Women on the Frontline

The fight for a better life in Cancer Alley

by

In the heartland of Louisiana, between Baton Rouge and New Orleans, an eighty-five-mile corridor along the Mississippi River holds a legacy of environmental degradation, social injustice, and economic struggle.

Over the past half-century, this riverside region has transformed into an industrial juggernaut—with over 150 chemical facilities and oil refineries, the largest concentration of fossil fuel and petrochemical operations in the Western hemisphere. But the area is also home to the descendants of those once enslaved on Louisiana’s sugar plantations—their roots forever driven into the depths of this land and all that came from it.

According to the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), certain areas within this region have alarmingly high cancer risks as a result of industrial air pollution. These findings  have led to international scrutiny, with United Nations human rights experts designating the disproportionate health burdens borne by the predominately Black communities of Cancer Alley  as a form of “environmental racism.”

Still, new plants in Louisiana’s petrochemical heartland continue to be built in communities already suffering from dangerous air quality, especially in predominantly Black and poor parishes like St. John the Baptist, St. James, and Ascension.

On the frontlines of this battle, women—most of them African American—are leading the environmental justice movement. They are quietly, but powerfully, standing up for their communities. As Jo Banner, founder of The Descendants Project, put it:  “My grandmother used to say, ‘She’s a bonhomme,’ meaning a woman who isn’t afraid to work hard and take care of herself—a true strong woman.”

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Sharon Lavigne

In St. James Parish, state Highway 18 runs alongside sugarcane fields and industrial sites owned by companies like Koch, ExxonMobil, and NuStar. Near Welcome, a sign by a water tower marks the proposed site of Formosa Plastics’ Sunshine Project—a $9.4 billion complex with fourteen petrochemical plants, one of the largest of its kind in the world.

"I'm fighting for my life, my children, and my community." 

—Sharon Lavigne

Sharon Lavigne, seventy-two, lives in Welcome, a small majority-Black community in the heart of Cancer Alley. A retired special education teacher, she has taken a leading role in fighting to prevent the Sunshine Project, as well as expansion of the petrochemical industry in St. James Parish as a whole. In 2018, she founded the grassroots, faith-based organization RISE St. James. Rallying the community around the cause of environmental justice, Lavigne has organized marches, filed lawsuits, and partnered with national environmental groups to challenge both industry and government officials. Her efforts have earned her national recognition; in 2021, she received the Goldman Environmental Prize, in 2022 the Laetare Medal—the most prestigious award given to American Catholics, and in 2024 she was named one of TIME’s "100 Most Influential People of 2024".

For Lavigne, this fight is deeply personal. The proposed Sunshine Project site is alarmingly close to her family’s property, where she raised her children. Over the years, she has watched friends and neighbors die from cancer, illnesses she believes are directly linked to the toxic pollution engulfing the area.

“It’s mostly women out here fighting,” Lavigne said. “I think it’s because of how a woman cares for her children… I’m fighting for my life, my children, and my community.”

Wilma Subra

An eighty-one-year-old chemist and environmentalist from Morgan City, Louisiana, Wilma Subra has dedicated her career to protecting the environment and public health. In 1981, she founded the Subra Company, Inc. an environmental consulting firm, and has served on multiple advisory councils, including with the EPA. Subra’s work, particularly in Louisiana, focuses on helping communities fight industrial pollution.

"[Advocacy] is something that people desperately need, and nobody else can provide." —Wilma Subra

One of her longstanding battles is against Denka Performance Elastomer, a company in St. John the Baptist Parish that produces neoprene, a synthetic rubber. Denka’s emissions include chloroprene, a chemical classified by the EPA as a likely carcinogen. According to a 2011 National Air Toxics Assessment, the risk of developing cancer from air pollution next to the Denka neoprene facility is nearly fifty times the national average. This has created serious health risks for nearby communities, especially at Fifth Ward Elementary School, located just 450 feet from the plant. “The school needs to be shut down and the children moved elsewhere. Denka is poisoning them,” Subra asserted. In 2023, the EPA and U.S. Justice Department filed a lawsuit against Denka, citing the dangers its emissions pose to public health. While the case is pending, the plant remains operational. Subra continues to raise awareness by providing communities with detailed reports on chloroprene levels and explaining the data in accessible terms.

Subra works tirelessly to ensure the public understands the dangers and continues to advocate for stronger government protections against environmental pollutants. “It is something that people desperately need, and nobody else can provide,” she said.

Joy & Jo Banner

Twin sisters Joy and Dr. Jo Banner, forty-five, live just miles from where their ancestors were enslaved over 200 years ago. In 2020, they co-founded The Descendants Project, a nonprofit focused on protecting Black descendant communities’ land and cultural heritage from industrial threats in Cancer Alley. Grounded in their Creole culture, they are committed to advocating for a healthier, more equitable future for residents of the area.

"My grandmother used to say, 'She's a bonhomme,' meaning a woman who isn't afraid to work hard and take care of herself, a true strong woman." 

—Jo Banner

The Banners played a pivotal role in halting the $400 million Greenfield Grain Elevator project in 2024, which threatened their community in Wallace. “Grain elevators can explode, workers can suffocate in grain bins, and they release harmful dust into the air—a serious threat to our already vulnerable community,” Jo explained. The facility would have also destroyed several neighborhoods and historic sites important to local descendant communities, such as plantation sites and a cemetery. The efforts of The Descendants Project, which included organizing the community and taking legal action, ultimately led to the project’s cessation last year.

Now, the sisters focus on the Atlantic Alumina facility in Gramercy, seeking to prevent the spread of red bauxite dust and increases of toxic emissions—including chloroprene. They aim to protect their community from further harm while raising awareness about the interconnected histories of enslavement and environmental degradation in the region.

In addition to battling threats to their health and ecosystem, the Banner sisters have also recently become  the owners of Woodland Plantation—formerly known as the Andry Plantation, and in recent years, the 1811 Kid Ory House. The property is also the site of the 1811 Freedom Fight of the Enslaved, otherwise known as the German Coast Uprising, the largest armed revolt by enslaved people in United States history. As the first Black stewards of the former plantation site in its history, the Banners are currently working with experts and historians to cultivate it anew as a space for healing, reflection, and education about the legacies of slavery and the resilience of Black descendant communities in Cancer Alley.

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Throughout their efforts, the sisters have observed the concept of “petro-masculinity” in action—a mindset rooted in both patriarchy and a slave system, where men were expected to accept dangerous work as a duty. “This thinking persists today, especially in industrial areas, where a man’s role is tied to labor, even at the cost of his life,” said Jo. This pervasive culture has influenced the economic framework of the communities in Cancer Alley, where the economy has become intertwined with an industry that is actively harming the people in its vicinity.

For women, especially mothers, the fight is also about protecting future generations. “Even on plantations, women cared for others, balancing family and work. In Creole culture, women often lead, sharing power within their families,” said Jo. “My parents and grandparents modeled that balance.”

Janice Frechaud

Janice Frechaud, sixty six, has lived in a trailer since Hurricane Ida made her home uninhabitable in 2021. She reveals the jagged scars from her mastectomy, a reminder of the breast cancer she attributes to the pollution from nearby plants. More than twenty of her neighbors have had cancer, and as a gesture of resistance to this fate, she’s spent years tirelessly working to halt the spread of petrochemical plants in her parish.

"We have been through a lot of sickness due to these chemical plants. I will continue to work for my community." 

—Janice Frechaud

Frechaud has been involved in various environmental justice organizations, including Louisiana Bucket Brigade, Exclusive Ladies, and RISE St. James. She is now founding her own organization, L.O.V.E. (Love Opportunity Victory Everlasting), to help others recover from hurricanes.

“Women are more concerned about health and kids because we have been through a lot of sickness due to these chemical plants,” she says. “I will continue to work for my community.” 

Editor's Note: A version of this story also appears in The Progressive.