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When Carmen Gonzalez and Rebecca Bratspies invited me to comment on their recent textbook Teaching Environmental Law in Context, their gesture signaled something vital: perspectives that environmental law has too often excluded — such as my work on Black Queer Feminist Ecology — belong in the conversation about how we train the next generation of environmental lawyers.

We’re living through a moment when questions about government power over where people can live, work, travel, and belong have become too important to ignore. At a glance, the topic of migration/immigration might seem far removed from climate change. It isn’t; I wouldn’t be writing this if it was. I recently completed my Master’s thesis […]

At the 2026 Law & Society Annual Conference, I participated in a roundtable discussion about Teaching Environmental Law in Context — both the new book by Member Scholars Carmen Gonzalez and Rebecca Bratspies and the activity of teaching environmental law to law students in tumultuous times for the field. I have taught environmental law at the University of Kansas School of Law for all but two of the last 15 years, and I have never taught it in exactly the same way twice. I’m always adjusting my approach — adding the most current events, looking for new ways to teach the wide range of complex topics to help students build skills, and supporting students to understand both the environmental law statutes and the pollution problems they are designed to address. In short, a book like this — with its focus on creative and impactful ways to reach students in the dense field of environmental law — is my kind of book.

My book with fellow Member Scholar Rebecca Bratspies was inspired by an article written by former UN Special Rapporteur (and Member Scholar) John Knox (and co-author Nicole Tronolone) evaluating U.S. environmental law through the framework of international human rights law. With several noteworthy exceptions (such as climate change), Knox and Tronolone concluded that the U.S. (at the end of the Biden administration) generally complied with the substantive and procedural requirements of the right to a healthy environment. However, they described the government’s failure to address environmental injustice as nothing short of “catastrophic.” Far from remedying these shortcomings, the current administration is reinforcing them, as regulatory rollbacks proliferate, equity-based initiatives are dismantled, and coordinated political campaigns seek to ban the teaching of "divisive concepts" such as climate change and racial justice.

Last year, Governor Josh Stein created the North Carolina Artificial Intelligence (AI) Leadership Council to chart a roadmap on AI leadership and policy in the state. The roadmap report published by the council leaves many important areas unaddressed and falls significantly short on others, including harms like high bills, lost jobs, pollution, drought, mass surveillance, and more.

Teaching right now is no joke! This is especially true of teaching environmental law. Most of us teaching in this area have dedicated our professional lives to protecting the environment — the air, the water, the land, and of course the people who breathe that air, drink that water, and live on that land. Each day is more painful than the last as our work is dismantled in front of our eyes. Institutions that seemed solid bulwarks against tyranny are crumbling into dust. In this moment of crisis, fellow Member Scholar Carmen Gonzalez and I set out to write a book for our fellow professors struggling to find their feet — consider Teaching Environmental Law in Context a kind of love letter to the better world we are convinced we can build together with our students.

It’s August here in western Washington State, which means two things: (1) I’ll soon be packing up for my return to New Orleans (class starts soon), and (2) the smoke blowing in from regional wildfires is making my nose burn. Appropriately, the news here is full of stories about personal loss, evacuation routes, fire-suppression strategies, and the brave firefighters who put their lives on the line to keep us safe. But there’s a deeper story: Our broad approach to handling wildfire in the United States was designed for a climate that no longer exists. We must do better.

PJM, the regional transmission organization (RTO) responsible for grid operations in all or part of 13 Eastern U.S. states and Washington, DC, just asked the federal Department of Energy (DOE) to issue an emergency order under the Federal Power Act. In its request, PJM asked to allow for “large loads” (functionally, although not limited to, data centers located in the PJM footprint) to run emergency backup power generation between July 1 and July 2. This is in preparation for the extreme multi-day heatwave that is forecast for the eastern part of the country through the July 4 holiday weekend.

Across the country, legislators are figuring out how to regulate the worst harms from data centers. In North Carolina, the latest bill to do so is Senate Bill 730. Unfortunately, SB 730 is not a step forward in protecting North Carolinians from the harms of data centers. Rather, it is a step sideways, evading needed regulations.