Why Harriet Tubman’s Story Matters in Conservation

I’ve volunteered in the backcountry of Glacier National Park and spent a lifetime visiting national parks across the U.S. and abroad. These places have always meant more to me than scenery—they are layered landscapes of meaning, shaped by human stories as much as natural processes.

So when I learned that the National Park Service (NPS) quietly altered its Underground Railroad materials—removing key references to Harriet Tubman and softening the brutal truth of slavery—I knew this wasn’t just a controversy about historical interpretation. It was about public trust, cultural truth, and the role of our public lands in preserving both.

Glacier National Park, Montana (photo by Kaia Africanis)

What Happened

In early February 2025, the NPS modified its webpage about the Underground Railroad. The update removed Harriet Tubman’s photo and a prominent quote, added imagery of commemorative stamps emphasizing “Black/White cooperation,” and reframed the narrative to focus on unity rather than resistance. Specific references to slavery, the Fugitive Slave Act, and Tubman’s military leadership were either deleted or heavily downplayed.

These changes were made without formal approval from NPS or Department of the Interior leadership. They came under scrutiny after news outlets and historians exposed the edits, prompting widespread public backlash.

Tubman Was More Than a Symbol—She Was a Woman of the Land

Harriet Tubman’s story isn’t just about courage. It’s about ecology, survival, and knowledge of place. She used stars, waterways, tree moss, and seasonal cues to navigate through some of the most difficult terrain in the country—all while leading others to freedom.

The forests, swamps, and marshes she traveled—especially in Maryland’s Eastern Shore—are now part of our national parks and refuges. These places hold not just natural value but cultural memory. When we distort that memory, we sever the deeper connection between people and place.

Restored—but Not Repaired

In April 2025, the NPS restored the original webpage after confirming the changes had not gone through proper channels. Tubman’s image, the harsher truths of slavery, and the original educational content were reinstated.

That response was necessary. But it doesn’t undo the harm.

For two months, the official narrative misled visitors, students, and communities seeking to engage with a powerful part of American history. The damage is not just in what was said—but in what was unsaid. And for many Black Americans, the edits reaffirmed an old truth: their stories are still vulnerable to political erasure.

Why It Matters for Conservation

You might ask: what does this have to do with conservation?

Everything.

Public lands are not just places we protect—they are places where we teach and remember. When we remove or sanitize the histories of resistance, injustice, and survival embedded in these landscapes, we reduce them to scenic backdrops. That disconnects people—especially those whose histories were shaped by these landscapes—from the fight to protect them.

Only if we understand can we care. Only if we care will we help. Only if we help shall they be saved. -Jane Goodall

I saw this firsthand while working with Roots & Shoots for the Jane Goodall Foundation. One of our most impactful initiatives brought South African youth—many of whom had never been to a national park—into wild places just beyond their backyards. They had grown up close to incredible biodiversity but had never seen it, touched it, or known it was theirs too.

Once they were there—once they saw lions, rhinos, or wide stretches of protected land—something changed. They began to care. Not because we told them to, but because they finally had a chance to form a connection.

That’s what stories and access do: they build belonging. Without them, we’re just asking people to care about places they’ve never seen, in a language that excludes them.

A Call for Integrity

As someone who’s spent countless days hiking wilderness trails, volunteering in the backcountry, and watching others awaken to nature for the first time, I believe we have a responsibility to protect not only our lands but the stories that give them life.

We cannot afford to sanitize, soften, or politically edit the truth. Public lands are powerful not just because they’re beautiful and ecologically important—but because they hold memory. And memory, when told honestly, inspires stewardship.

Let’s defend that truth as fiercely as we defend the land itself.