by María José Mejía, a Raizal woman, environmental journalist and founder of Voces que Trascienden

Sharing territorial storytelling from San Andrés and Providencia
I was born in a territory surrounded by the sea, where palm trees move with the rhythm of the wind and wooden houses, streets, and churches tell the story of a community with its own culture, customs, and language: Creole.

I am part of the Raizal people of the Archipelago of San Andrés, Providencia, and Santa Catalina, located in the western Caribbean, northwest of mainland Colombia.
Growing up among coral reefs, mangroves, and long sunrises shaped my understanding of why the sea is central to our community. It has been our memory. In it, we learned to swim, fish, navigate, and resist. The sea has been the inspiration and the origin of our culture.

I come from a family of artisanal fishers who, with weathered hands and sun-marked faces, have defended our maritorio against industrial and illegal fishing carried out by outsiders, even in the face of threats to their lives. For generations, they have been guardians of the sea, protecting not only the third-largest coral barrier in the world, but also the ecosystems that make up the Seaflower Biosphere Reserve, declared by UNESCO in 2000.



Being Raizal means inhabiting a territory marked by colonization, dispossession, and imposed silences, but also sustained by a deep collective dignity. It means belonging to a community that protects its ecosystems while fighting for the right to exist, to decide, and to narrate itself.
In this context, telling stories from here is a political act. My way of practicing journalism did not begin in a newsroom, but in conversations during fishing journeys, while climbing mountains, and in the steady presence of women and men who defend their territory.
I have always understood journalism as a tool to amplify the voices of my community. For decades, others have spoken for us, interpreting our history from the outside and reducing our existence to stereotypes or statistics.

Providencia: The Beginning of a Way of Storytelling

My interest in environmental journalism began during my first trip to Providencia, also known as Old Providence. It is a mountainous island where time moves differently, where silence settles into houses and beaches, and where large constructions do not interrupt the landscape. Despite its size, everything feels vast: the biodiversity, the spirituality, and the closeness of its people.
I arrived in Providencia at the age of 22 to develop my undergraduate thesis in Journalism and Public Opinion. I wanted to produce a multimedia piece that told the stories of Raizal artisanal fishers affected by the 2012 ruling of the International Court of Justice in The Hague. That decision redefined maritime boundaries between Colombia and Nicaragua and restricted access to fishing areas that had sustained families for generations.

One of the moments that marked me most was a seven-hour fishing journey alongside two artisanal fishers from the I-Fish Association. Out at sea, they showed me the richness of the marine territory and spoke about the importance of protecting it.

They also explained how the reduction of fishing zones after the ruling intensified competition between industrial and artisanal fishing, accelerating overexploitation and the disappearance of some species within the Seaflower Biosphere Reserve.
Days later, I climbed The Peak, the highest mountain in Providencia. From there, the sea surrounded the island in shades of emerald and deep blue. I thought of the fishers I had spoken with, the stories they entrusted to me, and everything that was at risk. It was then that I understood my path as a journalist would be tied to the defense of biodiversity and of those who protect it.

Journalism from the Territories
One of the projects closest to me is Voces que Trascienden, an independent media outlet I founded in 2023. It emerged from the need to amplify voices that have historically been excluded in Colombia. It was created from the territories and for the territories, with the aim of making visible the struggles of Afro-descendant, Indigenous, and rural communities in the face of the climate crisis, territorial dispossession, and structural violence.
Much of my environmental journalism has developed through this platform and through collaborations with national and Latin American media outlets and organizations.

From these spaces, I have investigated industrial and illegal fishing in the Archipelago of San Andrés, Providencia, and Santa Catalina, documenting its impacts on coral reefs, marine biodiversity, and the livelihoods of Raizal artisanal fishers.
I have also reported on coral and mangrove restoration as adaptation strategies to hurricanes on San Andrés Island, and on how climate variability is affecting agriculture and food sovereignty in Providencia. I participated in the production of the podcast Providencia: Between Hurricanes and Flames, which examines the fire that occurred in The Peak Regional Natural Park in 2023 and connects it to the impacts of Hurricanes Iota and Eta, as well as to the growing climate vulnerability of the territory.
Some of this work has been published in media outlets such as Ladera Sur Latinoamérica and developed in collaboration with organizations including Climate Tracker Latin America, Consejo de Redacción, and DW Akademie.
From the Caribbean to Global Climate Spaces


My path in environmental journalism has also led me to international spaces where decisions about biodiversity and climate change are made—spaces that have historically felt distant from island and coastal territories.
In 2024, I participated in COP16 on Biodiversity in Cali, Colombia, engaging in high-level forums in the Blue Zone and in civil society spaces where Indigenous and Afro-descendant voices worked to break through official agendas and technical discourse.

I later contributed, virtually, as a strategic communications consultant with If Not Us Then Who, supporting storytelling and narrative work toward COP30 on Climate Change in Brazil. From my perspective as a Raizal woman and Caribbean journalist, my contributions centered oceans as living territories—essential to climate stability, food sovereignty, and the survival of coastal and island communities.
Storytelling for Change

If Not Us Then Who is part of a movement working to shift power in storytelling. Rather than speaking for communities, it supports opportunities for Indigenous, Afro-descendant, and local storytellers to lead their own narratives from the territories. Being part of this ecosystem connects Raizal voices from the Colombian Caribbean to global climate and ocean conversations.
I am deeply grateful to this team for trusting my work and for helping open pathways where Afro-descendant and island voices from the Colombian Caribbean, long absent from these spaces, can lead their own narratives. For recognizing that oceans are not only landscapes, but living territories, carriers of memory, and spaces of ongoing struggle.
Blog written by

María José Mejía
Colombia | Raizal
Environmental Journalist
Follow María José : Instagram I LinkedIn
For press moments, speaking opportunities & other inquiries please contact: [email protected]



