Shattered union part 1
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That finding builds on decades of evidence demonstrating that pollution is segregated, with residents of so-called fence-line communities - neighborhoods that border industrial plants - breathing dirtier air than people in more affluent communities farther away from facilities. On average, the level of cancer risk from industrial air pollution in majority-Black census tracts is more than double that of majority-white tracts, according to an analysis by ProPublica, which examined five years of emissions data. Institute is representative of Black communities across the country that bear a disproportionate health burden from industrial pollution. Blocks on the map were shaded green, yellow or red, from lowest to highest cancer risk. Institute, one of just two majority-Black communities in the state, is home to West Virginia State University, a historically Black college whose alumni include Katherine Johnson, the NASA mathematician made famous by the film “Hidden Figures,” and Earl Lloyd, the first Black player in the NBA. The regulators, their Zoom backgrounds set to photos of pristine pine forests and green fields, shared a map of the area, a short drive west from Charleston. The threat this time: ethylene oxide, a cancer-causing chemical that facilities like the Union Carbide plant, now owned by Dow Chemical, make and that helps produce a huge variety of products, including antifreeze, pesticides and sterilizing agents for medical tools. The plant in Institute is adjacent to West Virginia State University, a historically Black college.
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Nixon watched approvingly as the audience grew to nearly 300. Her goal: show officials that her community was watching them. She had spent weeks calling and emailing residents to convince people to attend. Environmental Protection Agency officials from Washington, D.C., and state regulators from the capital, Charleston. Surrounded by files, documents and reports in her cluttered home office, she turned on her computer around 6 p.m. Now, on a warm September evening, the 69-year-old retiree was at it again. The plant reminds Nixon of leaks, fires, explosions - dangers she’s dedicated most of her adult life to trying to stop. But to Nixon and others in Institute’s largely Black community, it has meant something else: pollution. To many West Virginians, the plant is a source of pride - it was a key maker of synthetic rubber in World War II - and a source of hundreds of jobs. Wedged between a green hillside and the Kanawha River, the sprawling facility has helped define West Virginia’s “Chemical Valley” for the better part of a century, its smokestacks belching gray plumes and fishy odors into the town of Institute, population 1,400. Sign up for Dispatches to get stories like this one as soon as they are published.Įvery time Pam Nixon drives along Interstate 64, she sees the Union Carbide plant. This article was produced with ProPublica as part of its Local Reporting Network initiative.