By Rachel Crumpler and Rose Hoban

Obtaining an abortion in North Carolina will now be more challenging after Republican state lawmakers overrode Gov. Roy Cooper’s veto of Senate Bill 20, a bill that adds new restrictions on women seeking the procedure, limiting access after 12 weeks and imposing new requirements. 

In a night filled with drama at the General Assembly, both chambers of the legislative body accomplished the override, voting along party lines. After the vote in each chamber, observers in the galleries above lawmakers erupted in screams and cries of “shame, shame,” as they were herded out of the chambers. 

Senate Bill 20 adds an additional in-person appointment at least 72 hours before a procedure, requires that abortions be performed at hospitals after 12 weeks and implements new reporting requirements.

While the outcome was not a surprise, there was no shortage of drama as constituents and fellow lawmakers rallied support for their side and hectored lawmakers perceived to be on the fence with visits, calls and emails. The drama was enhanced by the defection of Charlotte Democratic Rep. Tricia Cotham, who made a switch to the Republican Party in April, sealing a Republican supermajority in the House of Representatives. A supermajority had already existed in the Senate after last November’s election.

At the legislative building in downtown Raleigh on Tuesday afternoon, supporters and opponents of the new restrictions filled the upstairs galleries of the legislative chambers and the space outside, under the rotunda. Many brought both hand-lettered and printed signs reading, “Vote Pro-Life” and “Bans off our bodies.” While members of the two groups mingled mostly peacefully, at times some jostled and tempers flared.

The override means that North Carolina will join the ranks of Republican-controlled states that have moved to impose new restrictions on abortion after the Dobbs decision last summer overturned the longstanding Roe v. Wade decision that had opened up access to abortion. The new restrictions also mean that North Carolina — which had become an abortion refuge for many women in the South — will become less of an access point for people seeking abortions.  

Tense debate in the Senate 

Both protestors and supporters of the override began arriving at the legislative building in the early afternoon and by the time the Senate convened at 4 p.m.,the galleries above that chamber were filled. An overflow crowd stood outside the gallery windows holding up their signs during the debate. 

“Nothing else you could do will erase the harm that this bill will do to women and girls — our health, our status in society, our ability to plan our families and our careers,” Sen. Natasha Marcus said during her turn during the debate. “It undermines our ability to trust that you care about what happens to us.”

Marcus described growing up in a political family in which her father was an elected Republican who believed in personal freedom and refused to vote to restrict abortion access. By passing SB20, she argued Republicans in North Carolina no longer stand for the principles of personal freedom.

At times the Senate debate became testy, as Democrats asked leading questions of the majority Republicans, trying to pin them down on details of the bill that some say are ambiguous. 

“People in this chamber are saying that I am somehow doing something inconsistent with what I said during the election cycle,” said Sen. Mike Lee (R-Wilmington), who was peppered with questions from Democrats after other Republicans refused to yield to questions. “The politics of this, saying that people made promises, I wrote an op-ed and said exactly what I was going to do. I didn’t promise anything to the people in this room.” 

“This isn’t political theater here today. It may be to you. It’s not to me,” he said. 

In the end, the Senate voted 30-20 along party lines. After the vote tally, several Democratic senators promptly held up matching signs reading, “Politicians make crappy doctors.”

“I think we’ve ended up in a place that is supported by the vast majority of folks,” Senate leader Phil Berger (R-Eden) told reporters after the vote. “I think what we’ve done is put North Carolina at a place that shows respect for life, shows respect for women and shows the interest of this General Assembly in trying to assist in those ways that we can assist if someone has a pregnancy that they carry to term and worries about some of the things about how to take care of a child.”

House vote seals override 

Then it was the House’s turn to vote. After a dinner recess where observers stayed seated in the gallery to keep their places, House representatives returned to the chamber to debate. 

All eyes were on Cotham, who wore a bright pink dress, a color that’s been associated with supporters of Planned Parenthood. For the entirety of the proceeding, she sat silently.

That was different from a now-notable 2015 incident, when Cotham spoke during a debate on the House floor about receiving care to terminate an ectopic pregnancy, making her a champion of abortion rights supporters at the time. 

This year, that mantle passed to Rep. Diamond Staton-Williams (D-Harrisburg), who gave a heartfelt testimonial of choosing to terminate a 2002 pregnancy after much consideration with her husband when she was a young wife and mother of two.

“It was not an easy decision at all,” she said. “It was not made lightly or frivolously … I knew that in order for my family to prosper and to continue with the opportunities that we had in front of us, this was the best decision for us.”  

Staton-Williams also shared that she had two additional unviable pregnancies that required medical intervention.

“When I read this language of Senate Bill 20, all I see is the removal of the God-given right, for myself and folks like me, to make decisions for ourselves,” she said.

Shortly after Staton-Williams spoke, debate concluded with Rep. Kristin Baker (R-Concord) having the last word for Republicans. Baker, a physician, argued that the bill “protects the integrity of the doctor-patient relationship.”

That statement drew a howl of protest from the galleries, where observers — including physicians who were there in protest — had been largely silent, waving their hands in the air to applaud statements they supported and giving the thumbs down when they disagreed.

The observers were admonished by House Speaker Tim Moore (R-Kings Mountain), who told members of the audience to stay silent or leave.

Only minutes later, the House vote to override the veto came. Cotham voted with her new caucus for a final vote tally of 72-48 along party lines.

Once again, observers in the gallery erupted into shouts of “Shame!” This time loud and continuing. Moore ordered the General Assembly police and sergeants-at-arms to escort protesters out of the building. 

There were no arrests.

Second successful veto override

Cooper rejected the bill with his veto stamp only three days ago during a rally across from the Legislative Building in downtown Raleigh that drew a crowd of close to 2,000 people.

This marks the second successful veto override this year. In March, Republican lawmakers voted to override Cooper’s veto of a controversial bill repealing the permit requirement for handgun buyers.

Cooper had urged people to contact four Republican lawmakers — Lee, Rep. John Bradford (R-Cornelius), Rep. Ted Davis Jr. (R-Wilmington) and Cotham — all of whom said on the campaign trail that they’d support fewer restrictions on abortion than the bill dictates.

Ultimately, that advocacy — walking the halls of the legislature, emails, phone calls — proved unsuccessful. The abortion provisions of the bill will go into effect July 1.

In a statement released after the House vote, Cooper said that Republicans had argued that the bill is less restrictive than Democrats have warned. 

“We will now do everything in our power to make sure that’s true,” he wrote. “North Carolinians now understand that Republicans are unified in their assault on women’s reproductive freedom and we are energized to fight back on this and other critical issues facing our state.”

Tears, celebrations

Abortion rights supporters say the override deals a devastating blow to abortion access in the state.

“It’s heartbreaking,” said Susanna Birdsong, general counsel at Planned Parenthood South Atlantic, who choked up as she spoke. “It’s gonna make so many people in our state less safe.” 

Cora Field and Loretta Pfeiffer came to Raleigh from Chapel Hill and said they cried when they found out the lawmakers overrode Cooper’s veto. At age 16, they said it’s disappointing to see abortion access diminish. They don’t know how the changes could affect them if they one day ever need an abortion.

“I’m witnessing a really sad day in history,” Pfeiffer said. “I feel like my rights are being taken away and I can’t do anything about it.”

The General Assembly’s actions ignore overwhelming opposition to the bill from the medical community, including the North Carolina Medical Society, the North Carolina Obstetrical and Gynecological Society, the North Carolina Academy of Family Physicians and the NC affiliate of the American College of Nurse-Midwives.

In contrast, pro-life supporters celebrated the passage of the new restrictions.

“Thousands of babies will have their lives,” said Tami Fitzgerald, executive director of NC Values Coalition. “Their lives will be saved and women will be supported when they encounter an unplanned pregnancy with all the funding in the bill — to help them with childcare, with paternal and maternal leave for state employees.”

Twenty-year-old Abigail Griffin drove two hours with her family to be at the legislature to witness the override and show her support for cutting the window for abortion access. 

“I believe that every life is a gift from God and that life begins at conception, so anything we can do to protect that sanctity of life is perfect,” she said. 

Vowing to continue care

While abortion providers did not want new restrictions to come to fruition, they said they’ve been preparing for the possibility since Roe was overturned last summer.

Planned Parenthood South Atlantic spokesperson Molly Rivera said her organization’s preparation has included hiring specialized staff who are trained to help patients navigate hurdles within their home state or those of traveling to another state. With new abortion restrictions coming in July, there will be much to adjust to in North Carolina.

“We will have work to do to prepare our North Carolina clinics for this new reality,” Rivera said. “Figuring out how we can keep our doors open, figuring out how we can help as many patients as we can within the state and then how we can connect patients to the care they need out of state.”

Amber Gavin, vice president of advocacy and operations at A Woman’s Choice, an abortion provider with three clinic locations in the state, predicted that North Carolina will see fewer people coming from out of state.

Gavin emphasized that it’s difficult to provide abortion in an ever-changing landscape of state laws and court rulings, including recent challenges to the abortion drug mifepristone.

“We absolutely intend to continue to provide care,” Gavin said. “Obviously, working with our attorneys and our colleagues to make sure that we are in compliance with the law but still providing really compassionate and patient-centered care.”

The post With veto override, 12-week abortion restrictions now law in NC appeared first on North Carolina Health News.

Salvo algunas excepciones el aborto será permitido hasta las 20 o 24 semanas.

La entrada Por ley, Carolina del Norte restringe el derecho al aborto a 12 semanas se publicó primero en Enlace Latino NC.

By Will Atwater

Before Europeans came to North Carolina, the Skarure Woccon tribe (Cape Fear Indians) sustained themselves by hunting, fishing and harvesting herbs and other plants in the lower Cape Fear River Basin. 

More popularly known as Tuscarora Indians, many tribal members continue to live spread across land, including Bladen, Columbus and Pender counties, where they still follow cultural traditions. Some tribal members fish in the Cape Fear River, hunt on adjacent land and harvest wild plants for food, healing and rituals. 

However, a chemical commercially known as GenX in the river may force members of the tribe to reconsider long-held cultural practices to protect their health.

“Our life force was the Cape Fear River, going all the way back traditionally, before colonization. The rivers of North Carolina, that was our travel ways, that’s the way we got to other destinations,” said Jane Jacobs (EagleHeart).

“We hunted and fished all up and down the rivers. And so it’s kind of like we’re having a problem making our people understand that we can no longer do the things we used to do, we can no longer go to the river and harvest medicine because now it’s polluted,” she added.

Six years after GenX chemicals were discovered in the Cape Fear River, roughly 25 members of the Skarure Woccon tribe gathered at Lake Waccamaw’s First Baptist Church on Earth Day to discuss the tribe’s history and to hear about a study of what kinds of exposure people in the area are experiencing. Many tribal members rely on the river for sustenance, and extended exposure to GenX chemicals could lead to adverse health outcomes, Lovell Pierce Moore (Chief EagleElk) said. So the time to act is now. 

“A lot of people here don’t know how urgent [the situation] is and that a lot of the illnesses that we attribute to old age and things of that nature are actually from poisoning because everybody’s still eating out of the river,” she said. “Now we’re finding [GenX] in the gators in Lake Waccamaw. We haven’t had any wells tested, but if it’s in the gators, it’s safe to assume it’s in the people.”

Spreading the word about GenX

GenX is a class of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) manufactured by Chemours at its Fayetteville Works facility. Commonly referred to as “forever chemicals” for their persistence in the human body, more than 12,000 PFAS compounds exist and are used in nonstick cookware, cosmetics, cleaning products, water-resistant clothing and textiles, some firefighting foams and firefighting turnout gear.

Beth Kline-Markesino, founder of North Carolina Stop GenX in our Water, a nonprofit advocacy group, organized the April 22 event and also believes the meeting was essential for the tribe to forge relationships with researchers who may assist them in the future as building a rapport and establishing trust with outsiders can take time.

“I’ve been affiliated with the tribe for probably over seven years now, and we were talking about GenX and possibly seeing if we can do some studies with the tribe — testing not only their blood but also their soil, the fish and animals that they hunt and also the food that they grow,” Kline-Markesino said.

One of those researchers is Jane Hoppin, an epidemiologist from NC State who is leading the GenX Exposure Study, a large effort to look at the health effects in people exposed to PFAS. 

Hoppin presented information about the study and answered questions for roughly 30 to 45 minutes, she said.

“I appreciated the opportunity to share what we had learned about GenX and PFAS in this community that really hadn’t been receiving information from us broadly,” Hoppin said.

While there is no definitive evidence about the health risks PFAS pose to humans, there is mounting research that suggests links between extended exposure to forever chemicals and weaker antibody responses against infections, elevated cholesterol levels, decreased infant and fetal growth, and kidney and testicular cancer in adults.

GenX compounds were found in Wilmington’s municipal water supply in 2017. The GenX Exposure Study started in 2018, when researchers collected blood samples from Wilmington residents. 

In 2019, Chemours, NC DEQ and Cape Fear River Watch signed a consent order, which required Chemours, among other things, to develop and execute a PFAS remediation plan for contaminated air, soil and water for the affected lower Cape Fear River Basin communities. 

Researchers extended the study in 2020 to include Fayetteville and Pittsboro residents, who also receive drinking water from the Cape Fear River. 

In 2022, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency set a drinking water health advisory for GenX compounds at 10 parts per trillion, and researchers presented study findings that showed the presence of legacy PFAS (PFOA, PFOS, PFHxS, PFNA) in the blood of Wilmington study participants at a level above the national average. 

Earlier this year, the EPA proposed National Primary Drinking Water Regulation for a half dozen per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. The list includes perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), perfluorooctane sulfonic acid (PFOS), perfluorononanoic acid (PFNA), hexafluoropropylene oxide dimer acid (HFPO-DA, commonly known as GenX chemicals), perfluorohexane sulfonic acid (PFHxS) and perfluorobutane sulfonic acid (PFBS).

Contaminated fish

Concerns about PFAS contamination in the river, the soil and plants will likely require Skarure tribal members to reconsider how they interact with the land.

“We can’t eat the fish, [but] we’re still seeing people doing these things, so that’s where our concern comes in,” Jacobs said.

“Our people are still pulling buckets full of crappy out the Cape Fear River, catching big old catfish, taking them home and cooking them up. Catfish are bottom-dwellers, so you can be sure their toxin level is huge.” 

Jacobs has cause to be concerned. A recently released study of freshwater fish nationwide supports her concerns. Freshwater fish across the U.S. “are likely a significant source of exposure to PFOS and other perfluorinated compounds,” according to the report.

Subsistence fishing is the term used to describe people who rely on the fish that they catch to feed themselves, their family or their community members. NC State researcher Scott Belcher, whose research led to the discovery of elevated levels of PFAS in the blood of alligators in the Cape Fear River and Lake Waccamaw, says there are thousands of subsistence anglers in North Carolina.

Currently, Belcher is studying fish that are primarily located in “the upper Cape Fear, but [is] looking to collaborate with local/regional tribes,” he said by email. 

Tribal leaders are also concerned that area plants, such as false nettle or bog hemp, used for healing and protection, might be contaminated with PFAS.

Securing land, cleaning the water

It’s unclear whether the Skarure Woccon tribe will be a part of the next phase of the GenX Exposure Study. However, one thing is clear: The tribe and its supporters are working on securing resources to fund well water testing. Pierce Moore said that many tribal members live in rural communities and rely on well water that they fear is contaminated. 

It’s suspected that well water has become tainted by groundwater contamination and by PFAS that went up the smokestack at Chemours for years and then settled on land downwind. 

Chemours is required by their consent decree to provide well water testing in the region and remediation support for wells with GenX levels greater than 10 parts per trillion, but Pierce Moore says that many tribal members live outside of the testing radius. Therefore, the cost for testing falls on individual well owners. 

Pierce Moore said that there’s a company that has the technology needed to purify well water, but substantial resources are needed to sustain the tribe long term.

“We have tribal members from other areas and other states who want to move here, but they’re afraid of the water. What are they going to do?” he asked. “You know, we have to depend on buying water. What about your bathing and dishes and things of that nature? 

”We have to clean this stuff up, and [resources] will help us do that.”

Underscoring the need for well testing is the National Ground Water Association’s recent  recommendation that private well owners should have their wells inspected annually due, in part, to the rise of emerging contaminants such as PFAS, according to a news release.

Securing resources needed to purchase technology to remove PFAS compounds on a large-scale level may take time. But there is an immediate goal tribal leaders and supporters are trying to reach: supplying families with filters for their homes. Recently, Jacobs received a grant for $6,500 to purchase filters, but more are needed.

“How am I going to give a filter to one family unit and not have enough to give to their neighbor?” asked Jacobs. She wants to supply each residence with two filters — one for under the kitchen sink and one for the shower, and two replacement filters for each device. Jacobs is not yet sure how many filters she’ll be able to install and continues to seek more funding.

One challenge for securing and distributing filters is figuring out how to separate out tribal members who live in areas where the consent decree requires Chemours to test well water, and who lives in a city such as Wilmington where the water utility installed a filtration system that cleans the municipal water supply, said Katy May, co-director for the Center for Human Health and the Environment at NC State.  

From invisible to visible

Pierce Moore says he, like other anti-PFAS advocates, wants Chemours to suffer financial consequences for polluting the water and the land, which he alleges has caused community members to develop cancer and thyroid problems, along with other illnesses. Pierce Moore also advocates for tribal land ownership as part of the land recovery and healing process.

May facilitates relationships between university scientists who study PFAS and affected communities. She agrees with others that the meeting was essential for future collaborations with the tribe. A moment from the event that stands out to May was when Chief Pierce Moore told the audience that he was working to make invisible people seen.  

“If you treat people as invisible, then you don’t have to address their needs,” May said. “If people aren’t here, you don’t have to worry about if they’re drinking contaminated water.”

Jacobs spoke about the potential impact of ongoing partnerships with scientists and researchers. She said the perfect scenario would be if “we all work together for the protection of the Earth Mother and the next seven generations that’ll be walking upon the earth.”

The post Cape Fear Indians worry about river contamination and what that means for their cultural traditions appeared first on North Carolina Health News.

La orden permitía a las autoridades expulsar rápidamente a los migrantes que trataban de cruzar de manera irregular, las fronteras terrestres de EE.UU.

La entrada ¿Qué significa el fin del Título 42? se publicó primero en Enlace Latino NC.

La Corte Suprema de Carolina del Norte, falló hoy a favor de los líderes republicanos de la Asamblea General en tres casos constitucionales del derecho al voto.

La entrada ¿Qué significa la revocación de la Corte Suprema de Carolina del Norte sobre los casos de derecho al voto? se publicó primero en Enlace Latino NC.

The small, private liberal arts school is among just 13 colleges in the country to achieve net-zero so far.

Catawba College becomes first campus in North Carolina — and the Southeast — to go carbon neutral is an article from Energy News Network, a nonprofit news service covering the clean energy transition. If you would like to support us please make a donation.

This story is co-published with the Daily Yonder. Sign up for the Daily Yonder’s weekly newsletter here.

Beyond the forested banks of the Pigeon River, the Smoky Mountains rise from either side of a steep gorge that leads to the town of Hartford, Tennessee. The river runs through the gorge from North Carolina, parallel to Interstate 40, before widening into a series of shallow, shining, and swift ripples and runs. Lining the shores on both sides are about a dozen rafting companies, one right after the other. The guides weren’t very busy on this April day early in the rafting season, so they had taken to the rapids in bright blue boats to enjoy the afternoon. When Jamie Brown was younger, back in the 1980s and ’90s, she never would have dreamed of doing such a thing.

“The smell was horrendous,” she says of the river. “And it was black.”  

Brown is old enough to remember when Hartford was known as “Widowville.” An unusually high number of people have died of cancer here over the years. Once, her father drove her to the headwaters of the Pigeon, where it ran clean and clear, then followed it to the paper mill in Canton, North Carolina, just over the state line from Hartford. He showed her where, below the mill, the river began to turn dark and foul. “My experience was understanding the headwaters, what it could be, and how vile it was, [and] what had been done to our community,” she says. 

The paper mill has been a mainstay of Canton since 1908, a thriving part of what was once a burgeoning lumber and paper industry in western North Carolina. Around it sprang up the town. For now, the mill employs 1,100 people in well-paying union jobs, though it once employed more than 2,000. It was called Champion then, for the company that owned it. Champion pulled out in 1999 after a series of environmental lawsuits blamed it for the pollution and economic harm on Tennessee’s side of the river, and employees bought the mill to keep it running. Today, it’s owned by an international food-and-beverage packaging conglomerate called Pactiv Evergreen.

On March 6, Pactiv Evergreen abruptly announced the paper mill will close in June due to rising inflation and corporate restructuring. The news has been emotional on both sides of the river, with some in Hartford celebrating as Canton’s families mourn. In the minds of many Hartford residents, Canton’s prosperity had come at their expense; now, the closure may bring a measure of environmental justice and economic growth to Hartford even as Canton faces an uncertain future. But the region, home to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, is immensely popular with visitors, and a growing tourism industry has both communities wondering whether they will be able to ford the rising tide of development. Though new employers are desperately needed, people in both towns fear the rush for revenue and jobs will forever change their communities.

“It’s a double-edged sword,” Brown says.

The mill has long been the lifeblood of Canton. People wear shirts that declare they are “Mill Town Proud.” The coffee shop is called Papertown Coffee, and patrons park next to a mural that reads “Papertown.” Some communities hide their factories at the edge of town, but here it proudly stands in the center of everything, visible from every vantage point. Downtown is vibrant and alive, and mill workers fill local businesses at breakfast, lunch, and during shift changes. At noon, they order sandwiches with iced tea and pie at Black Bear Cafe, an old-school lunch counter tucked away from the bustle of downtown Canton. They’re all regulars, known by name. Black-and-white pictures of the good old days line walls, and the hum of conversation fills the air. Many of its employees have family working at the mill. 

The mill created quite a different feeling in Hartford, where many considered it an inescapable shadow over their lives. Some old-timers remember companies looking to set up shop in the area, only to pass it by, with the water quality as the suspected but unspoken reason. The water stank, and just as people came to call the town Widowville, the river — named for the passenger pigeons that once migrated through the area — acquired its own nicknames: the Dirty Bird and the Dead Pigeon.

Tensions between the two towns, which sit about 40 miles apart, go back decades. Brown joined an activist group called the Dead Pigeon River Council in the 1980s. For years, the organization protested Champion Paper and attended hearings to demand the mill clean up its operations and stop contaminating the river. The fight for the river led to a lawsuit as scientists uncovered the harmful effects of PFAS, known as “forever chemicals,” found in paper mill effluent. Eventually, Champion agreed to make almost $300 million worth of upgrades, and the river’s color and smell improved. But even after modernization, the employee buyout, and the switch to Pactiv Evergreen, the mill has logged violations of state environmental laws and sought waste-discharge permissions that have concerned environmental advocates, and there’s no removing the dioxin that’s long since settled into the river bottom. 

It is against that backdrop that people in Hartford cheered Evergreen’s announcement. “I called our oldest member still living to tell him that they were closing the plant, and we cried together,” Brown says.  

Canton has faced its own consequences from the mill. In November, a mysterious white dust, like ash, fell from the stacks and settled over town. Below the mill, the Pigeon still runs darker than above it. And pungent smoke blankets the valley. But mill workers’ families say you can get used to anything if it’s how you make your living. 

“My uncle used to say it smelled like money,” says one longtime resident who didn’t want to be identified. Like many people in Canton, her life teems with mill workers. Many of the men in her family have spent most of their working lives there. That’s typical of families here; the mill is the largest employer in Haywood County. It seems everyone knows someone who will lose their job come June.

“It’s affected a lot of our family,” she says, holding back tears. 

Mill workers, too, are equally tight-lipped to avoid any misunderstandings from an already fractured community. “The morale is down,” says one worker in his 60s. He’s lived here all his life and, like other families, doesn’t plan on leaving. Despite the changes in its leadership, he still feels connected to the mill. 

“I haven’t said anything bad about the company, have I?” he says, winking. “That’s right.”

The mill was hard work, but with overtime, a mill worker could make $82,000 per year, in a county with a per capita income of $31,200. Everyone belonged to United Steelworkers, Smoky Mountain Local 507, which provided a measure of security and fair treatment. The local has been dissolved, which is standard procedure in a case like this, but union reps from Pittsburgh are working to maximize severance and ensure Pactiv Evergreen honors its contract requirements to the very end.

Unlike so many other industrial towns, Canton had been insulated from the ravages of globalization. Its public works still gleam, its people remain comfortable. The mill paid for the baseball field, the park, the YMCA. It runs the town’s water and sewer plants. A less charitable interpretation would be to say it’s a company town. But many here, like local historian and archivist Caroline Ponton, see it as a generosity, an indicator of Champion’s investment in its workers. But Champion hasn’t run the mill in 20 years.

“As management is further away, it’s … a different chemistry,” Ponton says. And regardless, when Evergreen pulls out, there’s a real question of where the money to continue paying for those things will come from. 

Such questions come up in any rural community that depends upon one or two industries for their economic survival and watches them leave. Brandon Dennison, the CEO of the West Virginia nonprofit Coalfield Development and a 2019 Grist 50 honoree, calls them “mono-economies” and says they create economic fragility. “The more diversified the local economy, the less catastrophic a single plant or mine closure is,” he says.

Mayor Zeb Smathers has been turning those questions over in his mind constantly ever since he heard, by text message, that Evergreen executives had opted to close the mill. “It felt like a death in the family,” he says. Smathers, whose father was mayor from 1999 until 2011, hopes Canton can ride the coming wave of rapid economic transition, rather than find itself subsumed by it.

Much of western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee are booming, in no small part due the natural beauty of the Smoky Mountains and its waterways. Smathers is proud of the mill’s modernization efforts over the years, even if he acknowledges that it’s been imperfect progress. “We have the best water in western Carolina,” he says, adding that he expects rafting to grow more popular around Canton after the mill closes. 

He has reason to be hopeful. Great Smoky Mountains National Park, long the nation’s most popular park, draws about 14 million visitors each year, and more than 200,000 people came to Cocke County in 2020 to ride the Pigeon River. But a recreational economy won’t feed everyone, particularly the old-timers who’ve been in the mill for decades. “You can’t make bubbas into baristas,” Smathers says. The town has been hosting regular job fairs, with a focus on manufacturing, health care, law enforcement, technical jobs, and other higher-paying professional work. Recently, the city government launched milltownstrong.com, a resource for workers as they make their next move.

Smathers often finds himself in meetings with real estate developers and other investors, many of whom he says are practically knocking down his door to get into Canton. They see an opportunity to invest in real estate, open businesses, and spark the town’s boom as a tourist destination. Smathers has asked them to slow down a little as he gathers his thoughts and leads his community through June. There is a sense among locals that they aren’t about to be left behind by this transition, but overrun by it. Smathers sees the economies of east Tennessee and North Carolina growing, but he also knows that the resulting increase in the cost of living has tightly squeezed the area’s working class.

“I think the die has been cast with how expensive it is to live in both respective places,” Smathers says. “It’s not slowing down. But that adds another layer of challenges to this. Because I want the people here to continue to live here and continue to contribute. But if you can’t, if it’s too expensive to live here, well, then that’s going to result in a net loss, not just [of] people, but [of] culture and place and history. It’s one of those things I do lose sleep over.”

Folks in Hartford say that, although they feel for the workers, the paper mill closure can only help bring revenue to this cash-strapped side of the Smokies. Cocke County’s per capita income is just under $24,000, and one in five residents lives in poverty. Hartford doesn’t even have a sewer system, as small as it is. Rafting is the county’s second-largest source of revenue, after property taxes, and the number of people coming to ride the river has exploded since the pandemic. These days, Hartford buzzes with rumors of expanding development, a possible new resort that nobody knows much about, increasingly large rafting companies, and construction all along the river road. 

Such things bring both trepidation and excitement. And many in Hartford believe Canton has a strong economic base to stand on, and that its high homeownership, pretty downtown, and company-paid parks and other amenities will ease it past this difficult moment into a brighter future.

Brown has long since passed the baton of activism to a younger generation, many of whom, under the banner of newer organizations, continue organizing for environmental and economic justice. Amelia Taylor, who joined the Dead Pigeon River Council as a kid, now works as a guide on the river and remains politically engaged in her community. She wants to see Cocke County prosper, but she doesn’t want to see her home become like Gatlinburg, the glitzy tourist town down the road in Sevier County, Tennessee, where workers live in motels to make ends meet. “Let’s not pave paradise and put up a parking lot,” Taylor says. “They need to create good-paying service jobs, not low-paying service jobs.” 

Taylor is unapologetically elated by the mill’s closure, and plans to throw a party to celebrate it this summer. But she also feels for the workers, some of whom expressed sympathy for Hartford’s plight over the years and fought from inside to bring the mill up to environmental standards. Other workers reacted angrily to protests with threats and shouting, but their ire didn’t change the eventual outcome. In the end, she says, the workers were bound to be sacrificed in the same way Hartford was. ​​”It’s interesting that the mill created such a sense of pride in Canton, yet now the mill is abandoning them in the name of profits,” she says. “Evergreen never cared about the workers. They were practicing business till it no longer became profitable for them.”

Even as she hopes for the best, Taylor fears that the resort, and the tourism industry rapidly expanding in this corner of the Smoky Mountains, may be much like the paper mill — just another business looking to exploit the environment and those it employs, even as local leaders celebrate it for the jobs and revenue it brings. Such concerns are compounded by the feeling among many in this end of Tennessee that visitors are drawn not just by the natural beauty of the landscape, but by a curated rural mystique, a moonshine-drinking, truck-driving, deer-hunting caricature of mountain people like them. In that way, the people of Hartford and Canton face their uncertain future in tandem, once again brought together by circumstances, and by the river that connects them.

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline As one Southern community mourns a paper mill’s closure, another rejoices on Apr 27, 2023.

By Will Atwater

The University of North Carolina Greensboro welcomes 20,000 students and staff daily, a large number of people that can generate a sizable carbon footprint if measures aren’t taken to offset greenhouse gasses emitted through their activities.

Some students who live on the UNCG campus get around by walking, biking or using public transit. A portion of the university employees work from home too. Although they leave carbon footprints,they are not as significant as those of daily campus commuters who come and go in vehicles with combustion engines.

Sean MacInnes, the UNCG campus sustainability specialist, estimates that there are nearly 13,000 daily commuters. Each commuter, UNCG estimates, is responsible for almost a ton of greenhouse gas emissions each year just by going to and from campus.

All told, UNCG estimates that in fiscal 2022, commuters were responsible for 11,840 tons of carbon dioxide, a greenhouse gas that traps heat in the earth’s atmosphere. The greenhouse effect makes it difficult for the earth to cool itself — leading to global warming and its resultant effects on weather events, sea levels, crop lands, forests and more.

One way UNCG plans to try to neutralize those automobile emissions is through the new Spartan DRIVE Fund (Drivers Reducing Individual Vehicles Emissions) project that targets commuters.

Blurbs about the DRIVE project say commuter emissions represent about 18 percent of UNCG’s entire carbon footprint. To help offset the effects of those emissions, the project urges UNCG commuters to contribute $15 each year to the DRIVE fund. They can account for previous years of driving, too,  by putting the same amount into the fund for each year of commuting. The price tag for five years of commuting, for example, would be $75. 

The money will be directed to energy-efficiency projects connected to campus, with a portion of it going to a local nonprofit that helps low-income area residents improve the energy efficiency of their homes. 

Riding a trend

Colleges and universities across the country have been paying more attention to their carbon footprints as students worry about climate change and researchers hoping to play a role in sustainability make pledges to do their part to reduce greenhouse gases.

Scientists have cautioned that unchecked greenhouse gas emissions can have detrimental effects on human health, such as increased respiratory and cardiovascular illness from pollution. Global climate change could lead to more diseases transmitted by insects that survive warmer winters, as well as more heat-related deaths and other negative outcomes.

UNCG is one of a growing number of North Carolina-based campuses that have committed to becoming carbon neutral. Duke University, Davidson College and Guilford College are among the higher education institutions outside the UNC system that also have pledged to chip away at activities and habits that contribute to climate change.

It can be difficult to know how big a carbon footprint you are leaving, but the Nature Conservancy has a calculator that can add dimensions to what that might look like. Factors such as meat consumption, clothes-drying methods and modes of travel can have an impact. Fuel-hogging airplanes and indoor dryers make for bigger footprints than clotheslines and buses or train travel.

Because many day-to-day decisions can help people reduce their carbon footprint, UNCG is working to make information and lower-emissions options available in conjunction with the Spartan DRIVE Fund.

UNCG’s primary greenhouse gas emissions come from vehicles, electricity produced by Duke Energy and the use of gasoline, natural gas and propane. That’s one reason the campus is targeting the impact of daily commuters. 

“We have a charge by the UNC system to become carbon neutral by 2050,” MacInnes said. “One of the best ways that we’re able to meet that task is through energy efficiency projects on campus.”

The university system’s carbon-neutrality goal requires the development of a sustainable energy plan for each of the 17 campuses under its umbrella. Campuses have set interim mileposts as they work toward carbon neutrality over the next 27 years. 

The schools have taken different approaches and made major investments along the way: N.C. State University has installed more than 130 kilowatts of photovoltaic panels on campus buildings. Appalachian State University has added a wind turbine and solar panels.

Thinking globally, contributing locally

Ten percent of the money generated from UNCG’s DRIVE Fund will be donated to Community Housing Solutions, a Greensboro-based nonprofit that provides home repairs to Guilford County homeowners at or below 80 percent of the poverty line. The funds will be used to better insulate homes, seal air spaces, repair heating ductwork and mend or replace inefficient heating systems. Those updates could lead to energy savings of $600 to $700 per year per household, according to the nonprofit’s estimates, in addition to making the homes healthier to live in.

“Community Housing Solutions is focused on providing critical home repairs to homeowners with limited incomes,” said Cheryl Brandberg, development director of Community Housing Solutions. “By making homes warmer, drier and safer, we can help preserve home ownership, reduce energy usage/costs and improve the overall quality of life for these Guilford County families in need.” 

Spartan DRIVE Fund donors also will have the opportunity to volunteer each semester to help repair the homes, giving Spartans a chance to put the university’s motto of “service” into action.

“There is a spirit of collaboration and partnership in our work,” Brandberg said. “We rely on volunteers and supporters to help make these homes safe, decent, healthy and affordable places to live.”

The remaining 90 percent of funds generated by the DRIVE program will support campus energy efficiency projects, MacInnes said. That might be something as simple as using more energy-efficient LED light bulbs, or it might be putting the money toward something more complicated and costly.

UNCG’s energy-efficiency efforts also focus on individual buildings, some of which are modern or on the drawing board as well as those built decades ago, before solar panels and other eco-friendly amenities were available.

So far, 20 campus buildings have the Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) designation, said Sameer Kapileshwari, vice chancellor for facilities. (LEED is a globally recognized certification for sustainability achievement and leadership, according to the U.S. Green Building Council.)

In addition, McInnes said sometimes people forget about actions they can take at home to have an impact on climate change.

“I think a lot of attention gets put on innovation as far as solving the climate crisis, whether or not that’s, like, developing new forms of nuclear energy or doing carbon dioxide removal from the atmosphere. But I don’t think enough credit goes to the maintainers,” MacInnes added. ​“We have everything that we need to achieve carbon reductions, we just need the financial means to achieve that stuff.”

‘Take care of our house first’

MacInnes said the university looked at various emissions offset models and decided to keep their efforts focused on campus or in the surrounding community to make a point.

“We want to take care of our house first,” MacInnes said. “We don’t want to send money off campus and support [other] projects when we can have more control over the reductions we achieve, and they’ll be permanent.”

Some carbon offset programs require participants to purchase a carbon credit to compensate for the greenhouse gases they emit. That money supports carbon mitigation projects elsewhere in the world. For instance, an American company or institution can decide to offset its carbon emissions by funding an equivalently sized tree-planting project in the Amazon rainforest.

Kapileshwari says that organizations that focus on offsetting local emissions by contributing to projects far away and not at their own doorstep could be contributing to what’s often referred to as “greenwashing.”

“We are not trying to say that the university’s chancellor or the CFO is just gonna write a big check to some third party company, and then all of a sudden, all the utility we have been using is stamped as green energy,” Kapileshwari said. “That is not the point. We are still using energy, and won’t it be better if we try to be more efficient in what we do and try to reduce the energy on campus and our impact on the environment?”

Energy efficiency = dollars saved

UNCG participates in the state’s Utility Savings Carry Forward program, enacted into law in 2009, which gives the university the leeway to reinvest costs saved through energy efficiency projects on campus. Since 2015, the campus facility department has saved more than $5.7 million in averted costs. In 2022, alone, that savings was $1.1 million. The law designates that a portion of the savings have to be put toward other energy conservation measures.

Though UNCG has a way to go to get to the 2050 carbon neutral goal, it has achieved a 14 percent reduction in greenhouse gas emissions since 2009, according to the news release.

More and more college students are asking institutions to take aggressive measures to tackle climate issues, a stance and mission that higher education officials say they cannot ignore.

“It’s no longer a matter of looking into the future. It’s a challenge that we’re facing now,” Michael Piehler, the UNC-Chapel Hill’s chief sustainability officer, said during a 2021 interview. “As a great research institution, the university needs to be on the front line of being responsible, proactive and innovative, and coupling our climate activities with our conventional pillars of education, research and service.”

“We can’t all wait around for somebody else to take action,” MacInnes added. “We’ve got to do it ourselves.”

The post UNC-G takes aim at climate change with a carbon offset program that keeps the money local appeared first on North Carolina Health News.