For neurodivergent urban dwellers, the remote wilderness provides much-needed relief from noise pollution in large cities.
By: Desiree Lopez
*Note: I make a conscious choice to use identity-first language as opposed to person-first language in this article. I find comfort and empowerment in using identity-first language to describe my unique experiences and the shared experiences of disabled persons.
Content Note: neurodiversity, noise pollution and sensory overload, wilderness
“Why am I dreading going back to the city?”
Della, my partner of over 4 years, settles into the passenger seat while I pull onto the road. We’d just spent an entire day in the Sonoran Desert, about an hour drive from the occupied Kumeyaay land of San Diego, where Della has grown up her entire life and where we currently live together. We regularly take these kinds of day trips out into the wilderness. It started during the lockdown period of the COVID-19 pandemic, when outdoor recreation was the only option for us to safely get out of the house.
Della is new to our nature hangs, but I’ve always been an avid fan of the outdoors. Going outside was a favorite pastime of my family when I was growing up, as it offered a budget-friendly way for my parents to entertain me and my siblings. I grew up in the mountainous desert of the Inland Empire region of Southern California, and remember summer days spent playing in the riverbeds of the San Bernardino Mountains, and Sunday mornings walking the trails of Mt. Rubidoux in Riverside.
By the time I was a teenager, my parents had the privilege of accumulating enough savings to take us on trips to parks like Yosemite, Sequoia, Bryce Canyon, Joshua Tree, and the now Instagram-coveted Zion. We also took advantage of the Access Pass offered through the National Park Service. This resource offers free lifetime access to national parks and federal recreation sites to U.S. citizens or permanent residents who have a permanent disability.
The desert is by far my favorite type of outdoor landscape. I always enjoy the long drive out into the seemingly endless expanse of land, and the feeling of both awe and relief I feel to be so far away from everything. It feels as if I can finally exhale fully. Everything is still, calm, and most of all- quiet. It is for this reason that the Mojave and Sonoran deserts that I have the good fortune to call my backyard will always be close to my heart. It gives me both a place to retreat and a vast landscape to explore. It is somewhere that I can get lost over and over again.
Della’s favorite landscape is the forest. Our first trip out of the city together was to the forest of Alpine Valley, about an hour east of San Diego. Della still remembers that day vividly, and the deep sense of calm she felt being surrounded by nothing but trees. Della was eager to go back to the forest, so we did a trip to the Santa Cruz Mountains for their birthday, and we’ve got another trip to the Pacific Northwest planned this summer. When I asked Della to describe what if feels like to be in the forest, they replied one word: “Freedom”
Now when we pack up to drive back to the city after a trip, Della is the first to groan.
“Back to the jungle!” We often joke.
It has taken us both some time to explain the deep feeling of relief we feel in the wilderness, but I started to put the pieces together last year when I began to identify as neurodivergent.
Neurodivergent is rooted in the term Neurodiversity, coined in 1988 by Autistic Sociologist Judy Singer. Neurodiversity is defined as “a biological truism that refers to the limitless variability of human nervous systems on the planet, in which no two can ever be exactly alike due to the influence of environmental factors”.
Neurodivergent is not a medical term. Rather, it is a political term that I use to describe the clear differences in the way that my brain experiences and interacts with the world around it compared to the majority of the population. I myself identify as neurodivergent and have not pursued any formal evaluation or diagnosis, though I experience signs of both Autism and ADHD. I am still undecided on pursuing a formal disability diagnosis, as this can have its own pros and cons due to discrimination in multiple settings such as healthcare, employment, and education.
Despite not having a clinical diagnosis, I’ve always known that something about me was different. Family parties were often overwhelming, too loud and crowded for my senses. Fluorescent lighting is fatiguing, and can give me an instant headache. Sometimes the world around me simply feels like too much to take in.
With that said, I have also been identified as exceptional by teachers and professors, who have praised my ability to retain information and understand complex concepts. I was fast-tracked to academic success, and still lean heavily on my academic abilities in my professional life. My brain gives me treasured gifts, and also makes my experience of the world quite challenging at times. Research shows that the autistic brain generates up to 42 percent more information at rest. It’s no wonder that I love silence! My brain is already producing more than enough information as it is.
The ways in which I struggle have continued into adulthood. I’ve learned to carry noise-canceling headphones with me as a small piece of armor which protects me from the sensory overload around me. Such tools are especially necessary as a person who has lived their entire adulthood in densely populated cities.
There is a term that describes this heavy load of noise in urban environments- noise pollution. The World Health Organization (WHO) defines noise pollution as noise exceeding 65 decibels in the daytime and over 30 decibels at night when residents are sleeping.
People in cities are regularly exposed to noise levels above 65 decibels. A vacuum cleaner is about 70 decibels, while city traffic is about 85 decibels. Even the hum of a refrigerator is 40 decibels, just above the limit of what is shown to be conducive to a good night’s sleep according to the WHO.
In 2021, the American Public Health Association declared noise pollution to be an immediate public health hazard. The general population faces increased risks of sleep disruption, heart disease, and cognitive and mental health concerns due to the level of noise in many cities. Constant noise can wreak havoc on our nervous systems.
With this information, let us also consider our urban residents who have heightened sensitivity to sound due to neurodiversity. Research shows that autistic people may have increased auditory perception, and this may also be true for people with other neurodevelopmental conditions such as ADHD and other Sensory Processing Disorders. What does 30 decibels sound like to them, and what implications does that have for the impacts of noise pollution on their health?
For me, this has meant that I regularly find ways to escape the sensory overload of city environments by heading out into the wilderness landscapes that I am lucky to live only a short drive from. In the wilderness, I can toss my headphones aside with reckless abandon and take in the silence around me. For me, it’s far better than music to the ears.
As I write this love letter to the wilderness, I would also like to acknowledge that even protected areas such as National Parks are also having to grapple with noise management. A 2019 study showed that, while US national parks are some of the quietest areas of the country, one-third of national parks face noise pollution in about 2% of their total land area. While this sounds like a small percentage, this still has negative effects for the wildlife in these areas who need silence to hear their prey and communicate with their pack. When you disturb animals, you also disturb plants which depend on small animals to distribute and plant seeds. The study identified the most common sources of this noise pollution as aircrafts and vehicles, respectively.
So, how do we reap the benefits of nature without harming it? This is a delicate dance, but one worth doing. High levels of traffic can exacerbate noise pollution, so we can help spread the noise out by visiting the less popular parks that don’t get as much love. When we’re in the wilderness, remember that we are guests. We should avoid revving our cars, avoid playing loud music that can easily be listened to via headphones, and utilize traffic-reducing transportation methods such as shuttles. We can also get involved with or donate to environmental advocacy organizations. Here are a few:
National Parks Conservation Association: a national organization that is actively petitioning the Navy to stop flying growler jets over Olympic National Park.
Hawaii Island Coalition Malama Pono: a Hawaiian organization fighting against helicopter tourism.
Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility: a professional organization that supports employees who are demanding better environmental accountability from their employer.
Quiet Parks International: is working to formally recognize certified quiet parks to promote noise management.
Let us remember to do our best to protect nature from the effects of industrialization as we engage with it for healing and restoration of our bodies and minds. Better yet, let us resist the harm that continues to be done to us and to the planet by corporate and governmental giants.
BIO:
Desiree Lopez (pronouns: She/They) is a queer Chicana living in Southern California. Desiree currently works in higher education and is passionate about mental health, disability justice, and equitable access to education. In her spare time she enjoys hiking, drag shows, collecting crafted jewelry, and being a cat mom. You can follow them on Instagram, X, and Tik Tok at @death_rayy
References:
Reflections on Neurodiversity. Judy Singer. Accessed 3/30/2024.
Noise. World Health Organization. Accessed 3/30/3024
Decibel Level Comparison Chart. Yale Environmental Health and Safety. Accessed 3/30/2024.
Noise as a Public Health Hazard. American Public Health Association. Accessed 3/30/2024.
A sound advantage: Increased auditory capacity in autism. Remington & Fairne, 2017. Accessed 3/30/2024.
Accessibility. National Park Service. Accessed 5/6/2024
Cleary, M., West, S., Kornhaber, R., & Hungerford, C. (2023). Autism, Discrimination and Masking: Disrupting a Recipe for Trauma. Issues in Mental Health Nursing, 44(9), 799–808. https://doi.org/10.1080/01612840.2023.2239916
Case Western Reserve University. (2014, January 31). Autistic brains create more information at rest, study show. ScienceDaily. Retrieved May 6, 2024 from www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/01/140131130630.htm
Front Ecol Environ 2019; 17(10): 559–564, doi:10.1002/fee.2112
Listening to Silence: Why We Must Protect the World's Quiet Places Morber, 2020. Accessed 5/6/2024.
