobile home, which is surrounded by a chicken wire fence.
“There’s a lot of smells here,” Canales said in Spanish. “The smells that waft are like something burning, as if they were burning plastic.”
Her husband, her son and two daughters are healthy, she said, but she is not. Since moving to Cloverleaf from Honduras, Canales said she has developed allergies, asthma and a persistent sore throat.
“In my country, I never got anything. But now that I have come to live here, in Cloverleaf, I do get sick more often and I go to the doctor for asthma attacks,” Canales said.
The attacks are like “a gut punch to the stomach,” robbing her of air, she said. She fights the symptoms with Vicks VapoRub, chamomile tea and a bunch of medications she carries everywhere in her small squared-shaped purse.
Her two daughters tend to her during the attacks. “My mother gets asthma so bad she can’t even breathe, and it makes me feel really bad and sad because she is my mother,” 10-year-old Ashley said.
Deysy Canales kisses her 4-year-old son in the kitchen of their home. Since she moved to Cloverleaf, Canales says she is often sick, but she is grateful that her three kids remain in good health.
Danielle Villasana for The Texas Tribune
Deysy Canales carries her inhaler everywhere she goes in case of an asthma attack, which she says are frequent. “You become so tired that you can’t do normal activities,” Canales said.
Last year, Canales was hospitalized two times in three months for asthma attacks. During the most recent one, she went to Houston Methodist Baytown Hospital, where she was seated in a wheelchair and hooked up to a steam machine to inhale medication through a mask.
“I couldn't even walk,” she recalled.
When her symptoms appear, Canales said she goes to a nearby clinic, where she typically pays less than $20 for a consultation but close to $400 for tests and medications — more than what she earns in a week at their family’s business making wooden crates to transport produce. She said she hasn’t seen an asthma specialist because she’s uninsured.
Canales is among roughly 54% of Cloverleaf residents who don't have health insurance, according to a recent Harris County study. That’s more than three times higher than the statewide uninsured rate of 16.6%.
“There’s a lot of smells here. The smells that waft are like something burning, as if they were burning plastic.” - Deysy Canales, a mother of three in Cloverleaf
Studies show that the nearly 69,800 residents of Cloverleaf and Channelview — more than a third of them children under 18 — are breathing some of the dirtiest air in the country.
According to the American Lung Association's 2023 "State of the Air" report, Harris County has an "F" grade for having unhealthy levels of particulate matter and ozone pollution, which can damage the lungs and trigger respiratory problems.
A recent report by the human rights organization Amnesty International found that people living in communities near the Houston Ship Channel, primarily low-income communities of color, have life expectancies up to 20 years shorter than wealthier, predominantly white areas just 15 miles away. Labeling the Ship Channel area a "sacrifice zone," the organization criticizes both the petrochemical industry for spewing toxic pollutants and government agencies like the TCEQ and EPA for lax enforcement of their own regulations.
Harris County also has some of the state’s highest levels of cancer. Lazo’s 87-year-old father, who has lived in Cloverleaf for more than 20 years, is in remission from liver cancer, and Lazo cares for him while her mother goes to church.
An 18-month study published in 2007 by the University of Texas School of Public Health and the Houston Health Department found that children living within two miles of the Houston Ship Channel had a 56% greater chance of being diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia than children living at least 10 miles away from the Ship Channel. While the study did not directly link exposure to hazardous chemicals and increased cancer in kids, researchers suggested a second analysis.
Christopher Shackelford, a reverend at St. Andrew Catholic Church, blesses a churchgoer after mass in Channelview. Shackelford, who has severe allergies, takes medications daily to prepare himself for sermons in front of his almost 3,000 congregants. He believes pollution in the area has harmed his health and the health of those who attend his church.
Credit: Danielle Villasana for The Texas Tribune
Dr. Philip Lupo, an epidemiologist specializing in childhood cancer at Baylor College of Medicine and Texas Children's Hospital in Houston, said genetics alone can’t explain the number of child cancer cases in the Houston area.
"It's so important to consider the environment,” he said.
Despite being the nation’s largest petrochemical corridor, Lupo said there aren’t enough studies in Houston that explore possible links between petrochemical air pollution and cancer — or enough money to make them happen.
"There are plenty of lines of evidence that suggests that pediatric cancer has an environmental component. But trying to target that has been a problem," he said. "If you have a child that lives in an area that's not as polluted, their likelihood of being exposed is just less by nature."
Studies in other countries have shown that residents who live near petrochemical plants releasing hazardous chemicals and particles have an increased risk of dying from cancers of the brain, bladder and lungs, as well as leukemia and multiple myeloma.
About 5 miles from the Ship Channel in South Houston, Erandi Treviño recalls the first time she heard about the 2007 UT leukemia study. She was a fifth grader living in Pasadena and she said hearing about how pollution could impact health led her to environmental advocacy.
Three years ago, she began working with EcoMadres, a Latina-led group that’s part of the national environmental nonprofit Moms Clean Air Force, which focuses on protecting children from air pollution. That led to her current job with the Healthy Port Communities Coalition, which helps teach communities about air quality and how to advocate for cleaner air.
The 32-year-old struggles with fibromyalgia, a muscle disorder that causes pain and fatigue. Studies show that people with low-level chemical intolerance are more susceptible to chronic fatigue. Treviño said her body has been working overtime since she was a kid because of the polluted air she has inhaled for decades.
“Kids can’t play outside if it smells bad. They can't be children,” Treviño said. “The physical, mental and neurological effect on the bodies of these children will follow them throughout their lives, when they are older.”
Heidy Garcia plays with Tiana Cruz at the North Shore Rotary Park in Cloverleaf. The small parks nestled in the neighborhood are some of the community’s few gathering spots.
Credit: Danielle Villasana for The Texas Tribune
Gas pipelines near the Houston Ship Channel in Pasadena. In nearby communities, locals say the air often smells like rotten eggs, nail polish or burning tires.
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
State’s air monitoring gaps
In January 2004, a crowd of several thousand at Hermann Park's Miller Outdoor Theatre saw Bill White become Houston's new mayor. In his inaugural speech, White said he would improve the city’s air quality by addressing chronic problems such as ozone and benzene pollution.
“In Texas, we believe in property rights and nobody owns the air except the public. Nobody has a right to chemically alter it or to hurt somebody else, period. End of story,” White said in his slow, husky voice.
Air pollution had become so bad in the city — particularly around the fast-growing industrial zone along the Ship Channel — and accurate, understandable air quality information was so scarce that resident-led groups began constructing an easy-to-use air sampling device inspired by a California environmental engineering firm’s design that let residents capture air samples using pickle jars and plastic paint buckets.
The Houston Chronicle called them “a team of modern-day Nancy Drews” who recorded odors from nearby chemical plants on their kitchen calendars, writing smells like "turnip" or "nail polish" next to doctor appointments and church functions.
In 2004, White appeared before TCEQ commissioners and criticized the agency for the lack of real-time air quality data on its website.
The extent of the industrial pollution in the area was underscored in 2005 when a five-part series in the Houston Chronicle, "In Harm's Way," found elevated levels of 1,3-butadiene and benzene in four East Houston communities, sparking public debate about the city’s air pollution problems.
Following the newspaper’s investigation, White took legal action against Texas Petrochemicals Company, a Houston-based company with a history of violations that was believed to be the source of elevated hazardous air pollutants in East Houston. The company agreed to sign a pollution reduction agreement for 1,3 butadiene and install a fenceline monitoring system. After the agreement, the plant reduced butadiene emissions by 58%, according to reports.
In 2006, a TCEQ report reinforced what the newspaper’s investigation had found — historically high concentrations of benzene and 1,3-butadiene at monitors in Galena Park, Manchester and other communities near the Ship Channel.
Decades before White’s crusade, Texas state was considered a pioneer in air monitoring. In January 1972, a year after the newly created EPA adopted national air quality standards under the Clean Air Act, Texas installed its first continuous air monitoring station at the Jefferson County Airport in Nederland, which measured ozone on a near real-time basis. Later that year, the state added another one in southeast Houston.
“In Texas, we believe in property rights and nobody owns the air except the public. Nobody has a right to chemically alter it or to hurt somebody else, period. End of story.” - Bill White, former Houston mayor (2004-2010)
The new federal standards aimed to protect Americans’ health by setting limits on six airborne pollutants: ozone, sulfur dioxide, particulate matter, carbon monoxide, lead and nitrogen oxide.
Texas began its own monitoring network in 1974, five years before the EPA required them nationally. The Texas Air Control Board, TCEQ’s predecessor, launched a network of 214 sites with 36 continuous air samplers to measure pollution levels in Houston, Dallas, El Paso, Beaumont, San Antonio, Corpus Christi and Austin.
Today, the Texas air monitoring network is one of the largest in the country, with 228 air monitoring stations across the state, including about 47 in the Houston area. TCEQ said in an email that air monitoring stations are strategically placed across the state to assess air quality.
Four of those, including the one in Cloverleaf, are owned by Houston Regional Monitoring (HRM), a network of 30 petrochemical companies.
Smith, the HRM chairman, said that the industry-owned monitors were installed to help the industry obtain air quality information that would help them meet permit requirements and help cash-stripped TCEQ meet the need for more monitors.
The machines are expensive, some costing up to $500,000. And not all Texas counties have one — notably, few are located in the Permian Basin in West Texas, the nation’s biggest and most active oil-producing region — and not all measure the six pollutants targeted by the EPA, according to the TCEQ.
On the TCEQ’s website, a daily air forecast report shows ozone and particulate matter levels in Texas' metropolitan areas using a color-coded system — green, yellow and red. The agency’s geospatial database shows real-time data on the amount of pollutants in the air when users select an air monitor location.
But residents and environmental advocates say the state’s air information is hard for the average resident to interpret. The data is organized in spreadsheets and colorful maps — a sea of numbers with no context.
Ebrahim Eslami, a research scientist at Houston Advanced Research Center (HARC), points to air quality charts at his office in Spring, north of Houston. “It is really confusing,” Eslami said about navigating the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality’s website. “It’s a very, very tedious task even for me.”
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
“Not even my wife, who has been exposed to several years of nerdy air quality talk during the last 10-11 years, knows how to read the quality data,” Ebrahim Eslami, a research scientist specializing in air quality at Houston Advanced Research Center, an independent research hub, said as he pointed to a number on TCEQ’s website. “The average person doesn’t know. There is no indication if 11 is bad or good or I don't know.”
Ebrahim Eslami said the local governments and environmental organizations are trying hard to cover a lot of gaps in air monitoring.
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
In Cloverleaf, Lazo's home buzzed with energy on a December afternoon — all her children had gathered for the holidays and she’d put a towering silver and blue frosted Christmas tree in the living room.
Lazo was curious about how she could check the air quality outside. With guidance, she picked up her phone and entered the TCEQ air monitoring website for the first time, looking at the Texas map with raised eyebrows.
“I just see a bunch of little squares with colors,” Lazo said in Spanish. “I won’t know what it is if [TCEQ] doesn’t explain it to me.”
Lazo clicked on her neighborhood’s air monitor, then on a list of contaminants: benzene, 1,3 butadiene, ozone, toluene. The levels appeared on a graphic that looks like a speedometer, but they didn’t indicate whether those levels were bad or good.
“I don’t understand this at all,” Lazo said.
She said she has the right to this information and wishes it was presented like a daily weather report, something everyone can understand, “to be able to enjoy nature more with my loved ones. To be able to be in the fresh outdoors.”
Alina Lazo watches a video while her mother Cristina Lazo looks out her front door while talking on the phone at their home in Cloverleaf. Sometimes the wind brings “smells like chemicals” and “you can see the dust in the house and in the cars,” Lazo said.
Credit: Danielle Villasana for The Texas Tribune
The state’s air monitoring system has also failed Texans when they need pollution information the most — during industrial accidents near their homes. According to data compiled by the Coalition to Prevent Chemical Disasters, a group of environmental justice organizations, in 2023 Texas recorded 90 chemical incidents, including fires, explosions or toxic releases — the most of any state.
On March 17, 2019, towering flames and black smoke billowed from Intercontinental Terminals Company, a chemical tank farm in Deer Park, next to the Ship Channel. As firefighters struggled to extinguish the growing chemical fire, nearby residents wondered if it was safe to go outside.
City officials advised Deer Park residents to shelter indoors twice: for 18 hours immediately after the fire started and again three days later.
Harris County Commissioner Adrian Garcia wanted data from the state that could help answer residents’ questions. But the Deer Park air monitor closest to the fire, which TCEQ calls “one of the most comprehensive air monitoring stations in the TCEQ network,” did not gather data for cancer-causing chemicals during the first two days of the disaster because it was malfunctioning.
“Not even my wife, who has been exposed to several years of nerdy air quality talk during the last 10-11 years, knows how to read the quality data.” - Ebrahim Eslami, a research scientist at Houston Advanced Research Center
Cann, the TCEQ spokesperson, said a part of the monitor that reads and evaluates air quality was causing a series of data gaps and that system “required repair and quality control checks and calibrations to be performed.”
Garcia said the state left the county ill-prepared during a crisis and county officials didn’t feel they were being told everything they needed to know about the severity of the air pollution.
“I have absolutely zero confidence in TCEQ, regretfully,” Garcia said. “It's just been indicative that TCEQ tends to look out for industry more than they tend to look out for the community.”
About 11 hours after the fire erupted, TCEQ investigators began using handheld monitors to measure volatile organic compounds, hydrogen sulfide and carbon monoxide. In a timeline of events the agency submitted to state lawmakers a month later, investigators noted “slight odors, however, no readings of concern are detected.”
Five days later, EPA dispatched a mobile laboratory that roamed the area for the next two months. A 2023 Texas Tribune investigation found that dangerous levels of benzene remained in the air for weeks after public health measures were lifted, according to data captured from the mobile units.
Benzene is known to cause cancer after repeated exposure and can affect the central nervous system when inhaled in large quantities over a short period.
Hundreds of people went to mobile health clinics in Deer Park provided by the county, reporting symptoms including dizziness, a rapid heart rate and headaches — even after the fire was extinguished after four days.
On March 31, two weeks after the fire began, TCEQ and EPA inspectors with handheld devices recorded elevated benzene concentrations drifting through neighborhoods and near an elementary school.
The public was told nothing about the spikes until the next morning.
“Failures like that cannot happen during times of environmental disasters,” Air Alliance Houston, a local environmental group, wrote to TCEQ when ITC applied to renew its operating permit. “Community members must have a full understanding of what pollutants are in the atmosphere and the effects they can have on them.”
Residents turn to community monitoring
In Galena Park, Juan Flores, 46, said two major life events galvanized him to become an activist: his father died of a heart attack after years of working at a petrochemical facility and suffering from respiratory problems, and his only daughter, Dominique Soleil Flores, was born with teratoma, a rare type of cancerous tumor located around one of her kidneys.
Dominique had to go through rounds of chemotherapy and surgeries to remove the tumor. Today, the 8-year-old is cancer free, but Flores still worries about his family’s health — and the effects of living near petrochemical plants.
Flores, wearing a black polo with a gold chain around his neck, said he doesn’t trust government agencies to protect people’s health. When he’s called TCEQ or the city about strong chemical smells outside, he said it takes hours or days for anyone to respond — and by then the smell is usually gone.
Ten years ago, he joined Air Alliance Houston as an organizer teaching local residents about air quality. He and other organizers decided to install a community air monitoring network after the ITC fire, frustrated that TCEQ had not made air monitoring information readily available and accessible to the public.
An air quality monitor in a neighborhood in Galena Park. Organizers at Air Alliance Houston worked to install their own community air monitoring network because of frustrations with the public data provided by the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality’s network.
Credit: Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
Community members prepare for a bike ride, organized by Air Alliance Houston, in Galena Park. The event is part of several educational tours to teach people about air pollution in the area.
Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
Flores and others asked homeowners, businesses, and churches in Galena Park if they could install monitors to measure particulate matter. The first was installed in 2020 and since then the group has installed nearly 30 in Galena Park, Channelview and other communities near the Ship Channel, spending about $300 on monitors that measure particulate matter and $11,000 on those that measure volatile organic compounds in the air, as well as nitrogen oxide and ozone.
Cloverleaf could be next.
“There's a big need in Cloverleaf to organize,” said Flores, who now works as the organization's community air monitoring program manager. “That community has been kind of neglected for years.”
The group posts the monitors’ data online using a color-coded system: green for good air quality, yellow for moderate — meaning it may be a concern for people with respiratory conditions — and red for very unhealthy.
“Education is the key,” Flores said. “They know there's a refinery there, but they don't know what it does. And they don't know what the health effects are.”
From April to December 2022, the organization's Galena Park air monitors recorded nitrogen dioxide levels more than 3,000 times above the EPA’s threshold for human safety. Nitrogen oxide can cause inflammation and damage to the respiratory system. The monitors also recorded ozone levels above the EPA’s ozone threshold more than 850 times.
“We definitely see red [high spikes] happening a lot,” said Anthony D’Souza, who works with Flores at Air Alliance Houston as a research and policy coordinator.
Flores leads residents and journalists on “toxic tours” in his pickup truck, driving through neighborhood streets where houses sit across a fence from towering refineries.
Last year, he led a tour where residents dressed up in their Halloween costumes and rode bikes through Galena Park and Jacinto City, visiting air monitors to learn about air pollution.
“[Air quality] is a hard subject,” Flores said. “When you talk to somebody about pollution, you're talking about ozone, you're talking about chemicals, people don't understand.”
Juan Flores’ only daughter was born with a rare cancerous tumor, an event that helped motivate him to become a community organizer. Now, as a program manager with Air Alliance Houston, Flores works with residents to teach them about air pollution.
Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
Participants of the bike ride make a stop on their tour at landfills created from dirt dredged during a ship channel expansion in the petrochemical corridor. There have been concerns about possible contaminants in the soil.
Go Nakamura for The Texas Tribune
Flores said the air data they collect is empowering, validating the concerns of many in his community. For example, at permit hearings where TCEQ seeks public comment on a company’s permit application, they can provide the number of times the community monitors have recorded red alerts and whether those correlated with the days they’ve felt sick.
Before, Flores said, they could only talk about their headaches, dizziness or shortness of breath. Now they can back up what they’re saying with numbers — although TCEQ dismisses their data because it doesn’t come from the state’s air monitors.
“It’s such an interesting thing to actually see data and to see the numbers, because it was always our word against [TCEQ],” Flores said. “Then we built this new air monitoring network, now we have our proof.”
Reporting team
Alejandra Martinez joined The Texas Tribune in the fall of 2022 as an environmental reporter. She’s covered the impacts of petrochemical facilities on Black and brown communities, including investigating a chemical fire at an industrial facility. Additionally, she has explored topics related to climate change, such as the health effects of extreme heat and how long periods of drought affect water resources in Texas. Alejandra was previously an accountability reporter at KERA, where she began as a Report for America corps member and then covered Dallas City Hall. Before that, she worked as an associate producer at WLRN, South Florida’s public radio station. Alejandra studied journalism at the University of Texas at Austin, and interned at KUT and NPR's Latino USA. She's a native of Houston and speaks fluent Spanish.
Wendy Selene Pérez is a freelance journalist with a two-decade career spanning various media outlets in Mexico, Argentina, and the United States. Her work focuses on social justice, victims of violence, government accountability, transparency, and immigration. Wendy’s articles have been featured in El País, Gatopardo, Proceso, The Baffler, Vice, and Al Día Dallas/The Dallas Morning News. She has held positions such as bureau chief of CNN Mexico, editor of Domingo magazine (El Universal), and multimedia editor of Clarin.com. Previously, she served as the chief multimedia editor of the newspaper Mural (Grupo Reforma). Wendy holds a Master’s Degree in Journalism from Diario Clarín-Universidad de San Andrés-Columbia University, with her thesis titled “La Tierra de las Fosas,” a data-driven journalistic investigation. She has been honored with the National Journalism Awards in Mexico (2019, 2022), the Walter Reuter German Journalism Award (2020), the Breach-Valdez Human Rights Award (2022, 2023), the Texas APME 2021 News Spanish-Language award, the ICFJ’s COVID-19 reporting story contest, and received an honorable mention in the Latin American Investigative Journalism Award (COLPIN, 2022).
Danielle Villasana is a photojournalist based in her hometown of Houston, Texas, focusing on human rights, gender, displacement, and health throughout the Americas. She’s the 2022 Alexia Grant Professional Winner, a National Geographic Explorer, Magnum Foundation awardee, Women Photograph grantee, IWMF fellow, and alumna of the Eddie Adams Workshop. With a strong belief in photography paired with education and community, she’s a co-founder of We, Women, and an Authority Collective board member, on The Everyday Projects’ Community Team, and a Photo Bill of Rights co-author. She’s also a member of Women Photograph, Diversify Photo, and Ayün Fotógrafas.
Go Nakamura began his photography journey as a wedding photographer in Honolulu, Hawaii in 2006. In 2009, he relocated to New York City and transitioned into news/documentary photography, freelancing with the New York Daily News in 2015. Since then, he has broadened his scope, freelancing for renowned outlets such as The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Thomson Reuters, Getty Images, Bloomberg Business, Texas Tribune, and Houston Chronicle.
Focused on addressing pressing social issues, Go's work aims to harness the power of visual imagery for maximum impact. His photography has garnered international acclaim, including awards such as Pictures Of The Year International (POYi) and Best Of Photojournalism (BOP). In 2021, he was part of the Getty Images team named as finalists for Feature Photography at the Pulitzer Prize.
Greta Díaz González Vázquez is an international multimedia journalist with experience reporting in Mexico and the U.S. She tells bilingual narrative stories through audio, video and photography with a focus on gender violence, science and marginalized populations. Originally from central Mexico, Greta has worked in public radio and has freelanced for nonprofit newsrooms. Her work has been recognized with numerous national and state awards in her home country.
Jimmy Evans is a documentary filmmaker and journalist as well as a graduate of the University of Florida. His films highlighting environmental issues have been featured at film festivals nationwide and on outlets such as PBS. Jimmy is currently an assistant video editor at Environmental Health News and his work focuses on environmental health stories in the Houston, Texas area.
Laurie Giordano advocated for heat-illness protections after her son died from heat stroke, leading to the Zachary Martin Act, which mandates emergency medical plans in schools for treating heat injuries.
Despite the act's success, similar protections for Florida's outdoor workers, including farmworkers and construction laborers, have consistently failed to pass in the legislature.
Florida leads the nation in hospitalizations due to heat illness, highlighting the urgent need for comprehensive heat-illness protections across all occupations.
Key quote:
“No mom should ever drop their kid off at football practice and then never hear their voice again,”
— Laurie Giordano, advocate for heat-illness protections.
Why this matters:
Climate change is leading to hotter temperatures, more frequent and severe heatwaves, and longer summers. These conditions are not just uncomfortable—they are deadly. Knowing how many people die or get sick from heat-related causes is essential for the policy arguments to equitably adapt to and mitigate climate change.
Recent legal and executive actions across Western states are limiting new construction due to the scarcity of water resources, underscoring the clash between booming populations and dwindling water supplies.
The Nevada Supreme Court ruled against a large development outside Las Vegas, highlighting the challenges of balancing growth with environmental sustainability and water rights.
Efforts to reduce water consumption in places like southern Nevada, through more efficient homes and restrictions on water use, point towards possible solutions amidst growing concerns.
Key quote:
"The era of limits is upon us."
— Kathy Jacobs, director of the Center for Climate Adaptation Science and Solutions at the University of Arizona
Why this matters:
Communities across states like California, Arizona, and Nevada are grappling with the reality that water, once considered an abundant resource, is now a critically limited one. In 2022, Arizona experienced the worst drought conditions in more than 1,000 years, which dried up reservoirs, exposed regulatory loopholes and further exposed environmental injustice.
CLOVERLEAF, TEXAS – En un caluroso y húmedo día de octubre en el pequeño suburbio de Cloverleaf, Cristina Lazo acomoda a su hija en el asiento de su bicicleta y le susurra en español: “Primero Dios que no te pase nada”.
Alina no parece entender la preocupación de su mamá y sonríe. Pone frente a ella la tableta donde escucha Baby Shark y muerde una manzana. La hija menor de Lazo tiene 7 años y es un remolino que camina con decisión. Antes de salir de casa, en menos de 20 minutos, jugó con unas cucharas, arrancó una hoja de un cuaderno, dibujó garabatos acostada panza al piso, montó en una silla y se sentó en posición de loto, se bajó, tomó una guitarrita rosa y la hizo chillar desafinada mientras cantaba en inglés.
"¡Vámonos!", grita ahora Lazo alargando la última o, y pedalea con ánimo por las calles de Cloverleaf, un barrio a unas 15 millas al este del centro de Houston. Detrás de ella va Zoey, la hija adolescente. Las dos bicicletas avanzan por las calles sin banquetas, al costado de las casas de un piso, de los jardines pequeños pero florecidos, de las rejas metálicas en los porches. Las vecinas saludan en español cuando las ven. Cloverleaf tiene 24.100 habitantes; ocho de cada 10 son de origen hispano.
Alina empieza a toser. Una, dos, tres veces. Su madre identifica la señal. Sabe que esta noche tendrá que frotar Vicks Vaporub en el pecho de su hija y que, por la mañana, despertará con "telitas de araña” en los ojos. Para mitigar el ardor, le pondrá las gotas que compra en una farmacia salvadoreña.
“Siempre que sale, pasa eso”, dice Lazo con resignación. Mocos, irritación, tos. El remedio preventivo para Alina, una niña con síndrome de Down, es mantenerla la mayor parte del tiempo dentro de casa, aun con toda su energía y con lo gratificante que es para ella salir al parque y estar en una alberca en el verano.
Los médicos no han podido determinar cuál es la causa que desencadena los síntomas, pero Lazo lo atribuye al aire exterior y agrega que el olor a químicos es frecuente. “Te sientes como que no puedes resistir ese olor, un olor como veneno, no sé, algo raro”, describe la madre de Alina.
Cloverleaf forma parte de un conjunto de vecindarios a la sombra del Canal de Navegación de Houston, donde operan más de 200 fábricas a lo largo de 52 millas. Es uno de los complejos petroquímicos más grandes del mundo en el procesamiento de combustibles fósiles para la producción de plásticos, fertilizantes y pesticidas.
Si bien Lazo no puede ver las chimeneas de las refinerías desde su casa, las nubes oscuras de químicos a menudo llevan consigo esas sustancias peligrosas sobre Cloverleaf y comunidades cercanas como Channelview, Galena Park y Pasadena.
Las emisiones tóxicas incluyen material particulado (PM, por sus siglas en inglés), considerado por algunos científicos como la forma más mortífera de contaminación atmosférica. Se trata de partículas microscópicas que pueden penetrar en los pulmones y causar arritmia, agravar el asma y otras afecciones respiratorias. Un reciente análisis de la organización Air Alliance Houston mostró una mayor concentración del material particulado en las áreas más cercanas al canal de navegación.
Las centrales también producen sustancias cancerígenas como el benceno, que puede irritar la garganta y los ojos cuando se inhala en grandes cantidades, además de los olores, que Lazo y otros vecinos describen como a huevo podrido, esmalte de uñas o llantas quemadas.
Decenas de personas entrevistadas en Cloverleaf y la comunidad vecina de Channelview dicen que sufren problemas respiratorios, asma y afecciones cutáneas. Apuntan a que el aire que respiran podría ser el culpable, pero cómo saberlo: la información de las sustancias que llegan a sus pulmones todos los días es difícil de entender. Aunque existan 23 sitios de monitoreo en la zona del Canal de Navegación de Houston, regulados por la Comisión de Calidad Ambiental de Texas (TCEQ, por sus siglas en inglés).
Un grupo de personas camina por el Parque San Jacinto mientras un barco cisterna pasa por el Canal de Navegación de Houston en La Porte. Miles de familias viven y juegan cerca del complejo petroquímico más grande del mundo.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Cientos de plantas químicas, refinerías y terminales bordean el canal de navegación, como se ve en Pasadena, a menos de 15 millas al sureste del centro de Houston. Según un informe de Amnistía Internacional, las personas que viven cerca del Canal de Navegación de Houston, a menudo pertenecientes a comunidades latinas y de color de bajos ingresos tienen una menor esperanza de vida que las que viven en comunidades de mayores recursos, de mayoría anglosajona, más alejadas de la zona industrial.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
A pesar de la alta concentración industrial, Texas no evalúa en todos los sitios de monitoreo los seis "contaminantes criterio": monóxido de carbono, plomo, dióxido de nitrógeno, ozono, material particulado y dióxido de azufre. La Agencia de Protección Ambiental (EPA, por sus siglas en inglés) los regula porque representan un riesgo potencial a corto y largo plazo para la salud humana y el medio ambiente. Sin embargo, el único monitor de calidad del aire cercano a Cloverleaf no mide ni material particulado ni dióxido de azufre.
Jeff Robinson, un funcionario de la EPA que dirige la división de monitoreo del aire, dice que las leyes federales no obligan a medir los seis contaminantes criterio en cada sitio. Como cada contaminante tiene sus propias regulaciones, los estados deciden cuántos equipos son necesarios para evaluarlos, basándose en el número de habitantes y las fuentes de emisión.
Según Robinson, la TCEQ cumple con estas regulaciones pero "no hay nada que impida a un estado tener un mayor control".
La información que recoge la TCEQ de los monitores de calidad del aire en realidad es difícil de entender para cualquier ciudadano promedio. Y casi toda está en inglés, lo cual puede ser una desventaja para Cloverleaf, donde más del 71% de los habitantes habla español en casa. La composición demográfica ha cambiado en las últimas décadas: el barrio pasó de ser un lugar con mayoría de blancos anglosajones a una comunidad de inmigrantes mexicanos, hondureños, guatemaltecos, cubanos, salvadoreños, nicaragüenses y de otros países latinoamericanos, sobre todo porque los alquileres son más baratos.
No hay una normativa que estipule cómo deben presentarse los datos de monitoreo ambiental al público ni en qué formato hacerlo, dice Robinson.
Docenas de personas entrevistadas dijeron a The Texas Tribune/Environmental Health News/Altavoz Lab que no sabían de la existencia de una red de monitoreo del aire.
A Deysy Canales, de 34 años, madre de tres hijos, le gusta pasar tiempo al aire libre relajándose en su hamaca o cuidando sus plantas de sábila. Pero cada vez está más limitada a hacerlo. Ha luchado contra el asma crónica desde que se mudó a Cloverleaf. Cuando supo que había equipos de monitoreo del aire estatales se sorprendió. “Sería importante que informaran a la población de la calidad del aire y la contaminación para así poder cuidarse uno más, las personas que son asmáticas como yo”, pide Canales.
Patricia Prado, de 43 años, otra vecina de Cloverleaf, también tiene asma y sufre con regularidad de congestión y alergias. Su hija, Jocelyn Prado, de 21 años, padece migrañas severas e incontrolables, alergias y psoriasis, una afección cutánea persistente que produce picor, enrojecimiento o escamas en la piel. Ellas tampoco sabían de los monitores de calidad del aire en su zona. "Fue impactante para mí y para mi madre (conocer esto). Es algo que no sabíamos. El gobierno no nos lo dice", lamenta Jocelyn.
El año pasado, Patricia y Jocelyn vieron desde su casa cómo las torres de una petroquímica ardían como velas enormes, pero las autoridades nunca les comunicaron. Los datos hubieran servido para medir los riesgos. "Con esa información creo que podríamos ponernos una mascarilla, limitar el tiempo de permanencia en el exterior. O simplemente ser conscientes”, dice Jocelyn.
La TCEQ asegura que ha trabajado para que los datos de calidad del aire en su sitio web sean fáciles de entender. Sin embargo, en su portal de internet no ofrecen una explicación sencilla de los niveles numéricos de los químicos que analizan para cada monitor, ni brindan contexto para ayudar a los usuarios a descifrar lo que están viendo.
"Se necesitan ampliar las formas de comunicar lo que esto significa para la salud. ¿Qué significa este nivel?", señala Natalie Johnson, toxicóloga medioambiental de la Facultad de Salud Pública de la Universidad A&M de Texas. "Actualmente es difícil de interpretar".
Erandi Treviño, que vive 11 millas al sur de Cloverleaf y es organizadora de la Coalición de Comunidades Portuarias Saludables, dice que la red de monitoreo del aire en esencia es inútil para la gente de su comunidad.
"Un gran problema aún con (la) TCEQ es que la información que comparten es demasiado densa y difícil de entender", sostiene Treviño. "Necesitan comunicarse de una manera clara y con un lenguaje sencillo que pueda ser entendido por una persona promedio en la comunidad".
Victoria Cann, portavoz de la TCEQ, dijo en un correo electrónico que la intención principal de su red de monitoreo es utilizar los datos recogidos para determinar el cumplimiento de las regulaciones federales, pronosticar las condiciones de calidad del aire, evaluar las tendencias de la contaminación y estudiar su impacto en la salud humana para informar las decisiones regulatorias.
En respuesta a las críticas de los activistas medioambientales y de los investigadores, Cann dice que el público puede utilizar la información que registran los monitores "para ayudarles a tomar decisiones sobre su exposición personal”, de acuerdo con las condiciones de la calidad del aire en su área. Asegura que la agencia ambiental ha mejorado la accesibilidad y que, el año pasado, publicaron un tablero con los niveles de contaminación del aire en forma de velocímetro, una herramienta que planean seguir mejorando.
En 2021, los puntos ciegos de la red de Texas quedaron al descubierto en un estudio financiado por la EPA. Durante un año, el Departamento de Salud de Houston investigó la calidad del aire en Cloverleaf, Channelview y Galena Park, y descubrió altas concentraciones de formaldehído, un gas incoloro e inflamable generado, entre otras cosas, por la fabricación de plásticos. Puede irritar la piel, la garganta, los pulmones y los ojos, las exposiciones altas o repetidas pueden provocar cáncer.
El departamento de salud reveló que, desde el 27 de septiembre de 2019 hasta el 26 de septiembre de 2020, las concentraciones anuales de formaldehído en Cloverleaf eran 13 veces superiores al nivel máximo permitido por la EPA para la salud de las personas. En Galena Park, al lado de Cloverleaf, el nivel era siete veces más alto, mientras que en Channelview, también cerca de Cloverleaf, era cinco veces mayor.
Los investigadores pidieron a las autoridades de Texas endurecer las normas para reducir las emisiones de compuestos orgánicos volátiles y vigilar los niveles de formaldehído. En aquel momento, solo dos monitores en Galena Park y Deer Park medían formaldehído. Tres años después, el monitor más cercano a Cloverleaf sigue sin medirlo.
La agencia ambiental de Texas no tomó ninguna acción después del estudio. Cann, la portavoz de la agencia estatal, dijo que los niveles de formaldehído encontrados estaban por debajo del límite a partir del cual ellos toman acciones para una mayor investigación y, en esos niveles, "no se consideran causantes de efectos adversos para la salud en la población". Añadió que sus niveles "se basan en una revisión de la ciencia más reciente" que los que establece la EPA.
El monitor de calidad del aire más cercano a Cloverleaf está a una milla de distancia y no es del estado. Pertenece a una red que montaron más de 30 empresas petroquímicas y comparte los datos con la TCEQ. Steve Smith, el presidente de la Houston Regional Monitoring (HRM), dice: “Sin duda hay un margen de mejora a la hora de divulgar, transmitir a la gente, a las comunidades, qué recursos existen, qué datos están disponibles. Eso siempre ha sido una lucha, en términos de intentar traducirlo en algo que todos podamos entender".
Alina Lazo juega con su papá y su mamá en la pizzería Peter Piper, en Houston. Debido a las preocupaciones por la contaminación del aire, la madre de Alina la mantiene dentro de casa lo más posible. “Pero obviamente yo quiero que ella salga, que pueda disfrutar (de) la naturaleza”, dice. “A ella le encanta salir a los parques”.
Fotos por Danielle Villasana/The Texas Tribune
Héctor Rivero, presidente y director ejecutivo del Consejo de Química de Texas, que representa a más de 200 instalaciones de fabricación de productos químicos, asegura que la industria "sigue firme en su apoyo a las iniciativas de control del aire en todo el estado".
Organizaciones ecologistas, como Air Alliance Houston y Fenceline Watch, temen que la falta de información sobre la calidad del aire en otros idiomas impida a los habitantes saber cuándo es seguro salir a la calle. Y, si estos datos fueran accesibles y multilingües, dicen, les ayudaría a presionar a las autoridades para respirar un aire más limpio. Air Alliance ha instalado equipos de monitoreo del aire en algunos barrios del canal de navegación.
Volviendo a Cloverleaf, Lazo afirma que la información sobre la calidad del aire no ha llegado a su comunidad y que la gente está sufriendo las consecuencias. "No se presta atención a Cloverleaf", dice. "No con la profundidad que (el estado) debería".
Aire sucio, costes silenciosos en la "zona de sacrificio"
A pocas manzanas de la casa de la familia Lazo, está la de Canales, una mujer menuda con el pelo castaño rizado y la piel bronceada por el sol. Observa a sus hijos jugando con una pelota fuera de su casa móvil, rodeada por alambre de gallinero. "Aquí hay muchos olores", dice Canales. "Los olores que se respiran son como de algo quemándose, como si estuvieran quemando plástico".
Su pareja y sus tres hijos están sanos, dice, pero ella no. Agrega que desde que se mudó a Cloverleaf desde Honduras, ha desarrollado alergias, asma y un persistente dolor de garganta: "En mi país nunca tuve nada. Pero ahora que he venido a vivir aquí, a Cloverleaf, me pongo enferma más a menudo y voy al médico por ataques de asma". Los ataques son como "un puñetazo en el estómago" que le roba el aire, describe. Combate los síntomas con té de manzanilla y un montón de medicamentos; en su pequeño bolso cuadrado lleva siempre un inhalador para el asma.
Sus dos hijas la cuidan durante los cuadros severos. "Mi madre tiene el asma tan fuerte que no puede ni respirar, y eso me hace sentir muy mal y triste porque es mi madre", dice Ashley, de 10 años.
Deysy Canales besa a su hijo de 4 años en la cocina de su casa. Desde que se mudó a Cloverleaf, Canales dice que se enferma con frecuencia, pero está agradecida de que sus tres hijos sigan gozando de buena salud.
Foto de Danielle Villasana/The Texas Tribune
Deysy Canales dice que lleva su inhalador a todas partes por si sufre un ataque de asma, lo cual le sucede con frecuencia. “Te cansas tanto que no puedes hacer actividades normales”, dice.
En 2023, en tan solo tres meses, Canales fue hospitalizada en dos ocasiones por esta enfermedad. La última vez, el personal del Hospital Houston Methodist de Baytown tuvo que sentarla en una silla de ruedas y conectarla a una máquina de oxígeno para que inhalara el medicamento por medio de una mascarilla. "No podía ni andar", recuerda.
Cuando aparecen sus síntomas, acude a una clínica cercana, donde suele pagar menos de $20 por la consulta, pero cerca de $400 por los análisis y los medicamentos, más de lo que gana en una semana en el negocio familiar de fabricación de cajas de madera. No ha visitado a un especialista en asma porque no tiene cobertura médica, dice.
El 54% de la población en Cloverleaf carece de seguro médico, según un estudio reciente del Condado de Harris, un porcentaje tres veces superior al estatal (16,6%).
Los estudios muestran que los casi 69.800 habitantes de Cloverleaf y Channelview, más de un tercio de ellos menores de 18 años, respiran uno de los aires más sucios del país.
En su investigación "Estado del aire 2023”, la Asociación Americana del Pulmón calificó al condado de Harris con una “F”, la peor letra de la escala, por los niveles insalubres de contaminación por material particulado y ozono.
Según un informe reciente de la organización de derechos humanos Amnistía Internacional, los habitantes de las zonas más próximas al Canal de Navegación de Houston, principalmente personas de color y de bajos ingresos, tienen una esperanza de vida 20 años menor que aquellas que viven en zonas más ricas y de mayoría blancas ubicadas a 15 millas de distancia. La organización califica la zona del canal de navegación como "zona de sacrificio" y critica tanto a la industria petroquímica por arrojar contaminantes tóxicos, como a organismos públicos como la TCEQ y la EPA por la laxitud en la supervisión del cumplimiento de sus propias normativas.
Harris también es uno de los condados con niveles más elevados de cáncer en Texas. El padre de Cristina Lazo, de 87 años y residente de Cloverleaf desde hace más de 20 años, es sobreviviente de cáncer de hígado.
Un estudio de 18 meses de duración, publicado en 2007 por la Escuela de Salud Pública de la Universidad de Texas y el Departamento de Salud de Houston, encontró 56% más de casos de leucemia linfocítica aguda en niños que vivían a dos millas del canal de navegación, en comparación con los niños que vivían a más de 10 millas del canal. Aunque los científicos no relacionaron de manera directa el aumento de cáncer con la exposición a sustancias químicas peligrosas, sugirieron un segundo análisis que nunca se hizo.
Christopher Shackelford, reverendo de la Iglesia Católica St. Andrew, bendice a un feligrés después de una misa en Channelview, en el Condado de Harris. Shackelford, que padece alergias graves, toma medicamentos a diario para prepararse para los sermones ante sus casi 3.000 fieles. Cree que la contaminación en el área ha dañado su salud y la de quienes asisten a su iglesia.
Fotos de Danielle Villasana/The Texas Tribune
Philip Lupo, médico epidemiólogo especializado en cáncer infantil de la Escuela de Medicina de Baylor y el Hospital de Niños de Texas en Houston, afirma que la genética por sí sola no puede explicar el número de casos de cáncer pediátrico en el área. "Es muy importante tener en cuenta el medioambiente", dice en una entrevista en su oficina.
A pesar de albergar el mayor corredor petroquímico del país, Lupo afirma que en Houston no hay suficientes estudios que exploren los posibles vínculos entre la contaminación de origen petroquímico y el cáncer, ni dinero suficiente para llevarlos a cabo.
"Hay muchas líneas de evidencia que sugieren que el cáncer pediátrico tiene un componente medioambiental. Pero ha sido un problema intentar abordarlo", explica. "Si un niño vive en una zona no tan contaminada, su probabilidad de exposición es menor por naturaleza".
Estudios realizados en otros países han demostrado que las personas que viven cerca de plantas petroquímicas tienen un mayor riesgo de morir de cáncer de cerebro, vejiga y pulmones, así como de leucemia y mieloma múltiple.
Erandi Treviño recuerda la primera vez que oyó hablar del estudio sobre leucemia de la Universidad de Texas en Austin. En 2007, era una niña de quinto grado y vivía en Magnolia Park, cerca del puerto de Houston. Escuchó que la gente de su barrio y otras comunidades cercanas podrían morir de cáncer. “Me impactó pero lo dejé ir. Yo siempre quería proteger la tierra pero no pensaba que era porque nos estábamos enfermando”, dice.
Hace tres años, cuando tenía ya 29 años, empezó a trabajar con EcoMadres, una organización de mujeres latinas dedicada a proteger a los niños de la contaminación. Treviño tiene dos sobrinas con alergias y afecciones respiratorias. Eso la llevó a su trabajo actual en la Coalición de Comunidades Portuarias Saludables, donde enseña sobre la calidad del aire y cómo abogar por un aire más limpio.
A sus 32 años, Treviño padece fibromialgia, un trastorno muscular que provoca dolor y fatiga. Los estudios demuestran que las personas con bajos niveles de tolerancia a los químicos son más propensas a la fatiga crónica. La activista dice que su cuerpo ha estado trabajando horas extra desde que era niña debido al aire contaminado.
“Los niños no pueden jugar afuera si huele feo o si está muy contaminado. No pueden ser niños”, dice Treviño con firmeza. “El efecto físico, mental y neurológico en sus cuerpos los seguirá por toda la vida, cuando estén grandes”.
Heidy García juega con Tiana Cruz en el North Shore Rotary Park de Cloverleaf. Los pequeños parques del vecindario son algunos de los pocos puntos de encuentro de la comunidad.
Foto de Danielle Villasana/The Texas Tribune
Gasoductos cerca del Canal de Navegación de Houston en Pasadena. En las comunidades cercanas, los vecinos dicen que el aire con frecuencia huele a huevo podrido, esmalte de uñas o llantas quemadas.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Las lagunas del Estado en la vigilancia del aire
En enero de 2004, varios miles de personas en el Miller Outdoor Theatre del Hermann Park vieron cómo Bill White se convertía en el nuevo alcalde de Houston. En su discurso inaugural, White dijo que mejoraría la calidad del aire de la ciudad abordando problemas crónicos como la contaminación por ozono y benceno.
"En Texas creemos en los derechos de propiedad y nadie es dueño del aire salvo el público. Nadie tiene derecho a alterarlo químicamente ni a perjudicar a nadie, punto. Fin de la historia", dijo White con su voz lenta y ronca.
La contaminación se había agravado en la ciudad —sobre todo en la creciente zona industrial del canal de navegación— y la información sobre la calidad del aire era tan escasa que grupos de vecinos construyeron sus propios dispositivos de medición caseros y de bajo costo, inspirados en el diseño del abogado Edward L. Masry, con quien trabajó la activista Erin Brockovich en California. La gente empezó a recoger muestras de aire utilizando botes de pepinillos y cubetas de pintura de plástico.
El Houston Chronicle publicó que eran como "un equipo de Nancy Drews modernas", refiriéndose a la joven detective de la saga de misterio creada en los años treinta, porque anotaban en sus calendarios de cocina, junto a las citas con el médico y las actividades de la iglesia, los aromas que llegaban de las refinerías, describiéndolos como a olores a "nabo" o "esmalte de uñas".
Ese mismo 2004, White compareció ante los comisionados de la TCEQ y criticó a la agencia estatal por la falta de datos, en tiempo real, sobre la calidad del aire en su página web.
El alcance de la contaminación industrial en la zona se puso de manifiesto en 2005, cuando una serie de cinco artículos del Houston Chronicle, titulada "In Harm's Way", descubrió que cuatro barrios estaban tan cargados de químicos tóxicos que era peligroso respirar. Colgando monitores de aire en juegos infantiles, ventanas, tendederos o azoteas detectaron altos niveles de benceno y del gas carcinogénico 1,3-butadieno (que huele a gasolina), lo que desencadenó un debate público.
Tras la investigación del periódico, White emprendió acciones legales contra Texas Petrochemicals Company, una empresa con un historial de infracciones ambientales tal, que se creía que era la fuente de los contaminantes elevados y peligrosos del aire en el este de Houston. La petroquímica accedió a firmar un documento comprometiéndose a reducir la emisión de 1,3-butadieno e instalar un sistema de vigilancia en su perímetro. Tras el acuerdo, la planta redujo esas emisiones en un 58%, según los informes.
En 2006, una investigación de la TCEQ reforzó lo que había descubierto el periódico: concentraciones elevadas históricas de benceno y de 1,3-butadieno en los monitores de Galena Park, Manchester y otras comunidades cercanas al canal de navegación.
Décadas antes de la cruzada de White, Texas era considerado pionero en el sistema de monitoreo del aire. En enero de 1972, un año después de que la EPA adoptara nuevas regulaciones con los seis contaminantes criterio, el estado instaló la primera estación de monitoreo continuo con resultados casi en tiempo real. Fue colocada en el aeropuerto del Condado de Jefferson, en Nederland, y medía el ozono. En el mismo año, Texas puso una estación igual al sureste de Houston.
Hoy en día, la red texana es una de las más grandes del país con 228 estaciones de monitoreo, incluidas 47 en Houston. Cuatro, contando la de Cloverleaf, son propiedad de la HRM. De todas, solo cuatro miden formaldehído.
Smith dice que los monitores de la industria se instalaron para obtener sus propios registros sobre la calidad del aire para cuando soliciten permisos de expansión. Y para cubrir la necesidad de más monitores por parte de la TCEQ que, de acuerdo con Smith, está escasa de recursos. Las máquinas son caras, algunas cuestan hasta $500.000.
No todos los condados disponen de monitores, en la cuenca del Pérmico hay pocos aunque es la región productora de petróleo más grande y activa del país. Según respondió la TCEQ en un correo electrónico, los monitores los coloca de manera estratégica en el estado.
El sitio web de la TCEQ dispone de un informe diario que muestra los niveles de ozono y material particulado en las áreas metropolitanas de Texas, usando un sistema por colores: verde, amarillo y rojo. La base de datos contiene información en tiempo real de los contaminantes en el aire para la zona que seleccionaron los usuarios.
Pero los datos están organizados en hojas de cálculo y mapas de colores: un mar de cifras sin contexto que al final significan poco para alguien que no esté familiarizado con el tema.
Ebrahim Eslami, científico investigador del Centro de Investigación Avanzada de Houston (HARC, por sus siglas en inglés), señala los gráficos de la calidad del aire en su oficina de Spring, al norte de Houston. “Es realmente confuso”, dice Eslami sobre navegar por el sitio web de la Comisión de Calidad Ambiental de Texas. "Es una tarea muy, muy tediosa incluso para mí".
Fotos de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
"Ni siquiera mi esposa, quien ha presenciado muchas charlas sobre la calidad del aire por más de una década, sabe cómo leer los datos", dice Ebrahim Eslami, investigador científico del Centro de Investigación Avanzada de Houston mientras señala un número en el sitio web de la TCEQ. "El ciudadano promedio no lo sabe. No se indica si 11 es malo o bueno o no lo sé".
Eslami ha comparado el sitio de Texas con el de Luisiana, que indica a los usuarios, en la misma página en la que están las lecturas de calidad del aire, si un contaminante está presente en niveles superiores o inferiores a los permitidos, facilitando así su lectura.
Ebrahim Eslami dice que los gobiernos locales y las organizaciones medioambientales se están esforzando por cubrir muchas lagunas en el monitoreo del aire.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
En Cloverleaf, la casa de Lazo bulle de energía una tarde de diciembre: sus seis hijos están reunidos para las fiestas y ella ha colocado un imponente árbol de Navidad de color azul y plateado en el salón.
Lazo tiene curiosidad por saber más del sistema de calidad del aire exterior. Toma su teléfono y entra por primera vez a la página web de la TCEQ. Mira el mapa de Texas con las cejas levantadas: "Aquí nomás (veo) puros cuadritos. No voy a saber qué es lo que es si no explican ellos”.
La madre hace un acercamiento en la pantalla al monitor de aire de Cloverleaf. Luego, otro clic en una lista de contaminantes: benceno, 1,3-butadieno, ozono, tolueno. Los niveles aparecen en un gráfico similar a un velocímetro, pero no indican si son malos o buenos. "No lo entiendo en absoluto", dice, frustrada.
Le gustaría poder leer esa información como un parte meteorológico del día, algo que todo el mundo entendería. Su gran deseo es uno solo: “Poder disfrutar más de la naturaleza con mis seres queridos, poder estar al aire libre".
Alina Lazo ve un video mientras su madre, Cristina Lazo, mira desde la puerta de su casa, en Cloverleaf, y habla por teléfono. A veces el viento trae “olor a químico” y “se ve el polvo” que ellas están inhalando, dice Lazo.
Foto de Danielle Villasana/The Texas Tribune
El sistema estatal de control de la calidad del aire también le ha fallado a las personas en Texas en los momentos más necesarios: durante accidentes industriales cerca de sus hogares. Según datos recopilados por la Coalición para Prevenir Desastres Químicos, un grupo de organizaciones que lucha por la justicia ambiental, en 2023 Texas registró 49 incidentes químicos, incluidos incendios, explosiones o emisiones tóxicas, el número más alto de todos los estados. Esta cifra triplica la cantidad de incidentes de 2022, año en el que se registraron 15.
El 17 de marzo de 2019, llamas altísimas y humo negro brotaron de Intercontinental Terminals Company (ITC), una planta de tanques químicos en la ciudad de Deer Park, junto al Canal de Navegación de Houston. Mientras los bomberos luchaban para extinguir el incendio químico, los habitantes en el área se preguntaban qué hacer.
Las autoridades de Deer Park aconsejaron a la población que se refugiara en sus casas en dos ocasiones: durante las 18 horas posteriores al inicio del incendio y, de nuevo, solo tres días después. ¿Por qué?
El comisionado del Condado de Harris, Adrián García, cuenta que solicitó al estado información que pudiera ayudar a responder las preguntas de los ciudadanos. Pero el monitor de calidad del aire de Deer Park más cercano al incendio ―que la agencia estatal denomina "una de las estaciones de control del aire más completas de la red de (la) TCEQ"― no registró datos de las sustancias químicas cancerígenas durante los primeros dos días de la catástrofe, porque el monitor no estaba funcionando.
Cann, la portavoz de la agencia, dice que una parte del monitor que lee y evalúa la calidad del aire “requería reparación” y tuvieron que hacer comprobaciones y calibraciones de control de calidad.
Para García, en cambio, Texas dejó al condado mal parado ante una crisis. Sintió que la TCEQ no estaba dando la información necesaria sobre la gravedad de la contaminación.
Durante tres días, cientos de personas en Deer Park acudieron a las clínicas móviles de salud del Condado de Harris con mareos, ritmo cardíaco acelerado y dolores de cabeza. Los síntomas persistieron incluso cuatro días después de que el fuego se extinguiera.
Unas 11 horas después de comenzar el incendio, los investigadores de la TCEQ usaron monitores de aire portátiles para medir los compuestos orgánicos volátiles, el sulfuro de hidrógeno y el monóxido de carbono. En una cronología de los hechos que la agencia medioambiental presentó a los legisladores locales un mes después, solo describieron "ligeros olores”, sin detección de “lecturas preocupantes".
“No tengo ninguna confianza en TCEQ porque yo sé que TCEQ está más disponible para trabajar y existir para la industria que para la comunidad", sentencia el comisionado García en español.
Cinco días después del incendio, la EPA envió un laboratorio móvil que recorrió la zona durante los dos meses siguientes. Una investigación de The Texas Tribune de 2023 descubrió que esas unidades móviles captaron niveles peligrosos de benceno, aún después de que se levantaran las medidas de protección de salud pública.
El 31 de marzo de 2019, por ejemplo, dos semanas después de las primeras llamas, inspectores estatales y federales registraron todavía concentraciones elevadas de benceno en el aire de los barrios aledaños y cerca de una escuela primaria. Pero la autoridad texana no informó a la población sobre esos picos sino hasta la mañana siguiente.
El benceno provoca cáncer tras exposiciones reiteradas. Además de irritar la garganta, los ojos y afectar al sistema nervioso central cuando se inhala en grandes cantidades durante un breve periodo de tiempo. "Fallos como este no pueden producirse en tiempos de catástrofes medioambientales", escribió Air Alliance Houston a la TCEQ cuando ITC solicitó la renovación de su permiso de operación. “Los miembros de la comunidad deben conocer perfectamente qué contaminantes hay en la atmósfera y los efectos que pueden tener sobre ellos".
Los habitantes recurren al uso de sus propios monitores
En Galena Park, Juan Flores, de 46 años, afirma que dos acontecimientos importantes de su vida lo impulsaron a convertirse en activista: la muerte de su padre de un ataque al corazón, tras años de trabajar en una instalación petroquímica y padecer problemas respiratorios; y la enfermedad de su única hija, Dominique Soleil Flores, que nació con un teratoma, un tipo raro de tumor canceroso situado alrededor de uno de sus riñones.
Dominique tuvo que someterse a ciclos de quimioterapia e intervenciones quirúrgicas para extirpar el tumor. Hoy, la niña de 8 años no tiene cáncer, pero Flores sigue preocupado por la salud de su familia y por las consecuencias de vivir cerca de las petroquímicas.
Flores dice que desconfía de las autoridades para el cuidado de la salud. Cuando ha llamado a la TCEQ por fuertes olores químicos, tardan horas o días en responder. Y cuando llegan, el olor suele haber desaparecido.
Hace 10 años se unió a Air Alliance Houston como organizador para enseñar a otras personas sobre la calidad del aire y la justicia ambiental. Él y otros organizadores impulsaron la creación de una red comunitaria para vigilar los niveles de contaminación. Estaba frustrado por la falta de información de la TCEQ durante el incendio de la petroquímica ITC.
Un monitor de calidad del aire en un barrio de Galena Park, en el área del canal de navegación. Los organizadores de Air Alliance Houston trabajaron para instalar su propia red comunitaria de monitoreo del aire ante la frustración que les producían los datos públicos proporcionados por la Comisión de Calidad Ambiental de Texas.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Habitantes de la comunidad de Galena Park se preparan para dar un paseo en bicicleta, organizado por Air Alliance Houston. La actividad es parte de una serie de recorridos destinados a educar a la gente sobre la contaminación del aire en la zona.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Flores y sus compañeros preguntaron a los dueños de viviendas, negocios e iglesias de Galena Park si podían instalar un tipo de monitor más sencillo para medir los contaminantes. Lograron colocar el primero en 2020. Desde entonces, el grupo ha puesto casi 30 equipos en Galena Park, Channelview y otras comunidades cercanas al canal de navegación. Los monitores que miden material particulado cuestan aproximadamente $300 y los que evalúan compuestos orgánicos volátiles, óxido de nitrógeno y ozono rondan los $11.000.
La organización publica en internet los datos que captan sus monitores usando un sistema de códigos por colores: verde para buena calidad del aire, amarillo para moderada (lo que significa que puede ser peligroso para personas con afecciones respiratorias), y rojo para muy insalubre.
"La educación es la clave", dice el activista. "(Las personas) saben que hay una refinería, pero no saben a qué se dedica. Y no saben cuáles son los efectos para la salud".
De abril a diciembre de 2022, los equipos de monitoreo comunitario en Galena Park registraron niveles de dióxido de nitrógeno más de 3.000 veces por encima del nivel permitido por la EPA. El óxido de nitrógeno puede causar inflamación y daños en el sistema respiratorio. Los monitores registraron además niveles de ozono 850 veces por encima de los límites nacionales. El ozono puede irritar los pulmones y las vías respiratorias y desencadenar ataques de asma.
"Definitivamente vemos que los picos rojos (altos) ocurren mucho", dice Anthony D'Souza, que trabaja con Flores en Air Alliance Houston como coordinador de investigación y política.
Flores guía a vecinos y periodistas en "visitas tóxicas", conduciendo su camioneta por las calles en los barrios donde las casas están situadas frente a imponentes refinerías. El año pasado, organizó un tour en bicicletas con disfraces como lo harían el día de Halloween; los ciclistas recorrieron los sitios de monitoreo de calidad del aire en Galena Park y Jacinto City para aprender más sobre la contaminación y cómo funciona el monitoreo.
"La calidad del aire es un tema difícil", dice Flores con un dejo de frustración. "Cuando hablas con alguien sobre contaminación, hablas de ozono, hablas de sustancias químicas, la gente no lo entiende".
La única hija de Juan Flores nació con un tumor canceroso poco común, algo que lo motivó a convertirse en un organizador comunitario. Ahora, como gestor de programas de Air Alliance Houston, Flores trabaja con los habitantes para enseñarles sobre contaminación del aire.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Los participantes del recorrido en bicicleta hacen una parada en los vertederos creados a partir de la tierra dragada durante la ampliación del canal de navegación en el corredor petroquímico. Ha habido preocupación por posibles contaminantes en la tierra.
Foto de Go Nakamura/The Texas Tribune
Flores considera que los datos que generan dan poder, porque validan las preocupaciones de la comunidad. Por ejemplo, en las audiencias de permisos ― en las que la TCEQ solicita comentarios del público sobre la instalación o expansión de una planta industrial ―, las personas pueden señalar el número de veces que los monitores comunitarios han registrado alertas rojas y especificar si estas se correlacionan con los días en que se han enfermado.
Antes solo podían hablar de sus dolores de cabeza, mareos o falta de aliento sin tener las pruebas, señala Flores. Ahora, pueden respaldar lo que dicen con cifras, aunque la TCEQ las descarte porque no provienen de los monitores estatales.
"Siempre era nuestra palabra contra la de (la TCEQ)", dice el activista con orgullo. "Después construimos esta nueva red de monitoreo del aire. Ahora tenemos nuestra prueba".
La pregunta es si Cloverleaf podría ser el siguiente. "Hay una gran necesidad en Cloverleaf de organizarse. Esa comunidad lleva años desatendida", analiza Flores.
En el parque cercano al hogar de la familia Lazo, Alina juega a las escondidas y, de tanto correr, el delgado cabello castaño se le suelta de la trenza. Transpira y no para de reír. Su madre la llama porque es hora de volver. “¡Alina!”, le grita a su hija que va de un lado a otro. Lazo la persigue en la bicicleta. “Alina”, le dice con ternura cuando por fin la alcanza y la sube al asiento. La niña tose y los ojos lucen irritados. Pedalean de vuelta en la noche y, al llegar, cierran bien el portón de alambre. Mañana, otra vez, deberá jugar solo dentro de casa.
Wendy Selene Pérez es periodista de investigación independiente. Es reportera, editora y productora documental. Sus trabajos exploran temas de justicia social, corrupción e inmigración, entre otros. Ha escrito para medios de México, Argentina y Estados Unidos. Sus reportajes han sido publicados en El País, Animal Político, Al Día Dallas, The Dallas Morning News, Proceso, Gatopardo, The Baffler, Vice y Newsweek. Tiene una Maestría en Periodismo de la Universidad de San Andrés-Clarín-Universidad de Columbia. Recibió dos veces el Premio Nacional de Periodismo en México y dos veces el Premio Breach/Valdez de Periodismo y Derechos Humanos.
Alejandra Martínez se unió a The Texas Tribune en el otoño de 2022 como reportera medioambiental. Ha cubierto el impacto de las instalaciones petroquímicas en las comunidades latinas y afroamericanas, incluyendo la investigación de un incendio químico en una planta industrial. Además, ha explorado temas relacionados con el cambio climático, tales como los efectos en la salud del calor extremo y la manera en la que los largos períodos de sequía afectan los recursos hídricos en Texas. Anteriormente, Alejandra fue reportera en KERA asignada a la cobertura de rendición de cuentas. Comenzó siendo parte de Report for America y luego cubrió el Ayuntamiento de Dallas. Antes de eso, trabajó como productora asociada en WLRN, la emisora de radio pública del sur de Florida. Estudió periodismo en la Universidad de Texas, en Austin, y realizó una pasantía en KUT y Latino USA de NPR. Es oriunda de Houston, Texas, y habla español con fluidez.
Danielle Villasana es una fotoperiodista que reside en su ciudad natal de Houston, Texas. Su trabajo está enfocado en temas de derechos humanos, género, poblaciones desplazadas y salud en las Américas. Es la ganadora de la beca Alexia Grant Professional 2022, exploradora de National Geographic, galardonada por la Fundación Magnum, becaria de Women Photograph y del IWMF y exalumna del taller Eddie Adams Workshop. Con una firme convicción de lo que puede alcanzar la fotografía combinada con la educación y la comunidad, cofundó We, Women, y es miembro de la mesa directiva de Authority Collective y del equipo comunitario de The Everyday Projects, además de coautora de la Declaración de Derechos Fotográficos. También es miembro de Women Photograph, Diversify Photo y Ayün Fotógrafas.
Go Nakamura comenzó su trayectoria como fotógrafo de bodas en Honolulu, Hawái, en 2006. En 2009, se mudó a la ciudad de Nueva York y se dedicó a la fotografía documental y de noticias. Trabajó como fotógrafo independiente para el New York Daily News en 2015. Desde entonces, ha ampliado su trayectoria, trabajando de manera independiente para medios de renombre como The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Thomson Reuters, Getty Images, Bloomberg Business, The Texas Tribune y Houston Chronicle. Enfocado en abordar problemas sociales urgentes, el trabajo de Go tiene como objetivo aprovechar el poder de las imágenes visuales para lograr el máximo impacto. Su fotografía ha sido aclamada internacionalmente, incluyendo premios como Fotos Internacionales del Año (POYi, por sus siglas en inglés) y Lo Mejor del Fotoperiodismo (BOP, por sus siglas en inglés). En 2021, formó parte del equipo de Getty Images que fue finalista del Premio Pulitzer en la categoría Fotografía de Reportaje.
Greta Díaz González Vázquez es una periodista multimedia que trabaja en México y Estados Unidos. Greta cuenta historias narrativas bilingües a través de audio, video y fotografía, su trabajo se enfoca en violencia de género, ciencia y poblaciones vulnerables. Originalmente del centro de México, Greta ha trabajado en radio pública y como periodista independiente para medios sin fines de lucro. Su periodismo ha sido reconocido con múltiples premios nacionales y estatales en su país de origen.
Jimmy Evans es documentalista, periodista y licenciado por la Universidad de Florida. Sus películas tratan temas medioambientales y se han presentado en festivales de cine de todo el país, así como se han emitido en cadenas como la PBS. Actualmente, Jimmy es asistente de edición de video en Environmental Health News y su trabajo se centra en historias de salud medioambiental en el área de Houston, Texas.
Coastal New Hampshire and southern Maine faced significant flooding due to high ocean surges, with areas like Hampton and Portland heavily impacted.
The storm caused widespread coastal flooding from Massachusetts to Georgia, with damage extending as far south as Charleston, S.C., and included heavy rains and snow in the interior Northeast.
This series of storms, intensified by climate change, heralds an increasing frequency of coastal flooding in the region.
Key fact:
The sea level has risen more than a foot in the Northeast United States since 1900 and is rising faster there than the global average.
Why this matters:
The repetitive and severe weather events in New England highlight the tangible consequences of climate change, emphasizing the urgency for environmental awareness and policy action to mitigate impacts on health, safety, and infrastructure. Will our shared misery help to bring us together on climate action?
Nurse Barbara Sattler pioneers a crucial shift in health care, addressing climate change as an urgent medical crisis that demands innovative solutions.
Sattler emphasizes the critical need for health professionals to understand and communicate the health impacts of climate change effectively.
She uses simple analogies to explain complex issues, like comparing the earth's warming to the rapid heating of a car in the sun, to make the science accessible.
Sattler advocates for community resilience and stresses the importance of preparing health professionals to address the health risks associated with a changing climate.
Key quote:
“Go up just a couple of degrees, we start to feel crappy. One or two more degrees after that we start to have physiological changes. If we stay at 104 for a while, we’re in real trouble.”
— Dr. Barbara Sattler, founding member of the Alliance of Nurses for Healthy Environments
PITTSBURGH — Engaging in public participation during permitting for oil and gas pipelines often harms mental health and creates distrust in government, according to a new study.
Numerous studies have examined physical health effects associated with living near oil and gas pipelines, but there’s little research on the mental health impacts associated with these projects.
The study, published in Energy Research & Social Science, was conducted through surveys and interviews with more than 1,000 people living near proposed natural gas pipelines in Virginia, West Virginia, Oregon and Pennsylvania. It documented a long list of mental health symptoms associated with living near pipeline routes, including anxiety, depression, Complex post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD) and suicidality.
“I live in Blacksburg, Virginia, which is one of the places the Mountain Valley Pipeline goes through,” Shannon Bell, a professor of sociology at Virginia Tech and lead author of the study, told Environmental Health News (EHN). “In conversations with community members who are affected by the pipeline, it became very clear there were some pretty significant traumas going on.”
By using screening tools to measure the severity of mental health symptoms, the researchers also determined that the more people engaged with public participation processes related to the pipelines, the worse their mental health impacts were.
“Having a pipeline built through your land is incredibly stressful for many people, but we were surprised to learn that the people who were the most engaged in public participation processes related to the pipeline had significantly greater mental health impacts than people who didn’t engage at all, regardless of whether the pipeline was actually being constructed through their land,” Bell said.
Karen Feridun, an activist who lives in eastern Pennsylvania, has fought two pipeline projects, the PennEast and Commonwealth pipelines, both of which were canceled following community resistance. She’s proud of those wins, but they were difficult for her and the community.
“The PennEast fight went on for seven years,” Feridun told EHN. “People were so dedicated. It was like they made fighting the pipeline their second full time job. Many people expressed how stressed this made them feel, the pain of seeing their property devalued and their beautiful community disrupted, and how unending it all was. It was a lot to endure.” stories like that.”
When the Commonwealth and PennEast pipelines were canceled, Feridun said, there was a lot of relief. “The state of everybody’s mental health improved to the extent that this was over and they could move on with their lives,” she said. However, many of the Pennsylvanians involved in those fights were soon faced with additional oil and gas-related projects in their communities, like fracking wells or related infrastructure, pulling many of them right back into fight mode.
“There’s this constant pressure and feeling of powerlessness that comes with not knowing what’s about to happen,” Feridun said. “For some people it just starts to feel like a never-ending nightmare.”
Bell’s study found that pipeline development and related public participation processes were associated with a long list of physical symptoms including insomnia, high blood pressure, heart problems, teeth grinding, headaches, tremors, irregular heartbeat, shingles, heart problems, chest pain, strokes and brain hemorrhages. At least one person said they were so physically sickened by the stress they felt about the pipeline and the public participation process that they had to move.
“The number of stress-activated health conditions people reported was quite staggering,” Bell said. “It was devastating to read some of the things people had gone through.”
Feridun shared a story about a community member who protested a FERC meeting and had a stroke afterwards. “The family’s feeling was that the pressure she was under contributed to her having a stroke at a very young age,” she said. “There were lots of stories like that.”
Performative public participation creates harm
Bell researched the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), passed in 1969, which heightened the public involvement requirements for federal agencies' decision-making on actions that could significantly affect the environment.
She found previous research that suggested NEPA’s public participation requirements are only intended to diffuse public outrage since government agencies don’t have standardized ways to incorporate public input into decision-making or permitting.
She also learned that the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC), the agency responsible for regulating pipelines, approved 99% of eminent domain cases between 1999 and 2020, allowing pipelines to be built through privately owned land despite widespread public opposition to many of these projects.
"Many people expressed how stressed this made them feel, the pain of seeing their property devalued and their beautiful community disrupted, and how unending it all was. It was a lot to endure.” - Karen Feridun, an activist who lives in eastern Pennsylvania
Other researchers had highlighted the flaws in NEPA’s public participation requirements and FERC’s apparent bias against landowners, but no one had measured how participating in performative public participation processes impacts residents’ mental health.
Bell and colleagues found that people who participated in these processes felt their input was dismissed, that their concerns were not addressed and did not have any impact on decision-making about the pipelines.These feelings created disillusionment and distrust. The more people participated in public feedback processes, the stronger their feelings of disillusionment were.
“Many people talked about feeling betrayed by their government,” Bell said. “A number of our respondents stated that up until this point, they had believed government agencies existed to protect residents. But after spending tremendous amounts of time engaging in public input opportunities, many of our respondents came to believe that these government agencies were actually just there to facilitate the construction of pipelines.”
The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission approved 99% of eminent domain cases between 1999 and 2020.
Credit: Karen Feridun
“The PennEast fight went on for seven years. It was like they made fighting the pipeline their second full time job," said Karen Feridun.
Credit: Tara Zrinksi
Feridun has seen this firsthand.
“In all my years fighting pipelines and fracking,” she said, “I’ve heard so many people say: ‘I thought the government was here to protect me,’ and it comes as this terrible blow to learn they’re actually representing someone else’s best interest, not yours.”
Bell’s research focused on natural gas pipelines, but she said these findings are relevant to any scenario where government agencies invite public participation during the permitting process for industrial projects. For example, permitting for fracking wells and petrochemical plants are often contentious and generally overseen by state regulatory agencies that may invite public input but also typically lack any ways to incorporate it into permitting decisions.
“People aren’t stupid — they realize when their comments aren’t making a bit of difference,” Bell said. “It’s incredibly disempowering when people spend hours and days writing public comments and attending public meetings, just to be ignored.”
“I don’t want to beat up on regulators because this is an institutional problem,” she added, “but wasting people's time and energy by asking for public input without providing a mechanism to act on most of their concerns not only brings substantial harm to these individuals' mental and physical health, but it also violates core aspects of environmental justice."
Feridun said that although she tells people joining pipeline fights that public participation is “just theater and a box regulators have to check,” there are important reasons to participate anyway.
The first is that pipeline route often travel through rural areas where impacted landowners feel isolated and alone in their discomfort about the pipeline, and joining with others who are in the same situation creates strong community bonds and fosters empowerment. During the PennEast fight, for example, municipalities all along the proposed pipeline route passed resolutions stating their opposition to the pipeline. Those could be ignored by FERC, but they made it clear in writing that many communities along the pipeline route were prepared to fight the project in court if needed.
The second reason Feridun encourages people to participate in the permitting process is that even if FERC won’t do anything with public comments, it’s critical to put them in the public record so that a judge can consider them in subsequent lawsuits, which can be a powerful tool in winning pipeline fights.
“That’s part of how we won against PennEast,” she said. “People put so many comments on that docket, they were relentless … and gave lots of ammunition to judges who might one day have to consider those lawsuits.”
No environmental justice without real public input
Under guidance from the Biden presidential administration, federal and state governmental agencies are working to improve environmental justice.
Many states, including Pennsylvania, are developing new environmental justice plans that include additional community input related to permitting for polluting industries, but Bell said few of these plans create ways for environmental justice communities to influence permitting decisions (though there are some indications that this is beginning to shift).
Traditionally, governmental environmental justice efforts in the U.S. tend to focus on “distributive justice” — ensuring equity in the allocation of burdens and benefits. But the principles of environmental justice also include recognition justice, which entails valuing the perspectives of historically marginalized groups; procedural justice, which involves providing these communities with equitable access and opportunities to influence decision-making; and reparative justice, which requires acknowledging past harms against these communities and working to repair them.
Environmental justice communities can’t achieve procedural justice or restorative justice until they’re actually empowered to decide whether new pipelines or polluting facilities should be built in their neighborhoods, according to Bell.
“Environmental justice is not possible if public participation is performative,” Bell said. “If we’re serious about environmental justice, there need to be consistent [ways] for public input to be incorporated into agencies' decision-making processes. It needs to be possible for public input to actually influence agency decisions."
A deeper dive into the ocean's heart reveals a world rich with life, challenging our understanding of Earth's biosphere and highlighting the dire consequences of human pollution.
Discoveries in the deep sea, such as hydrothermal vents and new species, expand our knowledge of life's potential habitats, including implications for extraterrestrial life.
Human activity, including dumping nuclear waste and plastics, severely impacts deep-sea environments, affecting ecosystems and potentially human health.
The deep ocean's history and its role in the Earth's biosphere suggest a need for a paradigm shift in how we view and treat this vast, interconnected habitat.
Key quote:
"The deep ocean is the largest environment on Earth, making up 95% of the ocean biosphere and, depending on how you measure it, close to 90% of the livable space on the planet."
— James Bradley, The Guardian.
Why this matters:
The deep ocean's role in Earth's biosphere challenges our human perception of biodiverse habitats and the need to make the conservation of these mysterious depths a matter of urgency for both the planet's and our own health. Conflicting interests muddy the waters of US ocean protection.
The EEA has identified 36 significant climate threats to Europe, urging immediate action on half, with five deemed urgent.
Southern Europe, a climate "hotspot," requires expedited measures to protect agriculture and communities from wildfires and extreme weather.
The report underscores the inadequacy of current financial sector stress tests in accounting for compounded environmental risks.
Key quote:
"Our new analysis shows that Europe faces urgent climate risks that are growing faster than our societal preparedness."
— Leena Ylä-Mononen, executive director of the EEA
Why this matters:
As climate change intensifies, leading to more frequent and severe weather events, European nations have been prompted to implement comprehensive strategies aimed at mitigation, adaptation, and resilience building.
Dr. Robbie Parks joins the Agents of Change in Environmental Justice podcast to discuss the need to treat destructive storms, hurricanes and typhoons as public health and justice issues.
Warm weather and rain have delayed and deteriorated the construction of vital winter roads in Manitoba, causing First Nations to declare a state of emergency due to a shortage of crucial supplies.
Climate change has led to a reduction in the winter road-building season, threatening the transportation of goods in northern communities that rely on these routes for essentials like fuel and medical supplies.
As northern temperatures rise significantly faster than the global average, communities and road builders grapple with increasingly unstable conditions that disrupt the annual supply routes.
Key quote:
“The winter road season should be well underway, but temperatures remain unseasonably warm, making them extremely dangerous and unsafe to use."
— Nishnawbe Aski Nation Grand Chief Alvin Fiddler
Why this matters:
Ice roads, which are temporary routes laid over frozen bodies of water or on land covered in ice and snow, serve as vital lifelines for remote communities and industries (like mining and oil extraction) by providing access to supplies, equipment, and emergency services during the winter months. The effects of climate change, including warmer temperatures and erratic weather patterns, present several risks and challenges for these ice roads.
The iconic dunes of the Oregon coast, which inspired the desert planet in 'Dune,' are now facing their own ecological crisis as invasive species and erosion reshape the landscape.
Coastal Oregon's dunes, the inspiration for 'Dune,' face invasive species and erosion issues.
Efforts to stabilize the dunes with non-native beachgrass have backfired, threatening local ecosystems.
Restoring the open dunes requires balancing environmental preservation with community protection.
Key quote:
"We’re losing about five feet [1.5m] of open sand every year."
— Dina Pavlis, Author of Secrets of the Oregon Dunes
Why this matters:
Erosion on Oregon's central coast poses significant challenges to the ecosystem and the natural landscapes that define this region. The Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area, among other dune ecosystems along the central coast, is experiencing a complex interplay of natural and human-induced factors that exacerbate erosion, leading to a range of environmental impacts.
Corals in the Caribbean struggle to recover months after a severe marine heatwave caused widespread bleaching and death, posing a threat to the region's biodiversity.
During the record-breaking summer heat of 2023, the Caribbean corals experienced severe bleaching due to prolonged and intense marine heatwaves.
Some corals are beginning to show signs of recovery, with patches of color returning, yet many remain bleached, indicating ongoing stress and potential long-term damage.
Despite significant losses, certain areas like Mexico’s Limones Reef and parts of The Bahamas reported higher survival rates, suggesting localized factors or coral resilience.
Key quote:
"There are some corals that have energy and are resistant. We need to keep working for them."
— Valeria Pizarro, marine biologist at the Perry Institute for Marine Science
Why this matters:
Coral reefs are among the most biologically diverse ecosystems on the planet, providing habitat, breeding, and nursery grounds for numerous marine species. The loss of coral through bleaching can lead to declines in reef fish populations, changes in species composition, and the loss of biodiversity. This disrupts the balance of the marine ecosystem, affecting predator-prey relationships and the health of the reef system as a whole.
European countries are increasingly dismantling outdated dams to restore river ecosystems, highlighting the benefits for local biodiversity and communities.
The dismantling of Finland's Kangaskoski dam and others has led to the return of salmon and other species, marking a significant ecological recovery.
The decision to remove these dams came after recognizing their unprofitability and environmental impact, with the movement gaining momentum across Europe.
Efforts in river restoration, including dam removal, have shown immediate benefits for wildlife and have revitalized local communities by improving water quality and tourism.
Key quote:
"When I saw how the site looked after the dam removal, I actually had tears in my eyes."
— Pauliina Louhi, ecologist at Natural Resources Institute Finland
Why this matters:
Restoring river flow improves biodiversity, which in turn benefits communities relying on these natural resources. Removing dams can help to revive fish populations, particularly migratory species like salmon and trout, which rely on unobstructed rivers to complete their life cycles. Dams hinder these vital migrations, leading to declines in fish stocks and the health of aquatic ecosystems.
Mongolia's nomadic herders face unprecedented losses as extreme winter conditions kill more than 2 million animals, highlighting the increasing threat of climate change.
A phenomenon known as "dzud" brings lethal winters to Mongolia, killing millions of livestock essential for the nomadic lifestyle.
The frequency of dzuds has increased, with six occurrences in the last decade, a change scientists link to climate change.
The severe winters are causing significant economic hardship for herders, pushing thousands into poverty.
Key quote:
“It used to get warm right after the new year. Nowadays, it is getting even colder after Tsagaan Sar.”
— Tserenbadam G., a nomad in her 70s
Why this matters:
Traditionally, herding and farming communities across the globe have relied on predictable seasonal patterns to plan grazing, planting, and harvesting. However, the increasing unpredictability of winter weather, including more extreme weather events, is upending these practices.