In Good Sediment: Black Ecologies and the Politics of Restoration in Coastal Louisiana, author Monica Patrice Barra challenges assumptions about wetland restoration and calls to “work with nature.” Her research in Plaquemines Parish reframes ecological repair as a political and cultural practice—one that must grapple with the racial histories embedded in the land. Below, she expands on the meaning of “good sediment,” the shortcomings of environmental neutrality, and the current state of the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion.

To start, what drew you to Louisiana, and specifically to Plaquemines Parish?

The relationship between people and disappearing or changing places has long been an interest of mine, as has understanding race and class inequality in North America. Prior to beginning my research on more explicitly environmental issues, I had been researching the social, political, and racial histories of high-rise public housing and the impacts of their demolition in US cites. This work was framed by an interest in how communities live in disappearing places. As I began graduate studies in anthropology, these questions turned toward more classically “natural” environments.

I first read about Louisiana’s disappearing land crisis in 2014. As I learned more about the state’s massive scientific and fiscal investments in wetland restoration, and the long history of engineering the Mississippi River through the dispossession of Black and Indigenous land and labor, Louisiana seemed like the ideal site for pulling together my research interests: racial inequality, geographic/environmental change, and critical studies of science.

Plaquemines, as the last sliver of land that follows the river to the Gulf of Mexico, became my primary field site for a few reasons. First, the lower Mississippi River is the site of the biggest scientific, technical, and fiscal investments in river and wetland restoration engineering in North America. It has been for well over a century. And it is where the biggest wetland restoration projects–sediment diversions–are located. Second, the evolution of the techno-scientific management of the lower river is deeply connected to histories of settler colonialism, chattel slavery, and land dispossession characteristic of the American Gulf South. Plaquemines is a former sugar plantation parish and has a distinct history of civil rights activism and segregationist racial oppression against Black communities. This history shapes how many community leaders–fishermen, religious leaders, educators, organizers–engage in debates about wetland restoration. To me, Plaquemines seemed like an ideal place through which to see how histories of environmental engineering and race are interconnected, historically and at present.

What does “good sediment” refer to in the context of mainstream environmental policy? How is that conceptualization insufficient?

In the context of mainstream environmental policy in south Louisiana–policy that tends to be promoted primarily by wetlands restoration scientists and conservation advocates–“good sediment” represents an approach to restoration focused on the Mississippi River’s “natural land-building processes.” This means strategically letting the river “go” to flood wetlands and build new land. This “nature-based” approach to restoration is seen as a sustainable and logical solution to the land loss crisis. No one—residents or environmental advocates—questions this basic premise about the river building wetlands. But mobilizing this environmental fact as a silver bullet for large-scale restoration falls short of considering the needs and concerns of local communities. This version of “good sediment” reduces wetland restoration to merely a matter of good science and “working with nature,” when really, restoration is as much a social process as it is an environmental one.

Can you elaborate on how technical justifications, environmental neutrality, and appeals to “work with nature” perpetuate environmental injustice?

Elaborating on what I said above, the values baked into mainstream environmental research and policy do not emerge from the communities directly impacted by research, policy decisions, and projects. The very notion of “working with nature” as something inherently apolitical is, in part, why I and many other critical environmental studies scholars often argue that Nature is used to erase the ways human histories are entwined with notions of environmental goods. In fact, any idea of what Nature is or should be is heavily shaped by people, societies, and political climates.

Unfortunately, it’s often not until much time has passed that the justification for environmental projects is questioned. What is interesting about the sediment diversions is that coastal communities were questioning the power of the “working with nature” narrative for many years—even many coastal restoration scientists. This is part of what I find very important: that not all science agrees that “working with nature” is the ultimate arbiter of what good restoration can be.

As of July 2025, the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion has officially been canceled. What has the response to this cancelation been like in the Ironton community, and what lessons do you hope people take from the project’s execution and eventual failure?

I think communities like Ironton and those on the East Bank are relieved that the project has not come to fruition. I would not say the project “failed,” as its cancellation and modification has happened before, and is usually shaped by the shifts of electoral politics in Louisiana. That said, I think there is still a sense that restoration policy is not connected to the needs of communities. The focus for many of these communities is economic development, environmental protection (specifically from coastal flooding), and the capacity to maintain their homes and neighborhoods in the face of depopulation and environmental hazards.

I hope the lessons that restoration scientists and policymakers can take away from this turn of events is that investing in restoration must integrate coastal communities themselves into visions for research and, eventually, projects on the ground. And further, that restoration science is not inherently antithetical to supporting communities. How do we do science that is accountable to the communities it impacts? This is something many restoration scientists are working towards. I look forward to seeing how these approaches can shift the culture of science towards doing work that supports communities in more holistic ways.

Monica Patrice Barra is assistant professor of race and environment with a joint appointment in the Department of Anthropology and the School of the Earth, Ocean & Environment at the University of South Carolina.