By Grace Hussain for Sentient.
Broadcast version by Shanteya Hudson for Georgia News Connection reporting for the Sentient-Public News Service Collaboration

In April 2019, Chris Eubanks, head of the animal rights group Apex Advocacy, chanted along with a group of other activists in front of the city government building in Lithonia, Georgia. The local activists had been campaigning to shut down Bradford’s Livestock — a backyard slaughterhouse operated in the center of their small, predominantly Black community — since 2014. Eubanks joined in 2021, lending Apex’s resources and giving the campaign a highly needed energy boost. Right down the street from the public school and around the block from a church, the facility killed roughly 100 animals every month.

Though local to the area, Eubanks had been completely unaware of the campaign. “I’ve been doing this for years,” he tells Sentient. Yet the presence of the backyard slaughterhouse in the small Atlanta suburb caught even Eubanks by surprise. “I didn’t realize that there was a slaughterhouse five minutes from where I live[d].”

Late last year, the coalition finally accomplished their goal, thanks in part to Apex Advocacy. For Eubanks, his prior lack of awareness that there was a slaughterhouse in his backyard is indicative of a larger issue within the animal rights movement: not paying close enough attention to Black and Brown communities, and the issues they face.

By the time Eubanks entered the picture, community activists like Jan Costello had already been campaigning for years. In addition to her activism, Costello was working with the community development corporation at the time, encouraging new businesses to move to the area. Despite activists’ dedication, they struggled to overcome the numerous roadblocks they faced, largely due to a lack of time and resources to dedicate toward their campaign — the two things Apex Advocacy was poised to provide.

Grassroots Activists Working in Tandem With Community Members

In the years before Eubanks got involved, local activists attended council meetings, maintained an email list of more than 1,000 community members, kept meticulous records of exactly what the facility was doing and spoke to neighbors about the slaughterhouse operating in their backyards, says Costello. Their tactics relied heavily on the fact that the slaughterhouse was violating zoning laws by being located in a residential neighborhood.

Their efforts helped get the facility slapped with a cease and desist order from the county’s Department of Planning in 2019, but because the facility had a license from the state’s Department of Agriculture, it continued to operate, killing thousands more animals.

Problematic Optics

When Eubanks saw coverage of the situation on a local news channel, he knew he had to help. The news segment made it look like locals were “trying to take advantage of a small, Black business owner,” says Eubanks, and there was much more going on. “The news coverage didn’t help as much as the advocates in the community thought it would.”

What it did do was grab Eubanks’ attention, leading him to reach out to Costello.

“He brought in so much energy and advocacy at a point when we were just basically doing the same old thing,” Costello says. By leveraging Apex Advocacy’s network, the activists were able to flood officials’ emails with thousands of messages. “Although we got support from the outside, the foundation was community-based,” says Eubanks.

Focusing on Zoning Violations, Not Animal Rights

Despite most of the core group of advocates being animal rights activists, “we were just focusing on the zoning aspect of the law,” says Costello. “We were very careful not to turn this into an argument about the slaughtering of animals for consumption,” she continues, “because that wasn’t the law. [Bradford] could do that business, but just not there in the neighborhood.”

The major roadblock to their success came via the very legal system they relied upon to shutter the slaughterhouse due to zoning violations. Part of the problem was that the state issued the facility a license to operate as a custom exempt processing facility — meaning they couldn’t sell meat. “The slaughterhouse owner was able to use the loophole that he wasn’t selling meat, but selling the service of killing animals,” says Eubanks.

As critics pointed out, the facility was in fact offering entire animals for sale via Facebook. While the license didn’t remedy the local zoning problem, it did lend some legitimacy to the slaughterhouse’s operations — a fact the facility took full advantage of.

In response to the 2019 cease and desist order from the county, Bradford’s Livestock sued in 2020, arguing they had the right to use the land the way they saw fit. The legal team did their best to drag the case out as long as possible by repeatedly filing for extensions — an effort made easier by COVID. Dekalb county filed a motion to dismiss the lawsuit in June 2020.

While the case was decided, the slaughterhouse continued to operate, killing thousands more animals, according to the activists’ records. “When you’re trying to advocate for something that’s right, and it takes that long to get action, you create and breed cynicism in your group of supporters,” says Costello.

Activists Believe Race Drew the Closure Out

Eubanks suspects his joining the campaign leant it additional legitimacy within the community. “I think it was an opportunity to show that this isn’t a group of white people attacking a Black business, because that was the narrative beforehand,” he says.

Still, one factor that Eubanks believes heavily influenced the lack of urgency to get the slaughterhouse closed was race. Lithonia is “a small, Black community,” says Eubanks. “We really do believe that if this had been another community, a more affluent community, it would have definitely been shut down,” he says. “If this had been a more powerful community this would have been an issue that was shut down immediately.”

The lack of attention paid to Black and Brown communities has been an issue for social movements for generations. Environmental groups often ignore Indigenous communities, feminists often ignore Black women and animal rights advocates often overlook slaughterhouses in majority-Black neighborhoods.

“The animal rights community needs to make sure that we are not operating in a bubble and that we are pulling in the people,” Eubanks says. In recent years, the animal rights movement has shifted toward paying more attention to inclusion, with many organizations being more intentional about issues of equity and justice in how they allocate their resources.

Meanwhile, recent research suggests that animal-centered protests may actually backfire, leading some activists to shift towards putting the emphasis on arguments other than animal rights — such as zoning laws. 

Part of the evolving movement is also about increasing buy-in from Black and Brown communities. Apex recently launched a movement guide on why food systems issues are specifically important to marginalized racial groups, and if animal rights groups want to be more effective, they’d be wise to take note.


Grace Hussain wrote this article for Sentient.


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Two coal plants in Arkansas have received an exemption from the Trump administration and will have two additional years to comply with updated clean air regulations.

As part of an amendment to the Clean Air Act, former President Joe Biden required additional limits on mercury, lead, arsenic and other toxins be in place by 2027. President Donald Trump has given 68 coal plants an additional two years to comply.

Tony Mendoza, senior staff attorney for the Sierra Club, said while Trump is within his constitutional rights, the move is perplexing.

"The president is allowed to extend compliance for two years if he finds that the technology to reduce the emissions is not available and there's a national security interest," Mendoza explained. "I don't think allowing these Arkansas plants to emit more mercury into the air is a national security concern."

The exemptions come on the heels of a Trump executive order to boost coal production. The two Arkansas locations are the White Bluff plant between Little Rock and Pine Bluff and the Plum Point plant in Northeast Arkansas. The White Bluff plant is scheduled for retirement in 2029.

Members of the Sierra Club said they will urge plant operators to curb the pollutants coming from the facilities. Mendoza noted research has shown exposure to pollutants is responsible for countless deaths, heart attacks and asthma.

"More mercury in fish, more mercury in water, more advisories against eating fish in certain rivers and streams and lakes," Mendoza outlined. "Mercury is a serious neurotoxin that causes harm to newborn children. Babies are at harm if their mother is exposed to too much mercury."

The Trump administration invited power plants to apply for the exemption. The president also wants to exempt coal mining projects from environmental reviews, remove restrictions stopping companies from mining coal on federal lands and require the Energy Department to provide funds to support developing coal technologies.

The Washington State Pollution Control Hearings Board is ordering state officials to rewrite pollution discharge permit regulations for concentrated animal feeding operations, or CAFOs.

The order was issued after a challenge from community and conservation groups, complaining that previous regulations violated state and federal law. The complaint alleged that the state failed to control the discharge of excess nutrients, bacteria and other pollutants from dairy factory farms.

Tyler Lobdell, a staff attorney for Food & Water Watch, said the state must better protect its water, wildlife and communities.

"The state of Washington hasn't been requiring what are called nutrient management plans or the newer pollution prevention plans to be robustly developed by every CAFO," he said, "and they haven't required those plans to be available to the public to make sure they're actually doing what they're supposed to do."

The ruling ordered the state Department of Ecology to require CAFOs to control pollution from animal waste runoff. CAFOs are industrial farming and dairy operations that can generate substantial amounts of animal waste, which must be appropriately managed to prevent water and air pollution.

Lobdell said it's essential that the order stipulates the public's right to review and comment on all regulations before they are issued, noting that the state has a poor track record of protecting waterways from nitrate pollution. He said having the Environmental Protection Agency involved strengthens the process.

"The state of Washington issues a single, combined permit that covers both the Federal Clean Water Act, which is authority delegated by U.S. EPA to Department of Ecology," he said, "but it also covers Washington state law, which is more expansive."

Several conservation groups, including the Waterkeeper Alliance, the Center for Food Safety, Friends of Teppenish Creek and the Sierra Club, participated in filing the complaint. The appellants were represented by the Western Environmental Law Center.


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By Sara Hashemi for Sentient.
Broadcast version by Freda Ross for Texas News Service reporting for the Sentient-Public News Service Collaboration

Johnson County's long saga with PFAS started in 2022, with an influx of calls to Detective Dana Ames, an environmental crimes investigator for the Texas county located just south of Fort Worth. The calls sounded like "desperate pleas for help from all over the state," Ames says, as residents were suddenly seeing dead animals. "We're getting report after report after report," she recounts, with people telling her, "Yeah, they applied this stuff across the street from us, and our animals are dead." More than two years later, county officials declared a state of disaster, as testing pointed to high levels of PFAS in the county's farmland. PFAS stands for per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, also dubbed "forever chemicals" because they require much longer spans of time to break down in soils. But in Johnson county, officials attributed these high levels of PFAS to a form of processed waste called biosolids - also known as sewage sludge - that were applied to farms as fertilizer to boost crop fertility.

More than two million dry tons of biosolids were applied to U.S. farmland in 2018, according to a report from a biosolids industry group. Biosolids are sourced from treated sewage - waste flowing from homes and factories, everything from basic manufacturing facilities to slaughterhouse operations. In a press release, county officials characterized the test results as an "immediate threat" - to farms, drinking water and public health.

The process works like this: first, wastewater treatment plants filter out the water from sewage, Christopher Higgins, an environmental chemist at the Colorado School of Mines, tells Sentient. The solids left behind can then be processed and turned into fertilizer. One problem, however, is that so-called forever chemicals do not break down during that process, which means these chemicals travel into soils along with the biosolids.

Johnson County is now at the center of two lawsuits: local farmers are suing the biofertilizer company Synagro Technologies, and, along with the county itself, are also suing the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

Biosolids, Explained

Nearly 4.5 billion pounds of sludge were used in the United States in 2023 alone, applied to farmland or used in compost for gardens and landscaping. The EPA has long promoted agricultural use of sewage sludge as an environmentally friendly way to reuse municipal waste.

Last year, a New York Times investigation revealed that even though the EPA was aware of the potential risks of biosolids since at least 2003, the agency continued to encourage the practice.

The strategy of applying excess waste - whether from livestock operations or city wastewater - is a common one on farms. Fertilizer, whether synthetic or manure, is used to boost yields and enhance crop fertility. But there are other consequences, as the waste and its contaminants don't tend to stay put. In Iowa, for example, fertilizer is so over-applied or misapplied that it ends up contaminating nearby waterways. Manure storage tanks can leak or break down. Dangerous pathogens like E. coli linked to food outbreaks have been traced back to dust particles from manure.

In early January of this year, the EPA released a draft risk assessment that warned of the PFAS contamination that can occur from sewage sludge used as fertilizer. The assessment found that around 31 percent of sewage sludge was used on farms. Any land that has had biosolids applied will have some amount of PFAS, says Higgins, but not necessarily at the levels seen in Johnson County.

Johnson County officials who spoke with Sentient expressed hope the area would receive federal assistance. Yet the Trump administration's moves to slash EPA programs and aid provided by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) could complicate the response, though so far EPA regulators working on biosolids risk do appear to still be employed by the agency.

Other advocates are not so confident about future funding, in part because Texas governor Greg Abbott is a staunch supporter of the president. "I don't have a lot of faith that it will get approved by the governor, but I hope it will," says Kyla Bennett, the director of science policy with Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility (PEER) and a former EPA attorney. "I guess we're just going to have to wait and see."

'Shocking to the Conscience'

When Detective Ames first received a complaint in 2022, it was from a rancher seeing fertilizer that had been smoking on a neighboring farm for days. "He was just complaining that it was horrible. He couldn't breathe. It smelled bad," Ames tells Sentient. The smoke had caused the valley where the farmer lived to fill up with smoke.

Ames drove out to the farm and found 12 to 15 large piles of smoking biosolids. She then brought what she learned to her boss, Constable Troy Fuller, and County Commissioner Larry Woolley. From there, Ames launched an investigation that involved calls with scientists, environmentalists and EPA whistleblowers. "It was shocking to the conscience, honestly, what all I learned," she says.

"We tested the well water. We tested soil, we tested the pond water. From animals that were dying, we tested their livers. We tested fish in the ponds," she says. "We had PFAS contamination in everything."

A stillborn calf's liver had over 610,00 parts per trillion (ppt) of PFAS. Fish had 57,000 ppt of PFAS. They found PFAS in a property's well water too, according to Ames.

The levels of PFAS found in Johnson County were unusual - "really, really high," confirms Higgins, a researcher who was not involved in the investigation but reviewed the public test results. He says there could be two reasons for that. Either the farmers applied more biosolids than is typical, or the levels in the sludge were just unusually high to begin with. "It's more likely the latter," he says.

Ames feels an obligation to uncover what happened. "I think we owe our citizens to know what's happening here, to listen, to believe them when they tell us there's something wrong, even though we can't put our finger on it," she recalls telling the commissioners. "And we need to test, because if what I'm reading is accurate and what I'm being told is accurate, we may have a very dangerous contaminant that has been land applied, and that could have a lot of far-reaching consequences."

County and Watchdog Groups Pursue Lawsuits and Legislation

"The more we allow these biosolids to spread, and the more we allow this to continue without cleaning it up, or at least attempting to clean it up, is just sentencing the farmers of Texas to decades of unusable land, inedible meat, milk, fish, dairy," says Bennett, who works for the watchdog group PEER.

PEER is representing Johnson County and other plaintiffs in their case against the EPA, which aims to compel the agency to address the PFAS and biosolids under the Clean Water Act. "It's rendering the farmland useless, and harming the people themselves."

Christopher Boedeker, the county judge who issued the declaration, tells Sentient that one of the primary purposes of the declaration is to work with the state government to pass legislation that addresses and stops the contamination. "We've done all of this out in the daylight with the intent of shining a spotlight on what's going on here," Boedeker says.

"And then the other part of it is, of course, making our citizens who have been impacted eligible for federal aid." The affected farmers in Johnson County have kept their cattle, but are not selling them, and county officials would like to see the farmers compensated.

"I've had, strangely enough, a few negative interactions, and those have all been questions of, well, why didn't you all do more sooner?" says Boedeker. "I feel like that's in some ways validating, that people believe we're doing the right thing here. I think we're doing the right thing here."

The EPA told Sentient it does not comment on ongoing litigation.

"It's really important to recognize that this is not a partisan issue," says Laura Dumais, legal counsel at PEER. "No one wants toxic chemicals in their food. No one wants farmers to be poisoned. Johnson County is a rural, conservative county, and everyone's reaction is: how come the EPA hasn't regulated this."

How to address PFAS under current regulations can quickly get complicated, says Bennett, who is the director of science policy for PEER. "We don't know how widespread the contamination is. We don't know how much it will cost to try to remediate it, or whether it can be remediated. There are a lot of unanswered questions."

Texas lawmaker Helen Kerwin has already filed a bill to require biosolids to be tested for PFAS levels. Other states have already taken steps to restrict their use. Michigan, California and Wisconsin require wastewater treatment plans to test biosolids for PFAS, while Connecticut and Maine have banned the use of biosolids on farmland all together.

If anything, says Higgins, the situation in Johnson County "indicates we need more testing. As an environmental chemist, I would not be disappointed if every single soil farm that had received biosolids over the last 50 years was tested. I think that's not an unreasonable ask."

Ames put it more bluntly: "Stop using our [agricultural] land as the city's toilet."


Sara Hashemi wrote this article for Sentient.


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