- Author: Michael Hsu
UCCE advisor outreaches to LGBTQ+ community, partners with Karuk Tribe in Northern California
Costumed as river creatures with papier mâché heads and dressed as the Army Corps of Engineers, Cleo Woelfle Hazard and a performance art group called The Water Underground dazzled the biennial Bay Delta Science Conference a few years ago.
Woelfle Hazard – then a Ph.D. student at the University of California, Berkeley – and his companions performed numbers from the film they were making, a “queer slapstick musical” about salmon migration. They soon got 150 scientists, engineers, resource managers and other conference attendees singing along to their songs.
“Meanwhile, some of my professors were in the audience, and they were saying, ‘Well, he's also a scientist, he doesn't just do this art stuff!'” recalled Woelfle Hazard, who started at the beginning of this year as the UC Cooperative Extension fire advisor for Humboldt and Del Norte counties.
Identifying as a “queer trans masculine person,” Woelfle Hazard has spent much of his career bringing together gender studies with his professional interests – a quest chronicled in his book “Underflows: Queer Trans Ecologies and River Justice.”
Prescribed burn training to help shape queer fire ecology
In his new role, Woelfle Hazard is organizing a prescribed burn training for people who are 2SLGBTQ+ (2S is a common abbreviation for Two-Spirit, which refers to people of Indigenous North American descent who identify as having both masculine and feminine qualities). The sessions, which began in the middle of Pride Month in June, will continue over three more weekends in the fall when participants conduct forest thinning and prescribed burns.
Inspired by the WTREX (Women-in-Fire TRaining EXchanges) burn trainings for women organized by UC ANR Fire Network Director Lenya Quinn-Davidson and her colleagues, Woelfle Hazard is excited to grow skills and foster connections within the LGBTQ+/Two-Spirit community.
“I try to be ‘out' in different contexts that are not particularly queer,” Woelfle Hazard said. “And the queer burn training is one way that I'm trying to increase the visibility of queer people in fire.”
He has been overwhelmed by interest in the training – with over 100 people already registered – and is looking forward to learning how subcultures within those diverse communities can contribute to a nascent “queer fire ecology.”
“I do social science and I do ecology, but my core field is feminist science and technology studies,” Woelfle Hazard explained, “which is a field where we're looking at the social context of science and who asks the questions and how the questions change if a Native person, or a Black person, or a queer person, or an immigrant is asking those questions.”
Working alongside Karuk Tribe on Klamath River floodplain restoration
The book “Underflows” also explores the intersectionality of queer theory with Indigenous conceptions of kinship and belonging – building on Woelfle Hazard's extensive experience working with tribal communities.
During his undergraduate years, Woelfle Hazard edited an anthology, “Dam Nation: Dispatches from the Water Underground” and contributed a chapter on tribal-led dam removal efforts, including those of the Karuk, Hoopa, Yurok, and Klamath Tribes in the Klamath Basin. In graduate school, he also participated in the UC Berkeley-Karuk Collaborative, started by UCCE specialist Jennifer Sowerwine and others.
Later in his career, as a faculty member at the University of Washington, Woelfle Hazard had an opportunity to work more directly with the Karuk Tribe. Seeking to bring students to the region for field sessions, he contacted Lisa Morehead-Hillman, who directed the Píkyav Field Institute, the educational wing of the Karuk Department of Natural Resources.
In return, she asked if there was a way her Karuk students could benefit from the experience as well – and Woelfle Hazard said he would be glad to host them in Seattle. “She had never had anyone from a university make that offer before, so that was really the foundation of building trust,” he said.
From there, Woelfle Hazard connected with Leaf Hillman, the founder of the Karuk Department of Natural Resources, and they co-developed a project to look at how reconnecting the Klamath River with its floodplain could restore ecological processes and eco-cultural practices such as basketry.
Working alongside Morehead-Hillman and University of Washington students Jocine Velasco and Ry Yahn, they produced a Storymap, patterned after the Karuk creation story of “Coyote's Journey,” recounting the historical impacts of mining, dams and fire suppression in the region. They are now working on a follow-up Storymap that will describe the tribe's plans to restore the floodplain and revitalize the Tishániik ceremonial site.
Navigating intersections of science, culture
Earlier this month, Woelfle Hazard brought climate scientists from the National Center for Atmospheric Research (NCAR) to Orleans in Humboldt County, where the Karuk Department of Natural Resources is located. NCAR scientists had developed a climate model that describes changes to the Klamath Basin under a variety of future fire regimes, and Woelfle Hazard presented on how well the model meets the needs of local communities.
“Our activity kind of broke their model, which they're pretty happy about, actually,” Woelfle Hazard said. “There's a lot of learning just about what is actually useful for the tribe and other organizations; we're working with the Western Klamath Restoration Partnership, which is a tribal-led partnership with the Forest Service and a number of NGOs in the Klamath Basin.”
As part of the NCAR Innovators project, which intentionally pairs social scientists with NCAR scientists, Woelfle Hazard also studied the researchers themselves, interviewing them about their experiences and looking at ways they can better partner with tribes and grassroots organizations.
“It's been a really complex project, putting together lots of different forms of knowledge – Karuk science, climate science, and I'm in the middle, trying to translate between them,” Woelfle Hazard said.
Native and Western ways of knowing. Social sciences and natural sciences. Fire and water. Artist and scientist. In work and in life, Woelfle Hazard has sought to deconstruct binaries that obscure more complicated realities – and blur those distinctions to illuminate greater truths.
During Pride Month and throughout the year, he said it's important to celebrate progress while also continuing to fight so all people can secure their basic rights and live their lives with dignity and purpose.
“Queer ecology is another frontline of the struggle; if you're a queer/trans/Two-Spirit person and you want to be a fish ecologist, you should be able to be a fish ecologist,” he said. “You shouldn't have to worry that people are going to be saying some stuff while you're out in the field getting into your wetsuit!
“This is work that we all have to do – dismantling these structures of racism, of sexism, of homophobia. And we have to do it all the time, every day.”
- Author: Saoimanu Sope
In celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month
In the small town of Buga, located in Valle del Cauca in southwestern Colombia, Jairo Diaz-Ramirez prioritized salsa dancing over his studies. His parents, noticing that he was having too much fun on weekends, reminded Diaz that schoolwork comes first. “I used to dance a lot and spend time with friends when I was a teenager, and I didn't pay full attention to schoolwork,” he said.
Diaz, director of the UC Desert Research and Extension Center – one of nine centers under University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources – located in Holtville, was born and raised in Colombia, where the life of a farmworker was all too familiar.
Before Diaz's father joined the army, he worked in the fields. Describing his father as an “autodidactic person,” Diaz said that his father acquired many skills throughout his life and could “fix pretty much everything.” Others knew this about Diaz's father, often referring to him as “el cientifico” or the scientist.
“My hometown is surrounded by agriculture, and I saw farmworkers all the time. What they do is difficult work, it's hard,” he said. Even though Diaz has a career in agriculture today, he did his best to avoid it when he was in school.
In high school, Diaz focused on math and science, believing it would lead him down a different career path. When he graduated in 1990, Diaz didn't have many options for a college education in his area. “There was barely internet in my hometown,” he recalled, adding that it was a challenge to find professional mentors, too.
“I didn't know what I wanted to study,” said Diaz. “But when I passed the entry test for college, I just decided on electrical engineering.” As a freshman in college, Diaz found himself in a different environment with rules and expectations he was not used to. “I lost focus,” he said.
In fact, his poor academic performance led Diaz to drop out of college. He described this decision as, “the inflection point that changed the course of his life.” Realizing that he took a great opportunity for granted, Diaz wanted to return to school. After passing the college entry exam a second time, his test results matched him to the following career options: agricultural, sanitary or chemical engineering.
Because it required fewer chemistry courses, Diaz decided to pursue agricultural engineering. The more he learned, the more interested he became in irrigation, watershed management, soil and water conservation. In 1997, he obtained a bachelor's degree in agricultural engineering from National University of Colombia and University of Valle.
Realizing there's more to agriculture
There was a shift in perspective that occurred for Diaz, one that made him see other pathways into agriculture other than farm labor.
“I always saw the workers in the field from four in the morning to six at night, even on Saturdays,” Diaz said. “But I never saw what was behind agriculture. Labor is one thing, but there's also the science, education, management, engineering… I didn't see that when I was younger.”
In 2001, after two years of working as a part-time instructor at community colleges in his hometown, Diaz moved to Puerto Rico, where he earned a master's degree in water resources engineering from University of Puerto Rico. Although he would have liked to attend graduate school in his home country, career opportunities were limited.
“I considered schools in Spain and Chile, somewhere the people speak Spanish,” said Diaz, sharing that the ability to learn in Spanish was his preference.
Meeting students halfway
Eventually, Diaz moved to Mississippi, earning a doctorate in water resources engineering at Mississippi State University before he began teaching at Alcorn State University – the oldest public historically Black land-grant institution in the nation – where his role as a mentor easily became his favorite part of that journey.
As an assistant professor, Diaz said that many students he worked with at Alcorn State struggled with higher level courses of agriculture. “Some of my students started with me when they were freshmen and I got to see them progress over the years,” said Diaz.
Now, many of them work for the federal government and non-governmental organizations, and some have even moved to other states, away from everything and everyone they know.
“It reminds me of my own people,” Diaz said. “How challenging education can be, and how limited you feel, and being afraid to move away from home…that's what many of us BIPOC [Black, Indigenous, people of color] experience.”
Once a mentor, always a mentor
In Imperial County, where Diaz currently lives, more than 80% of the population is Hispanic. According to Diaz, many of the students in Imperial can relate to those he taught in Colombia, Puerto Rico and Mississippi, struggling to navigate education. “A lot of the students also think like me when I was their age. They don't find agriculture appealing because it's too hard.”
That's where Diaz steps in and shows them a different side of agriculture, one that he wishes someone would have shown him when he was younger. When he visits local schools, or hosts student groups at Desert REC, he teaches students that agriculture offers a broad spectrum of opportunities.
“Agriculture is not just about people in the fields, it's people in the labs, at the computers and in the classroom. It's people managing others, figuring out economics and building systems,” he said.
Given his background in hydrology, irrigation systems and water resources, Diaz relies on water as the element to engage students in conversations about agricultural careers. “To produce food, we need water. Plants need water to live and so do we. Water is key,” he tells students.
“I know how much of a difference it makes to have someone guide you professionally. So, I want to be that person for my community, especially the younger generation.”
As a director, Diaz has an open-door policy to encourage frequent interactions with his colleagues. “It's important to me that the people I work with know that I want to support them,” said Diaz, who prefers colleagues call him by his first name.
“Sometimes you hear that someone is a ‘doctor,' and it creates a divide right away,” he said.
While reflecting on his role and impact, Diaz said that he wants to be known as a genuinely good person. “I want to be a good collaborator, create meaningful programs, and grow a healthy industry.”
These days, Diaz doesn't spend much time on the dance floor, but he won't shy away from an opportunity to relive his adolescence. “I have created my own career path with the support of my family, mentors and friends,” he said. “I still have fun, but I also focus when I need to.”
To watch a past feature on Diaz in celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month, visit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksNc7qDCOVo.
To read this article in Spanish, visit: https://espanol.ucanr.edu/Abriendo_Caminos/?blogpost=58085&blogasset=139086.
