What It's Like to Talk About Endangered Species, While Being One Yourself

Hello MIAZS blog readers - my name is Shannon Farmer. I am a MIAZS Member and the author of most of these blog posts you will be seeing. I’m incredibly excited about this opportunity to explore the Minority Perspective in this field. I am young, gifted, and Black, and I just want to show the world who I am and allow others that same freedom of expression through these posts. I am an early career Conservationist and have worked across multiple zoos, aquariums, and other environmentally focused institutions. My primary role has mostly been in Education or Outreach positions, with some zoo-keeping and research experiences sprinkled in. My goal here is to allow others the space to be real, starting with me. I welcome all of our MIAZS Members and Friends to join our Slack page and reach out if you have questions or want to reflect on the blogs with me. I’d love to start reflecting with you all on the unique position I feel I’m in, of being a rare oddity in my field.

It’s rather ironic being a rare oddity in your field while advocating for rare or endangered species. One of the top priorities in aquariums and zoos is to conserve species through Species Survival Plans (SSPs) and Saving Animals From Extinction (SAFE) programs for animals that serve as ambassadors while protecting their wild counterparts. As somebody who has worked in outreach, I find ways to make conservation accessible to all and interpret big scientific concepts and contributions into manageable bits of information so folks who aren’t involved in the scientific community can understand and relate.

I have too often reminded myself I am in a “cool field” with a “cool job”. I am the culmination of goals that 15-year-old me set up. It’s easy to forget the extraordinary part of our jobs when you are used to seeing rare and extraordinary species every day just a few feet away from your office space. It’s easy to take that for granted. I don’t remember or realize how much I take it for granted until I do something small or share about my field to family or friends, and their eyes open as wide as saucers. I forget what a blessing it is to even be here, and I want to take a moment to thank every person who opened the door and kept the door open for me in the past. Whether I realized it or not, I want to thank you for committing to me and betting on me.

I feel it’s important to start with gratitude because there may be times when I speak and it may seem I am ungrateful. I promise it’s not my intention. I intend to be a bit of a groundbreaker and door opener myself. I want to continue to shock, amaze and inspire. But in order to do that, I need to be a bit vulnerable with you, our readers. I have to open myself, the same way I hope you all open yourselves and reflect on your experiences.

The irony I need you all to see in regard to my work in this field is that while I spend most of my life advocating for rarely-seen endangered species, I often feel like I am also a rarely-seen endangered species. And I rarely feel as though I have an advocate for my needs. It’s no secret this field is not considered diverse when it comes to its people. But what’s ironic is that we fight and advocate for biodiversity in the ecosystems we study. We talk about the importance of having a healthy and safe space for our species but often neglect whether it’s a healthy and safe space for the people who care for them.

I remember when I first started in this field as a boots-on-the-ground educator. I think about when guests would inevitably express concerns about some welfare issue with the animal.

“Isn’t it too hot for them?”

“Doesn’t that enclosure seem too small?”

“Is it hungry? When does it get fed?”

The list goes on. And I was well-equipped to talk about it. I could speak confidently about the excellent care for our animals. How our science, conservation, veterinary, and animal care teams collaborate to ensure the best-lived experience for our animals. I could go on about the importance of aquariums and zoos and their role in society. I could do this presentation in my sleep, as I’m sure many of you could.

But as time passed, I started reflecting on some of my experiences in this field. I started to wonder if these same people concerned for the animals also cared for those working to advocate for these animals. I wondered if they would even care to wonder about the same welfare concerns for me.

It always struck me as odd that so many people worried about the nutritional value of the food we give to our species when a lot of times we make jokes that most of the animals eat better than their keepers.

As time went on, this joke became less ironic to me and a little more cringe-worthy. It was less a funny anecdote to reassure guests and became more of a painful reality for me as I worked multiple part-time jobs that didn’t pay enough to make ends meet. I would pinch pennies to make peanut butter jelly sandwiches for lunch and go to bed early without dinner. I wasn’t alone in that sense, most people in this field take on multiple jobs to make ends meet for basic necessities in order to gain the experience that entry-level jobs require. And many folks must keep those extra jobs even as seasoned full-time “professionals”.

But I was isolated in the sense that I was starting to realize I was experiencing things a lot of other coworkers weren’t. I had the stress of finding my way in a highly competitive field like everyone else, but with added experiences that were directly related to my own culture and things I couldn’t change. This probably seems like something that should have been obvious to me, but I think I never understood the extent that I would have to deal with microaggressions in this field.

I didn’t know upon entering this field that there would be multiple coworkers that would ask me to speak to a family they were “uncomfortable with”, and that when I inquired why, they’d give vague reasons. Once I would speak to that family, I would discover the reason my coworkers were uncomfortable was that the family was Black and therefore “different”. The family made my coworker uncomfortable, simply because they were a rare oddity my coworker wasn’t used to being around. The family wasn’t rude or difficult, they simply used a different vernacular than my coworker was used to communicating with. I hadn’t realized the skill to simply comprehend and communicate with another Black family was such a hot commodity. I hadn’t understood that the ability to navigate conversations with coworkers and guests gracefully on a tightrope was delicate and difficult because my tone of voice and self-confidence were seen as threats instead of assets. And it was moments like this that would create a prickle just under my own skin, to remind me that I am a rare and endangered species in this field. That shivery prickle felt like a giant tattoo of “rare, different, and unwelcome” stamped across my forehead. As I reflected on these moments, I started to understand that the absolute waterfall of minute experiences would essentially build into a volcano of frustration. I started to comprehend the effect of these moments of small shivers, which were creating a foundation of shame deep and unseen within me. This is a shame that I constantly am battling to unlearn; a battle I should have never had to fight in the first place.

This is a tough field to stay in for anyone, and it’s often disheartening. We are just starting to get into the importance of mental health and acknowledging the toll it takes being front-line advocates for the species we are trying to protect. We sacrifice work-life balance and a higher pay rate for a passion to save species and save the world. It’s thankless work. And for someone with my lived experience, it’s lonely work. It’s accepting that sometimes the resources offered in your company aren’t quite made for you. It’s knowing sometimes you’ll be the only voice to point out something obvious to you in a room full of people who would have never had the thought occur to them. It’s pressuring yourself into thinking “If it’s not you who opens these doors, who?”. It’s knowing that you are going to unintentionally be a thorn in someone’s side just for unapologetically existing.

But through these reflections, I start to realize I have gained so much resilience and experience that I have to be grateful for the confidence I gained. My experiences have evolved me into someone who cares more about people. I went into this field because I didn’t particularly like people, and wanted to focus more on animals. But through my experiences as being a bit rare myself, I’ve gained compassion for protecting people. I have gained a bit more confidence in inserting myself into conversations that may feel a bit uncomfortable.

I’m thankful that a lot of companies and organizations in the last few years have added Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Accessibility efforts to their organizational structure. I’m thankful the Association of Zoos and Aquariums (AZA) has added a 5th promise so that others can create a structure to work off of and be accountable for. This process has brought a full spectrum of emotions, reactions, and feelings from me. I’m proud, excited, wary, and a bit anxious to see the results of this process. I’m hopeful that eventually, our efforts for diversity in zoo and aquarium professions will be a bit less bumbling and a bit more smooth and productive. I hope more people gain confidence, compassion, and fire to fight not only for the species we advocate for, but for themselves, and their coworkers. I think the last few years have shown that maybe more people care than I expected but maybe don’t feel confident enough to put it into action. It’s a journey for everyone, and I hope everyone finds a way to empower themselves and be impactful to others. We have plenty of compassionate folks in this field, plenty of perfectly nice people. But my hope for you is that your ‘niceness’ has an edge, that it transforms into actionable kindness, compassionate accountability, the vulnerability to learn, and respectful confidence to change. We are already in the business of saving species, the more people we inspire to conservation efforts, the better our chances of changing the world. So I ask you, readers: find the same passion to conserve our diverse people, as you have found passion for endangered species. We need you. Because the thing is, the rare people in this field need advocates as much as our endangered species do.

Shannon Farmer is a MIAZS Member working in conservation outreach.