HACIENDA HEIGHTS, Calif. – Marilyn Kamimura, 75, has lived in her home in Whittier, California for more than 40 years.

Don’t let her pink-framed spectacles and grandmotherly-tone fool you. She is a force to be reckoned with and for over two decades, this housewife turned activist has been a major force in the fight against environmental racism in her community.

Less than two miles from her front porch, the Puente Hills landfill processed up to 12,000 tons of garbage daily for nearly 60 years. Nicknamed “the trash train,” the landfill sat on 1,365 acres of land – roughly the size of New York City’s Central Park. In the book "Garbology," writer Edward Humes notes that if it were a building, "it would be among the twenty tallest skyscrapers in Los Angeles.”

Kamimura had been living within nose reach of this sire for 22 years before she finally asked herself: “Why does it smell like shit outside?”

"That's where it all started," she said. "You can see something, you can smell something and then you can see people who are hurt — that's the main reason I started this."

In 2003, Kamimura co-founded the Clean Air Coalition of North Whittier & Avocado Heights and for the last 20 years, she’s worked with her fellow activists to address environmental concerns in their community.

Following pressure from activists, a lawsuit and nine public hearings, the Puente Hills landfill closed in 2013.

Now, the coalition is focusing its attention on another not-so friendly-neighbor – the Quemetco lead plant in Hacienda Heights – a residential community just 19 miles west of downtown Los Angeles.

Less than two miles from Kamimura's home, the Quemetco lead plant sits as a reminder of how communities of color are forgotten in the fight against environmental racism. Quemetco – a battery recycling and lead smelting plant – has operated in this community for over six decades. Since then, residents of its predominantly Asian and Latinx communities have fought tirelessly to shut it down.

Community members near Quemetco have spoken at length in public hearings and most recently, online Zoom meetings, about losing loved ones unexpectedly to cancer and suffering chronic illnesses like headaches, nausea, sore throats and asthma. They've repeatedly raised concerns that their children are suffering from the impacts of lead exposure. Yet, there's been little movement from state and city council representatives to address these concerns.

The facility continues to run in spite of a long history of violations that have resulted in lead contamination and toxic pollution in the air, water and soil.

"It's about power," says Dr. Mijin Cha, an assistant professor of Urban and Environmental Policy at Occidental College. "People often are shocked at how unjust the government is but just because the government should do something doesn't mean that they do it."

Dr. Cha says the situation in Hacienda Heights is replicated in thousands of low-income communities of color across the country.

Nevertheless, Quemetco continues to operate in a system that fails to protect the environmental and physical health of its residents. In the last 5 years, the plant has received more than 20 violation notices related to their release of hazardous waste into the environment, exceedingly high levels of arsenic and lead and inaccurate reporting of emissions. In response, regulators have settled into a game of cat and mouse that includes numerous ignored requests for testing and permits. Meanwhile, hundreds of families continue to live nearby, including some as close as 600 feet.

'We just take it as it is'

Beatriz Ricartti, 64, moved to Hacienda Heights 53 years ago. She lives in a house just one mile from the Quemetco plant.

The plant was already nine years old before she arrived in 1959, but Ricartti says she only learned that the big gray building was a lead plant three years ago – around the same time she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

"I'm just wondering why I have cancer," Ricartti said. "[My doctors] don't know so we just take it as it is."

Born in Mexico, where regulations around pollution have historically been lax, Ricartti says she didn’t know something like this was possible in the United States.

"Things would be different if we lived in Beverly Hills," she said.

Within a 3-mile radius of the plant, nearly 19 in every 20 residents are people of color and the per capita income is $22,266.

According to CalEnviroScreen – a mapping tool used by the California Environmental Protection Agency (CalEPA) to identify communities most affected by pollution, the communities surrounding Quemetco are in the 86th to 90th percentile for areas that are disproportionately vulnerable to sources of pollution. A higher percentile indicates a greater vulnerability to the effects of pollution.

The CalEPA uses the data to assist in distributing environmental justice grants, promote compliance with environmental laws, prioritize cleanup activities and identify opportunities for long-term economic development. Communities that score above the 75th percentile are identified as environmental justice areas.

"Environmental racism is really the disproportionate impact and burden that low-income communities and communities of color fare around or experience due to pollution," said Caroline Farrell, executive director of the Center on Race, Poverty & the Environment. "Race is the greatest predictor of whether or not you live in a community that is overburdened by pollution."

Farrell, who has worked as an environmental justice advocate for over 14 years, said communities like Hacienda Heights aren't alone in this battle. The United States has a long history of implementing land-use policies that resulted in communities of color being forced by poverty and race-based housing covenants into places where pollution and toxic chemicals are present. As a result, the physical health and well-being of these residents continue to suffer at a rate significantly higher than people living in high-income, predominantly white areas.

In the case of lead exposure, the effects on human health and the environment are well-documented. Exposure to high levels of lead may cause anemia, kidney and brain damage, and in some cases — death.

Children can suffer permanent health effects such as learning difficulties, irritability, developmental problems and seizures.

Within a 2-mile radius, there are 21 schools surrounding the Quemetco plant — the closest being only 600 feet.

Decades of Harm

Most parents are worried about their children getting home before the streetlights come on. But when you live across the street from a lead plant, there’s a whole new set of parenting dos and don’ts that come into effect.

"I tried not to let [my kids] play outside for long periods of time," said Maria Serrano, 55, an administrative assistant and longtime resident of Hacienda Heights.

Serrano, who can see the entrance of the Quemetco plant from her hallway window, moved into her home 28 years ago intending to start a family. Within a few years, she got pregnant but suffered a miscarriage. Her following two pregnancies, which resulted in the successful births of her son and daughter, were labeled high-risk. Her son, after his birth, was diagnosed with autism. She believes it could be related to the lead plant across the street.

"I can't prove it but it's always in the back of your mind," she said.

Studies exploring the relationship between lead poisoning and autism reveal high levels of mercury and lead in children diagnosed with autism. They also reported a decline in autistic symptoms with the help of a chelating agent used to reduce blood and tissue levels of heavy metals.

Despite all of this, Quemetco is currently seeking approval from the South Coast Air Quality Management District (SCAQMD) to expand its operations. If approved, the plant will go from processing 600 tons of lead per day to 750 tons per day. The expansion would allow Quemetco to operate its furnaces 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.

The Department of Toxic Substances Control (DTSC) said they expect a decision on the expansion by this summer.

Serrano had the soil outside her home tested. She said the test detected high levels of lead and other toxic chemicals.

That was three years ago, according to Serrano. She said she was told someone from DTSC would be coming to treat her property but nothing has been done since.

"It's more than 20 years that we've been fighting it and nothing's been done," she said.

Lisa Fuhrmann is a senior research and policy analyst for EarthJustice — a non-profit environmental legal firm. Fuhrmann published a recent report on Quemetco. She said Quemetco hasn’t taken responsibility for the damage they've done to human and environmental health of the community despite years of testing confirming harm.

"They aren't taking accountability for their actions," Fuhrmann said. "They continue to do this back and forth with the regulatory agencies, and not adequately cleaning up the contamination."

In 2015, DTSC cited Quemetco for numerous violations related to the company’s failure to implement groundwater detection and monitoring programs, increasing the likelihood of a hazardous waste spill going undetected. The failure means Quemetco could unknowingly release hazardous toxins into the San Gabriel Basin — a river just 7 miles north of Hacienda Heights and the main source of drinking water for 1.5 million residents of the San Gabriel Valley.

A 2020 DTSC report on the current conditions of the Quemetco plant and surrounding areas found arsenic and lead to be a primary concern in groundwater.

Air quality officials, in 2016, gave Quemetco 30 days to notify residents of Avocado Heights, City of Industry, La Puente and Hacienda Heights of their health risks after an assessment found the plant posed an increased cancer risk to 12,000 people.

Now, residents are waiting for the Department of Toxic Substances Control to respond.

Meanwhile, residents have become activists who are working around the clock to make sure their concerns aren't forgotten.

Marilyn Kamimura, one of the loudest voices in the fight to shut down the plant, says the work has not stopped since the eruption of the COVID-19 pandemic. Navigating community meetings via Zoom and organizing the next public hearing has not been easy. Unable to host in-person meetings, the Clean Air Coalition has had to result to virtual meetings and mass emails to contact its residents – a hard task for a community with majority older citizens. Kamimura says she is committed, nonetheless.

"People cannot keep quiet and you have to stay in for the long run," she said.