The Great Outdoor Whitewashing
![]() February 26, 2026 Howdy, Meteor readers, Tonight, in the words of Cardi B: We’re going outside. Plus, Rebecca Carroll talks to Reshona Landfair about reclaiming her life after years of abuse at the hands of R. Kelly. Lots to read, Shannon Melero ![]() WHAT’S GOING ONHistory lives in the land: “We ended DEI in America,” Donald Trump bragged Tuesday night at the State of the Union, pouring salt into the wound of what has already been a particularly trying Black History Month. (And we were off to such a good start…) Since March 2025, Trump has been on a crusade to literally rewrite history. His administration has forced the removal of African American studies at universities, charged the Smithsonian with focusing too much on “how bad slavery was,” and—perhaps most offensively—stripped content that “disparages Americans past or living” from historical sites. The nonprofit Democracy Forward has confirmed that at least 27 sites across the country were asked to remove or alter signage and exhibits mentioning things like enslavement, climate change, the mistreatment of Native peoples, eugenics, and the role of women in outdoor conservation. Some of the most egregious changes have been the removal of historical works like “The Scourged Back” in Georgia’s Fort Pulaski National Park, panels depicting enslavement during the nation’s founding in Pennsylvania’s Independence National Park, and signs detailing the work of abolitionist John Brown in West Virginia’s Harpers Ferry National Park. It’s not accidental that so many of these attacks on history have focused on public outdoor spaces. They’re heavily visited: In 2024 alone, there were 331 million visits to parks, recreation areas, memorials and other lands managed by the National Park Service. To remove informational panels from sites where historical events actually took place is a particularly blatant denial of history. It’s also an insult to our intelligence to deliver such an omission when we’re standing on the blood-soaked soil where it all happened. ![]() THE MUCH DISCUSSED PANELS AT INDEPENDENCE NATIONAL PARK, WHICH WERE REMOVED AND EVENTUALLY RESTORED BY FEDERAL COURT ORDER. (VIA GETTY IMAGES) Unfortunately, we have been here before, as history professor and author of Without Fear: Black Women and the Making of Human Rights Keisha N. Blain knows all too well. “Trump joins the long list of American presidents to employ these tactics,” she says. The attempts of erasure we’re now seeing are part of a “long project to return the United States to a pre-Civil Rights Movement era.” President Woodrow Wilson didn’t stop at whitewashing history; his administration also tried to prevent Black students from receiving formal education, recommending instead that they be sent to vocational training schools. This strategy was self-perpetuating, Blain says: If people were not learning about Black history, then they were not learning about resistance tactics they could apply to the present. Blain finds that the Trump administration is similarly working to “promote a single vision of the American past that elevates white identity…and suppresses critical questions as well as dissent.” Intentionally altering public lands to erase marginalized groups has been happening since the establishment of the U.S. government and was heavily normalized during Jim Crow and the dawn of the “nature gap”—a term that refers to the racial disparities in access to nature or green spaces. Communities of color represent 74 percent of nature-deprived communities, with Black communities making up more than half of that figure. This gap goes far beyond whether or not someone enjoys camping—it can dictate communities’ longterm health outcomes. Still, “for as long as white politicians have employed these kinds of tactics, Black people in the United States have vigorously resisted,” Blain says. “They recognized the challenges before them and they devised strategies—working in tandem with like-minded individuals.” The same is happening right now in the outdoor community. Black and brown creators are working to create more access and safety for those who are tired of hearing that hiking, camping, or simply existing outside belongs solely to white people. History is in the land and in community—which you can find by going outside with groups like blk.people.outside, the hood hikers, outlandish, Negus in Nature, and brownpeoplecamping. AND:
![]() Three Questions About…Reclaiming Your LifeReshona Landfair, who survived abuse by R. Kelly, knows it’s a long roadRESHONA LANDFAIR, AUTHOR OF THE NEW MEMOIR WHO’S WATCHING SHORTY? RECLAIMING MYSELF FROM THE SHAME OF R. KELLY’S ABUSE. (COURTESY OF RESHONA LANDFAIR) Reshona Landfair was a preteen when she, like nearly every other Black girl in mid-’90s America, became enamored with the R&B mega-star R. Kelly. Landfair was growing up in Chicago, where Kelly was a hometown hero, and where her own family had strong musical ties: Her father was a studio musician, and her aunt, Sparkle, was a singer on Kelly’s label. Landfair herself was in a semi-successful rap group with her young cousins called 4 the Cause, which toured abroad regularly, and had great aspirations. In 1996, Sparkle introduced Landfair to Kelly in order to, she says, help her niece’s dreams come true. Kelly, 29 at the time, already had a then-quiet reputation for preying on girls, and began grooming and sexually abusing Landfair—at the time still a middle-schooler—a year after they met. The violence worsened, and continued for decades. Landfair was a prisoner, first emotionally trapped by Kelly’s predatory behavior and the manipulative relationship with her family that he had weaponized, and later literally held captive in guarded rooms of Kelly’s studio, or other locations of his choosing. And then came the video. When Kelly was charged with child pornography and exploitation in 2002, an explicit “sex tape” featuring a 14-year-old Landfair was shown as evidence in two of his trials. After an acquittal in 2008, he was finally convicted in 2022, due in large part to the tape and Landfair’s testimony. Now, Landfair has written a memoir of recovery. In Who’s Watching Shorty? Reclaiming Myself from the Shame of R. Kelly’s Abuse, which features a foreword by activist and former A&R executive Drew Dixon, Landfair reflects on her trauma, her voice, and forgiveness. Do you have a particular memory of when it first felt like self-reclamation and liberation were possible? The first moment that comes to mind is having to face Robert in the courtroom [in 2022]. That was the first time I was able to think freely, think for myself, and really stand up for what I personally believed in, versus what I was taught…[Then] when I turned 30 years old, I took a trip to Jamaica. I had repaired my life mentally and physically and emotionally…[and] in that moment, I was able to be independent, do something nice for myself, take myself to a place with friends, and just communicate normally and be a normal human being. I can go out for a cocktail if I want, or stay out a little later, or engage in social conversations and not have to worry about what I’m saying or who I’m saying it to. Those are the most concrete moments that I have of really feeling like, “Wow, I can do this on my own. I can think for myself.” That’s when I felt like I had my own leverage. There [have also been] moments when I compartmentalized, and tucked a lot of things away to try to forget that they happened. Having to dig those things out [while writing] and remember how I felt was hard, because it would take me back to a really, really dark place. You also write about forgiveness, of yourself and of your abuser. Can you say a little bit more about that? I struggle with that, and I think a lot of people do—because why forgive? Almost every abuser has had a terrible childhood [as R. Kelly did], but that shouldn’t be on us. I struggled with that for a really long time. I blamed myself for what happened. It took a really, really long time for me to see myself as a victim, because the way I was portrayed in the media was not necessarily as such. So you ask yourself, “What could I have done differently to avoid this happening to me?” Or “Why did he choose to do this to me, but he wouldn’t have chosen to do it to this person or that person?” Until I realized, those were not my sexual desires. I learned intimacy through my abuser, and so, some things that didn’t feel right, I still went along with. But once I was able to think and be mature enough for myself and look into my heart and really get to know who I was, that’s when I was able to release those things and let them go, because it was not something that I requested. I do forgive him. It feels difficult, but it is very genuine. Not all things about Robert were bad. That is not the way I met him. That is not the way I was introduced to him. I do understand that he went through certain things in his childhood and I feel like he had an enabling system around him that let him get away with so much that he didn’t know when to stop. There’s nothing left to revisit [in terms of my relationship with him]. It’s more so just me really, fully healing. I can’t do that holding a grudge, or still feeling anger. So a part of my healing process was to release all of that, and I’m blessed to be able to say, I at least forgive him. A lot of people have let you down in your life. When do you feel the most lifted up in your life today? I feel the most lifted when I’m with my son. He is five, and he is a bundle of joy. I know that he will understand this story one day. But he looks at me and he admires me in ways that are very necessary, very genuine, without knowing anything about this situation. So I just get the purest form from him. We’re looking at my rap videos [from when I was young], and he’s learning so many new things about me that, again, I kind of just wiped out of my brain space. He’s learning a new version of me, and he seems to be inspired and really happy. I’m blessed to be his mother. This interview has been condensed and edited. ![]() Rebecca Carroll is a writer, cultural critic, and podcast creator/host. Her writing has been published widely, and she is the author of several books, including the memoir Surviving the White Gaze. Rebecca is Editor at Large for The Meteor. ![]() FOLLOW THE METEOR Thank you for reading The Meteor! Got this from a friend?
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