Photos by Emma McCann New York City has earned many titles, but a natural plant paradise is not (any longer) among them. Still, you might be lucky to one day have Antonia Pérez, native New Yorker, Chilean, and co-founder of Herban Cura, lead you around to point out a local biology that is often overlooked. She can reveal the presence of mugwort and unseen mulberries, and open your eyes to the nettles and humble mosses. While not necessarily for direct harvest, these plants— New Yorkers in their own right—act as agents in rebuilding our knowledge and relationship with native ecologies. Photo credit: Emma McCann Access to this knowledge is important right now. “Mineral-rich plants, like raspberry leaf, nettle, oatstraw, horsetail – all grow around here and give us nutrients that we’re not getting at the supermarket,” Antonia explained. “Our soils have largely been stripped, so we need to supplement our diets with herbs.” But it’s bigger than this. “Part of our culture’s oppression is working people so hard that they don’t have time to think about their own existence. Or even what else is possible. So we get stuck in the patterns of operation and consumer cycles. The amount of buy-buy-buy for headaches and weight-loss…it’s like everything is wrong with us. But drinking infusions of those plants throughout the day can—and does—make us stronger.” “It’s through feeling physically well that we can begin to claim a sense of empowerment.” Photo credit: Emma McCann There is a story known as “The Three Sisters,” told by the Iroquois people, that comes to mind here. I first heard of it when reading Robin Wall-Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass, but farmers and native peoples, in communion with the land we now call North America, have known of it for ages. For the Iroquois, it is a creation story, a story of growth and harvest. There are different versions of “The Three Sisters” legend, but they generally lead to this: that the three sisters—corn, squash, and beans—experience mutual support and better growth when planted together in shared plots. It is a story of abundance and harvest, the story of a land that nurtures us. Antonia offered more ways the land prepares us to stand tall: “Some other important plants are dandelion burdock in helping our liver. Our body is in constant detoxification: that’s what our liver does. But we’ve been taught to fear bitters. We’re not digesting things. We’re so stressed out; eating on the go. So having plants like dandelion, yellow dock, burdock help activate our gastric juices and help our gallbladder and liver are really important.” Photo credit: Emma McCann In the practice of harvesting, there is a personal introduction made to the plant. Then there is an asking–a literal, heartfelt request for permission to collect. And then of course, there is a listening. “Sometimes I see a plant I’m really excited about, but I sit with it a while and feel, you know, it doesn’t want to be harvested. Especially if there are only five plants there. I’m not going to harvest it.” It’s an approach inspired in part by her grandmother. “If it’s a whole community of plants, then sure. Like nettles, they really like to grow in abundance. Other plants like blue vervain, which is a really powerful plant, will sometimes be just four plants. Maybe I’ll harvest one, but I won’t pull up the root. I rarely pull up the roots.” But in a harvest, there is not only taking. There is also accountability. We discussed the taking of things that do not belong to us, and the commodification of knowledge and of ancient wisdom. “So much goes unacknowledged, and so much is appropriated. But it’s under the guise of ‘healing’. But how can we heal our bodies if we’re not acknowledging the way that we’re accessing this knowledge? Who had to die? Who got robbed?” The self-help industry is bent on selling individual prosperity. There can be no communion if there is only taking. I think back to the story of the the Three Sisters, with the corn and beans and squash. The thing that’s interesting is that each plant does what it has to for its own individual growth. But in their plenty, they are each able to share their unique gifts. There is not just a taking, but a mutual contribution, and this is my favorite part. The corn readies a climbing structure for the beans. The beans offer a nitrogen-rich soil, and stabilize the corn’s roots. The squash, nourished by the soil, provides a haven of protective shade, thorny barriers, and a natural mulch. Antonia puts this reciprocity in people terms: “We acknowledge that as we heal ourselves, we become a reflection for others and an example of how to live. As we change our behavior, we also change our behavior with the land and with people.” New York City may not be an obvious plant paradise. But for Antonia, that’s exactly why she’s here. And exactly why a collective like Herban Cura is so important: to help us remember that a good harvest is a reciprocal one, and that healing is something circular. Robin Wall-Kimmerer puts it well: “action on behalf of life transforms. Because the relationship between self and world is reciprocal, it is not a question of first getting enlightened or saved and then acting. As we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us.” Herban Cura is Antonia Pérez, Maria Maldonado, and Ana Ratner. They host sliding scale workshops in New York City. Their products and services are designed to promote social healing, which includes both local communities and indigenous communities in Central and South America. Learn more about Herban Cura at their website and on Instagram.
