Leading Binnizá and Maya Ch'orti' scientist Jessica Hernandez, PhD, weaves together Indigenous knowledge, environmental science, and personal family stories in her highly anticipated follow-up to the LA Times best-seller Fresh Banana Leaves.
Not every environmental problem is a result of climate change, but every environmental and climate change problem is a result of colonialism.
Dr. Jessica Hernandez offers readers an Indigenous, Global-South lens on the climate crisis, delivering a compelling and urgent exploration of its causes—and its costs. She shares how the impacts of colonial climate catastrophe—from warming oceans to forced displacement of settler ontologies—can only be addressed at the root if we reorient toward Indigenous science and follow the lead of Indigenous peoples and communities.
Growing Papaya Trees Energy as a sociopolitical issueThe interconnectedness of natural disasters, sociopolitical turmoil, and forced migrationOur oceans, our forests, and our Indigenous futuresMoving Indigenous science from mere acknowledgement into real actionHow to nourish Indigenous roots when displaced beyond borders Dr. Hernandez what does it mean to be Indigenous when we’re separated from our lands? How do we nurture future generations knowing they, too, will have to live away from their ancestral places? She illuminates that cultures are not lost, even amid genocide, turmoil, war, and climate displacement—and shows us how to be better kin to each other against the ecological violence, colonial oppression, and distorted status quo of the Global North.
Jessica Hernandez is a Maya Ch’orti and Binnizá-Zapotec Indigenous environmental scientist, activist, author, and researcher at the University of Washington. Her work is primarily focused on climate, energy, and environmental justice. She is known for her book, Fresh Banana Leaves: Healing Indigenous Landscapes through Indigenous Science.
This was an arc that got away. This happens when I receive a copy from publishers that is not accessible. When this happens, I most often need to wait for the book to come out, and then I find an accessible copy on Libby, if I can. That's what I did here.
(Free ARC) I read Fresh Banana Leaves earlier this year and commented that it read a bit like an MA dissertation, it seemed like an interesting theme but felt repetitive and without any real substance.
Well, I'm afraid this is more of the same. I'll still give this three stars because it isn't a terrible book but if you have read Fresh Banana Leaves first and are now reading Growing Papaya Trees, you will be disappointed.
It doesn't really talk about Indigenous solutions for climate change... It just says again and again that they are needed and that Indigenous people are being displaced from their Land (always with a capital L). Because she aims for a somewhat universal message, Jessica Hernandez doesn't go really into detail about her own history - briefly mentions her father from El Salvador, her mother from Oxaoca, both exiled Indigenous, and her grandmother slicing papaya... But I found that by trying so hard to provide a book that reads universally, it becomes so vague that I lost interest. It was a disappointment and I wouldn't recommend it, especially if you have already read Fresh Banana Leaves.
an excellent nonfiction about climate displacement and what it means to be indigenous peoples in today’s age. with direct and honest writing, hernandez shared some stories and anecdotes from her family and community. whether through food, language, or small gifts traveling back home, it’s clear that indigenous peoples have a strong connection to their lands and their traditions - this was beautiful to read.
the book focuses on the importance of listening to indigenous peoples’s voices and knowledge when talking about climate change and its effects. it reads as a manifesto, educating people on important issues, as well as giving young people hope for the future.
i really appreciate the work that went into this and while reading i was able to learn a lot of new things. even though the writing style wasn’t my favorite, this book made me reflect and question current reality, which is something i highly appreciate. great read!
thank you to north atlantic books for the arc. all opinions are my own.
3/5 stars Recommended if you like: nonfiction, short reads, immigration stories
Big thanks to North Atlantic Books, Netgalley, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!
This book should really just be titled Growing Papaya Trees, because there was almost nothing about climate change, let alone solutions, within its pages. I came into this book expecting to read about an Indigenous and Global South perspective on climate change and climate change solutions, with topics touching on migration, conflict, etc. Instead this is roughly 280 pages of Dr. Hernandez talking about what it's like to be Indigenous and in the diaspora, which is fine if that's what the book is meant to be about. But that's not what was advertised here.
This book is split into six chapters, each of which focuses on a topic like "Our Land" or "Our Seedlings (Youth)"...except not really. Based on the chapter titles, I was expecting the first half of the book to lay out some of the current problems Indigenous people in the Global South are facing as a result of climate change, and the second half of the book to lay out potential solutions or examples of successful climate activism. What happened instead was that virtually all six chapters were mirrors of each other, where Dr. Hernandez discusses one or both of her cultures; the struggles her parents had with migration; how conflict, colonialism, and genocide impacted her matrilineal and patrilineal Lands (yes, every singly time land is mentioned in this book it's capitalized); what it's like being Indigenous in the diaspora; and then she usually includes a memory or two of hers. Also the obligatory papaya tree metaphor...in every chapter (you would not believe how many ways she can use papaya trees as a metaphor).
The contents of this book are important, but frankly I'm not sure they belong in a book about climate change when the author does very little to actually connect her stories to climate change. She mentions that climate caused her mother to have to walk further to get water and firewood, and she drops in that climate change was a factor in leading her parents to migrate, but she doesn't ever really examine that or help readers who have not experienced similar things understand what climate factors were in play that led to that decision.
There were only two chapters that really touched on climate change, neither of which really bothered to offer solutions, either traditional, mainstream, or innovative. These two chapters talk briefly about climate change and its impacts, and briefly about the solutions, before circling back around to conflict and migration. In fact, Dr. Hernandez is really pessimistic about climate action, and I found myself growing irritated with the way she was framing current solutions. Are there sustainability and ethics problems with electric cars and wind farms? Absolutely, and people should absolutely be aware of them, but you can't just shit all over these solutions, suggest people who use them aren't 'doing enough,' and then refuse to propose alternatives. To be fair, she criticizes fossil fuels too, but I almost feel as if she mainly targets renewables rather than fossil fuels, and I'm left wondering what exactly she expects? Don't use current renewables because they're problematic, but don't use fossil fuels because they cause climate change. Okay, sure.
Beyond my issue with this being framed as a climate change + climate solution book when it's very much not, I also found this book to be extremely repetitive. I summarize the contents of each chapter above, and I am not joking when I say that basically every single chapter is formatted in this way in basically the exact same order. We hear 5-6 times over how finding cultural foods in the diaspora is difficult. We hear 5-6 over how it's extremely difficult to leave your Land and how it's even more difficult if you're Indigenous because of your connection to your Land. Again, I do think these topics are important and I actually would be interested in hearing more about it, but the sheer repetitiveness of this book made me start to skim read just so I could finish it. Likewise, while I know this is an ARC and some mistakes will be here that won't be in the final, but there were whole sentences and paragraphs repeated in certain places. Usually it would be back-to-back, but in some cases the sentence/paragraph was repeated with some text in between, making me wonder if there wasn't some copy-and-pasting going on. Also I came across multiple sentence fragments (and she called Latin America a country, it's a region).
I think this book has the potential to be a good read, but only with some additional editing. For starters, scrap the 'focus' on climate change. This is not a book about that. Instead, keep the focus on the overarching papaya tree metaphor (but for the love of god cut down on the number of times you actually use the metaphor) and instead address the impact of being Indigenous and a migrant. This is not a perspective that you see very often and I think Dr. Hernandez has some really good points to make, but the way this book is written means those points are lost in the sauce. If she instead used the six chapters to focus on an aspect of Indigeneity and migration, such as connection with homeland(s), culture in the diaspora, coming from Latin America but not being Latine, etc., then this could be a very powerful and moving book. There could still even be a chapter on how climate change is impacting the Global South and the Indigenous peoples living there. But if the book were to be structured in this way, I think a lot of the repetitiveness would be taken care of, and the framing would be tightened into a much more impactful narrative.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!
I am SO sad that I am disappointed by this book. The premise sounds very interesting, and I was really excited to hear from an Indigenous woman about Indigenous approaches to climate change and climate displacement.
Sadly, the book didn't quite meet my expectations. While I appreciate Hernandez' insights on Indigenous displacement and climate change, much of what she said felt repetitive, as she had already said the same thing like 20 pages prior. For such a short book, much of the content being repetitive sadly REALLY affects how it will be perceived. Additionally, this felt more like a memoir at times, which definitely has its merits, but it wasn't what I was expecting when reading this book, and that left me feeling somewhat disappointed. I also felt like much of her advice/statements/calls to action were pretty vague, though I do not exclude the possibility that as a white, non-Indigenous person, that simply colours my perception as I am very used to the Western scientific method of thinking, much as I try to be aware of it and open to other ways of science.
There's also a flattening of the West/the Global North, in a way that at times felt self-exoticising in the way she speaks about Indigenous communities vis-à-vis the West/Global North. I particularly remember her discussions of the role food plays in Indigenous communities, framed in a way that makes it sound as if this were exclusively Indigenous, ignoring the important role food plays in many other cultures across the globe, many of which would not fall under the general definition of Indigenous (though she never quite explains how she defines Indigeneity, when talking about Indigenous peoples of Africa, for example. I'm not sure if I am not knowledgeable enough or if she has a widened definition of Indigeneity, but she seems at times to refer to people that, as far as I know, are not considered Indigenous by international definitions.)
Another aspect was that this book is very focused on a Global South, particularly South American perspective (though Africa, Aotearoa and island nations as Tuvalu are also mentioned). Hernandez speaks about how the Global South is experiencing the brunt of the effects of climate change, while the global North is responsible for the emissions leading to climate catastrophes. While this is true, I missed acknowledgment of Indigenous communities of the Far North, such as the Inuit or the Sápmi, as well as the many Indigenous groups of the Russian Far North. While it is debatable if these groups can really be counted as belonging to the Global North, as many of their conditions are more comparable to those of other Global South peoples, this was not problematised or even mentioned in Hernandez' book, which is quite a shame, as communities of the Far North also deal with immense, irreversible, life-altering consequences of climate change that affect the ways in which traditional Indigenous lifestyles can be kept. (She also fails to problematise Te Tiriti o Waitangi when mentioning it as a positive example of Indigenous land rights being granted, as Te Tiriti certainly wasn't and still isn't unproblematic and its interpretations vary. Then there's also the whole translation issue...)
Many discussions of climate change also felt very climate change 101, where I would have appreciated a more academic discussion.
Again, I was really looking forward to this book, but it sadly just... didn't do it for me.
This was deeply emotional and insightful book. The imagery was so vivid and I loved learning the background in the prologue supporting my education into Indigenous history. This was completely new subject for me but I found that it was so logical to follow and easy to understand. The sharing of personal stories, the history of the lands and the focus of the environment was very special. I found that this non-fiction although short, focused on climate displacement and called for a solution for climate change rather than provide a solution. It was a privilege to read this book.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was released in the US by North Atlantic Books on November 11th, 2025.
“The act of peeling and slicing papayas became a ritual that bridged generations, preserving our cultural heritage despite displacement fractures. In our new Land, we could not grow the same papayas that surrounded my mother’s home, but we could slice them together, savoring the sweet taste and reminiscing about the stories tied to each piece. This simple act brought us closer, allowing us to honor our past while creating new memories in our present. Even in a different Land, the essence of our heritage remained alive through these small but meaningful traditions.”
Growing Papaya Trees welcomed me into a story carried across generations, where memory, land, and survival braid into one continuous thread. Hernandez writes with a lyricism that is both tender and unflinching, returning again and again to the truth that land remembers us even when we are forced to leave it. Her recurrent reflections on papaya trees become a quiet insistence on resilience, a reminder that nourishment can travel with us through ritual, story, and care. The book’s emotional core rests in this intimate weaving of personal history with political urgency, creating a narrative that feels rooted in love for Indigenous people navigating the violence of a changing climate.
At its strongest, this book illuminates how climate displacement fractures communities and how borders sever relationships that were never meant to be interrupted. Hernandez gives voice to the grief of leaving home and the quiet labor of rebuilding identity in diaspora. She exposes the devastation wrought by colonial capitalism and outlines how the Global North continues to exploit Indigenous lands while refusing accountability for the crises it accelerates. Her argument for Indigenous-led climate solutions is compelling, especially in how she frames traditional ecological knowledge as both ancestral wisdom and contemporary necessity.
That said, I struggled with how the text was framed. I expected a deeper engagement with Indigenous science and land practices, yet much of the book functions more as a manifesto than an exploration of ecological methods. Key arguments appear multiple times, sometimes in nearly identical phrasing, which softened their impact for me. Still, even with these frustrations, Hernandez’s sincerity and devotion to her communities shine through. Growing Papaya Trees is a call to remember our responsibilities to each other and to the land, and while it wasn’t quite the book I anticipated, it offered lessons I’m grateful to carry with me.
📖 Read this if you love: decolonial climate theory, narrative nonfiction that braids personal history with environmental critique, books that center land-based knowledge, or writing that sits at the crossroads of memory, land, and survival.
🔑 Key Themes: Climate Justice and Accountability, Cultural Continuity in Diaspora, Borders and Displacement, Indigenous Sovereignty and Land Stewardship.
Content / Trigger Warnings: Death of a Parent (minor), Grief (minor), Colonization (moderate), Genocide (moderate), Murder (minor), Child Death (minor), Mental Illness (minor), War (minor).
I really liked this quote: "Indigenous science considers the interconnectedness of all elements in the natural world, offering a holistic perspective. It emphasizes relationships and the cumulative knowledge of ecosystems, unlike Western science which often isolates variables for study."
The chapter on energy was the most effective for me, personally. I really appreciated Hernandez talking about the conflict between the "green" energy transition and the land rights of Indigenous communities. Hernandez shared two examples: (1) the debate over the lithium mine being built on the Paiute-Shoshone Tribe and (2) the wind turbines that were built off of her home off the Gulf of Tehuantepee. I appreciated the discussion around "green" colonization, and reminded me quite a bit of a lot of the content in POWER METAL.
In the energy chapter, I was really fascinated by Hernandez's discussion around thermodynamics and the colonist system that those theories came out out of. I wish she gave examples about our definitions of energy not being objective. I would like to understand more about what she meant by that. Like I understand that research first started during the industrial revolution-- but what would the field of thermodynamics look like outside of the western science perspective? I just want to understand that better. Like she said the Indigenous history of energy involves sustainable relationships of the land. But I still would like to understand what aspects of thermodynamics are not objective. I just wish there was more here because I really want to understand.
Growing Papaya Trees: Nurturing Indigenous Roots During Climate Displacement by Jessica Hernandez, Ph.D. (book cover is in image) according to its blurb attempts to explore the following: Energy as a sociopolitical issue; the interconnectedness of natural disasters, sociopolitical turmoil, and forced migration; our oceans, our forests, and our Indigenous futures, moving Indigenous science from mere acknowledgement into real action; and how to nourish Indigenous roots when displaced beyond borders. And while on the surface it does touch upon these topics, the delivery of the message may get lost on the layperson.
While reading this book it felt as if I was reading part memoir and part manifesto. Though the parts that read like a memoir were interesting and engaging, when you got to the parts that read more like a manifesto, it felt more academic and that I was being lectured at, so the transitions between the two were jarring. Unfortunately, I think these two separate tones within the book and its repetitiveness in language and message will cause readers to abandon this book, which is a shame because I believe it provides such great food for thought.
Thank you @natlanticbooks and @netgalley for the opportunity to read this ARC. All opinions are my own.
What a powerful and necessary read for everyone...young or old, Indigenous or non-Indigenous. Dr. Jessica Hernandez writes with clarity, heart, and deep knowledge, offering not just a look at the climate crisis, but a call to reconnect with land, culture, and community. ...
It’s a reminder of how deeply connected Indigenous cultures are to the Land, and how that connection shapes care, responsibility, and legacy.
From the very beginning, in the section titled A Love Letter to Our Ancestral Lands, she writes, “Our Lands will never forget us. Our Lands will remember our love and respect, which will be our legacy,” (Hernandez PhD).
That line stayed with me, setting the tone for this moving and urgent narrative. And there were so many, another one that I had to write down was, “Our land protects us, nurtures us, and nourishes us. Our Land is what connects us to our ancestors and the natural world,” (Hernandez PhD).
This is more than a call to address climate change—it’s a call to heal our relationship with the land and to reconnect with our roots.
I read this as an ARC thanks to NetGalley, but can’t wait to add it to my shelves and I’ll definitely be rereading it several times.
Thank you to NetGalley and North Atlantic Books for the ARC of this incredible work. (Hernandez PhD, J. Growing Papaya Trees. North Atlantic Books, 2025).
Dr. Hernandez draws upon the holistic framework of Indigenous science to examine the climate crisis disproportionately impacting Native peoples. Weaving storytelling throughout her informative and factual text, she draws upon her personal/familial experiences to examine displacement, oppression, resilience, and strength. A central metaphor of the papaya is applied throughout the book and its symbolism has profound multiple meanings and applications. Dr. Hernandez approaches the topic of climate change and environmental stewardship from a global south perspective and highlights Indigenous peoples’ successes with this work offering lessons of sustainability and resilience. Additionally, Dr. Hernandez emphasizes the importance of learning from Native peoples’ critiques of environmental initiatives (ie green energy and carbon markets). Throughout, the author advocates for Indigenous peoples to be central in leading and shaping climate justice work and environmental stewardship. It reads as a powerful call to action to Native peoples and global environmental activists. This work is extremely thorough connecting global issues in a cohesive way and holistic way.
Thank you to NetGalley and North Atlantic Books for this e-ARC in exchange for my honest opinion and review.
Growing Papaya Trees is a book written first and foremost for Indigenous peoples and for the scholars who understand the responsibility of carrying stories with care. It isn’t written to impress mainstream audiences or fit neatly into Western expectations of climate writing. It’s written to speak to us, to hold our experiences, and to honor the realities of displacement that our communities navigate every day. Dr. Jessica Hernandez writes with a clarity and honesty that refuses to dilute Indigenous knowledge for broader consumption. She isn’t trying to translate our truths into something more digestible. Instead, she centers Indigenous readers who deserve to see our histories, our migrations, and our hopes reflected without compromise. For scholars committed to decolonial work, this book serves as both grounding and guidance. For Indigenous readers, it feels like a conversation with family. For everyone else, it is an invitation to listen deeply, respectfully, and without expectation that Indigenous stories exist for their comfort. It is a necessary and courageous contribution to climate literature, rooted in love, responsibility, and sovereignty. I loved it!
Growing Papaya Trees is a beautiful, powerful book that calls us not only to witness the realities of climate displacement, but to truly do the internal work required to transform them. So often, readers rush to extract “solutions” from Indigenous peoples without reflecting on their own responsibilities, biases, or roles in systems of harm. What I love most about this book and about Dr. Jessica Hernandez’s voice is that she refuses to let Indigenous knowledge become another checklist or trend. Instead, she asks us to slow down, to look inward, and to understand that meaningful change begins with our own accountability. Her writing is grounding, intimate, and visionary, reminding us that liberation and climate justice require healing at every level: personal, communal, and planetary. This is a necessary read for anyone who wants to engage with Indigenous science with respect, humility, and intention.
Growing Papaya Trees is the climate justice book we need. The beginning was a little slow for me and at times this books can feel repetitive, but the substance in it is so important that everyone needs to read it. Stories about Hernandez's family and papayas are woven throughout the book to set up the stories of how the climate crisis effects the Indigenous People. This book is strongest when Hernandez strings together the pieces for how even though countries are trying to be more green, they are not taking into consideration of how the extraction of these materials effects the Indigenous people, the land and creates a forced migration. When we think of climate solutions, we need to get all stakeholders together and make Indigenous People decision makers. We could learn from Indigenous People and their practices to be generally more climate friendly. If you enjoyed Braiding Sweetgrass, What If We Get It Right, or Kuleana you will love this book.
This explores how environmental destruction and climate change cannot be understood without recognizing the ongoing impacts of colonialism. Drawing on her Binnizá and Maya Ch’orti’ heritage, Hernandez shows how Indigenous peoples disproportionately suffer from land loss, forced migration, and ecological harm, while their traditional knowledge is often ignored in mainstream environmental policy. Using the papaya tree as a metaphor for resilience, she illustrates how displaced Indigenous communities maintain cultural roots and adapt even after being uprooted from their ancestral lands. Throughout the book, Hernandez argues that true climate justice requires centering Indigenous science, addressing structural inequalities, and building solidarity across communities.
I received this book from NetGalley as an ARC. Overall, I enjoyed it and found it thoughtful and informative. The focus on Indigenous communities from the Global South was especially powerful, but I would have appreciated at least a brief acknowledgement of Indigenous communities in the North as well.
At times, the book felt quite academic—almost like reading a dissertation. Coming from an academic background myself, I personally found this interesting and engaging, but I can see how other readers might find the tone a bit dense.
Despite that, the themes and insights were meaningful, and I appreciated the emphasis on Indigenous knowledge and climate justice. A solid, worthwhile read for those who enjoy more scholarly nonfiction.
Growing Papaya Trees is easily the best book I have read this year. It is honest, grounding, and written with a clarity that only comes from someone who carries deep responsibility to community. Dr. Jessica Hernandez offers a perspective on climate displacement that is urgently needed, especially now. This book speaks directly to Indigenous peoples and to those willing to do the internal work, not just consume our stories or extract “solutions.” It asks readers to reflect, to listen, and to approach Indigenous knowledge with humility rather than entitlement. Beautifully written, deeply rooted, and full of truth, this is the kind of book that leaves you changed.
3.5 - This is a thoughtful introduction to climate justice rooted in indigenous wisdom, blending memoir and the author’s science background. I appreciated her personal anecdotes and reflections on how to center indigenous voices in environmental decision-making and learning. However, the book is more high-level than I expected, a little repetitive in certain parts, and seems to focus more on maintaining connections to indigenous heritage in the diaspora than it does on climate solutions. I would have liked to read more details in the examples the author shared, and specific considerations for addressing climate issues with indigenous consultation and leadership.
though the content and sentence structure was extremely repetitive, and the papaya metaphor was forced at times, ultimately this was an informative book and provided an interesting perspective of climate change
As someone who already has a base understanding on the topics covered, I wished there were more concrete examples of resistance against greenwashing, displacement, and climate injustice.