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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder commits to green chemistry

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 04 Nov 2025 18:47:17 +0000

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder commits to green chemistry Rachel Sauer Tue, 11/04/2025 - 11:47

Rachel Sauer

In May, campus leaders signed the Green Chemistry Commitment to practice and teach sustainable chemistry—an effort being encouraged and advanced by students

For much of the history of chemistry, the science was done how it was done—with fleeting or no thought given to things like lab energy consumption or the environmental persistence of toxic chemicals used in experiments. Those things were simply considered the wages of scientific progress.

As early as the 1940s, however, some chemists began asking if there were better, less hazardous, less environmentally damaging ways to do the science. By the 1990s, chemists Paul Anastas and John Warner had given a name to this new approach: green chemistry. In their 1998 book Green Chemistry: Theory and Practice, they detailed the 12 principles of green chemistry, which include preventing waste rather than trying to treat it or clean it up after the fact and designing chemical products to preserve efficacy of function while reducing toxicity.

Since that time, green chemistry has become a movement as universities and labs around the world evolve the practice and teaching of chemistry to reduce its impact on environmental and human health and safety.

In May, �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Chancellor Justin Schwartz and Department of Chemistry Chair Wei Zhang signed the Green Chemistry Commitment, not only committing �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder to green chemistry in practice and principle but joining a worldwide network of universities working to expand the community of green chemists and affect lasting change in chemistry education.

The �鶹��Ѱ�� has been very involved in the green chemistry movement, and in May Chancellor Justin Schwartz and then-Department of Chemistry Chair Wei Zhang signed the Green Chemistry Commitment, not only committing �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder to green chemistry in practice and principle, but joining a worldwide network of universities working to expand the community of green chemists and affect lasting change in chemistry education.

“Signing (the Green Chemistry Commitment) is an important step toward integrating green chemistry into curriculum, theory, toxicology and lab applications,” says Forrest Yegge, chair of the Green Chemistry �鶹��Ѱ��Student Government (CUSG) Environmental Board subcommittee and a junior studying philosophy and ecology and evolutionary biology.

“Social justice-wise, I think it’s our responsibility to be more aware of the effects we are having on the environment,” adds Jules Immonen, a first-year student studying chemistry who serves as secretary of the CUSG Environmental Board. “Obviously, sustainability is something I’m passionate about, but even people who aren’t should be able to learn how to incorporate these practices in an easy way.”

Doing better chemistry

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder’s embrace of green chemistry has been growing for years, says Kathryn Ramirez-Aguilar, �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Green Labs Program manager. The Department of Chemistry and Green Labs have been partnering on green chemistry efforts on campus, leading initiatives on everything from education opportunities to sustainable lab practices. Signing the Green Chemistry Commitment (GCC) is an important step, Ramirez-Aguilar says: “It’s a huge opportunity to involve students in designing curriculum, and it aligns with CU’s Climate Action Plan outlined last year.” In fact, she adds, members of the CUSG Environmental Board have been at the vanguard of bringing the GCC to the attention of campus leadership.

Ashley Ley, a chemistry graduate candidate and member of the Green Chemistry CUSG Environmental Board subcommittee, emphasizes that green chemistry is most importantly about practice, not just theory. “If you look at someone like Dr. (Jacquie) Richardson, she’s been making changes to methods, working toward greener methods using less harmful chemicals in the Organic Chemistry Teaching Labs. In Organic Chemistry 2, there’s a lab focused on atom economy, and one of the previous (Green Labs Chemistry) team leads worked with Dr. Richardson to incorporate acetone recycling, so now organic chemistry teaching labs only use recycled acetone for cleaning.

“These labs have also started using water recirculatory buckets because there are reflux reactions where you need a ton of water and normally it would go through the condensers and down the sink. Now it’s being recirculated, and we’re saving a lot of water. Last summer, they incorporated no-touch doors in the labs [as part of a collaborative project with Green Labs], so you can get in and out of the labs without having to take off your gloves.”

In another campuswide green chemistry application, Amrita George, a professional research assistant of many years in the Department of Integrative Physiology and volunteer lead for the Green Labs Team, is working on introducing a chemical sharing initiative in which research labs share chemicals within their research building.

Kathryn Ramirez-Aguilar (left), �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Green Labs Program manager, and Matt Wise (right), director of chemistry instruction and Department of Chemistry associate chair, give a presentation about incorporating green chemistry into the introductory chemistry curriculum. (Photo: Kathryn Ramirez-Aguilar)

“This has a lot of support from the Environmental Health and Safety group,” George says. “It aligns with one of the principles of green chemistry, which is to reduce the total amount of hazardous chemicals used and, therefore, waste created. [The initiative] allows researchers to see the chemical inventory of other labs within their building and share amongst themselves rather than ordering new stocks for each lab, which is usually what researchers do. Often these stocks sit on the shelf and expire before the lab ever uses them again.”

Ramirez-Aguilar adds that the chemical sharing initiative is also a money saver for labs by reducing purchasing—which also benefits a reduction in carbon emissions similar to a campuswide focus on reducing labs’ energy consumption, as labs are among the most energy-intensive spaces on campus.

Valentina Osorio, a chemistry graduate student and member of the Green Chemistry CUSG Environmental Board subcommittee, adds that General Chemistry teaching faculty have adapted student experiments and lab processes so that they can use drops of a chemical rather than milliliters of it. This makes a significant difference when thousands of students are conducting the experiments each year.

Performing research sustainably

While the benefits of green chemistry practice and teaching are broad and affect many communities and populations, among those most affected are students, says Ana Curry, a chemistry graduate student and member of the Green Chemistry CUSG Environmental Board subcommittee: “I’m currently working in materials chemistry, and I believe strongly that if my research is focused on sustainability, I should also be performing that research sustainably.”

Osorio notes that while her research focus is environmental chemistry, “I’m studying the impacts of air and water pollution, and while I’m not really synthesizing anything, what I’m researching is largely impacted by what humans are doing.”

Yegge adds that in addition to the environmental and social justice benefits of green chemistry, “as I prepare for grad school and I’m increasingly worried about securing funding, I think that sustainable practices on campus and in labs are crucial for resilience in academia and in research. We need to be adopting these strategies so we can keep doing the science we’re doing.”

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In May, campus leaders signed the Green Chemistry Commitment to practice and teach sustainable chemistry—an effort being encouraged and advanced by students.

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Top image: iStock

Remembering Jane Goodall’s vision for the future

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 03 Nov 2025 23:34:55 +0000

Remembering Jane Goodall’s vision for the future Rachel Sauer Mon, 11/03/2025 - 16:34

Laura DeLuca

The renowned scientist and environmental advocate instilled hope and fostered conservation relationships that prioritized local knowledge and involvement; she also had strong connections to �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder

Long before I conducted anthropological fieldwork in East Africa, taught secondary school mathematics in Kenya and directed a global seminar in Tanzania, I admired Jane Goodall. As a hardy teen growing up in the Baltimore suburbs, I worshipped Goodall because of her love for chimpanzees, her intelligence, her compassion and her sense of adventure.

I hesitate to admit that, as a compact, muscular teen, I also coveted Goodall’s long, lanky legs, smooth blond ponytail and British matched-set-khaki-with-binoculars look. Like so many other American animal and nature lovers, I wanted to be like her.

I arrived in East Africa as a Peace Corps volunteer in Kenya nearly 30 years after Goodall left England to study chimpanzees near Gombe, Tanzania. I am 30 years her junior and arrived in East Africa at the same age she did—mid-20s. In my case, I was assigned to teach at Bishop O’Koth Secondary School outside of Kisumu, Kenya.

Laura DeLuca is an anthropologist, director of the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Global Seminar Tanzania and guest director for the Global Seminar: Sustainability & Social Entrepreneurship in Bali, Indonesia. She also is a faculty member in the Stories and Societies Residential Academic Program.

One thing I really admired about Goodall was that she was humble and moved beyond the “white savior” model of conservation—even while benefitting from it. While Goodall was a product of her time and was inspired by books starring Tarzan and Dr. Doolittle—whose core stories now seem to have colonial underpinning—she recognized the importance of community-based conservation efforts that met the needs of Tanzanian residents. That was in contrast to some other non-native researchers, who were often hostile to locals because they believed they were a threat to conservation efforts.

I was teaching about the fortress conservation model in my ANTH 1155 course in Sewall on Oct. 2, the day after Goodall passed away. My students discussed Jim Igoe’s book Conservation and Globalization, about Tanzania and Maasai evictions, so it was in the forefront of my mind.

I held a moment of silence to honor Goodall, following which one of my students, Micah Frye, reminded me that Goodall visited Whittier Elementary School in Boulder in 2013. During her visit, Goodall spoke about her “Roots & Shoots” program, which focuses on youth education in environmental and humanitarian issues.

I teach about fortress conservation in ANTH 1155 because it has a big impact in Africa. It is a conservation model focused on creating protected areas, like Gombe National Park, from which human activity is excluded to safeguard biodiversity from perceived local threats. This approach, often rooted in colonial practices, frequently leads to the forced eviction of indigenous communities and local peoples, undermining their rights and cultural practices.

Goodall moved beyond the fortress model, even as she saw the importance of the national park status that her second husband helped secure for Gombe. To move beyond a fortress model, she founded the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI) to inspire people not only to protect great apes and their habitats, but also to create a more harmonious world for all living things, including humans. The Institute’s work includes ongoing scientific research on chimpanzees and community-centered conservation programs to protect species and habitats and help communities realize the benefits from ecotourism. It also includes the Roots & Shoots program to empower youth to create positive change for animals, people, and the environment.

In fact, Goodall wrote the preface to The Solutionary Way, an inspiring book I am using in my Innovating Sustainability SSIR 1010 in Sewall’s Stories and Societies Residential Academic course. In early October, after Goodall’s passing, students wrote a reflection assignment on Goodall regarding lessons that inspired them.

I also appreciate Goodall’s work to hire Tanzanian researchers and scientists in a field that was historically dominated by ex-patriate Europeans, British and Americans. In addition to current Tanzanian leaders Freddy Kimaro, Deus Mjungu, Esther Sabuni, Mwanang’ombe and Erasto Njavike, Goodall hired my dear grad school friend Shadrack Mkolle Kamenya. During our time as graduate students at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder in the mid-1990s, we spent hours studying together in Hale Anthropology Building (which Kamenya found creepy at night since the Nubian mummies were stored on the bottom floor).

Kamenya told me stories of his youth, including how as a child playing alongside the lake shore, he used to see Goodall taking a small motorboat on Lake Tanganyika to get to her research. He and his friends nicknamed her the “mzungu was Kasekela” or the “white lady of Kasekela.” (Kasekela is a forest in Gombe.)

Kamenya was the first Tanzanian director of research at the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI). He worked with the JGI for nearly 30 years in research, conservation and education before retiring in 2025 and lives in Kigoma, Tanzania. From August 1997 to 2005, he managed chimpanzee research at the Gombe Stream Research Centre (GSRC) in Gombe National Park.

Kamenya and I have been communicating more since he has retired, and I sent him a WhatsApp message after Goodall died on Oct. 1, asking about their interactions. He recalled how she cared and spoke for nature, which came from her heart, and how her wisdom and knowledge enabled her to talk with all kinds of people: young and old, politicians and leaders, poor and distressed.

In his section of the book Jane Goodall at 90: Celebrating an Astonishing Lifetime of Science, Advocacy, Humanitarianism, Hope and Peace, Kamenya wrote, “What a privilege to be around somebody who makes use of the time she gets on the planet to do the best she can for the environment, other people and biodiversity and very little for herself.”

Shadrack Kamenya (PhDAnth'97) was the first Tanzanian director of research at the Jane Goodall Institute, working for nearly 30 years in research, conservation and education before retiring in 2025. (Photo: Laura DeLuca)

Goodall’s Colorado connections

The IMAX film “Discovering Chimpanzees: The Remarkable World of Jane Goodall” was part of an exhibit at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science in 2003. I literally gasped in the middle of the dark theater when I saw pictures of Kamenya in the film, which I attended with my friend Karen Cockburn of Africa Travel.

That was just one of many Colorado connections to Goodall that I’ve experienced. She had many friends in Boulder, especially close colleague and collaborator Marc Bekoff, professor emeritus of ecology and evolutionary biology at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder. Bekoff is not only a fellow of the Animal Behavior Society and a past Guggenheim Fellow; he was also an ambassador for Roots & Shoots.

Herbert Covert, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder professor emeritus of anthropology, also was connected to Goodall through Kamenya: He served as Kamenya’s dissertation adviser and noted that she “aided Kamenya when it was most needed.” To elaborate, funding outside of �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder that had been promised to support Kamenya’s PhD training did not come through for reasons that were not related to Shadrack’s academic progress. Covert and Kamenya pursued several other funding avenues with limited success until Goodall learned about Kamenya. Not only did Goodall help arrange for Kamenya’s dissertation research in the Gombe, but she also provided most of the necessary financial support needed to allow him to finish his degree.

Goodall also influenced Covert’s research of the behavioral ecology and conservation of endangered colobine monkeys and gibbons of Vietnam. He recalls her as a “sweet person.” Covert reports that he modeled his engagement with Vietnamese colleagues after what he had learned from Goodall; specifically, he requested that they set the research agenda. Thus, Covert and colleagues shared activities that met the needs of local communities with trust and respect.

Partly because of her close connections with Bekoff, Goodall visited Boulder frequently. I remember seeing her on Oct. 1, 2015, at the sold-out �鶹��Ѱ��Events Center, where she gave the 50th George Gamow Memorial Lecture.

At the beginning of her presentation, Goodall charmingly demonstrated her famous chimpanzee call—a vocalization known as a “pant-hoot”—captivating the Boulder audience and bringing her message to life. She learned to mimic this call during her time observing chimpanzees in Gombe and used it as a distinctive greeting. In the talk, Goodall told the students in attendance, “You’re lucky. You live in Boulder, where there really is concern for the environment (and) where wonderful things are happening. We want that to spread around the world.”

Jane Goodall gave the 50th Gamow Lecture at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Oct. 1, 2015.

On the same day as her talk at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, Goodall, who was 81 at the time, planted trees at Horizons K-8 Charter School. On the same trip, she took time to speak with inmates at the Boulder County Jail who were part of one of Goodall’s Roots & Shoots program, run with great passion for more than 15 years by Bekoff. The Roots & Shoots program was so effective that Goodall expanded it to other jails.

In 2018, Goodall taught a free online course through �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder for K-12 teachers—a partnership between �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder and Roots & Shoots.

Participants in the six-week class had access to more than 13 hours of service-oriented training and activities with Goodall and Roots & Shoots staff. The course, offered through Coursera, along with other Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCS), taught participants how to identify and implement a local service-learning campaign using the Roots & Shoots program model. The service-learning curriculum equipped participants with education resources to discover the differences between service-learning and community service and apply the Roots & Shoots model to help youth have a voice in identifying and addressing needs in their community.

“There are many reasons to be hopeful for the future of our planet, but perhaps most inspiring is the energy, commitment and hard work of young people who we can empower as they grow to be better, more compassionate decision makers within their society,” Goodall said at the time. “I am so glad that through this Roots & Shoots online course collaboration with �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, we’re able to share a message of hope and a call to action with a wider audience than ever before.”

Laura DeLuca is the director of the Global Seminar Tanzania and guest director for the Global Seminar: Sustainability & Social Entrepreneurship in Bali, Indonesia, an anthropologist and a faculty member in the Stories and Societies Residential Academic Program.

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Top image: Jane Goodall in Gombe National Park (Photo: Simon Fraser University/Flickr)

Students finding strength in numbers

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 29 Oct 2025 20:57:16 +0000

Students finding strength in numbers Rachel Sauer Wed, 10/29/2025 - 14:57

Rachel Sauer

Started by �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder applied mathematics Teaching Professor Silva Chang, Colorado Math Circle is celebrating 20 years of bringing middle and high school students together in a community that has fun with math

It’s not always easy to be the student who does math for fun.

Even if the other kids aren’t weird about it, they still might not understand, so sometimes it can be easier to just brush it off. “Oh, math? Yeah, it’s OK.” But no, math is wonderful.

When one of Silva Chang’s high school teachers showed her a brochure for the six-week Hampshire College Summer Studies in Mathematics (HCSSiM) program, she wasn’t necessarily doing math for fun in her free time, but she was very good at it.

Silva Chang, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder teaching professor of applied mathematics, was inspired to start the Colorado Math Circle in part from her high school experience in the Hampshire College Summer Studies in Mathematics program.

“I think he knew that I needed to get out of the city,” recalls Chang, a �鶹��Ѱ�� full teaching professor of applied mathematics. “My parents were not college educated, they didn’t speak English, so I think he saw it as an opportunity that would open up my worldview.

“(HCSSiM) was a program where we did math 24-7, and it was the most fun I’ve ever had. I can say I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today if I hadn’t had that experience. (The program) was transformative, it made math really fun, it made it silly, it presented math as an art form that’s not just useful for practical applications, but that’s beautiful by itself.”

Chang’s experiences at HCSSiM inspired her 20 years ago to start the Colorado Math Circle, an extracurricular organization that offers opportunities and mentoring for middle and high school math enthusiasts around Colorado. Further, she was interviewed about how HCSSiM inspired her for the documentary “Hunting Yellow Pigs,” of which there will be a free screening at 3:30 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 2, in Benson Earth Sciences room 180.

“I knew of certain students along the Front Range—all top students, some nationally ranked—and I wanted to be able to bring them together so they would have peer support,” Chang explains of starting Colorado Math Circle in 2005. “Some students can find peers, but some can’t. If you say, ‘I enjoy doing math problems all day,’ people might laugh at you, and you might try to hide that interest. I thought there should be a place where students didn’t have to hide their enthusiasm for math.”

‘Come and enjoy math’

For Chang, an interest in math grew from attending John Dewey High School in Brooklyn, New York, a school with a nontraditional pass/fail grading system and a longer, eight-hour day that allowed students to take more classes and explore their interests.

If you go

What: Free special screening of “Hunting Yellow Pigs,” a documentary about the Hampshire College Summer Studies in Mathematics program

When: 3:30-5 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 2

Where: Benson Earth Sciences room 180

Chang’s parents had emigrated from southeast China, and while they may not have been intimately familiar with the vagaries of the U.S. educational system, they knew that education led to opportunity, Chang says. However, when Chang’s teacher suggested she attend the six-week HCSSiM, her parents initially didn’t understand the significance.

With some parental convincing and bolstered by her membership on a New York City-wide high school team of top math students, Chang applied and was accepted. Initially, her family was asked to pay a small amount to attend, “and my parents said no. They didn’t have a lot of money, but I don’t think that was their reason. They were nervous about me leaving home. So, someone from HCSSiM called me up and said, ‘You turned down the acceptance, can you tell us why?’ and I said the reason was financial, so they offered a full scholarship.”

HCSSiM was started by Hampshire College founding faculty member David Kelly, who died June 20. Program organizers describe it as “college-level mathematics for talented and highly motivated high school students. It is demanding and expanding. Participants spend a major portion of each day actively engaged in doing mathematics (not simply learning the results of mathematics).”

“(David Kelly) was running the program when I attended in the 1970s, and he set the tone,” Chang says. “He just made it fun. Some of us were coming from more competitive or grade-oriented backgrounds, but his perspective was, ‘Come and enjoy math. Math is fun, math is beautiful, get what you can out of this program, take away what you can.’ They were teaching fairly high-level math, but it wasn’t competitive at all. It was like, ‘Let’s all do math together, let’s all learn together.’”

Creating a community

Participants in the Colorado Math Circle engage in a hands-on math learning activity. (Photo: Silva Chang)

After Chang came to �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder and her children entered high school, she began thinking that she’d like to create a program similar in spirit and practice to HCSSiM, where students could come have fun doing math with others who love it, too. She also thought about the New York City-wide math team of which she’d been a member and wondered if there was a way to combine the two.

In 2005, she began contacting Front Range high schools and students to assemble a 15-member team that would compete in the 2006 American Regions Mathematics League (ARML) national math competition at the University of Nevada. The team won first place in its division that year “and that was very motivating,” Chang recalls, “because we were competing against teams from around the country.”

Colorado Math Circle has sent a team comprised of students from around Colorado to that competition every year since, but after that first year Chang thought it was important to create a place for students who may not want to compete but who want to get together to do, discuss and learn math.

During the school year, students either come to the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder campus or participate in weekly problem-solving Zoom sessions. Initially created with a focus on high school students, Colorado Math Circle grew to include middle school students and help those who are interested prepare for the MATHCOUNTS competition.

“The first year we were more focused on preparing for competition, but after that we expanded it to a place where students could come learn about a variety of math topics,” Chang says. “Members of my department have come to give talks about their work, and we’ve been doing it long enough that we have math circle alumni coming back now.”

For the first 17 years of Colorado Math Circle, Chang was the sole director, but now program alumnus Thomas Davids serves as co-director and ARML coach.

In its 20 years, Colorado Math Circle has steadily grown; last year, more than 110 students from 45 Colorado schools participated. Over the years, students from as far as Grand Junction, Pueblo and Rangely have participated. “We don’t draw many students from any one school—the two largest are Fairview and Cherry Creek—it’s often one student from one school,” Chang says. “The main goal of the Colorado Math Circle is to teach students math, yes, and teach them problem-solving skills, but what we really provide is a community.

“These students teach themselves a lot of math, so the need we fill is helping them to create a community of friends who love math, too.”

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Top image: The 2023 Colorado Math Circle team that competed in the American Regions Mathematics League national competition, coached by program alumnus Thomas Davids (far left, holding plaque). (Photo: Silva Chang)

New learning center more than just a place to study math

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 20 Oct 2025 21:30:48 +0000

New learning center more than just a place to study math Rachel Sauer Mon, 10/20/2025 - 15:30

Rachel Sauer

The Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center, opened last month after a summer-long renovation, invites students to collaborate, hang out and learn

In one corner of the common room, Ben Sewald is writing an equation on a whiteboard. A first-year �鶹��Ѱ�� student, he’s still deciding whether to major in aerospace engineering or applied mathematics but knows one thing for sure: Discrete math is his favorite class.

“The whole time before this, I’ve been learning math, but in this class it’s about how we can prove that these things are true,” he explains as he writes.

Ben Sewald, a first-year �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder student, writes an equation for his discrete math class in the Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center. (Photo: Rachel Sauer)

Not far from him, but on a different whiteboard, Atticus Fretz, a sophomore studying environmental engineering, is tutoring two Calculus I students, pointing with a blue marker to explain each part of the equation as he writes it.

And through the rest of the common area—and in the three classrooms arrayed from it—the hum of applied mathematics hovers around students solo studying or clustered in groups; around tutors explaining the finer points of differential equations, algorithms and data structures and every level of calculus; and around faculty members expanding on what they taught in class—but from the comfort of a lounge chair.

It’s the middle of a Thursday afternoon, and the Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center (CALC) is hopping.

Opened last month after a summer-long, $1.7 million renovation of a section of a classroom wing in the �鶹��Ѱ�� Engineering Center, CALC is designed to be “a warm, inviting space for undergraduate students, especially engineering calculus students, to learn, hang out and work on their coursework,” explains Mark Hoefer, professor and department chair of applied mathematics.

The space, in ECCR 252, formerly was a computer lab, “but it wasn’t heavily used,” says Silva Chang, a full teaching professor of applied mathematics. “So, we started talking about creating a comfortable, welcoming place where students could feel at home and hang out with their friends while they study and learn.”

When it was a little-used computer lab, the space was darker and not especially comfortable, so the renovation included jackhammering through concrete walls and replacing them with glass to allow in natural light, painting the walls in lighter colors, replacing carpeting and lighting and arranging comfortable chairs and benches around the space.

“We want this to be a space that supports collaboration,” Chang says.

CALC will become a home to all-day drop-in office hours with faculty members and teaching assistants; tutoring with applied mathematics-trained tutors; small, learning assistant–led study groups; workshops on study strategies; and proactive student outreach, Hoefer says. Further, faculty and staff will continually work with students to assess how they’re using the space and what would improve or enhance their experiences in it.

“I think people are slowly discovering this space,” Silva says, gesturing to students grouped around tables and in comfortable chairs or writing on whiteboards. “It’s especially important for first-year students to have a place where they can find mentors and connect with classmates; those things are so important for student retention, so they can feel that this is a place where they belong.”

For Maxwell Minson, a first-year student studying bioengineering and, on this particular afternoon, writing Calculus 3 equations on a whiteboard, CALC is a place where “I feel really comfortable,” he says. “I’m here all the time.”

Atticus Fretz (kneeling, wearing purple hoodie), a sophomore majoring in environmental engineering, tutors Calculus 1 in the Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center. (Photo: Rachel Sauer)

The Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center offers drop-in hours with faculty members and teaching assistants as well as tutoring with applied mathematics-trained tutors. (Photo: Rachel Sauer)

Renovation of a little-used computer lab in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Engineering Center included replacing concrete walls with glass ones to let in more light, including one etched with the Department of Applied Mathematics logo. (Photo: Rachel Sauer)

Elizabeth Wallis McGuire (crouched, pointing at whiteboard), a junior studying electrical and computer engineering, tutors Calculus 1 in the Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center. (Photo: Rachel Sauer)

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The Applied Mathematics Community and Learning Center, opened last month after a summer-long renovation, invites students to collaborate, hang out and learn.

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Three college staff members participating in leadership institute

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 14 Oct 2025 16:21:32 +0000

Three college staff members participating in leadership institute Rachel Sauer Tue, 10/14/2025 - 10:21

Jessica Brunecky, Janelle Henderson and Stephanie Colunga Montoya will participate in the 39th annual Academic Management Institute facilitated by the Colorado and Wyoming Network of Women Leaders

Three �鶹��Ѱ�� College of Arts and Sciences staff members have been invited to participate in the 39th annual Academic Management Institute (AMI) facilitated by the Colorado and Wyoming Network of Women Leaders, an affiliate of the American Council on Education.

Jessica Brunecky, senior strategic advisor and director of divisional affairs for the Division of Social Sciences; Janelle Henderson, program manager of the College of Arts and Sciences Honors Program; and Stephanie Colunga Montoya, director of student access and engagement for the Division of Natural Sciences, will join with higher education professionals from across Colorado and Wyoming to develop as leaders and foster excellence in the region’s colleges and universities.

AMI 2025-26 is comprised of five in-person sessions—the first of which will be Thursday and Friday in Vail—that feature presentations and workshops by higher education leaders and subject experts from Colorado and Wyoming. AMI is designed to be a professional development opportunity that fosters a cohesive cohort dynamic and enables participants to hone their leadership toolkit while forging connections with peers across the region’s academic institutions.

“I look forward to exploring ways to strengthen my ability to make structural and institutional change,” says Brunecky. Colunga Montoya notes that she is looking forward “to meeting other amazing women doing important work in higher education and gaining wisdom and knowledge that is shared.”

Every AMI participant is asked to design a passion project that serves the needs of their institution, which they will introduce at the Oct. 16-17 seminar and present a March 5-6 seminar at the University of Denver.

Each of the seminars centers on timely and topical themes, including leading in ever-changing higher education, influencing campus culture, the future of higher education and developing leadership strengths.

“I’m excited to expand my leadership skills and build meaningful connections with other higher education leaders,” says Henderson.

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Jessica Brunecky, Janelle Henderson and Stephanie Colunga Montoya will participate in the 39th annual Academic Management Institute facilitated by the Colorado and Wyoming Network of Women Leaders.

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Top image: Jessica Brunecky, Janelle Henderson and Stephanie Colunga Montoya

Building a digital home for Arapaho, one sentence at a time

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 13 Oct 2025 15:54:34 +0000

Building a digital home for Arapaho, one sentence at a time Rachel Sauer Mon, 10/13/2025 - 09:54

Cody DeBos

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder linguistics scholar Andrew Cowell helps Arapaho stories find new life online

The Arapaho words beteen, meaning “sacred,” and beteneyooo, “one’s body,” have a special connection for those who speak the language. Their linguistic similarity isn’t a coincidence.

Andrew Cowell, a �鶹��Ѱ�� professor of linguistics and faculty director of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies (CNAIS), says the Arapaho see it as a lesson encoded in the language. “It indicates that the body is sacred and therefore we have to protect it,” he says.

Such examples of cultural knowledge don’t always survive translation. That’s exactly why Cowell’s belief in the importance of preserving Indigenous languages led him to redirect the entire trajectory of his career.

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder linguist Andrew Cowell, faculty director of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies (CNAIS), has partnered with a host of collaborators including �鶹��Ѱ��students, community partners and native speakers to build digital tools to protect and revitalize the Arapaho language.

It’s also why, for the past two decades, he and a host of collaborators including �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder students, community partners and native speakers, have been building digital tools to protect and revitalize the Arapaho language.

Cowell didn’t originally come to �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder to work on Arapaho, but he has long been curious about Indigenous languages, in part thanks to his personal connection to Native Hawaiian culture through his wife.

“Arapaho was the native language of Boulder, so when I got hired at �鶹��Ѱ��I decided, well, I’ll look into Arapaho,” he recalls. “I started looking into Arapaho more and more and doing more work on the side and eventually decided to switch departments into linguistics so I could focus all my energy on indigenous languages.”

Two databases, one goal

Today, Cowell’s work on Arapaho takes two forms: one, an online lexical database; the other, an unpublished, in-depth text database of natural language conversation and narratives.

The lexical database, freely accessible online, functions like a living dictionary. With more than 20,000 entries and a searchable interface, it’s often used by learners across the Arapaho-speaking world in place of print dictionaries, according to Cowell.

But a larger effort has quietly been taking shape behind the scenes.

The text database, which is not publicly released, contains more than 100,000 sentences of spoken Arapaho. Among them are natural conversations and stories recorded over decades.

“At this point, I’ve got over a hundred thousand sentences of natural speaking that I have not only recorded, but also transcribed into written Arapaho, translated into English, and then it has linguistic analysis attached as well,” Cowell explains.

The database is the backbone of several major projects, all with the goal of making learning Arapaho more accessible and preserving it for future generations. One effort is a student grammar dictionary that focuses on the most useful and common words.

“We’ve gotten a list of the frequency of all the nouns in the language and all the verbs," Cowell says. "We ranked those, and it allowed us to produce a really small student dictionary where we only included words that occurred around 40 times or more.

“It means (students) don’t have to flip through rare and uncommon words they’re unlikely to be really interested in as initial learners.”

A pathway for new learners

Beyond the student dictionary, Cowell and his team are working on developing a scaled curriculum for teaching Arapaho. It guides learners from basics to more complex concepts across sequential levels based on real-world language use patterns.

Young Arapaho dancers (Photo courtesy the Wind River Casino)

“We’ve developed 44 steps of knowledge, and even within that there's 23a and 23b and so forth,” he says. “It’s all based on looking at the text we've collected and looking at the frequency of certain kinds of grammatical features that occur.”

Unlike French or Spanish, Arapaho wasn’t historically taught in a classroom but passed down through families at home. Cowell’s team has had to build an instructional framework from the ground up.

“With Arapaho, no one’s really ever tried to teach it as a second language. Now we’re trying to learn it and teach it, and the databases have allowed us to really produce that scaled curriculum,” Cowell says.

Generations of trust

Ensuring that his work isn’t just academic has been a priority for Cowell since the start. The database project is built on decades of trust between himself and the Arapaho community.

“The one thing Native American communities have often had problems with in the past is someone comes in, does their research, then disappears. Then the community is left wondering what they are getting out of it. In some cases, nothing,” Cowell says. “I worked hard to establish that I really want to learn the language and ensure my work is something that will feed back into the community and help out.”

That commitment has led to rich partnerships, sometimes spanning generations.

“We’re close to having 100 different native speakers represented in our data. At this point we’ve got grandparents and now their kids are working on it,” Cowell says.

A worthy effort

From a linguist’s perspective, Cowell explains, Indigenous languages expand our understanding of what language, and indeed human cognition, can do.

“We’re close to having 100 different native speakers represented in our data. At this point we’ve got grandparents and now their kids are working on it.”

“There are many cases in the history of linguistics where people have made a claim like ‘no language could possibly do this,’ and then someone goes to the Amazon and discovers a language that does it,” he says.

More importantly, the motivating force that has kept Cowell working for over twenty years comes from the Arapaho speakers themselves.

He says, “In my experience, Native American communities are very invested in their language. They see it as really crucial, central to their identity.”

That’s why the full text database hasn’t been released publicly, especially with growing concerns about how the data might be used or exploited by artificial intelligence. Still, Cowell and his team are taking steps toward broader access.

A grant from the National Science Foundation will support the release of 5,000 carefully selected sentences from the text database for public use. The snippets, which have been approved by native Arapaho speakers, will be available online with additional computational linguistic labeling.

As for Cowell, he says that even after 20 years, he never tires of seeing the work evolve. He hopes it shows �鶹��Ѱ��students what’s possible when you follow your curiosity.

“You never know where you’re going to end up and what results are going to come out of something. You just have to trust that research is going to turn out to be interesting. You can’t necessarily predict when or where.”

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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder linguistics scholar Andrew Cowell helps Arapaho stories find new life online.

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Top image: "Two Riders Leading Horses" by Arapaho artist Frank Henderson, ca. 1882 (Photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Long live the King in modern music

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 01 Oct 2025 00:51:19 +0000

Long live the King in modern music Rachel Sauer Tue, 09/30/2025 - 18:51

Rachel Sauer

In what would have been B.B. King’s 100^th birthday month, �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder music scholar Shawn O’Neal considers how the legends of blues can be heard in even the fizziest pop of 2025

B.B. King was born to sharecroppers on a cotton plantation in Leflore County, Mississippi, and began his musical career in the church choir, teaching himself to play guitar while listening to the “King Biscuit Time” radio show.

Sabrina Carpenter was born in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, and began posting videos of herself singing Adele and Christina Aguilera songs on YouTube around age 10. As a teenager, she starred in the Disney Channel series “Girl Meets World.”

Culturally and musically, they’re about as different as two artists can be. But if the roots of rock ‘n’ roll and even pop grow from blues—which they do—then it should be possible to hear B.B. King and other legends of blues in the sly pop confections of Sabrina Carpenter.

Shawn O'Neal is a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder assistant teaching professor of ethnic studies and Center for African and African American Studies executive committee member.

So, Shawn O’Neal, a �鶹��Ѱ�� musicologist and assistant teaching professor of ethnic studies, cues up Carpenter’s song “Manchild,” currently No. 6 on the Billboard Top 100: “Right away, the first thing I hear is that call and response of where she’s singing something and then answering her own question or statement back to herself,” he notes. “Call and response is such a foundation of blues music—whether Sabrina Carpenter knows that or thinks about it, or even has to, she got that from somewhere.”

Further, he asks, who were some of the first to sing about taking care of business—working all day, making a home at night—while a no-good partner is off catting around? The women of blues.

“They were the first to talk about sexuality, to talk about the issues they were having with their partners, even sometimes to talk about the fact that they were having love interests of the same sex,” O’Neal says. “All of those tropes are very defined in (Carpenter’s) music, and then there’s just that drumbeat, that very four-on-the-floor beat that’s a hallmark of blues. I think you could take that Sabrina Carpenter song and turn it into a blues song very easily.”

And it’s not just Carpenter. Even on current Top 40 lists that seem to owe more to computers and electronics than to the sawdust floors of Delta juke joints, blues touchpoints are audible. B.B. King, who died in May 2015 but would have turned 100 this month, and other legends of blues live in the music of 2025.

“B.B. King, Robert Johnson, Ma Rainey—I hear them in all this pop music,” O’Neal says. “I can’t not hear it, because it’s there; it’s in the DNA.”

‘What they call rock ‘n’ roll’

In 1957, a Hearst interviewer asked rock ‘n’ roll pioneer Fats Domino, “Fats, how did this rock ‘n’ roll all get started, anyway?” and Domino replied, “Well, what they call rock ’n’ roll now is rhythm and blues. I’ve been playing it for 15 years in New Orleans.”

It was an acknowledgment that what felt revolutionary and sonically groundbreaking was actually a long time coming—the latest brick in a long- and well-established foundation.

It’s a direct lineage, O’Neal says: Pop grew from rock ‘n’ roll; rock grew from blues, jazz and gospel; which grew from spirituals and field hollers; and those were first-generation descendants of African musical and narrative traditions brought to North America by enslaved people.

“Spirituals were sung in the cotton fields on the plantations,” O’Neal explains. “People were creating this music as subliminal communication, and the enslavement masters didn’t understand what they were talking about. They had to create a new language, and so much of it was speaking to spirituality—save us, help us, let me find some solace. It comes from pain and struggle and being completely removed from who you are, and we can sugarcoat it and syrup it up, but foundationally that’s where American music is coming from.”

Though the roots of American music are twisting and complex—and also woven of European folk and classical traditions—there’s a through line of African American musical tradition, O’Neal says. Gospel evolved from spirituals and give birth to its lyrically secular offspring of blues, which birthed jazz, rock and pop, as well as the direct descendants that are rap and hip-hop.

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder music scholar Shawn O'Neal notes that blues legends like B.B. King stood on the shoulders of musical giants such as Sister Rosetta Tharpe (pictured above), Lead Belly and Robert Johnson. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

The earliest blues artists began developing a distinctive sound that became known for 12-bar chord progressions—a form based on the I, IV and V chords in a musical key—that are fundamental to the blues genre and are prominent in rock ‘n’ roll, O’Neal says. Classic blues music also followed a pattern of one line being repeated four times in a verse, which 20th-century artists evolved the AAB pattern that became the blues standard: a three-line verse structure in blues music where the first line (A) is repeated, and the third line (B) offers a conclusion or response, often using a "question-question-answer" pattern within a 12-bar blues progression.

Blues legends like B.B. King, who stood on the shoulders of musical giants such as Lead Belly and Robert Johnson and Sister Rosetta Tharpe, experimented with the foundational elements of blues, which also included the “walking bass” rhythms and pitch-flattened “blue notes,” and broadened the sound and scope of the genre. Rock and pop, as well as myriad blues subgenres, were natural progressions, O’Neal says.

Drenched in the blues

Even now, as cross-pollinated and subdivided as music is, O’Neal says, listeners hear the blues regardless of whether they recognize it: “For example, when you think about the foundations of electronic music or EDM, we’re talking about house music, and those DJs were originally playing rhythm and blues records. And in pop, you hear that foundation of disco, and they were also playing soul and rhythm and blues in the clubs.

“None of this music being played today was conjured out of thin air; it’s based on musical traditions that go back 100, 200 years.”

He adds that in hip-hop culture, B.B. King has been sampled from the earliest days of the genre “because those were the records in our parents’ record collections. And obviously it’s never been just Black artists who’ve sampled and built on the blues. If you start at a place like Led Zeppelin, they obviously were heavily influenced by B.B. King and just drenched in blues, Jimmy Page especially. You take songs like ‘Since I’ve Been Loving You’ or ‘The Song Remains the Same’ and slow them down to that really draggy riff—that’s blues.”

When O’Neal has taught students to hear these influences in Reiland Rabaka's Introduction to Hip Hop Studies classes and Critical Survey of African American music, “they come up to me after almost every class saying, ‘I never knew that was in there.’”

The challenge, he says, is respecting the artistic quest for newness and innovation while acknowledging and honoring the foundation on which it lives.

“As an artist, you have to understand that even if you want to think it’s your own original song, it’s still based off things that already happened,” says O’Neal, who also is a renowned DJ and musician. “Taylor Swift? Well, that’s Motown, that’s what she’s doing—three chords, simple progressions, prominent melodies, emotional lyrics. Whether artists now want to acknowledge it or not, the sounds they’re playing started a long time ago.”

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In what would have been B.B. King’s 100th birthday month, �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder music scholar Shawn O’Neal considers how the legends of blues can be heard in even the fizziest pop of 2025.

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Top image: B.B. King playing at the University of Hamburg in November 1971. (Photo: Heinrich Klaffs/Wikimedia Commons)

We Are Art Buffs building an arts community

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 25 Sep 2025 19:40:21 +0000

We Are Art Buffs building an arts community Rachel Sauer Thu, 09/25/2025 - 13:40

Rachel Sauer

At Sept. 17 gathering, representatives of the arts at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, in Boulder and across the Front Range built connections in the nascent We Are Art Buffs initiative

First, the question: What is an art buff?

“There is a journey within this question that speaks to the heart of what we are trying to curate,” said John-Michael Rivera, dean of arts and humanities in the �鶹��Ѱ�� College of Arts and Sciences. “We’re fostering not simply an appreciation of the arts but cultivating a lived and embodied inquiry into the creative. To engage the arts is a trait that all should appreciate in daily life.”

Then the idea: What if �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder was the heart of the arts in Boulder, on the Front Range and in Colorado—a place where every student is supported in creative inquiry; where partnerships are made and strengthened between the university, artists and arts organizations in communities across Colorado and, someday, the nation; where there are infinite paths to the infinite ways of engaging with the arts?

John-Michael Rivera (at podium), dean of arts and humanities, speaks at the Sept. 17 We Are Art Buffs gathering.

So, dozens gathered Sept. 17 in Norlin Library, representing the arts at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, in the broader Boulder community and across the Front Range—taking steps and building connections in an initiative called We Are Art Buffs.

“From the very beginning—18 months ago, 19 months ago—we said, ‘Let’s really start talking about the arts at �鶹��Ѱ��and have more pathways and connections with the community around us,’” Rivera said, addressing leaders from organizations including the Museum of Boulder, the Clyfford Still Museum, the City of Boulder Office of Arts and Culture, the Arvada Center, the Dairy Arts Center and many others.

“Right now is a tough time to be an artist, but it’s also a wonderful time to be an artist because the arts are really going to be the place that interprets this world we’re living in right now.”

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Chancellor Justin Schwartz noted the importance of the arts in “connecting us as people to one another and to ourselves. The arts not only provide richness to our lives, they provide unique and different types of connection to people. The fact that we are such a vibrant arts community is what makes us such a strong community in general.”

A key outcome of the partnerships that will grow through the We Are Art Buffs initiative is strengthening student success, Schwartz added: “We know successful learning experiences outside the classroom are vital to student success. We talk about student success internally, and we’re also going to be looking to our community to help us advance the success of our students.”

With community partnerships, Rivera said, “we can guarantee that our students find their way or, better yet, create new paths as they walk them; whether in the arts or arts-adjacent fields or any profession, our students will show employers what we already know: that creative inquiry transforms every career, transforms every life.

“We owe students a vision of their future, a future with all of us in it.”

“We know successful learning experiences outside the classroom are vital to student success," said �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Chancellor Justin Schwartz. "We talk about student success internally, and we’re also going to be looking to our community to help us advance the success of our students.”

We Are Art Buffs, Rivera added, also is about creating venues for coming together to create pathways and break down barriers between the university and the community. For those in attendance Wednesday, that could include many things, from the practical to the philosophical—from clearer information about parking on campus to broader access to venues on and off campus, expanded work-study opportunities for students and interdisciplinary research projects.

“We have space that’s available to rent—it’s kind of small but let us know if that’s something you’d be interested in,” said Tracy Travis with The New Local in Boulder. “Or if you’re interested in getting students involved in seeing how a nonprofit runs, seeing how a gallery runs, seeing how you can get the community involved.”

“We would love to open pathways between our student bodies,” said Erin Hauger, professor and chair of visual arts at �鶹��Ѱ��Denver. “We have a great film program; we have a thriving visual arts program that I think has different majors than �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder and we would love to infoshare and love to create different opportunities for students between downtown Boulder and downtown Denver.”

“We’re a giant building, so we have lots of possibilities for partnerships,” said Jen Clements, deputy director of the Dairy Arts Center. “One of the programs we have is our co-production program, which is a mechanism for early-career artists, for emerging artists to get their foot in a venue without the financial risk that is usually associated with getting your foot in a venue… and we also have ample volunteer opportunities always.”

Erika Randall, interim dean and vice provost of undergraduate education, also emphasized the importance of building connections between students and the arts outside of campus: “I have so many folks who are artists at heart or artists in major or art curious, and they only see it as way to extend the time to graduation and a way to disappoint their parents. We need help changing that story, and we need all of you to help in that because we know that the soft skills are not soft, they are hard-won and they are hard-fought.”

While the We Are Art Buffs initiative is in its nascent days, Rivera said that a foundational element is already in place, which is creating venues for coming together “in very perilous times. What is it we want to be as a collective? What is it we want to do for the arts? How are we going to create pathways and break down barriers between the university and the community? I hope this is the beginning of all of us getting together and thinking what we want for the future of Boulder, the future of Colorado, and then becoming a national model.”

Cindy Sepucha (holding microphone), artists and venues program manager for the City of Boulder Office of Arts and Culture.

Collin Parson (laughing), Arvada Center director of galleries and curator, talks with Chris Taylor, executive director of Museum of Boulder.

Jim Walker, �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Norlin Scholars teaching faculty member

A participant takes notes at the We Are Art Buffs gathering Sept. 17.

Attendees at the Sept. 17 We Are Art Buffs gathering responded to the question "What can we learn from your career experience about how to affect students?"

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about the arts at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder? Show your support.

At Sept. 17 gathering, representatives of the arts at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, in Boulder and across the Front Range built connections in the nascent We Are Art Buffs initiative.

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Sometimes ‘building back better’ doesn’t include everyone

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 22 Sep 2025 23:14:40 +0000

Sometimes ‘building back better’ doesn’t include everyone Rachel Sauer Mon, 09/22/2025 - 17:14

Cody DeBos

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder researcher Mary Angelica Painter finds that in post-disaster recovery, equity isn’t guaranteed

In the mountains of Colorado outside Boulder, a tight-knit community once made up of mobile homes and modest living has all but disappeared. Now, visitors will find the hills dominated by sprawling new homes and residents of a different tax bracket.

“We were driving through, and it was all these multi-million-dollar homes. A lot of talk about this community having more dogs than people,” Mary Angelica Painter recalls after a recent trip to the town. “It’s a very wealthy, affluent community.”

Painter, a research associate at the �鶹��Ѱ��’s Natural Hazards Center, knows the history of this town from the work of scholars in the hazards and disaster field. It was a place where lower-income, often elderly residents leaned on each other for care and social support. But after a devastating flood in 2013, everything changed.

Mary Angelica Painter, a research associate in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Natural Hazards Center, co-authored a paper defining “hazard gentrification” as the process that unfolds when natural hazards destroy a large portion of a community and residents are displaced by wealthier newcomers during recovery and rebuilding.

“After this event, most of the residents were dispersed and displaced. We saw one area where there was supposedly low-income housing, and we were told rent was ‘only’ $1,800 a month. I was like, ‘Wow.’ I had no other term to define it than hazard gentrification,” Painter says.

It’s a familiar pattern she has seen while studying natural hazards and the subsequent recovery efforts of the affected communities.

In an effort to better describe the trend, she recently co-authored a paper defining “hazard gentrification” as the process that unfolds when natural hazards destroy a large portion of a community and residents are displaced by wealthier newcomers during recovery and rebuilding.

Unlike slower-moving forms of gentrification, such as those related to climate change, Painter says hazard gentrification is more rapid and has devastating repercussions.

Defining a new kind of gentrification

The term coined by Painter and her co-authors builds on years of disaster capitalism research—the idea that public and private entities exploit disasters to consolidate power and wealth.

“We often hear the term ‘build back better,’ which leads to the question of ‘build back better for whom?’” she says.

Sustainability gentrification, a similar but unique concept, has been coined recently as well. However, those takeovers tend to happen gradually.

“Hazard gentrification is much faster than other forms of sustainability gentrification,” Painter explains, “so that’s why we really felt the urge to write this short paper and punctuate this specific type of gentrification.”

She also warns that it isn’t a theoretical concern. From New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina to the aftermath of wildfires in Lahaina, Hawaii, the pattern has played out repeatedly.

“We needed to name this phenomenon as its own thing so we can start identifying solutions,” Painter says.

The forces at play

So, what turns a disaster into a reality-altering event for a local community? Painter says the answer is political as much as environmental.

“Disasters stem from social, economic and political choices that leave people in devastation. So, in my mind, disasters are very political.”

After a natural hazard hits, local governments often face pressure to restore services quickly and begin the rebuilding efforts. Much of that push comes from the loudest and most affluent voices in the community.

Structures and infrastructure in Jamestown, Colorado, were significantly damaged by 2013 floods (Photo: Steve Zumwalt/FEMA)

“There is a huge push to build back faster,” Painter says, “and because of that, there are fewer opportunities to involve local community members in the process of making decisions of how it happens.”

When participation is limited, she points out, redevelopment favors those with more money, time and connections. The dynamic also benefits outside investors and developers who are eager to move in where disaster presents an opportunity.

Who gets left behind

For many long-time, even lifelong, residents, rebuilding after a hazard hits simply isn’t an option.

“These populations that are more socially vulnerable tend to either be underinsured or not insured at all against hazards and disasters. They might be living paycheck to paycheck and don’t have the extra income or time to find secondary housing,” Painter says.

“We actually know from research that white affluent people post natural hazard are actually better off after the disaster. They are able to get large insurance payouts, and if their house needs to be rebuilt or refurbished, the value can go up and they can sell it for a profit,” she adds.

Those benefits aren’t present for people who live in mobile homes or manufactured housing, let alone renters. Painter explains that rental assistance is often insubstantial, and renters do not receive the same high priority as homeowners.

The loss of social safety nets, both formal and informal, compounds the trauma for local residents who rely on them.

“They lose their networks of support. There are just so many factors that come together that make it slower or impossible for them to recover,” Painter says.

As a result, many residents find themselves priced out of the place they called home and are left to watch as the area is redeveloped without them.

How some communities push back

Despite the powerful forces at work, hazard gentrification isn’t inevitable. Painter points to a few examples, including Joplin, Missouri; Coffey Park in California; and Seattle’s Duwamish Valley. Here, early and meaningful community engagement helped limit displacement after natural hazards wreaked devastation.

People evacuate West Glenwood Springs, Colorado, in the face of spreading wildfires in 2002. (Photo: Bryan Dahlberg/FEMA)

She notes that Joplin’s story, one close to home, is especially striking. After an EF5 tornado nearly leveled the town in 2011, local leaders mobilized quickly.

“They really self-organized effectively. They were very engaging with the community in the rebuilding process and prioritized not leaving anyone behind,” Painter says.

“Not every community is able to do that in that way, but it was something that really jumpstarted their recovery into a positive life.”

Painter notes that these engagement efforts helped preserve community bonds and gave residents a sense of ownership over the recovery.

“There seems to be much more cohesion and democratization when it comes to rebuilding like that,” she says. “The idea is that you need to bring communities together and let them share their voices. It’s so important.”

What needs to change

The question going forward, Painter posits, is whether policymakers will make bold choices to prevent displacement before the next hazard strikes.

“You can’t be prioritizing the stuff you’ve been prioritizing. If in the past it was something like economic development at the harm of lower-income and marginalized residents, that can’t be the way you go forward,” she says.

In other words, more equitable recovery efforts must start with a cultural shift in how communities allocate resources. New policies promoting rent control, expanded insurance and better disaster assistance for renters can all help lower the burden in the wake of a hazard.

“People need to understand the idea of sacrifice for their neighbors,” she says.

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder’s Natural Hazards Center is working to bridge the gap between research and real-world solutions.

“We aren’t just a research apparatus,” Painter says. “We’re also a connecting body. It’s important that we as researchers connect with policymakers and decision makers and are solution oriented.”

As climate change fuels more frequent and intense natural events, hazard gentrification will become more common. Naming the problem is just a first step, but also a necessary one. From there, Painter hopes society collectively adopts an action mindset.

“We need to find ways to be equitable and to provide for and support our communities, and to have plans for if there’s devastation, too. �鶹��Ѱ�� are really good at identifying problems. However, we need to focus on how we actually solve these problems and how we can use our positions to vocalize and advocate for those solutions.”

Justin Stoler, Ethan Sharygin and Sameer Shah also contributed to this paper.

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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder researcher Mary Angelica Painter finds that in post-disaster recovery, equity isn’t guaranteed.

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Top image: Lahaina, Hawaii, was devastated by August 2023 wildfires. (Photo: State Farm/Wikimedia Commons)

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar helps unite Navajo culture and modern science

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 26 Aug 2025 22:43:38 +0000

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar helps unite Navajo culture and modern science Rachel Sauer Tue, 08/26/2025 - 16:43

Cody DeBos

Kelsey John’s Navajo-centered Horses Connecting Communities initiative offers culturally relevant, practical education about horses

When Kelsey John left Oklahoma to pursue her PhD in New York, she quickly started missing a central piece of her lifestyle: horses. Raised in an environment rooted in horse culture, John’s life is deeply intertwined with the animals.

“I am a citizen of the Navajo Nation, and I am a lifelong horse person,” she says. “Both sides of my family had horses in their background, so I grew up with a lot of exposure to them and education about them.”

As she studied away from home, Kelsey John, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder assistant professor of ethnic studies, felt a strong pull to return home and rediscover the close relationship with horses she once had.

As she studied away from home, John, a �鶹��Ѱ�� assistant professor of ethnic studies and Center of the American West affiliate, felt a strong pull to return home and rediscover the close relationship with horses she once had. That realization inspired her doctoral research and gave birth to a community organization centered on the profound bonds between humans, horses and the environment. Ultimately, it led her back to her community to spearhead a unique initiative called Horses Connecting Communities.

Blending cultural traditions and modern science

Originally started as a one-day conference, Horses Connecting Communities quickly became a cherished gathering, providing Navajo people with culturally relevant and practical education about horses.

“The goal was to kind of braid those things together and just make it a really Navajo-centered event for the needs of the Navajo people and their horses. That’s where it all started, and it’s grown since then,” John says.

Events hosted by the organization typically include speakers, demonstrations, and hands-on workshops on horse care, training and veterinary skills. They are often led by Navajo experts like John, who return to their community to share their specialized knowledge.

“We’ve also partnered with a different camp that’s been happening on the Navajo Nation for over 10 years now called Song of the Horse Camp, which is organized by the folks at the University of Arizona,” says John.

“Since we partnered with them, we’ve been able to introduce more equine facilitated learning, which helps either youth or adults with academic skills, life skills, personal communication, confidence building, body language awareness … all these different interpersonal and personal skills in a new and different way,” she adds.

Horses, land and Navajo identity

At the heart of Horses Connecting Communities is the understanding that horses, land and Navajo cultural identity are inseparable.

“Something really unique about horses is that, in order to have a relationship with them, you’re kind of inevitably having a relationship with the land as well,” says John. “Because we are an indigenous community, we have a deep relationship with our ancestral land.”

She also emphasizes how Navajo traditions and modern equine science are not opposing ideas, but natural complements to each other.

“There is a great effort among the horse community in the Navajo Nation to understand and integrate our cultural beliefs with the best and most current science,” John explains. “I’ve had the huge privilege of being able to work with lots of professionals who are also tribal members so they can personally and in a communal way integrate tradition with relevant science.”

“There is a great effort among the horse community in the Navajo Nation to understand and integrate our cultural beliefs with the best and most current science,” says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Kelsey John. (Photo: Kelsey John)

Working ‘with,’ not ‘on’

John’s approach to relationship building through Horses Connecting Communities emphasizes the ethical necessity of working hand-in-hand with indigenous communities rather than just researching them. Her organization exemplifies this with a collaborative and sustained partnership that is directly shaped by the Navajo people’s needs and aspirations.

“The idea is making your research relevant and useful to the community and keeping that ongoing relationship and ongoing presence,” she says.

But community partnerships can still be complex, John acknowledges.

“There’s always going to be a power differential between a university—even a university researcher such as myself—and a community. You’re always dealing with power and access to resources and sometimes even conflicting ideas of what’s beneficial.”

Yet, despite these challenges, the rewards of genuine community-based collaboration inspire John to keep coming back for more.

“It’s been almost nine years now since I started my research, but I still work with a lot of the same people that I worked with for the first Horses Connecting Communities event. We’ve brought in new people and changed our programming and are always evaluating if what we’re doing is relevant,” she says.

John adds, “But it always goes back to what I learned in that initial research about what the horse means to the people, what they want, and what are the challenges they’re facing, then finding ways to support that.”

Looking ahead

Thanks to recent support in the form of a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder PACES Grant, Horses Connecting Communities will further explore equine facilitated learning tailored to the Navajo community.

“We want to understand what the needs of the tribe are and if they can be met through this unique educational approach,” John says.

She is also excited about organizing specialized events for Navajo women that recognize culturally significant beliefs about their relationships with animals and the land.

John’s ultimate aspiration, however, goes beyond education and research. She hopes her initiative will inspire a deeper appreciation for horses, their care and the Navajo people’s enduring relationship with these animals.

“The big thing is to really be aware of the legacy and the significance of the horse and the people’s relationship with the horse—and the land, too,” she concludes. “There’s such a long history there, and I’m so glad to be a part of the larger narrative about horses.”

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Kelsey John’s Navajo-centered Horses Connecting Communities initiative offers culturally relevant, practical education about horses.

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