Rising Seas, Coastal Development Endanger Indigenous
Culture
By
CELIA HACK/ecoRI News contributor
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Relentless development has boxed out access to shorelines that sustained members of local tribes for thousands of years. (Joanna Detz/ecoRI News) |
Though
conversations about sea-level rise largely focus on the loss of colonial and
post-colonial development, which pushed Indigenous people from the coastline,
Native people in Rhode Island maintain a visceral connection to the coast that
is, too, threatened by rising waters.
Lorén
Spears, 54, remembered a time when sand dunes lined the beaches of South
County. The coast was different when she was growing up, she said. Fewer houses
bordered the water’s edge, certainly fewer on stilts. No one had to pay to go
to the beach. Spears and her cousins could dig up shellfish in brackish salt
ponds to make oyster stew and quahog chowder.
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| Lorén Spears of the Narragansett Indian Tribe. (ecoRI News) |
“We
have the salt waters, marshes, estuaries, salt ponds, the bay, the ocean,” said
Spears, executive director of the Tomaquag Museum in
Exeter and a member of the Narragansett Indian Tribe.
“All of those things have special resources that were important to our
ancestors, for not only survival, but thriving. We were thriving in this
ecosystem prior to European contact.”
For
centuries, development has crept closer to the shoreline at the expense of
Indigenous people.
Prior to 17th-century colonization, the Narragansetts, who
have inhabited the area along Narragansett Bay from present-day Warwick to
South Kingstown for 30,000 years and were
the largest of a number of tribes living in southern New England, would migrate
to the coasts during the summer to harvest from the fertile land and gather
resources from coastal waters.
But
when English colonizers bought much of the Narragansett Indian Tribe’s land
between 1657 and 1661, including what is today South Kingstown, Narragansett,
and parts of North Kingstown and Exeter, they paid a paltry sum that
Spears interprets as an act of stealing, and privatized “choice tracts along
the water.”
Now,
as the Ocean State’s marine waters creep up because of sea-level rise, with
projections of up to 9.6 feet by 2100, the Coastal Resources Management Council
(CRMC) in recent years has thrown itself into creating resources for resilient
development along the coastline, such as its coastal hazard application
worksheet and asking property owners and developers to keep
sea-level rise in mind as they build.
At
the local level, Rhode Island’s 21 coastal municipalities are scrambling ever
faster to protect public and private investments. In South Kingstown, the town
fought for and won the extension of a sheet-pile seawall to
protect, at least in the short term, Matunuck Beach Road, which provides access
to some 240 homes.
Newer coastal developments, such as The Pointe beach houses in South Kingstown,
have first floors 16 feet off the ground.
But
Indigenous people in the state — Narragansetts, Pocassets, Pokanokets —
maintain a connection to the coast that isn’t being as well protected. Though
Indigenous people are only 0.4 percent of the coastal
population that would be impacted by 7 feet of sea-level rise,
likely a relic of both colonization and the high cost of coastal living, many
are connected to the shoreline in other ways: quahogging, hunting, cultural
monuments and spiritual gatherings.
Their
stories of coastal importance and what they have to lose run thousands of years
deeper than the developments of the past 350 years.