I grew up in Joplin, MO, a town now famous for the massive EF5 tornado of 2011.  But before that beyond-belief record-breaking natural disaster, Joplin was famous for another environmentally-significant phenomenon: Lead Mining.

My godparents happened upon a land deal that later became a very lucrative commodity:  they purchased gravel piles (we called them “chat piles”) that were remnants of the once flourishing Lead Mining industry. These piles of waste gravel were often used by local residents as places to play! We would climb the chat piles and watch the cliff swallows fly like bats to and from their huge nesting colonies.  My brothers and sister and I would race across the smaller piles, and bring home crystals and unusual rocks to add to our collections.  Little did we know that these piles were full of lead dust, probably covering our tennis shoes and the clothing that we of course wore home.

When most of us think of environmental injustices, we accurately think of urban areas where underprivileged communities (usually minority populations historically segregated to live near industrial areas, railroads, highways, and waste dumps.  But remote and rural areas often have a unique history of environmental problems, too.  So often people in these areas rely on jobs in industries such as logging, agriculture, and mining.  Or, in the case of Joplin, the town grew quickly as families moved there either to work the mines or build businesses to support the mining families. The economy actually thrived when the mines were producing.  Concern for the miners, and even for the rest of the community that grew up literally on top of the depleted mines, was nonexistent.  I don’t ever remember anyone warning us back in the 60’s and early 70’s of the danger of lead poisoning in our town.

Did the mining industry and medical profession of the time know of the dangers from lead exposure? Do the communities around the still active lead mines in Missouri, such as those near Bunker and Viburnum, understand the environmental impacts of their region?  I know so many residents in the region who have made a good living working the mines (including my father-in-law).  There aren’t many high quality jobs in such a remote area of our state, so what else can they do to provide for their families?

Ironically, the Joplin tornado of 2011, which tore a mile-wide track across the center of the town, reminded us of the environmental hazard that had been under our feet our whole lives.  Studies of lead contamination since the tornado have revealed high levels of lead in the soil, uncovered as the twister chopped up the ground like a blender.  

For me, environmental injustice has become more personal.  I can now better empathize with the urban communities who have suffered from environmental hazards throughout history.

Reflecting on my home town, wondering if lead exposure affected my family’s long-term health, and discovering that it is now still contaminated from the mining that happened oh so long ago, I question the audacity of what we as a species do for the sake of “progress” without first considering the consequences to ourselves and our planet.  For example, I can’t wait to be able to purchase an electric car, but I’m concerned about the environmental and social impact of lithium mining (a metal crucial to making the batteries for electric vehicles). Can we extract lithium without creating mining waste and without destroying the ecosystems and local populations where it is found?   

I admit I don’t know, but I hope we will learn from past mistakes such as what happened in the old lead mining districts of Missouri.

Aerial photo of the “lithium fields” in South America

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