Voices of the Gulf

One thing is for sure: When it comes to how the billions of dollars in BP fines slated for the Gulf Coast is used by the states, advocates, watch-dog groups and citizens alike best keep their nose on the money trail. Businesses and political leaders are already making plans for the use of those funds. [...Read more]

In Canada's western province of Alberta, Melina Laboucan-Massimo’s community—the Lubicon Lake Nation—has endured a withering toxic tar sands oil assault, an Armageddon against nature few Americans are fully aware of. Here in the once pristine sub-Arctic, tar sands mining operations level vast swaths of boreal forests near native lands, as  [...Read more]

As we approach the 4th of July, the ground is finally breaking for coastal restoration and immigrant workers’ rights in the Gulf Coast region. [...Read more]

Neither a US Supreme Court ruling, nor the DREAMy concession from President Obama on easing immigration laws provided the protection needed for 32 immigrant workers in Louisiana who are at risk of being deported and separated from their families after speaking out about worker abuse. [...Read more]

Last week, Sharon Hanshaw represented Biloxi, Mississippi and women across the Gulf Coast in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil at the United Nations Conference on Sustainable Development. Sharon spoke about how her experience after Hurricane Katrina led her to advocacy and to addressing climate change on a local and global scale. [...Read more]

By Jesse Muhammad, excerpted from FinalCall.com. Gary Barthelemy says he may never recover from the catastrophic BP oil spill, has zero cash flow and the total demise of a once successful industry is nigh. [...Read more]

This week, much of the globe’s attention is focused on the United Nation’s Rio +20 Earth Summit, where thousands of international delegates and NGO representatives are gathering to hammer out solutions to an increasingly stressed out, warmed-up world. [...Read more]

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January 24, 2012 – It is 12:06 am and I have just turned 45 years old on the front porch of my grandparents’ home on Rippy Road. I am sitting alone on the smooth concrete slab where my cousin Carmel n’em played “jacks” for hours on end when I was two and three years old. The steps, hedges, and onetime flowerbed where I used to sneak away to catch and play with roly-polies (potato bugs) are directly at my back. [...Read more]

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