Toby Brothers left the U.S. and fell in love with traveling the world. After working as an educator at The Athenian School in Danville, she initially left for Paris before moving to the United Kingdom. Once there, she became the founder and director of the London Literary Salon. The organization, in its simplest form, is a book club with a twist. They meet in-person or virtually, discuss classic works of literature and sometimes they take trips to locations mentioned in the stories. When asked what she’d share with people from her travels, Brothers advised: “Go not for the world to entertain you, but for you to understand how small your own experience is.”

When photographer and filmmaker Aïdah Aaliyah Rasheed left her Northern California home in 2019, she knew that she had a job and housing awaiting her in the country of Kuwait.

Rasheed and her husband, Stephen Jamal Leeper, took contracts working at a school, and as a part of their employment, the married couple and their children were given complimentary housing.

“What’s nice about not having to think about that,” says Rasheed of living rent-free, “is that you can think about other things, you know." Her family invests their money in other experiences, like traveling.

Since moving, they've visited a number of countries in the region, and no longer have to consider the high cost of housing in the Bay Area. But living on the other side of the globe hasn't stopped Rasheed from keeping tabs on the U.S. through check-ins with extended family, conversations with community and her side gig-- a project that she's been working on for over a year.

When she's not making media or leading classroom projects about how society is designed, Rasheed is working as a curator for Sapelo Square, a publication focused on highlighting stories of Black Muslims in the U.S. and throughout the diaspora.

This week, Rasheed shares with us the importance of using media to tell real stories of the Black muslim diaspora, the beauty of the daily calls to prayer in Kuwait, and what she misses about home-- evidently, there's no shea butter like the kind you find at the Berkeley Flea Market.

Richmond-raised photographer Christopher Nechodom retraced his family's roots to a small town in Mexico. In doing so, he left behind the pricey Bay Area -- a place that he loves dearly but was costing him more than money; peace of mind was at stake.

After experiencing a series of traumatic events: a victim of armed robbery as a kid, losing a close friend to homicide as a young adult, and then narrowly escaping the tragic Ghostship Fire, that took the lives of 36 people in 2018, Nechodom says he's now on the path toward healing . “I think the fire just opened the floodgates,” Nechodom tells me. “And it also forced me to finally get in touch with my own vulnerability and really address that trauma.”

Now a resident of Mexico City, Nechodom spends his time between the capital city and the state of Michoacán, where his mother's side of the family is from. The time spent in the state where he has roots allows for reflection and connection, while in Mexico City he has access to business opportunities and artist circles.

This week on Rightnowish we've got a special episode from our friends at KQED's The California Report Magazine. They’ve launched a new series called MIXED: Stories of Mixed Race Californians.  Over 7 episodes, the hosts Sasha Khokha and Marisa Lagos have honest conversations with other mixed race Californians about the challenges and joys of being multi racial. 

Northern California is this beautiful piece of land where high mountains, deep valleys, and cold beaches can bring about a sense of peace. At the same time, the people who live here are constantly debating the land itself.

So over the past five weeks we decided to focus on stories broadly about life and land in Northern California, as a part of our From The Soil series. More specifically, we honed in on what people from communities directly impacted by climate change, polluted soil and the privatization of land are doing to right the wrongs of this piece of earth we call home.

After racking up over 1,000 miles reporting these audio stories, for the final episode in this series, Rightnowish producer Marisol Medina-Cadena and Rightnowish host Pendarvis Harshaw take a minute to sit down and discuss the behind-the-scenes of making the series. From herds of elk grazing near the 101 south bypass to the prevalence of people walking on freeways, this land tells so many stories, so we figured we’d share a few more with you all.

At the southern edge of the South Bay in Santa Clara County, where the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains meet the town of Gilroy, there is a grassy pasture. Here, a small stream runs through acres of land while cattle graze and birds fly above.

This piece of land is a proposed mining site—but it's also traditional ceremonial ground for the Amah Mutsun Tribal Band.

For over 200 years, the Amah Mutsun have been unable to access one of their most sacred sites, known as Juristac.

"Juristac translates to the place of the Big Head. Our most important ceremonies were Big Head ceremonies. And so this location is where our ancestors, for thousands and thousands of years, held Big Head dances and ceremony," says Valentine Lopez, chairman of the Amah Mutsun Tribal Band.

For the last seven years the tribal band has organized support from the local community, religious leaders, conservation groups and nearby city councils to stand in support against the development of the Sargent Quarry project, a proposal to use the land for mining purposes.

The Santa Clara Board of Supervisors is currently reviewing the proposed mining project's environmental impact report.

This week we hear from Valentin Lopez , the tribal chairman of the Amah Mutsun, speak about the historical and spiritual significance of Juristac, and the movement to protect the land for the Amah Mutsun.

Read the episode transcript.

In honor of her late mother's efforts, Arieann Harrison is continuing the fight against environmental racism in San Francisco's Bayview-Hunters Point neighborhood. She is the founder of Can We Live, an organization that is working with local residents to screen them for toxins and install devices to monitor airborne pollutants. Can We Live also offers scholarships for students interested in studying environmental justice.

This week we talk to Arieann Harrison about growing up in toxic terrain and how her work doesn't fall far from the family tree.

On a steep hillside in San Francisco’s St. Mary’s Park, nestled between the Alemany Apartments, the 280 Freeway and the Bernal Heights Neighborhood, there’s a wine vineyard that doubles as a teaching tool.

A patch of land adjacent to Alemany Farm is being cultivated by Christopher Renfro and Jannea Tschirch, the co-founders of The 280 Project.

Their aim is to use public land to grow crops and introduce people to the world of agriculture, with a specific focus on getting young African-American residents of San Francisco interested in viticulture.

On a crisp afternoon at the Bouverie Preserve in Glen Ellen, a group of twenty one farmworkers suit up in firefighter gear. Woman and men take turns helping each other strap on backpacks and fire helmets in preparation for another intense day of prescribed burn training. These are carefully planned low intensity fires set under specific environmental conditions, intended to reduce the risk of catastrophic wildfires.

Many of these immigrant and Indigenous farmworkers typically work in the grape fields throughout Sonoma County, but extreme drought, flooding, and massive wildfires have made these jobs more precarious.

Seeing the need for alternative jobs that provide safety training and fair wages, a coalition of organizations including North Bay Jobs with Justice, Audubon Canyon Ranch, and Resilience Force teamed up to create paid opportunities that tackle our climate crisis head on. Part of this work includes certifying farmworkers to do prescribed burns on private lands throughout the North Bay, as a way to prevent the build up of fuel before fire season.

Prescribed burns are not a new practice by any means. They are rooted in many cultures. Some of these farmworkers have already practiced prescribed burns in their homelands in Mexico and Central America, and bring this ancestral ecological knowledge to their new line of work.

A few miles northeast of the California state capital, in the city of Folsom, a public recreation area has recently been renamed Black Miners Bar, after years of being called Negro Bar. Historically, the site is where African American miners were relegated to panning during California’s Gold Rush of the mid-1800s. In the summer of 2022, California State Parks unanimously voted to change the name of Negro Bar to Black Miners Bar temporarily, while the department conducts more research into the true history of the area. 

For more on what actually transpired on this piece of land we talk to one of the lead researchers on the project, Susan D. Anderson, History Curator and Program Manager at the California African American Museum. We also talk to Michael Harris, a historian and chair of the Friends of Negro Bar community group.