Finding Belonging

Alexa Shapiro, Director of Trailblazing, recently wrote a guest blog article for the Pacific Crest Trail Association about her own experience with questioning her belonging while backpacking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). This month, we’re featuring her blog post because of how it relates to our mission of increasing diversity, equity and inclusion in the outdoors.

While Alexa’s experience highlights the lack of gender representation in the outdoors, we think it’s important to note that people of all different types of backgrounds experience varying levels of marginalization in nature. It’s important to give space to everyone’s experiences in the outdoors so that we, as a community, can best understand where we need to make improvements so that the outdoors can be a safe, welcoming space for all.

We will be closing the comment section on this blog post because we believe that people’s experiences in nature, as it relates to diversity and inclusion, are not open for debate. If you would like to send a message to the Collaborative about this blog post, please feel free to email us directly at info@winonaoutdoorcollaborative.com.


Nature has always been my source of solace and peace. As a child, the juniper trees lining our home’s fence offered an escape from my older brothers - a place for me to get lost in the songs of the birds and the rays of the sun as I observed nature, exploring to my heart’s contentment. 

It wasn’t hard to convince myself to thru hike the Pacific Crest Trail. By 2017, as I was approaching my hike, I had already spent much of my post-college years working outdoors. All of my free time was devoted to being outside, hiking or climbing, and I was filled with inspiration from my parents who had been working on section hiking the trail since 2012. 

During my time on the Pacific Crest Trail, I learned so much about myself and the world around me. I was filled with gratitude for the immense kindness and generosity of the trail community - a rare breed of people who look out for one another because of a shared love of the outdoors. I realized I could do hard things, despite the days where my mind called for me to quit early and head back to the comforts of home. And I experienced the healing power of nature - something that would later become crucial for me as I navigated the rocky terrain that life can sometimes throw at us all. 

Alexa poses at the highest point of elevation on the Pacific Crest Trail - Forester Pass, 13,200 feet, Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in Sequoia National Park.

Alexa poses at the highest point of elevation on the Pacific Crest Trail - Forester Pass, 13,200 feet, Sierra Nevada Mountain Range in Sequoia National Park.

What I didn’t expect were lessons about belonging. 

These lessons would come in moments when I was offered unsolicited advice about things that I felt perfectly comfortable doing on my own.

Or in moments where people would question if I was carrying enough because my partner, weighing in over ninety pounds heavier than me, had a larger pack that I did. 

I would experience these lessons when other women told me stories of off-trail folks lecturing them about the importance of heightened bear precautions when menstruating, or when on-trail folks would tell me of the “fun” trail names they gave me and other women that always centered around our most noticeable physical attributes. 

It was rare that I had other women to hike with - despite being a part of two large trail families - and I spent a great deal of my hike with full awareness of the lack of representation of so many identities on the trail. After spending time having to address inappropriate statements from some of the more toxic corners of the trail community, and through meaningful discussions with my own trail family who didn't always recognize the importance of representation, I came to understand the value of dialogue around diversity, equity and inclusion in the outdoors.

Since 2017, this has become my life’s work. I started a non-profit organization in my little area of the Midwest called the Winona Outdoor Collaborative. Together with a team of passionate folks, we work to reduce barriers people face to getting outdoors so that all individuals can experience the incredible benefits nature offers us all. 

The question I’m most frequently asked is, “what barriers do people face to getting outdoors?”

The true answer is, it depends. It depends on the demographic of people. It depends on the region of the country. It depends on the financial resources of a community to support equitable access. It depends on so many factors, each of which highlights how not everyone has the same, safe and inclusive space to explore the outdoors. 

I recognize why this is so hard for some folks. To be told that the community you’re a part of is not doing enough can be devastating and disappointing. It can feel like a personal attack, especially when you are not experiencing these things directly. It can be easy to want to ignore it all or loudly proclaim opposing viewpoints, even going as far as to insist these discussions are strictly political and don’t belong in the outdoors. 

I’m not here to change anyone’s mind about the importance or validity of this work, but I am here to offer a perspective from someone who has lived through moments that made me question the one thing about myself that I always knew to be true. 

If I could come to question my own belonging in nature then surely more people like me are being left with the impression that these outdoors spaces aren’t for them. 

The Knife’s Edge in the Goat Rocks Wilderness - a popular, picturesque section of the Pacific Crest Trail in Washington - showcases its beauty on a clear August day.

The Knife’s Edge in the Goat Rocks Wilderness - a popular, picturesque section of the Pacific Crest Trail in Washington - showcases its beauty on a clear August day.

The trail community is a strong one and one that many feel deeply connected to. It’s one that I’ve personally received so much from and feel indebted to in so many ways. I couldn’t imagine my life without this profoundly important community around me, and I know that many other backpackers, day hikers and recreationalists feel similarly. 

Our passion and love for the trail community doesn’t mean that we are impervious to the negative culture that can exist in outdoor spaces. It just means that we have more work to do so that we, as a trail community, can create a culture that truly supports every individual in finding their own sense of belonging in nature. 

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The Healing Power of Nature

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Happiest of Birthdays to the WOC