North-American Wood Stories, Wetlands and swamps - exploring edges
by Wendy Woods

A Final Hydrofeminist Salute: Bidding Farewell to Stumpy, Washington’s Cherished Cherry Tree Victim of Climate Change Adaptation

All photographs are taken by Wendy Wuyts in March 2024.

A last chance for engagement

I did not plan to visit them. I was visiting old human friends in Virginia. When I booked my tickets to USA, I decided to return to Washington DC after more than a decade, to meet also some other old friends there. I had not really calculated to be there when the cherry trees would be in full blossom. Last year I had returned to Japan in cherry blossom season, maybe there is something of me always deciding to embark on big trips outside Europe to mark an ending or a new beginning.  Cherry trees remind us to let go,  because the blossoms are for a short time, before the wind takes them away to paint the streets and forests white.

My friend in Virginia asked me if I was going to visit the cherry trees and pinpointed it might be the last time to greet famous Stumpty. Because of climate change and the rising sea level, the sea wall infrastructure in which these cherry trees are rooted, needs to be deconstructed to make place for higher seawalls. Stumpy will probably not survive a replanting. Another story demonstrating the assemblage of trees, infrastructure and water management plans.

Who is Stumpy?

In the heart of Washington’s Tidal Basin, a testament to endurance and friendship stands—Stumpy, the cherry tree. Gifted from Japan in 1912, these trees symbolize a bond between nations. Yet, Stumpy’s existence is a marvel. Located in a spot battered by high tides, heavy winds, and even the occasional overflow from the nearby seawall, conditions are far from ideal for any tree. Most of his kindred spirits have succumbed to the relentless water, but Stumpy, against all odds, blooms resplendently each spring. His perseverance is not just a tribute to Sakura, the essence of cherry blossoms cherished in Japanese culture as symbols of ephemeral beauty but also a living beacon of resilience in the face of environmental adversity.

Uprooting in a Crisis of Belonging

The narrative of Stumpy resonates deeply with themes of uprooting and belonging—a crisis not unique to the nonhuman inhabitants of our world. In discussing hydrofeminism and the impact of infrastructure on ecological and social landscapes, we find poignant parallels. Infrastructure projects, while essential, often disrupt the delicate balance of communities, both human and nonhuman. The creation of dams and the construction of dikes, for instance, have historically led to the displacement of entire ecosystems. This displacement highlights a polycrisis where the essence of belonging is questioned, underscoring the unintended consequences of our pursuit for control over nature.

The Crisis of Separation and the role of hydrofeminism

The crisis extends beyond physical uprooting to a broader philosophical debate about our separation from nature and the illusion of control we seek through borders and boundaries. This dichotomy between human constructs and the natural world invites a reevaluation of our relationship with the environment—a theme central to hydrofeminist discourse.

Hydrofeminism advocates for a paradigm shift in how we interact with our planet, suggesting that perhaps it’s time to ‘return’ territories to their more-than-human inhabitants. This perspective encourages the adoption of softer boundaries in place of rigid infrastructures, proposing a coexistence with water, land, and nonhuman life forms that respects the dynamism of natural systems. Artistic endeavors, like “Puca in the Machine” in Ireland and “Nehelennia” in the Netherlands (about which I wrote a blog last year), exemplify this ethos, blending creativity with eco-consciousness to inspire a harmonious integration with our environment.

Blind spot

However, the seawalls are hard boundaries, and were never meant to function forever. When I walked in Washington DC, I saw other so-called hard boundaries and wondered if this was really resilience. We all know that Washington DC is a sinking capital. Instead of imagining futures which embody more soft boundaries and acceptance of loss, I observed in my short time in the USA only a blind spot for our relationship and place in this ecosystem. If we do not create soft boundaries, let go some of our lifestyle choices, the more than human world will create it for us, and it will be more painful and catastrophic, unfortunately probably for the most vulnerable humans. During my USA trip, I read ‘The Story is in Our Bones: How Worldviews and Climate Justice Can Remake a World in Crisis’ by Osprey Orielle Lake, and it reminded again we need different narratives especially to remake the world. Stumpy’s story needs to be retold to remember the losses we faced and that we will face more if we keep claiming water from others, and stay in this colonist way of thinking that we should conquer it all – land, water, edges.

Save Stumpy – A Movement of Resilience

Stumpy’s saga became a rallying cry during the COVID-19 pandemic, embodying the persistence of life under the most adverse conditions. The rising sea levels and the deteriorating seawall at the Tidal Basin threaten his existence, symbolizing the broader environmental challenges posed by climate change. The decision to remove and mulch Stumpy, alongside over a hundred other cherry trees, sparked public outcry and a movement to preserve this symbol of resilience. It seemed many people became activists by protesting against the fate of Stumpy. But can you call it hydrofeminism? No, they are the ones reacting to hydrofeminist actions of a little tree being. For me, Stumpy is the hydrofeminist that reminds us.

I was then also happy to read in NBC Washington News (2024) that though Stumpy cannot be saved through transplantation, efforts to propagate his lineage ensure that his legacy will continue in Stumpy 2.0.

The Future of Stumpy and Our Collective Responsibility

The story of Stumpy is not just about a tree; it’s a narrative intertwined with themes of hydrofeminism, ecological consciousness and sense of belonging. I recognise it in stories about movements in Belgium (Wuyts, 2024) where trees are also intertwined with water infrastructures and will be uprooted because of new water management and blue green infrastructure plans. It are not only trees that get uprooted in such projects. This is a story about grief and loss. I hope they will build a gravestone for Stumpy, like they did for the Witch Tree in Belgium, to take care that people will remember and can grief.

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