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Algae Democracy
On the ground in Toledo, the day-to-day reality of living near a toxic waterway is one of cumulative stress and heightened vigilance. Smith has friends in Toledo who live along the Maumee River, the main artery of nutrient pollution into Lake Erie, where green slime coats the rocks on the river’s edge. Often they are wary of their own backyards.
“It’s no small thing to make the eleventh-largest lake go toxic every summer,” says Mike Ferner, founder of the citizen group Lake Erie Advocates, who lives along the lake shoreline.
As in communities across the country, environmental health is a proxy for the city’s longer struggle with disinvestment. In Junction, much of the neighborhood’s economic energy has been spent getting out from under the thumb of systemic racism. Between the discriminatory practice of redlining, which made African-American neighborhoods like Junction ineligible for government-backed mortgage loans through the 1960s, its fair share of white flight, and its industrial workforce in steady decline since the 1970s, money has been fleeing the city for much of the 20th century.
And political power with it. Smith views the toxic algae blooms not just as an environmental problem, but a part of the city’s decades-long struggle to gain a voice in American democracy. “Whoever controls the water controls everything,” Smith said.
She’s not the only one with this philosophy.
“I completely agree with everything my mom said,” says Alexis Smith, daughter of Alicia, in conversation with Circle of Blue.
Alexis Smith grew up watching her mom work at Junction Coalition, a Toledo-based civic group dedicated to improving the neighborhood. Now, she is a staffer at Freshwater Future, a Michigan-based grantmaking group that supports water quality and affordability efforts in the Great Lakes region. In a joint interview with Circle of Blue, mother and daughter often nodded passionately as the other was speaking, and seconded each other’s remarks.
The two Smiths stand as a testament to the fact that advocating for water free of toxic algae is now a multigenerational issue. In their eyes, Toledo has had to fight for basic environmental health and safety: something that richer communities take for granted.
“We ask for these regulations, and protections of the water, because we know that having these blooms in the lake will cause downstream harm on these already-suffering and already-disinvested communities,” said the younger Smith.
She grows exasperated discussing how the blooms — a situation her mother believes should be classified as a public health emergency — could have been solved long ago. Attending an international water health roundtable in Detroit, Smith claims that her stories surprised the delegation from Africa.
“They heard the stories of us here in Toledo, Flint, and Benton Harbor, and they were shocked. They were like, ‘you guys are supposedly a developed country,’” she said. “That these issues still persist today is absolutely mind-blowing.”
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