As long as there have been creation stories, there has been an association between earth and women. There are countless creation stories that feature a Mother Earth deity at their center. It’s no wonder, then, that as a mythology-loving (and feminist-curious) elementary schooler, I would find myself drawn to these stories — the nature, the earth goddess, and the human women who represented activism and science at once.
Among the women who inspired — and starstruck — me was Dr. Jane Goodall. I first heard her name in second or third grade as part of a Women’s History Month presentation. After class, I quickly devoured any and every account of her work I could find: Who Is Jane Goodall? and Primates and several anthologies about women in STEM.
Dr. Goodall stood out not just for being a pioneering woman in her field, but for her consistent humanitarian approach to nature, conservation, and ecology. Dr. Goodall’s findings on the complexity of chimpanzees — their depth of emotion, their intelligence, their craftiness — redefined what it meant to be human. Suddenly, man was not so different from the rest of the animal kingdom. Therefore, Dr. Goodall argued, humanity was not the act of being human, but the act of treating other living things humanely. “Caring for others, whether people or animals, is what makes us fully human,” Dr. Goodall once said, and I felt that.
However, despite my initial burst of obsession, it would be years before I thought about Dr. Goodall again.
The further I progressed in school, the more keen I was to set STEM aside in order to develop my English skills. I took naturally to things like reading and writing, and over time convinced myself that I wasn’t cut out for complicated sciences. Even when I excelled in science classes, I wrote off my successes as flukes or luck. Further, the more I learned about women in science, the more I learned about science’s failures and tragedies regarding women. There was Marie Curie, who was poisoned by her work; Rosalind Frank, whose ideas were repossessed and attributed to her male colleagues; Henrietta Lacks, whose body and dignity were stolen by science and never truly returned. Earth and nature always felt so humane to me, and I couldn’t reconcile that with the dispassionate calculation and detached investigation I came to associate science with.
But midway through high school, I finally rediscovered Dr. Goodall — and, by extension, myself. It was then that I unlocked a love for environmental science, and once more began digging for connection. I started seeking out women scientists and advocates with whom to feel kinship and sisterhood. That was when I found myself and my place among other women and Mother Nature herself and came to internalize the belief that women are good for the environment.
Women in developing countries are responsible for up to 80% of food production. Indigenous women have and continue to spearhead conservation movements. Across the globe, women take care of and prepare their communities for coming environmental difficulties. Women adapt, and when given power, women lead to positive environmental change.
This discovery led me to the works of Nemonte Nenquimo, the author of the memoir We Will Be Jaguars, and Robin Wall Kimmerer, who has penned several works including Braiding Sweetgrass, The Serviceberry, and Gathering Moss. From there, I leapt to the work of Helen Macdonald: H Is for Hawk and Vesper Flight.
As I found my place within the lineage of women advocating for the environment, I came to the conclusion that none of it would have been possible without Dr. Goodall. Had I not learned of her, I could not have learned to love the world and its preservation. Had there not been Dr. Goodall, there would not have been these other women I admire. Had I not had Dr. Goodall’s research and findings and wisdom, I would not have been able to bet on myself and pursue plant science and environmental science in college.
If you look at the roots of my love for ecology, preservation, and harmony between humans and nature — and those of many other women who have come before me, or are my peers, or who are still yet to discover themselves — you will find Dr. Goodall.