Quick ecology lesson: Phragmites australis, Phragmites, pronounced “frag-my-tees” is a wetland grass native to Eurasia, sources conclude that it was probably introduced accidentally to North America in ballast material sometime during the late 1700s or early 1800s, and since then, it has completely taken over the Canadian wetlands, destroying habitats, and rapidly decreasing biodiversity. Today, phragmites is listed as one of the "worst" (hardest to control) invasive plants in the nation. There are incredible people working very hard on the "front lines" all over Ontario helping to control the eager grass so that the native plants and animals who once thrived in wetland spaces do so yet again.

I've been thinking about invasive plants and how we can re-situate our behavior, language and ontology towards them. In stewarding circles, when the "names" of invasive plants are brought up, they are often "booed" or looked upon with disdain; likely because our work essentially involves exterminating them from environments in which we believe they never belonged in the first place.

Once I began noticing this (often) playful, (sometimes) hostile mentality towards invasive species of plants I couldn't unsee it; these plant species didn't chose to be on this land but by association with settlers and imperialism are heard in the same frequency. And so,,

If by boo-ing the invasive plants, people are subconsciously taking a political stance against colonialism...Are we truly directing our guilt/ anger/ frustration in a proactive way?

I think this re-situation with the way we view invasive species is not only directly correlated with the language we use in their reference but also our embodied experiences with them. More specifically, with our hands. Often, when pulling them out of the dirt, or shoveling their roots out of the soil, we have to be harsh... Dare I say, violent...And understandably so. Try uprooting a fully grown phrag on a 30 degree summer afternoon. That shit is intense.

When our embodied experience as well as our cognitive understanding of invasive species is so invasive we will ultimately take a radical stance against it without much critical analysis into it's implications.

How much agency did these invasive plants have when they were being transported to this land?

How much of a role does our anger play in making it easier for us to uproot a colony of thriving (sometimes beautiful) species of invasives?

Still, I believe there is room in our practice for compassion when it comes to dealing with invasive species like Phragmites, garlic mustard, white clovers and many more that continue to heavily populate our urban areas in Toronto.

We have a responsibility to the land and all the creatures that reside on it, we have a responsibility to each-other, but I would like to offer one more responsibility; A responsibility towards the species we are ridding. We can offer compassion to their situations, and instead of stewarding with resentment, we can steward with loving compassion— that when we are pulling, scraping, twisting, uprooting, shearing, cutting...They are a part of us, and we are a part of them. They didn't chose to land on this soil, just as much as we didn't chose to land on this soil.

And so, perhaps our practice can involve solidarity without destructive passion motivating us, and instead a pleasant, understanding of peace through earths relenting chaos. And maybe, something new will come of it.

I thank the tall seeding phrag at Yellow Creek for compositing with water and wood to form this inextricable matter I now call paper. I hope to continue this alchemical practice and fashion more substances so that we can make more room for native species to coexist in the spaces you were borne.

more on the details of invasive papermaking here

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