Getting Out of a Toxic Relationship – Why I’m Breaking Up with the Hunting Industry
An open letter from Lydia Parker, HOC co-founder and now former Executive Director.
I was told that the hunting community wasn’t ready for Hunters of Color. That they weren’t ready for racial equity. I hoped that person was wrong. But they were right.
Over the past almost four years, I’ve had to do and see many things:
I had to hold my board member while she wept after a clueless, careless white man used the N word in front of her twice at an event hosted by a partner known for being more forward thinking than most hunting organizations.
I’ve spoken before standing ovations of 2,000 people, only to be removed from the working group of the host organization months later.
I’ve been told by the largest elk conservation regional director that they’d never work with us because we are “racist”-- in other words, because they don’t understand the very basic need for equity in a space that has been entirely inequitable to communities of color and therefore see any attempts at equity as playing favorites/discrimination against white folks.
I watched as the largest hunting podcast in the world interview us about having us on their show, then never followed through. When I asked why, they said they wanted to focus on more “hunting specific” guests. The next week, their guest was a comedian.
I’ve gotten texts from the most well-known hunters in the US offering, “Anything we can do to help,” only to be left on read whenever we’ve asked.
I had to defend our organization in one of the most progressive online hunting groups because even its members contribute to the denial of the difficult truths of the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous People of Color) experience in the world of hunting.
I’ve been the only Indigenous person (and woman) at the table at important policy meetings dealing specifically with tribal matters, hunting rights, and land use/access issues. I’ve looked around in disbelief– “Is anyone else seeing this??”
I’ve watched my friends earn high quality jobs they deserve in state agencies, only to be driven out by racism within (and outside of) the agencies. I’ve seen other friends bite the bullet while being called “un-American” and “reverse racist” for simply enacting equitable practices like teaching hunters education in languages other than English.
I’ve witnessed ongoing racial trauma impact every single BIPOC individual I know in this space. I have watched exhaustion and burn out. I’ve watched all of us grow weary of having to constantly explain the importance of our work, and the need for us in these spaces. We're tired of showing up when asked, only to receive disrespect and devaluation once we arrive.
I’ve seen white men in leadership positions at hunting conferences sitting in the penthouse suite their organization bought out from under Kelly Clarkson ask me to prove racism exists through numbers and data, then tell me they don’t have enough funding to help us compensate BIPOC for their time. “That’s not how it works,” they told me.
I’ve walked into conferences of thousands to find that I am one of six BIPOC; all of us were asked to be there to perform for the white gaze– to talk about DEI but to do so in a “nice” way.
I’ve watched “partner” agencies try to pass off our organizations intellectual property as their own on grant applications– our hard work that they CAN’T do as white-led organizations, and will never be able to do, no matter how many DEI positions they create. So long as they are white-led, they will never have the authentic reach that we do of an equal power dynamic and shared lived experience. But will they ever understand that? And will funders ever realize that?
I’ve seen white men use our name to say, “Look who we have supported, aren’t we good?” while simultaneously swooping up opportunities from underneath us. I’ve watched those same men toss us the scraps, the last few days of the end of the hunting season, for our access programs. We're good enough hunters to know a raw deal when we see it, and yet we're expected to be overflowing with gratitude...?
I’ve watched our tiny team of 2-3 employees struggle over and over again to write page after page of grant applications, only to be denied over and over again by the same people who hold the money and the power in the hunting world, who don’t look like us. When I asked to see the demographics of these decision makers, I was told not to “worry about it,” because they’ve only selected the best of the best. I’ve also watched millions of dollars worth of “DEI” funding pass through to the same white man over and over again for his work in our communities.
I’ve seen DEI groups for these same organizations be 98% white, while tokenizing the one or two Black folks that happen to exist in state agencies. “Aha, we’ve got one. Now we are legitimized.”
I’ve been told that I can help add more BIPOC to working groups, so long as they aren’t too “problematic.” We can’t be too “argumentative.”
I’ve been told that the barriers that exist between BIPOC and hunting are mostly “in our heads.” As if our experiences, fears, and ideas are completely invalid. As if 98% of land in the US isn’t owned by non-BIPOC, along with 84% of the wealth that allows for leisure time and access to quality gear and products. As if there isn’t a long history of discrimination against BIPOC who have tried to access the outdoors the same ways as our white counterparts.
I’ve been told over and over again that we have to adhere to white standards while successfully completing our work in an authentic way– if we can’t do both we can’t have funding.
I’ve watched white HR teams pat themselves on their backs for the diversity measures they’ve taken by hiring a white woman (or a brown person for a grunt-work position).
I’ve seen white folks take DNA tests, find out they’re 1/16th Cherokee, and immediately take leadership positions in DEI circles.
I’ve worked on multiple campaigns to try to bring justice/support to Black individuals who have experienced racial violence in the outdoors for simply hunting. Not for “being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” For HUNTING. For doing everything right, abiding by laws, accessing public land, and tapping into their rights as citizens of this country to procure food through hunting. Where was the shared outrage from white led hunting organizations?
I’ve watched white folks/organizations scream, “But what about BIPOC???” whenever reasonable gun laws are suggested, as if they gave a damn about us any other time.
I’ve seen people who don’t look like us make us dance–grovel–compete for crumbs of grant dollars, while millions of dollars go to the same white-led organizations every year. I’ve been told it’s because the bigger orgs give more “bang for their buck.” In other words, I’ve been told that we don’t matter to them and the work we do has no validity.
I’ve been told by a leading optics company in the US that they’d love to support us, but they “know our consumer base too well” to do so.
I’ve heard leaders of entire state agencies yell, “Back of the bus!” at a Black woman in front of rooms full of people, and watched him step down in grace without any rebuke. This white man even got a severance package for his own "emotional distress", equal to that of his victim. I’ve heard these same leaders throw around words like “equity,” and wished we’d never added it to their vocabulary.
I’ve been told that being a trapper in the modern world is just as hard as being an Indigenous woman, and just as disenfranchising as being a Black person.
I’ve talked about my home, only to be told it’s a terrible place. I’ve spoken proudly about my heritage, specifically that I am wolf clan, only to be shown pictures of dead wolves killed by the same white man who hates my home. I was expected to work with this man not just on a professional level, but on a government agency level.
I’ve heard that “Black, white, red, purple, blue with polka dots doesn’t matter” while witnessing actual BIPOC lives not mattering to those people.
I’ve seen the greater hunting community confuse representation with liberation.
I’ve been asked thousands of times if “X brand” or “X agency” could photograph some of our participants to use for their promotional materials. “To increase representation!” they said. When I asked how much they were willing to pay our participants, they scoffed. When I asked what kind of a budget they had to support HOC’s time, energy, and effort put towards recruiting and organizing for their photoshoots, they said, “We’ll just hire models instead.”
I’ve dreamed of a hunting world that does not throw a picture of a Black man holding a gun on their magazine/report without first supporting that Black man’s journey to get into the outdoors. But I haven’t seen that in reality. They’d rather hire models.
I’ve watched as year after year, an annual R3 Summit takes place, while year after year, we are the most effective organization at spending dollars to create new hunters, (in 2022 we had 1023 participants at our events on a total operating budget of $250,000; whereas other orgs receive single grants for that much to host 5 events with 10 participants each) and we’ve never even been invited.
I’ve seen us fight amongst ourselves, giving into the divisiveness that they want– that they need– in order for us to give up. They know we won’t organize if they plant seeds of individualism and competition.
I was told that the hunting community wasn’t ready for Hunters of Color. That they weren’t ready for racial equity. I hoped that person was wrong. But they were right.
…
I’ve seen my own privilege, knowing that I can simply walk away from this hellscape.
I’ve seen joy, but only when we lead events, or collaborate with other communities/people of Color. Some of the best times, and truly my only fond memories in this space, are at Black Duck Revival, or with Modoc Bows, seeing Black and Brown joy, friendship, and success outdoors.
Once, we were told by 11 individuals within AFWA that AFWA funding was basically written for us. We were still denied funding. There is literally $5-6 million dollars available every year through the association of state agencies (AFWA) to help get “underserved” or “underrepresented” communities into the outdoors. Our new board president was the recipient of AFWA’s first DEI award when she worked with CPW. We work our asses off to apply for this funding every year, and every year we are denied. Even when we partner with other large organizations that usually get the funding. Even when we grind it out and apply on our own. Does this make any sense to you?
I’ve seen us successfully reach more new BIPOC hunters than any white-led org could dream of doing, year after year. Only to watch, as year after year, the same large white-led organizations get triple the funding we do for reaching “underserved populations” in R3, simply because they have a larger grant writing team and marketing budget, and can make themselves look successful while we spend every penny we have to actually touch the lives of Black and Brown people with authentic community. (Here’s the link to AFWA’s funded list for 2024)
I worked 80 hour weeks, for free, for a year and a half to start Hunters of Color and get our work off the ground. I worked so hard to get us to a point where we could pay employees for our work, only to receive less than half of what my white-male counterparts make at other conservation NPOs. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights working on grant applications, planning events, and preparing for presentations. I’ve received death threats and supported my team as they faced the same. To what end? Has any of it been worth it?
Yes. But not for me. I am done here.
We see some growth, according to the most recent data. Then again, they could be polling different states than they did in the previous revision of the demographic study in 2016– did you know that not all states collect demographic data?
I’ve been thanked by so many people– Black and Brown from all walks of life– for starting this work. This movement is invaluable to those who are touched by it, and I know that and can say it with pride. Also, I say it with pain and remorse that people outside of the communities we serve will never be able to understand the depth of what we are doing.
Specifically, as I write this, one person comes to mind. Her name was Liana George. She was from Macon, GA. She came to one of our hunting events in NY. At the end of the event, she looked at Jimmy and I, and with tearfilled eyes she said, “Never stop doing this.”
That was her first hunting trip, and her last. She died just a year later after bravely battling Lupus, a disease that disproportionately impacts the communities we serve.
As I write this, I am riddled with guilt. How can I let her down?
To be honest, her words kept me going longer than I wanted to go.
And, I think I have realized something. We aren’t stopping. Hunters of Color and the movement that we have created isn’t ending because I am leaving. Not that I thought it would– and I don’t say that out of hubris, I say that because I have worked so hard the past few years to build something from the ground up that will have an everlasting impact on people and nature. I am leaving the organization in the best hands possible, my co-founder Jimmy Flatt and our dedicated Board of Directors.
In fact, I think the organization will be better off without me. Maybe they will be a little more even keel. Maybe they will get some of the opportunities that aren’t afforded to “angry Indians” like me, a name I have been called by more than one person. Jimmy is much nicer than I am and will be a better leader. Though I would like to see the organization grow and pass into the hands of a Black or Indigenous woman in the future, when the time is right, and when the hunting community is finally ready for discussions around equity, anti-racism, and justice– when it’s finally ready for Hunters of Color.
Until then, I’ll be gone, recovering from this whole ordeal. I’ll miss about 5% of you. Hopefully by the time you’re reading this, I’ll be long gone, lost in the woods somewhere. Don’t try to find me.
If you are moved by this letter, please do not simply write HOC an email to let them know. The remaining staff does not have the bandwidth to read the inevitable influx of email, let alone the time it would take to respond to each and every one. This was a concern of theirs while deciding whether or not to make this letter public, something I fought long and hard for with the last bit of energy I possessed. Please, if you are so moved, take one or all of the following actions instead:
SHARE STORIES: Stop protecting those in power by keeping stories like the ones I shared secret. Start by sharing this letter with someone you think has no idea the barriers BIPOC-led organizations face on a day-to-day basis.
EMAIL R3 COORDINATORS: Email your state’s R3 coordinator and ask how they have been doing authentic outreach into communities of color. (R3 Contact info). Follow up with specific questions about equity.
CONTACT AFWA: Email or call AFWA leaders and ask how they have been equitable with their funding practices. Request to see data on grant distributions and on demographics of the recipient organizations. Request data about the decision making process and their demographics.
JOIN GRANT COMMITTEES: Join a grant committee and be part of the change you wish to see. Fight harder to award grants to BIPOC-led organizations. Work harder to challenge the status quo. If someone says “this is just the criteria”, work to change the criteria.
DONATE: Donate to organizations like Hunters of Color. Ask the company you work for to make a charitable donation to HOC on your behalf, (you’d be surprised at how many organizations can and will do this).
HELP WITH BRANDS: Ask your favorite brands to support our mission via donations or event sponsorship, (in-kind or cash).
INVITE US: Invite Hunters of Color and other BIPOC led organizations to the table, while remembering our staff and funding are disproportionately limited. Help us get to a place where we can pay full price for every booth and every hotel stay by supporting us while we grow.
KEEP IN MIND: You asked for us. We answered. We are here. Take us as we are, without expectation of conformity or adherence to the social norms you developed in our absence. Watch our actions, read our data, believe our stories. Cheer us on.
