Indigenous wisdom from two Caribbean women activists
When you ask young environmentalists if they love nature, they usually raise their hands in agreement. But what if they are asked if nature loves them back? Then, their answers are not as unanimous.
This is a common problem among young environmentalists: some of them truly believe that the Earth is indifferent to them and that they cannot offer it anything more than destruction.
Why do we still think humanity is the problem and see ourselves as a plague on the planet? Human beings have the power to create such beauty. How can we regard ourselves as a sickness?
Nature does love us – our ancestors lived in harmony with it. They were one with it.
We need to see ourselves as part of nature again. We are a vital part of this Earth, and it is our duty to change the system that is pulling us away from nature.
Last month’s Global Land Forum, organized by the International Land Coalition in Bogotá, Colombia, put a spotlight on how land rights can help us achieve this change.
The forum, said to be the largest independent gathering of land rights advocates and experts in the world, gathered more than 1,200 members of civil society and intergovernmental organizations, all working together to put people at the center of land governance.
One of their main demands was protections for women and young people in land reform. Across the Global South, women across Indigenous and local communities are leading the fight for climate justice with a worldview rooted in interconnection, justice and love for the Earth.
We spoke with two Caribbean women activists at the forum to learn how they became activists, the issues their communities face regarding land rights, and their hopes for the future.
Suriname: Where Indigenous land rights don’t exist
Suriname remains the only country in tropical South America that has yet to legally recognize the collective land rights of its Indigenous Peoples.
“We are not recognized – not by our institutions, not by our government,” says Ikihie, a descendant of the Lokono and the Kaliña Nation.
“We are not recognized – not by our institutions, not by our government,”
“So, we also don’t have rights to the lands that we live on. That’s the most disturbing thing that we are having right now – the struggles that we are facing when it comes to land grabbing.”
As a result, third parties and corporations can enter communities, seize land and pollute with little accountability. Illegal bauxite and gold mining are among the many issues facing Ikihie’s community.
“Because we don’t own nothing, we can’t do nothing,” she explains.
Ikihie’s community lives in fear that they will one day wake up to find a ‘no trespassing’ sign in the forests where they have hunted and fished for thousands of years.
But for Ikihie herself, activism came not from tradition but from a desire to connect with her identity.
She grew up in the city, disconnected from her native language, traditions and ancestral practices. That began to change when she turned 17.
“At some point in your life, you make some changes, and you look to do something with a purpose,” she recalls. “That was the moment I started asking: who am I as an Indigenous person?”
Her journey of self-discovery led her to activism, where she has focused on Indigenous struggles, working not only to protect land but also to rebuild identity.
Like many young people across the region, her work isn’t just about resisting injustice – it’s about reconnecting, healing and carrying that purpose into everything she does.
“Our focus is especially on children, women and youth, because they are the most vulnerable groups in the communities,” she explains.
One of her projects focuses on equipping young people with tools to defend their communities and their rights, ensuring that their voices are heard and that they stay connected with their roots.
“We want to teach them about defending their rights, but we also want them to identify as Indigenous people – to preserve their spiritual bonding, their connection with nature, with forests, with rivers and the living creatures.
“From there, they will start knowing what they are worth and will fight for what is right.”
Rebuilding Dominica
When we first met Maureen, she made two things clear.
First, that she preferred to be called by her Indigenous name, Kahina Abayatara, as we will refer to her from now on.
Second, that she is from the Commonwealth of Dominica, a small island country located between the French islands of Martinique and Guadeloupe – not to be confused with the Dominican Republic.
Kahina Abayatara started as a social activist after learning from the country’s 2006 poverty assessment that 70 percent of people in the Kalinago Territory – the home of the Indigenous Kalinago people on the island – lived in poverty.
“I campaigned about the social issues that we were facing as marginalized and vulnerable Indigenous people in the Caribbean.”
When Hurricane Maria struck in 2017, it devastated the territory, destroying close to 98 percent of the housing in a community that was already marginalized and vulnerable
When disaster strikes, women and children are 14 times more likely to die than men. For Kahina Abayatara, these realities became impossible to ignore and marked the beginning of her journey into climate activism.
Yet as she began organizing, she encountered another layer of complexity: division within her community.
“Despite being a small marginalized Indigenous community, we are so polarized by central government politics that we still can’t see ourselves coming together as a unified force to address the climate and social challenges,” she reflects.
Kahina Abayatara’s current project stems from research that showed that young Kalinago people were losing touch with their native culture.
It focuses on three areas: reintroducing aspects of Kalinago culture, training young people in climate advocacy, and empowering women.
“I hope to have a group of young Indigenous activists who can continue the advocacy when I am no longer there,” she says.
At COP30 this year, she hopes to hear more Indigenous voices at the forefront of discussions.
“It seems that despite being the largest Indigenous community in the eastern Caribbean, international organizations tend to forget us.”
Restoration with rights
These stories remind us that climate justice cannot exist without social and land justice, which were recurring themes throughout the Global Land Forum. The voices of Indigenous, Afro-descendant, peasant and local communities came together to demand formal recognition of their land tenure systems.
The green transition must not repeat colonial logic: climate justice means restoring land to Indigenous communities, not sacrificing them.
Women demanded not just inclusion but decision-making power in land restoration, governance and climate planning, because gender justice is also inseparable from land justice.
Restoring land isn’t just about planting trees or protecting ecosystems – it also means restoring justice.
That includes recognizing the rights of Indigenous Peoples, ensuring communities have power over their territories, and addressing the deep social inequalities that leave them vulnerable.
Ikihie and Kahina Abayatara show us what this kind of restoration looks like in practice.
Their work goes beyond environmental protection. It’s about defending culture, securing land rights, and building unity from within.
Yet voices like theirs are still too often left out of climate and land debates.
That needs to change.
We are part of nature
As we reflect on the Global Land Forum, it’s clear that restoring land also means restoring relationships between people and nature, within communities and across nations.
Landscape approaches, grounded in inclusion and ancestral knowledge, offer a path forward.
And women like Kahina Abayatara and Ikihie are already walking it – showing the world that resilience is not just about surviving a crisis but about transforming it.
To all of the young activists out there who love nature as much as we do, let us tell you this: nature loves you back.
Go outside, feel that love in the wind against your face, in the pouring rain, in flowing rivers, in the calm sea, in fresh fruits and beautiful trees. You are part of nature, and you deserve to exist just as much as any other being.
As Ikihie put it simply: “women are the front fighters of life. They are fierce, resilient, and essential. Without women, there is no life and no future.”
If we want real solutions to the climate crisis, we must listen to land defenders, we must support their work, and we must prevent our politicians and business leaders from ignoring their voices.
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