Behind the Plants: Living in the Shadow of Industry on Cancer Alley

Living in the Shadow of Industry

CANCER ALLEY, USA: On August 25, 2023, thick black smoke filled the sky over Garyville, Louisiana, as a fire erupted at the Marathon Petroleum refinery. The blaze, fueled by highly flammable naphtha, sent residents scrambling, unsure if it was safe to stay or flee.

Sani, 13, stood outside with her mother, Janae, watching the flames rise. Sani already suffers from asthma and recurring respiratory issues, conditions that have worsened over the years with each industrial fire, each chemical release. "Sometimes, the smell is so bad that you can't stand it," Sani said, describing the air that lingers even on clear days.

A neighbor asked Janae, "Why do you stay here, while the tank burns next to you?"

"To go where?" she said. "We ain't nowhere to go."

In the following weeks, investigations by The Guardian and Forensic Architecture revealed flaws in Marathon's emergency response and raised questions about the company's public statements on pollutant levels. A class-action lawsuit was soon expanded to include 16,000 affected residents, seeking over $5 million in damages and greater transparency from Marathon.

Between Baton Rouge and New Orleans lies a 150-mile stretch along the Mississippi River known as Cancer Alley. This region hosts over 150 petrochemical facilities and oil refineries—the highest concentration of such industries in the Western Hemisphere. For the residents of Cancer Alley, industrial pollution is an inescapable part of daily life. Many have lost family members to cancer or respiratory illnesses, while others battle ongoing health issues. Communities report widespread cases of asthma, birth defects, and other conditions linked to industrial pollutants. According to the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), certain areas within Cancer Alley have cancer risks from industrial air pollution that are more than seven times the national average. 

One of the most alarming cases of environmental injustice in Cancer Alley is the plight of Fifth Ward Elementary School in St. John the Baptist Parish. Located just 450 feet from the Denka Performance Elastomer plant, the school has been at the center of a years-long battle over air pollution. Chloroprene, a chemical used in the production of synthetic rubber, has been classified by the EPA as a likely human carcinogen—meaning it can cause cancer with prolonged exposure. One day in November 2017, EPA monitoring found chloroprene levels in the air around the school at 755 times the agency's recommended safety level, putting students and staff at severe risk of cancer and respiratory illnesses.

Many residents living near Denka remain unaware of the full extent of the health risks. Wilma Subra, a chemist and environmental advocate, has spent decades working to bridge this gap, helping communities understand the dangers of industrial pollution. Through her consulting firm, Subra Company, and her work with the Louisiana Environmental Action Network (LEAN), she has provided detailed reports on chloroprene exposure and its long-term health consequences. "The school needs to be shut down and the children moved elsewhere. All the reports are there, but unfortunately, the EPA doesn't have the authority to do that," she explains. "Denka is poisoning them. We have all the monitors right here. I show the people the data, but many have relatives who work here or in the industry, and those relatives told them to back off."

Despite mounting evidence and legal action—including a 2023 lawsuit by the EPA and the U.S. Justice Department against Denka—chloroprene emissions continue. Subra remains committed, holding monthly meetings where she presents air monitoring data in accessible terms. "The best I can do is provide the data. Whoever comes, gets extra copies for the neighbors. And I explain it in terms everybody can understand."

Yet, misinformation and skepticism persist. James, who lives next to the Denka plant, reflects a sentiment shared by many: "Do you really think there is something with the air?" His question highlights the reality in Cancer Alley—where the burden of proof often falls on the very communities suffering from industrial pollution, even as they breathe in the evidence every day.

After years of reports, lawsuits, and pressure from environmental groups, the community's outcry could no longer be ignored. The school board finally voted to close the predominantly Black elementary school by the 2025-2026 academic year, relocating students to other facilities. The decision marks a rare acknowledgment of the devastating health impacts of industrial pollution, but for many families, it is too little, too late.

Louisiana has seen a regression in air quality while the rest of the country improves. The state government remains deeply tied to the petrochemical industry, framing expansion as an economic win, even as studies establish clear links between pollution and devastating health outcomes. Despite mounting evidence of the health crisis in affected communities, Governor Jeff Landry has opposed federal environmental regulations, arguing they unfairly target Louisiana industries and jeopardize jobs.

---

Leroy lives in St. James, Louisiana, surrounded by chemical tanks. "Workers came in the '60s to build the first one. My mother started to cook for them. Then I became a sandblast helper. It was fun. We made good money. Around $12 an hour. Until one of the tanks overflowed and polluted the area. It happened a few times until they got caught by the EPA. We had a class-action suit against them. Everyone got $100 and called it a day."

But things have changed. When industry first arrived, local workers like Leroy had access to well-paying jobs in construction and maintenance. Today, many of the highest-paying jobs go to out-of-state workers with specialized training, while locals are often left with low-wage contract work or shut out entirely. The industry still promises jobs, but residents say those promises rarely materialize.

"These plants say they're bringing jobs, but where are they?" said Janice Ferchaud, a local activist. "Most of the people I see working there aren't from here." A 2021 study by the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis found that local employment rates have not significantly improved, despite the billions of dollars invested in petrochemical projects. Companies claim to bring economic growth, yet communities like St. James continue to struggle with poverty, school closures, and fewer local businesses. For Leroy, the contrast is clear. "Back then, you could at least make a living," he says. "Now? They take the jobs, we keep the pollution."

In St. James Parish, where petrochemical plants have steadily expanded, only one grocery store remains, "Blue & Son." Over the years, industries have bought out most local businesses, leaving residents with few essential services. Gas stations, small markets, and other shops have disappeared, replaced by industrial sites that offer no direct benefit to the community. "Everything has a price. If they want to buy it, I'll probably sell it," said Kenneth, the owner of Blue & Son. For many, this has turned routine errands into long trips to neighboring parishes, making fresh food and other necessities harder to access—especially for those without reliable transportation. The loss of these businesses reflects a broader pattern: as the industry grows, the everyday needs of residents are increasingly pushed aside.

The Resistance

In 2021, United Nations human rights experts called for a halt to further industrialization in Cancer Alley, labeling the situation as "environmental racism". The UN emphasized that the pollution disproportionately affects African American residents, violating their right to health and an adequate standard of living. Despite these calls for action, industrial permits continue to be issued, worsening the crisis. At the same time, resistance in Cancer Alley is gaining momentum. Community activists, environmental groups, and legal advocates are fighting to prevent further industrial expansion and hold corporations accountable for the damage they have inflicted. Organizations like Rise St. James, The Descendants Project, and Louisiana Bucket Brigade have mobilized local residents, filed lawsuits, and pressured officials to take stronger action against pollution. Their efforts have successfully halted or delayed several major projects, proving that grassroots activism can challenge even the most powerful industries.

One emerging concern is St. Charles Clean Fuels' proposal for a carbon capture and storage (CCS) facility in St. Rose, Louisiana. While marketed as a climate solution, many residents fear it will bring additional risks to an already overburdened community. The project would involve storing captured carbon dioxide underground, but experts warn that leaks could pose serious health and safety risks, particularly in an area prone to industrial accidents. Activists argue that instead of reducing emissions at their source, CCS technology allows polluters to continue harmful practices while adding new hazards. The project is currently awaiting environmental permits, and community members continue to voice their opposition, fearing it will further endanger their health and safety.

Women on the Frontline

In Cancer Alley, the fight against industrial pollution is led largely by Black women, many of whom have deep generational ties to the land and community. They have become the backbone of the region's environmental justice movement.

Sharon Lavigne, 72, 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 the 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, and in 2024 she was named one of TIME's 100 Most Influential People. 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."

Twin sisters Joy and Jo Banner, co-founders of The Descendants Project, successfully led efforts to stop the Greenfield Grain Elevator project in 2024, which would have destroyed historic Black communities and burial sites 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 displaced neighborhoods and desecrated historic sites, including cemeteries tied to local descendant communities. The Banners organized their community, took legal action, and worked with heritage preservation groups to challenge the project, ultimately leading to its cancellation.

Now, the sisters focus on the Atlantic Alumina facility in Gramercy, fighting to prevent the spread of red bauxite dust and increase in toxic emissions—including chloroprene. Their work extends beyond environmental concerns; it is also about preserving the history and dignity of their community. In 2023, the Banners became the first Black stewards of Woodland Plantation—formerly known as the Andry Plantation, a site central to the 1811 Freedom Fight, the largest armed revolt of enslaved people in U.S. history. "We are working to transform it into a space for healing, reflection, and education about the legacies of slavery and the resilience of Black descendant communities in Cancer Alley," they said.

Throughout their advocacy, the sisters have observed the persistence of "petro-masculinity"—a culture that ties a man's role to dangerous industrial labor. "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. "In a patriarchal society, men often cooperate with the system for their own benefit. But as women, we know these systems aren't built to help us. We fight because we'll always be at the bottom."

For women, especially mothers, this fight is 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 Ferchaud, 66, 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 20 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. Ferchaud has been involved in various environmental justice organizations, including the Louisiana Bucket Brigade and RISE St. James. She is now founding her 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."

The EPA's Struggle for Environmental Justice

The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has attempted to address the crisis in Cancer Alley, but its efforts have been met with significant challenges. In 2021, EPA Administrator Michael Regan launched the "Journey to Justice" tour, highlighting the agency's commitment to tackling environmental racism in heavily polluted communities. The EPA also pursued legal action against Denka Performance Elastomer, citing dangerously high chloroprene emissions near Fifth Ward Elementary School. However, enforcement has been hindered by legal battles, resistance from industry, and opposition from Louisiana state officials. In August 2024, a federal judge blocked the EPA from enforcing stricter pollution controls in Louisiana, significantly weakening its regulatory power. The agency also faces internal constraints, with limited funding and staffing shortages affecting its ability to oversee industrial pollution effectively. While the EPA finalized a rule in 2024 to curb emissions from 200 chemical plants nationwide, its implementation remains uncertain amid ongoing litigation and political pushback.

A Future in Question

With the election of President Donald Trump, the future of environmental protections in Cancer Alley remains uncertain. Trump's previous administration rolled back numerous EPA regulations, favoring industry expansion over environmental oversight. His return to office could mean further deregulation, making it even harder for frontline communities to hold polluters accountable.

Cancer Alley is a cautionary tale of what happens when environmental policies prioritize corporate interests over public health. The fight against petrochemical expansion is ongoing, and while victories like the defeat of Formosa Plastics and the Greenfield Grain Elevator project show that change is possible, the threat remains constant.

For many, leaving is not an option—this land carries deep familial and cultural ties. But staying means continuing the fight. The people of Cancer Alley remain steadfast, determined to reclaim their right to clean air, safe water, and a future free from industrial harm.