Author: Bridget Reilly

Introduction

I started my Project Dragonfly journey almost concurrently with starting my career in conservation. It was an unexpected direction on both fronts, as I come from an undergraduate background in English Literature, Gender & Diversity Studies, and Social Policy. But as I joined in on a global moment of inner reflection wrought by the 2020 pandemic, I realized that the thing bringing me consistent joy and energy was the natural world. My stepping stone into conservation was a timely AmeriCorps position with the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden’s Education Department, and after two years serving at the Zoo and connecting with multiple Dragonfly instructors and alumni, starting the Global Field Program seemed like the natural next step. I worried that my lack of experience in the fields of biology and ecology would create an insurmountable barrier to engaging in conservation work, but once I started my role at the Zoo and began diving deeper into the Dragonfly coursework, I realized that I bring a unique and important perspective to the table. Conservation is a collaborative and multidisciplinary field that needs experts not only in the natural sciences, but also in social and behavioral sciences (Schultz, 2011). Suddenly my proclivity towards the social sciences seemed like more of an asset than a weakness. 

In fact, my undergraduate degree in Gender & Diversity Studies came into play in a major way as I began exploring matters of environmental justice in my community through my coursework and my role at the Zoo. Natural green infrastructure like tree canopies and gardens have been cited as contributors of ecological, psychological, physical health (Martin et al., 2020). However, legacies of redlining and racial discrimination have influenced the ways in which green space is distributed across the urban landscape, reinforcing the link between environmental disinvestment and socioeconomic and health disparities (Schell et al., 2020). While greening projects implemented in under-resourced communities may seem to be a viable solution to ensuring equity in access to the benefits of nature, these projects can drive up property values and actually displace financially vulnerable populations, hurting the very people meant to benefit, in a process called environmental or “eco-” gentrification (Wolch et al., 2014). 

I began my early Dragonfly coursework with this paradoxical issue weighing heavily on me. As a conservationist, I want to see greener, more vibrant and biodiverse urban landscapes—but as a social justice advocate, I do not want my community to face instability or displacement at the expense of increased tree canopies and gardens. Is the solution, as Wolch et al. (2014) suggest, to design interventions that are “just green enough” and work out compromises between nature and people? Suddenly, achieving successful conservation in urban landscapes felt daunting and unachievable. Yet as I started diving into more literature on green infrastructure in urban settings, I realized that I was finding more positive and hopeful trends in efforts to combat environmental inequities. At around the same time, my attitudes and actions towards conservation started changing as well, thanks to my work at the Zoo: I was learning to emphasize messages inspiring hope and focusing on what people can do, as opposed to what they should not do. I learned to share stories that focus on inspiring optimism and motivation rather than doom and gloom, always making sure to end with accessible calls-to-action. I did not realize it at the time, but this ethos was starting to creep into my Dragonfly coursework as well.

Along with my interest in the socioeconomic implications of conservation work, I was also drawn towards research and projects on the benefits of pollinators, particularly the niche that urban landscapes can fill in pollinator conservation efforts (Derby Lewis et al., 2019). As I began working on projects highlighting the importance of habitat connectivity for pollinators in urban spaces, something clicked: I started thinking less about critiquing social systems largely out of my control and more about uplifting the actions and choices individuals can take to make positive change. I did not truly see the theme until compiling this final portfolio, but as I reviewed my projects, I could trace a natural shift throughout my course of study that reflected my wavering between a systems-based lens and local, grassroots approaches. The takeaway that these projects boiled down to was the role of connectivity for people and wildlife, both to and within urban green spaces. For healthy constructed urban ecosystems to thrive, they must connect to other built and natural ecosystems (Lundholm, 2015). Therefore, cultivating connectivity—via rail-trails for people, for instance, or pollinator corridors for insects and birds—can maximize the benefits of urban green space. Facilitating emotional connectivity is likewise critical in conservation efforts, as increased interactions with the natural environment paired with a stronger sense of personal connection to nature has been shown to yield positive associations with one’s health, wellbeing, and pro-environmental behaviors (Martin et al., 2020).   

My time in Project Dragonfly was a sprawling journey marked by self-doubt, multiple extension requests, and panicking over statistics, but here at the end, I am confident I arrived at exactly the right destination for my personal and professional goals. My Master Plan is a proposal for focusing on the function of physical and emotional connectivity to and within urban green spaces to promote social and ecological diversity in conservation efforts. This portfolio illustrates my academic and professional conservation journey from cynicism to hope, from passive criticism to meaningful action. The following projects showcase an exploration into how creating these connections can foster biodiversity, environmental equity, and a healthier, more resilient planet for all. 

Project 1: First Year Inquiry Action Project

What Do We Mean When We Talk about “Green?” Exploring the Social and Economic Impacts of Green Infrastructure in Climate Action Plans

In the fall of 2022, I approached my first Inquiry Action Project with an interest in understanding the various drivers of eco-gentrification, including those embedded in policy plans. My most recent academic project had been my Master’s dissertation two years prior, wherein I studied how the language used by non-profits to describe the benefits of planting trees reinforced disproportionate tree plantings across higher and lower income communities. In honoring my inner English major, I wanted to continue exploring how language and word choice might impact conservation projects and outcomes. Around this same time, Cincinnati’s Office of Environmental and Sustainability was hosting public engagement sessions for updates to the Green Cincinnati Plan, which outlines the city’s commitment to sustainability and climate resiliency. I decided to conduct a content analysis of eight different city climate action plans (CAPs), including Cincinnati’s, to see if the benefits of green infrastructure reinforced neoliberal ideologies that risk exacerbating access to green spaces. 

I expected to find that most of the CAPs would focus more on the financial impact of green infrastructure than the social impact, but I was elated to discover I was wrong: the majority of the CAPs commented more on the role of social equity in urban green space than financial benefits, with all plans at one point invoking environmental justice as a guiding principle. The cities of Austin, Baltimore, and Los Angeles were standouts for their explicit references to eco-gentrification in their plans, the reading of which in turn equipped me with helpful language and examples in further exploring eco-gentrification in my own community.

This work set the stage for my evolving approach to conservation, both in my role at the Zoo and throughout my Project Dragonfly coursework. It helped me to shed some of the hyper-critical, perhaps even negative, perspectives I had adopted when first studying environmental policy for my previous Master's program. While I stand by my academic work that came out of that time period, this project really drove home the fact that the social landscape changed dramatically from when I submitted my dissertation in early 2020 to wrapping up this project on the heels of 2022. The Black Lives Matter movement brought equity to the front of everyone’s minds, including conservation organizations. Perhaps as I had my own private reckoning with an assumption that neoliberalism was driving environmental policy-making, those very policy makers were working to undo legacies of racism and disinvestment—hence the CAPs reflecting a stronger commitment to social equity. This triggered the first stab at organizing my Master Plan into an exploration of how urban green spaces can be designed to either create or bar access for marginalized communities to nature. I carried this thought directly over to my second Inquiry Action Project, where I zeroed in on a specific example of green infrastructure: rail-to-trail conversions. 

Attachments

• Reilly_What do we mean when we talk about green? IAP 

Project 2: Second Year Inquiry Action Project

Connected Communities: Assessing Rail Trails Through a Lens of Social Equity

The Wasson Way in my hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio is a mixed-used pedestrian trail that cuts across neighborhoods and creates access points to parks and other green spaces throughout the east side of the city. It began, however, as a railway corridor. Across the country, old railroad tracks sit abandoned thanks to an economy that chose interstates over trains as the primary modes of travel and transportation. But thanks to a growing network of recreation advocates and policymakers, these unused corridors are being converted into extensive trails that incorporate natural green infrastructure (Lilly, 2013). 

While I myself had enjoyed using the Wasson Way, I was uncomfortably aware that trails-users seemed to reflect a certain homogeneity: young, able-bodied, and white. Indeed, the trail spanned through several higher-income neighborhoods on the east side of Cincinnati, and as I noticed new luxury developments being created along the trail, I began to consider what role this particular type of green infrastructure could play in creating and reinforcing eco-gentrification. After all, the Atlanta Beltline and New York City High Line—both converted rail trails—are infamous case studies in the role that well-intentioned green infrastructure can play in displacing financially vulnerable communities (Argüelles, 2022). Was the Wasson Way, quite literally, on the same track? This wary speculation set the stage for my second IAP, in which I decided to map existing rail trails across the United States using a tool created by the U.S. Census Bureau called “My Community Explorer.” My goal was to see if rail trails largely served as diverse community connectors or if, as I feared, they were in reality reinforcing delineations between wealthy and under-resourced neighborhoods. 

My Community Explorer shows levels of poverty risk factors such as lack of healthcare, no vehicle access, and single or zero caregiver households based on zip codes. After mapping 15 different rail-trails using My Community Explorer, I actually discovered that the majority of trails represented a mixture of risk factors, pointing to an socioeconomically diverse footprint (Figure 2). I also discovered that while the Wasson Way stood out in my research as one of the least socioeconomically diverse trails, a planned expansion in 2024 completely altered the makeup of the trail to support a far more balanced representation of risk factors (Figure 3).

My takeaway from this project left me feeling encouraged: rail-trails really could offer a path forward to connecting socially diverse communities—including my own, thanks to the growing Wasson Way. My optimism was checked, however, by lessons learned from projects like the Belt Line and High Line: developers, advocates, and policy makers need to take intentional steps to ensure that higher risk communities do not experience rising costs and pressures to relocate in the wake of trail expansions. I therefore tried to navigate this enthusiasm and caution in a more reader-friendly format by converting my research study into an op-ed for my Author Leadership Challenge.

Attachments

• Reilly_Connected communities IAP

Project 3: Author Leadership Challenge

Connected Communities: the Unifying Potential of Rail Trails

Based on my findings from my second IAP, I felt emboldened to uplift rail trails as a solution for bridging fragmentations between socioeconomic groups and wildlife—with the caveat, however, that advocates must center justice in their approaches to developing and expanding trails. What better audience for this argument, then, than those already engaged in the rail trail movement? 

I discovered a non-profit organization called the Rails to Trails Conservancy (RTC), a largely online network dedicated to advocacy, mobilization, and collaboration. Along with hosting a number of resources on the origins of the movement and toolkits for developing and expanding trails, RTC also runs an active “Trail Blog” and the Rails to Trails magazine. The audience for these resources range from trail-users to policymakers, land owners, developers, and other decision-makers that I wanted to reach, so I decided to try pitching my findings as an op-ed for their magazine. 

How does one convert scholarly articles, figures, and statistics into a reader-friendly format? That is not a rhetorical question: I struggled trying to leverage my expertise as a student researcher with a casual, op-ed-appropriate tone. While I am mostly pleased with how my article turned out, it feels more like a data-backed appeal to decision-makers than an earnest reflection from a trail user. I assume that RTC agreed, because I have yet to receive a response from the magazine editor after pitching the article several months ago. 

I do not find the lack of publication discouraging; rather, I see it as an opportunity to continue experimenting with the translation of academic writing to personal storytelling, a practice I engage in at the Zoo as well. And perhaps the greater impact would not come from getting my writing in front of an audience that already knows and appreciates rail trails, but those who have yet to take advantage of the wide range of benefits they have to offer. As of writing this portfolio, I am already thinking of different Cincinnati publications I can try re-submitting my op-ed to, especially in line with any future expansions or updates to the Wasson Way. 

My research into connecting people to and through urban green spaces by prioritizing justice-informed green infrastructure and exploring rail-to-trail conversions as a solution began to inform my approach to the ecological side of local conservation, which set the stage for the second part of my master plan: connecting landscapes for pollinators. 

Attachments

• Reilly_Unifying potentials ALC 

Project 4: Biology in the Age of Technology Website & Social Media Campaign

Let Lawns Live

Biology in the Age of Technology (BAT) tasked students with using technology to address a conservation issue of our choosing. While I focused my previous assignments on the socioeconomic features of green spaces, I decided to use BAT as an opportunity to delve into another, more ecologically-grounded passion of mine: pollinator conservation, to which I credit working on the Zoo’s “Plant for Pollinators” program as a catalyst for more deeply exploring this topic. 

I decided to create an awareness campaign to encourage audiences to rethink their relationships with their lawns. Part of the campaign focused on the financial and ecological harms incurred by maintaining trim, idle grass lawns, while the other included suggested actions and resources for increasing ecological biodiversity in lawns. There were three facets to the campaign: a Canva-designed website that housed comprehensive information and resources, a specific Instagram account that captured some of my local lawn observations around Cincinnati, and a series of posts on my personal Facebook—linking to both the website and the Instagram account—focused on calls-to-action targeted to my network of friends, family members, and peers.

As of writing this portfolio, my website has received 99 visits, with page visits spiking in accordance with posts shared on Facebook and Instagram. My Instagram—currently inactive, though perhaps next spring I will revive it, just for fun—totaled 17 followers, most of whom were already known to me. My 6 Facebook posts averaged about 10 to 12 likes per post. These are all pretty small metrics for a likewise small social media campaign, but I would say the true measure of success has come from the interactions, both in person and on social media, that I have had in the wake of this project.

I received likes and comments on my Facebook posts from people I do not frequently interact with, which proved to me that this is a conservation effort that resonates with a range of audiences. A friend of my mom’s, despite not engaging with my posts, told me after the fact that I inspired her to plant a pollinator garden in her backyard—which also proved to me that while true impact could be difficult to measure, anecdotal evidence suggested that I made a difference. Even my family to this day regularly consults with me on which plants they add to their yards, despite the fact that I am not a gardener—just passionate about pollinators—and one of my sisters actually gifted me a personalized hat for my birthday in recognition of my campaign (Figure 6)!

A Brief International Interlude

While the assignments I did in preparation for and during my Earth Expeditions (EE) courses did not ultimately make it into my portfolio, these experiences fundamentally shaped my approach to conservation. The cultural and socioeconomic contexts of Belize and India are vastly different from those in Cincinnati, yet the importance of listening to and learning from communities is essential to implementing just and sustainable conservation regardless of where you are located. My everlasting thanks to our partners at the Tropical Education Center and the Applied Environmental Research Foundation, and the community members I met on my travels, for showing me the path forward to inclusive and meaningful conservation. 

Project 6: Community Leadership Challenge

Creating Connections to Nature Through the Neighborhood Zoo Crew

For my Community Leadership Challenge (CLC), I co-created a program for Zoo staff called the Neighborhood Zoo Crew which served the dual purpose of helping our Horticulture staff complete critical garden maintenance and creating opportunities for all Zoo employees to physically and emotionally connect with urban green spaces. The program consisted of monthly meetups, offered on-the-clock for all full-time and part-time employees (with their managers’ approval), dedicated to being out in nature and helping take care of several community gardens maintained by the Zoo's Horticulture team.  

A main priority for my department, Conservation Impact, is looking for ways to make conservation feel accessible not only for our visitors, but also our own staff. My specific role is more so focused on uplifting local conservation efforts, which can sometimes get lost in the sweeping global footprint of the Zoo by nature of our international partnerships and the animals in our care. Because I work so closely with our Horticulture team and have assisted in developing and maintaining our community gardens, I saw an ideal opportunity for Zoo staff to feel more connected to our local wildlife. Especially in a sector that faces so much emotional burnout and compassion fatigue, creating an opportunity for Zoo employees to take ownership of the gardens struck me as essential, as more frequent interaction with, and personal connection to, nature has been positively associated with health, wellbeing, and conservation-minded behaviors (Martin et al., 2020; Dobson et al., 2021).

I therefore collaborated with two members of our Horticulture team, Carlos vanLeeuwen and Kayla Allen, to design, launch, and promote a new cross-departmental program called the Neighborhood Zoo Crew. While my colleagues provided gardening materials and expertise in leading the activities, I handled logistics and communication, making sure to regularly emphasize the opportunity to connect with local wildlife and one another. As part of this “pilot year,” we ended up holding eight events over the course of nine months, rotating between our four community gardens and taking care of maintenance needs ranging from mulching to weeding. 

While several events only saw a few Zoo employees joining us, I considered even one person showing up to be a success. They were getting outdoors, getting their hands in the dirt, and getting to know our community gardens. Low attendance days (1-2 employees) left Carlos, Kayla, and I repeating our new favorite catchphrase—“it’s okay, it’s a pilot”—and ideating for how to improve the program next year, while higher attendance days (7-9 employees) typically resulted in a week’s worth of work getting done over the course of two hours. At several different events, neighbors passing by thanked us for taking care of their gardens—already proving to me that my community is indeed feeling connected to these green spaces—with one neighbor, a 5th grader named Alex, joining us for a mulching party at our last event.         

I already have a meeting planned with Kayla and Carlos to recap this first year and plan ahead for next year, for while the catalyst for this project was driven by my CLC requirement, the outcome was something that we want to sustain and continue growing at the Zoo. Helping maintain these diverse gardens that create corridors for songbirds and monarch butterflies, getting leadership buy-in for on-the-clock participation to reduce barriers to joining, deepening relationships between Zoo staff and the local landscape—all of these outcomes are directly tied to my Master Plan's focus on creating and fostering connections to urban green spaces for people and wildlife. In that respect, this was a perfect culminating project for my Dragonfly journey.

Attachments

• Reilly_Neighborhood Zoo Crew CLC 

Conclusion

While I entered Project Dragonfly's Global Field Program with grandiose, straightforward thoughts and expectations about what conservation ought to look like, the reality that I discovered through my coursework, EEs, and collaborations within my own community is more complicated and nuanced than I could have imagined. Fortunately, I believe I found my niche in advocating for connectivity in urban green spaces. 

We can reduce physical and perceived barriers by increasing access to nature for people from all different socioeconomic backgrounds through the thoughtful design, implementation, and advocacy of green infrastructure. We can also reduce habitat fragmentation for wildlife by rethinking traditional approaches to "greening" and instead focusing on those that connect resources and promote genetically robust and biodiverse populations. These are the takeaways that I will carry forward with me in my personal and professional life as I continue playing my small but mighty role in making this planet a better place for people and wildlife.

While my time as a Dragonfly student is coming to a close, learning and growing as a conservationist will be a lifelong endeavor. I am looking forward to more consciously putting into practice everything I learned about cultivating connectivity these past several years, especially as I prepare to take on more community engagement and advocacy work in my role at the Zoo. 

Acknowledgments

I am forever thankful for my family and partner for supporting me throughout this program (especially my mother, who despite being incredibly nervous for my EE to India, played it cool and celebrated my adventures). My sincerest gratitude for the Project Dragonfly staff, alumni, and instructors, many of whom I have been lucky to work with at the Zoo, and my endlessly inspiring colleagues on the Conservation Impact Team for their advice and being my cheerleaders all the way to the finish line. 

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