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THE CfPS NEWSLETTER

THE CfPS NEWSLETTER

Environmental Injustice

  • Megan Kalapura
  • Dec 9, 2025
  • 7 min read

By Megan Kalapura

Greenwood Ave looking northbound. Photo courtesy of the author.


This article is part of our Student History Project, where students from the Tulsa area research and write stories about the hidden, neglected, and misunderstood aspects of the city.


We hear phrases like environmental racism or environmental classism all the time, but you might be wondering: What do these phrases really mean? Where do they come from? Is the placement of fuel plants accidental? Tulsa offers an abundance of examples, ranging from North, West, and Central Tulsa. Let’s talk about it.


Segregation in America doesn’t end at housing or education—it extends into the air we breathe and the water we drink. Environmental injustice has long been prevalent in American society; “Environmental racism” is a term that encapsulates how people of color suffer significantly more from pollutants compared to white Americans, nationwide. Studies from the National Library of Medicine show that Black Americans are exposed to higher-than-average concentrations of all major emission groups, and this disparity is rooted in the history of redlining (Terrell and Julien). Redlining is the discriminatory practice where individuals are refused or granted limited access to financial services based on race or neighborhood. Although redlining is now illegal, its lasting effects persist. Many neighborhoods marked as “risky” during redlining still lack significant investment and face the highest pollution rates. This lack of investment leads to continual environmental and health problems for the residents, creating a vicious cycle (Bullard 2-5).

Environmental injustice makes “America, America” by revealing the country's deep-rooted contradictions, where ideals of freedom and the phrase ‘the promised land’ exist alongside systemic neglect and racism. By disproportionately harming low-income minority communities, our government creates a socioeconomic and medical hierarchy. Minority communities have not received the help that they need to combat climate emissions, leaving them especially vulnerable to its effects. The pattern of neglect is not new–it echoes historical injustices rooted in long-standing discriminatory policies.


During the Great Depression, when the United States faced nationwide job losses and surging poverty, the federal government implemented segregated housing policies—a practice that later became known as redlining. Through the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation, the government created color-coded maps of metropolises based on whether they were ‘safe’ or ‘risky’ for mortgages (Vermeer). Housing policy was used as a tool to aid relief and recovery, as it addressed many issues like unemployment, lack of investment, and housing shortages. However, these policies also established many long-standing racial hierarchies whose effects are still seen today. These redlining maps were not only used by federal agencies but also by private banks, real estate firms, and insurance companies to deny services to those living in redlined areas. Redlining “preyed on marginalized communities for new manufacturing facilities, warehouses, and highways,” and this injustice persists today. In other words, redlining opened the door to environmental injustice, and through the degradation of property values, it reinforced the stigmatization of less desirable neighborhoods. There are significant amounts of overlap with largely polluted regions and previously redlined cities. In fact, many oil drilling companies have purposely placed their plants in these redlined communities instead of where oil is most abundant. These purposefully targeted communities are often referred to as “sacrifice zones,” as though their environmental and physical suffering does not matter. The pollution endured by minority communities includes not only the air but also “invisible forms of pollution from oil drilling, including noise, air, and water pollution (Mahoney).” Environmental injustice today stems from decades-old redlining practices, historical disinvestment, and industrial zoning laws. The hierarchy created by redlining continues to impact modern life and the government's response to environmental issues.

Low-income and minority communities face increasing levels of long-term and short-term negative health effects due to hazardous living conditions. For instance, “Cancer Alley” is a 130-mile stretch of land along the Mississippi River, where over “200 industrial facilities release significant amounts (i.e., >5 tons per year) of harmful air pollution” (Terrell and Julien). Residents in the area have a 95% higher cancer risk than the average American. Researchers from Tulane University have found “that among predominantly Black and/or impoverished census tracts, those with more toxic air generally have higher cancer rates” (Terrell and Julien).

This reveals how the discriminatory plant placements and the lack of quality healthcare impact these residents. Traveling over a thousand miles north of Cancer Alley, you will reach another city that contributed to a major United States public health concern: Flint, Michigan. A predominantly Black city, Flint experienced a change in their water source without proper control and treatment in 2014. This resulted in lead being released into the residents’ water sources, leading to many negative long-term and short-term health effects (Ruckart et al.).


On a long-term note, the fertility rates in women decreased. Two economics professors, Daniel Grossman and David Slusky, “compare[d] the change in the fertility rate and in health at birth in Flint before and after the water switch to the changes in other cities in Michigan. We [found] that Flint fertility rates decreased by 12% and that overall health at birth decreased.” These outcomes show how toxic exposure not only affected the residents' everyday lives but also undermined their long-term aspirations and impacted generations. Soon after being exposed to lead, many adults and children experienced immediate physiological effects. Systemic inequality worsens the psychological toll of environmental disasters, leaving marginalized communities not only more vulnerable to mental health issues but also less able to access adequate care or trust in those in positions of authority (Brooks and Patel).

Sometimes, national issues feel too abstract to feel personal. Growing up in Tulsa, my perspective was shaped not only by what I saw, but also by what I wasn’t taught to see: the hidden histories, communities, and injustices that were woven into the city

around me. At least, that is how I felt before researching environmental racism–as if the issue was distant and beyond my area of influence. But through this research, I have come to realize that major examples of environmental injustice exist right here in Tulsa, Oklahoma.


Over a century ago, the Tulsa Race Massacre occurred, and it is believed to be the single worst incident of racial violence in America. This act of racially motivated domestic terrorism took place in the Greenwood District, and this district is now faced with continual repercussions from those 18 hours of destruction (Ellsworth). Just a few years “after the Tulsa massacre, redlining [began], and then we [started] to see nearly all of the [Tulsa’s oil] wells being drilled in redlined neighborhoods. […] It’s a perfect example of local, state, and national policies purposefully directing these sources of pollution towards Black, racial minority communities” (Mahoney).


The local government was not only purposeful about the oil drilling sites but also purposeful about their urban renewal efforts. The term “urban renewal” is often highlighted as a euphemism, as though the city is being modernized and enhanced for all residents; however, these projects often displace–and even destroy–historically redlined communities. In the 1960s, Greenwood suffered their second major setback: highways (Moreno). In hopes of improving transportation efficiency, the Crosstown Expressway was created. This highway slices across North Greenwood Avenue, essentially splitting Greenwood in half (Moreno). Before the highways were constructed, the residents were afraid that Greenwood would “be a lonely, forgotten lane ducking under the shadows of a big overpass” (Moreno). Many of the Greenwood residents did not approve, yet they had no say on the decision that would affect their families, businesses, community, and everyday lifestyle. This divide has left many negative impacts on downtown Tulsa, contributing to greater food deserts and the loss of many businesses (“Dunbar-Greenwood”). These layered injustices demonstrate how the legacy of systemic racism and socioeconomic stratification continues to shape the lived experiences of marginalized communities in Tulsa today.

Environmental racism is more than the water and air; it is a defining feature of America, where ideals of freedom often clash coexist with the logic of capitalism and the legacies of long-standing segregation. Through its disproportionate impact on low-income, minority communities, the government reinforces a hierarchy rooted in socioeconomic and health disparities. Environmental injustice is prevalent throughout America, and although it's a difficult issue to combat, it's not an impossible one. We need to take into account that reducing the overall emissions does not address the issue of racial disparities. Instead, we can take hold of our agency by advocating for stricter regulations on industrial facilities, prioritizing clean energy solutions, and voicing the needs of marginalized communities.


Megan Kalapura is a Tulsa writer focused on environmental injustice and local history. Her work illuminates overlooked stories shaping the city’s present landscape. Kalapura is currently a Senior at Holland Hall.

Works Cited:

Bullard, Robert. "Addressing Environmental Racism." Journal of International Affairs, vol. 73, no. 1, 2019, pp. 237-42. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26872794. Accessed 7 Apr. 2025.

Brooks, Samantha K, and Sonny S Patel. “Psychological Consequences of the Flint Water Crisis: A Scoping Review.” Disaster medicine and public health preparedness vol. 16,3 (2022): 1259-1269. doi:10.1017/dmp.2021.41. Accessed 20 Apr. 2025.

“Dubar-Greenwood.” 2023 Neighborhood Conditions Index Report, City of Tulsa, 2023,

Accessed 30 Apr. 2025.

Ellsworth, Scott. "'Tulsa Race Massacre.'" The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture,


15 Jan. 2010, www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry?entry=TU013. Accessed 28 Apr.

2025.


Grossman, Daniel S., and David J.G Slusky. "The Impact of the Flint Water Crisis on Fertility."

Demography, vol. 56, no. 6, 1 Dec. 2019, pp. 2005-31. National Library of Medicine,


Mahoney, Adam. "Concentration of Oil and Gas Drilling in Black Neighborhoods Is



Moreno, Carlos. "Decades after the Tulsa Race Massacre, Urban 'Renewal' Sparked Black Wall Street's Second Destruction." Smithsonian Magazine, 2 June 2021. Smithsonian Magazine, www.smithsonianmag.com/history/

black-wall-streets-second-destruction-180977871/. Accessed 28 Apr. 2025.


Ruckart, Perri Zeitz, et al. "The Flint Water Crisis: A Coordinated Public Health Emergency Response and Recovery Initiative." Journal of Public Health Management and Practice, Vol. 25, No. 1, Jan. 2019, pp. S84-S90. National Library of Medicine, https://doi.org/10.1097/phh.0000000000000871. Accessed 27 Apr. 2025.


Terrell, Kimberly A., and Gianna St Julien. "Air Pollution Is Linked to Higher Cancer Rates among Black or Impoverished Communities in Louisiana." Environmental Research Letters, vol. 17, no. 1, 1 Jan. 2022, p. 014033, https://doi.org/10.1088/1748-9326/ac4360.

\Accessed 22 Apr. 2025.


Vermeer, Danielle. "Redlining and Environmental Racism." University of Michigan School for Environment and Sustainability, 16 Aug. 2021, seas.umich.edu/

news/redlining-and-environmental-racism. Accessed 27 Apr. 2025

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