Ariana Akbari — Beaumont Port Arthur, Texas

For the People Who Stayed

by Jazmin Storrs

In the face of grief and erasure—from hurricanes to a devastating pipeline project—Ariana Akbari reimagines East Texas through empathy, memory, and climate storytelling that inspires action.

About Ariana Akbari

Ariana Akbari is a climate activist, artist-architect, and environmental designer from East Texas. She’s the founder of Climate Justice Texas, a youth-led conservation nonprofit amplifying local stories and advocating for environmental justice. Deeply rooted in family and place, Ariana channels passion into everything from organizing and advocacy to experimental art exploring climate storytelling and monument as ritual.

What impacts have you observed in your environment?

Ariana grew up surrounded by natural beauty, but also by heavy industry. One of the most visible disruptions came when a pipeline project razed homes and trees in her neighborhood.

“The Pipeline Project demolished all the houses and cut down all the trees. These were places I cared about. Then they drilled for so long, and it was so loud. Because we live outside the city limits, they were allowed to take the land and we weren’t subject to noise ordinances. They could do whatever, and they would drill all night.”

Her childhood was also shaped by powerful storms—Rita, Katrina, and later, Harvey.

“We had a lot of hurricanes when I was growing up. Rita, Katrina, and Harvey happened when I was away at college. I watched my aunts and uncles get evacuated by the Cajun Navy. When you’re a kid or in young adulthood, you’re not super aware. Most people may live at that level their whole life, not realizing the systems impacting how they live. You just feel the repercussions.”

Abandoned toys lie scattered, a welcome mat at the door—yet no home to return to. This scene captures the suddenness with which families had to flee, a quiet testament to loss and displacement.

How has this affected your community?

For Ariana, the pipeline transformed more not just the landscape, but also fragmented the tight-knit fabric of the community she once knew.

“Now it’s so sad and lonely. There’s an endless expanse. We used to have people come trick-or-treat because there were kids across the street. It used to feel safer because people would watch out for you. Now you walk down the street, and there’s no community.”

These losses weren’t only emotional, many have come with health consequences as well. “My dad was diagnosed with cancer. Again, another common theme that you’re going to find in this area is the prevalence of cancer. It’s another thing people like to ignore, but which does come with the oil industry and a lot of other things.”

Before and after: Ariana stands in the same spot of a once vibrant neighborhood, now stripped bare. The lone tree behind her is all that remains. A rainbow arcs over the scene, its beauty above the quiet devastation.

How have you responded?

Ariana’s response to these harms has been personal and collective.

“Looking back, I’ve gone through several stages of grief. One of them was rage, because the loss felt so profound and painful, and I couldn’t get other people to see why it was so important to me. That made me feel alienated and frustrated. Some people here get it, but mostly, you can’t.”

She’s learned to meet others with grace, recognizing that not everyone is given the space to learn or engage.

“I’ve realized my perspective comes from a place of privilege. Not everybody gets the opportunity to finish high school or have a job that lets them even think about climate change… My intentions should be to be more understanding of people.”

In the face of environmental destruction and social fragmentation, Ariana holds a complex understanding of what it means to belong:

“I try to understand myself through the lens of my community, recognizing that I’m deeply rooted here, but also that within what may seem like a unified culture, every person is carrying their own story, their own challenges, their own reality. We’re all living in parallel worlds, even when we share a space.”

She later turned her grief into action, founding Climate Justice Texas to address environmental inequity through education, organizing, and storytelling.

Ariana with her friends, Brittany and Tatiana, canoeing at Martin Dies Jr. State Park in Jasper, TX

What are your hopes for the future?

Ariana dreams of a world where communities, especially those long devalued, are treated with dignity and care.

“I want people to know that my community has implicit value that has now been lost to eternity. It’s the same concept that’s echoed in an overarching way that we view the Earth as disposable… There’s an enormous sadness to losing something to infinitude.”

Still, she imagines a hopeful vision:

“I love these people so much that I wish that they had the best things, and that includes clean air, bicycle trails, and people fishing with their family. That’s just the world that I would love to see for my community and for all of Texas.”

Ariana and her father at Big Thicket advocating to restore National Park Service staffing