Mapping Collective Action: A Case Study of Identifying Assets and Actions During Community Mental Health Workshops to Address the Effects of Environmental Inequities

Abstract

Environmental changes, which have led to frequent and severe climate-related disasters, profoundly affect individuals and communities in Louisiana that display already existing disparities in vulnerability. An increasing body of evidence documents the relationship between the effects of climate change and poor mental health. This underscores the importance of utilizing an environmental justice framework to assess and innovate strategies for addressing disasters’ unequal burden. As part of a broader Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR) project on the effects of a community-based intervention to improve mental health resilience in communities affected by disasters and crises, we included 12 churches in a community asset mapping process to identify resources within their communities and discuss actions that could improve their neighborhoods and build additional support. We conducted deductive and inductive content analysis of asset maps and field notes from 32 small groups. We found the following: (1) the church was seen as a central asset; (2) key distinctions in how participants discussed their tangible and intangible resources according to their geography, and (3) the themes of charity, resource facilitation, connecting the most vulnerable, and absence of government support typified how groups discussed possibilities of action.

1. Introduction

Growing evidence highlights the direct mental health impacts of increasing temperatures, air pollution (Bakolis et al. 2021; Braithwaite et al. 2019), and climate-related disasters. Indirect effects, including eco-anxiety driven by fears of climate change, have also been well-documented (Cianconi et al. 2020; Walinski et al. 2023). Furthermore, climate change exacerbates existing mental health inequities, thus disproportionately affecting vulnerable communities (Zhang et al. 2021). Recognizing these intersections, the World Health Organization (WHO) has identified climate change as a critical social determinant of mental health (World Health Organization 2022). In addition, scholars have been calling attention to the importance of coping strategies and resilience-building approaches to mitigate the psychological impacts of climate change (Ramadan and Ataallah 2021).

Environmental justice, the belief that “all people and communities are entitled to equal protection of environmental and public health laws and regulations” (Bullard 1996, p. 493), provides an essential framework for understanding these issues. Since the 17 principles of environmental justice were adopted at the multinational First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit in Washington, D.C., in 1991, the movement has highlighted the interrelationship between environmental conditions, community determination, and emotional well-being (Environmental Justice Resource Center 1991).

Baton Rouge, the capital of Louisiana located at the northern edge of its “Cancer Alley”—an 85-mile stretch of the Mississippi River home to over 100 petrochemical plants and elevated cancer rates, respiratory conditions, and COVID-19 mortality linked to air pollution—has been at the forefront of environmental justice debates (Batiste 2022; Fos et al. 2021). In the East Baton Rouge Parish (EBRP), 16% of adults report frequent mental health distress, further reflecting the compounded impact of systemic inequities and environmental degradation (National Alliance on Mental Illness 2021).

Environmental changes exacerbate pre-existing systemic inequities in marginalized communities (Keithly and Rombough 2007; Sharkey 2007), particularly in disaster-prone areas like the East Baton Rouge Parish (EBRP). Addressing these challenges requires an approach that leverages community assets, including trusted institutions like churches, to foster resilience and mitigate inequities. Despite the crucial role of churches in supporting marginalized communities, little research explores how churches in the southern U.S. identify community assets and conceptualize actions to address systemic barriers and environmental justice challenges. This highlights the need for research that explores how communities identify and engage with local resources.

To this end, we utilized data collected from asset mapping activities conducted as part of the Communities Organizing for Power through Empathy (COPE) intervention designed to strengthen interpersonal and community relationships to build social capital (Scott et al. 2023) in churches throughout EBRP. Through participatory mapping activities, COPE emphasizes leveraging local resources and fostering connections among participants to strengthen relationships to their institution and geographic community via identification of community assets. We pose two research questions: (1) how do the types of assets identified vary by community geography? (2) how do faith-based communities discuss taking action to address environmental justice concerns? Our focus aligns with the principles of environmental justice that prioritize community agency and adaptive capacity in the face of systemic challenges (Schlosberg and Collins 2014).

In this paper, we first contextualize the environmental and social challenges faced by vulnerable communities, focusing on environmental justice and social determinants of mental health and their relationship to disaster and crisis. We then discuss the role of social capital and institutional trust in reducing the impact of environmental injustice on individuals and communities. Following that, we present the findings from the COPE participatory community asset mapping discussions, identifying key resources and proposing actionable strategies to address environmental justice challenges in EBRP. We conclude with a discussion on the implications of leveraging local assets and fostering social capital to promote equity and well-being.

1.1. Environmental Justice

Environmental hazards, intensified by climate change, significantly affect individuals and communities, influencing physical health, mental well-being, and social dynamics (Bullard 1990; First et al. 2021). In the wake of a disaster, individuals and communities often face disruptions to infrastructure such as power and electricity, economic losses, and displacement (Deria et al. 2020). These events can lead to sustained physical and mental health consequences, with survivors experiencing high rates of chronic diseases such as respiratory and cardiovascular problems as well as elevated anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress symptoms, which can persist for years after the event (Benevolenza and DeRigne 2019; Li et al. 2023).

Climate-related disasters, such as hurricanes and floods, disproportionately affect Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities (Bullard 1990; Bullard et al. 2008; First et al. 2021). These disparities in disaster-related impacts where disadvantaged communities bear a greater burden of environmental health risks and social inequalities are recognized as Environmental Justice (EJ) issues (Kruize et al. 2014; Prochaska et al. 2014). EJ issues, such as disproportionate exposure to toxic waste, vulnerability to climate change, and water contamination, are shaped by institutional, social, and environmental policies that significantly influence physical and mental health outcomes and access to healthcare (Collins et al. 2019; Sederer 2016).

Systemic racism, a comprehensive theory integrating all racialized dimensions of society (Feagin 2006), refers to institutional policies and practices, such as redlining, exclusionary zoning laws, and discriminatory lending practices, that may lead to residential segregation (Bailey et al. 2017; Lynch et al. 2021; Quillian et al. 2020). These neighborhoods often have concentrations of environmental hazards associated with adverse health outcomes and disparities (Bullard et al. 2013; Burris and Hacker 2017; Rothstein 2017). Residential segregation, a product of systemic and structural racism, plays a significant role in determining where resources and hazards are concentrated. Historical policies such as redlining systematically denied Black families access to homeownership and segregated Black communities into areas with fewer resources and greater environmental hazards (Lynch et al. 2021; Quillian et al. 2020). The legacy of these discriminatory practices and policies has had a long-term impact on these communities, contributing to wealth and health disparities, access to quality education, and public services (Lynch et al. 2021). These policies have also contributed to the placement of communities in low-lying areas prone to flooding and in proximity to high levels of pollution and hazardous waste, exacerbating existing disparities (Bullard et al. 2008; Ventriglio et al. 2021; Wilson et al. 2021). Research has also identified a link between these types of environmental pollutants—such as air pollution, pesticides, light and noise pollution, and environmental disasters—and various mental health disorders, including anxiety, mood disturbances, and psychotic conditions (Ventriglio et al. 2021).

Disasters tend to magnify preexisting social and economic disparities within communities (Keithly and Rombough 2007; Sharkey 2007). For example, the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2005 revealed the deep-seated racial, social, and economic vulnerabilities of the city’s Black and low-income population, resulting in greater losses of life, increased displacement, and property loss during the disaster (Keithly and Rombough 2007; Sharkey 2007). Black hurricane survivors reported a higher frequency of physical health challenges, sustained psychological distress, and ongoing financial difficulties than White survivors over a year after Katrina (Toldson et al. 2011). The 2016 flooding in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, which damaged or destroyed over 100,000 homes, disproportionately affected low-income communities that experienced higher risks of displacement and damage than those from higher-income areas (Deria et al. 2020; Gallo and Russell 2016). Factors such as inadequate infrastructure, residence in flood-prone areas, and substandard housing quality heightened the vulnerability of these communities (Deria et al. 2020), which were further exacerbated by unequal access to resources for preparation and recovery (Smith et al. 2022).

1.2. Social Capital, Institutional Trust and Community Resilience

Social capital, defined as the networks and resources that enable individuals and groups to work together that are “linked to the possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition” (Bourdieu 1986, p. 248), is important in addressing EJ concerns. It facilitates information sharing, coordination, and collective action within communities (Mix 2011). Social cohesion and support networks, including family and community connections, alongside healthy coping mechanisms and access to resources have been shown to reduce the physical and psychological impact of disaster-related EJ issues (Benevolenza and DeRigne 2019; First et al. 2021; Lowe et al. 2015). A study conducted with 221 Black and Latinx individuals in tornado-affected communities in the central United States found that supportive relationships, adaptive coping and access to physical resources were all protective against adverse mental health outcomes (First et al. 2021). Similarly, a study of low-income Latinx communities in Texas found that social cohesion and trust in community is associated with greater disaster preparedness, and lower stress and anxiety (Reininger et al. 2013).

Institutional trust is another factor that can mitigate the negative psychological impacts of disasters and environmental injustice (Thoresen et al. 2018; Yang and Bae 2022). A study by Thoresen et al. (2018) found that low institutional trust was associated with greater mental health symptoms and barriers to seeking help among disaster survivors. Conversely, a study analyzing data from the “Long-term Survey on the Change of Life of Disaster Victims”, which included 2231 disaster survivors, found that survivors who expressed higher levels of institutional trust experienced fewer PTSD symptoms than those who reported lower levels of trust (Yang and Bae 2022).

One type of institution, religious or faith-based CBOs, often serves as a supportive resource, providing material (e.g., food, clothing, and shelter) and non-material (e.g., emotional, spiritual, or social) support for those in need (Richardson and Maninger 2016). As longstanding pillars in many communities, churches are uniquely positioned to provide such support in times of crisis (Stone et al. 2004), a role reinforced by the principles of social capital. Bonding social capital, characterized by trust and strong connections within close-knit groups, enables churches to mobilize immediate aid effectively, leveraging their deep ties with congregants and local networks (Coleman 1988; Putnam 1995). Simultaneously, bridging social capital—connections that extend across diverse groups—allows churches to facilitate broader resource mobilization, fostering collaboration between different communities, organizations, and external entities. Communal coping, a practice often applied to faith communities, involves collaboration, mutual assistance, and shared responsibility or the management of collectively traumatic events (Richardson and Maninger 2016; Skipper et al. 2023; Wlodarczyk et al. 2016). Studies indicate that communal coping methods, including social support, spiritual practices, and communal gatherings, aid in recovery and reinforce connections after a disaster (Wlodarczyk et al. 2016).

Despite their well-documented central role in providing support particularly to marginalized communities in the southern United States, there is limited research on how churches and religious organizations identify and mobilize assets within their communities to address systemic barriers and build social capital. Addressing these barriers and challenges requires a strong emphasis on community-level support. Thus, community-level interventions are important to building capacity, supporting the physical and psychological health of individuals, and addressing local needs in communities affected by disaster-related environmental justice concerns.

2. Methods

We conducted a case study (Creswell and Poth 2018) of participant engagement in Session 3 of the COPE intervention (see the authors’ forthcoming work for protocol of full study) that engaged participants in psychoeducation and activities related to community assets in the East Baton Rouge Parish (EBRP). In that session, facilitators first provided education on community assets, and then engaged groups in discussion and development of localized maps of community assets associated with their institution. Specifically, we used a single instrumental case study methodology (Creswell and Poth 2018) to examine EBPR as a bounded case, exploring the broader questions of how communities identify assets and prospective actions to improve their community.

2.1. Setting

Baton Rouge, Louisiana, is a city shaped by its rich cultural history and persistent racial and economic divides. Although known for its role in the 1953 Baton Rouge Bus Boycott, a precursor to the Montgomery Bus Boycott that sparked the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, the city remains deeply segregated. North Baton Rouge, home to Southern University, an HBCU surrounded by predominantly Black neighborhoods, contrasts sharply with South Baton Rouge, where Louisiana State University (LSU), a predominantly white institution (PWI), is situated. Historically Black neighborhoods near LSU have seen increasing gentrification, leading to a growing White population.

Geographically, Baton Rouge faces environmental vulnerabilities, including frequent flooding (notably the 2016 Great Flood), which disproportionately impacted low-income Black communities in the northern areas. Florida Boulevard, represented in Figure 1, serves as a dividing line between North and South Baton Rouge, marking distinct differences in the composition of the communities. The northern part of the city is predominantly Black, while the southern part is predominantly White, with the exception of one area in the southern part of the city known as “Old South Baton Rouge” that was historically the center of a thriving Black community prior to the construction of the interstate that now divides the area in two. Together Baton Rouge (TBR), the CBO partner of the COPE project, is a broad-based organization, meaning it comprises member institutions, both faith-based and secular, that pay dues and work together towards common goals. Established in 2010, the institutions that make up TBR cross the racial, economic, geographic and political barriers that divide the city.

2.2. Community-Based Participatory Research and Asset Mapping

Our community-engaged research (CER) study analyzed assets identified via community asset mapping (CAM) alongside content of discussions about potential actions to strengthen community resilience. CER integrates local knowledge and voices into the research process (Rohlman et al. 2022), emphasizing collaboration with local partners to build trust and enhancing preparedness, response, and recovery efforts, as well as improving interpretation of findings (Lesen et al. 2019). For example, in one study conducted in the U.S. Gulf Coast following the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, researchers found that effectively working with community partners requires an understanding of community characteristics, collaborative dissemination of research findings, and careful consideration of power dynamics between researchers and local stakeholders (Lesen et al. 2019). Although CER encompasses a range of approaches that vary in the depth of community involvement, Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR) represents a specific form of CER that prioritizes equitable partnerships and shared decision-making at every stage of the research process (Gil-Rivas and Kilmer 2016; Viswanathan et al. 2004; Wallerstein and Duran 2006). CBPR emphasizes co-ownership of research outcomes and supporting communities to address problems.

CAM is one CBPR tool for working with communities to identify strengths and address disparities (Jakes et al. 2015). Distinct from deficit-focused approaches, CAM focuses first on identifying existing community resources to promote growth (Luo et al. 2023). This includes engaging community members to explore and map both tangible and intangible assets, which include individual skills, local institutions, physical resources, economic factors, etc. (Lightfoot et al. 2014; Jakes et al. 2015; Luo et al. 2023). When utilized as a research method, CAM engages local communities in the practice of recognizing existing and potential resources that can be leveraged for health promotion (Lightfoot et al. 2014). Asset mapping functions as a cooperative approach upholding the values of community engagement and empowerment (Lightfoot et al. 2014). As noted by Luo et al. (2023), although 28 studies report on the process of CAM, few report associated outcomes. To our knowledge, our study is among the first to examine and report on how people across geography and identity engage with CAM, not only in terms of types of assets identified, but also with regard to how they connected the process to social action.

2.3. COPE (Communities Organizing for Power Through Empathy) Intervention

The Communities Organizing for Power through Empathy (COPE) intervention (Scott et al. 2023) was developed through a Community-Based Participatory Research (CBPR) framework in partnership with TBR. The aims of COPE are to address the psychological stresses communities face during crises and disasters, and often compounded in places with long histories of systemic inequities like EBRP. The intervention model that was adapted to develop COPE integrates group processes, psychoeducation, and dynamic activities to support participants in identifying stress reactions in themselves and others, and developing individual and collective coping strategies. It has demonstrated sustained reductions in post-traumatic stress symptoms (PTSS) among disaster survivors (Powell et al. 2022). Its adaptation was conducted as part of a CBPR project by a team of researchers and TBR community leaders, who are also mental health professionals, to support its contextual and cultural relevance to Gulf Coast communities.

During the CAM activity, participants at each institution engaged with each other in small groups (32 groups of 3–5 people) to identify and categorize community assets—“anything that can be used to improve the quality of community life” (Community Tool Box n.d.)—associated with their institution and/or located within a one-mile radius of its building. Prior to the small group work, participants were introduced to the asset concept through a facilitated discussion during which they brainstormed potential assets according to six defined categories: individual, group and network, institutional, physical, economic, and cultural. Each small group was then provided with a poster with the six asset categories and a poster with a printed map of their church at the center of a one-mile radius circle. Groups discussed assets associated with their institution and in the area, annotating the poster and the map to indicate the location and type of each asset using colored stickers corresponding to the categories. They were encouraged to use their phones and digital tools. After approximately 20 min, participants reviewed the maps created by other groups to reflect on overlapping assets, unique contributions, and gaps, as well as to compare findings to identify patterns or disparities in resources. Following the mapping activity, participants engaged in a facilitated discussion centered on the assets present in their communities and notable gaps. Participants were invited to reflect on assets they felt their institution could engage, such as underutilized services or disconnected institutions. The session concluded with brainstorming potential initiatives that could strengthen these relationships, address gaps, or enhance existing assets within their community.

2.4. Sample and Recruitment

For this case study, we limited our sample to a subset of institutions participating in the CBPR project, i.e., the 12 faith-based institutions that participated in the COPE intervention between May 2023 and August 2024. Institutions were recruited from the institutional membership of TBR by the research team. Agreement to participate was secured from the Pastor or Executive Director, who assisted in identifying people who could train to be community facilitators and support recruitment and logistics. Individual eligibility criteria mirrored that of the study examining COPE: adults (18 years or older), affiliated with a community-based organization (CBO) that was a member of TBR, and willing to attend COPE workshop sessions. The research team, in collaboration with TBR, recruited COPE Community Facilitators from each institution (licensed mental health professionals and others with adjacent experience) and together recruited participants through various channels, disseminating information via church announcements (both in-person before or after services or meetings and in written bulletins or newsletters), flyers, email, and word-of mouth. Informed consent was read aloud and obtained prior to participation. This study was approved by the Louisiana State University IRB.

Between April of 2023 and January of 2025, a total of 148 people participated in the COPE CAM workshops held at the 12 churches, the term we use throughout to describe a religious institution of any faith, included in this study. As shown on the map in Figure 1, of these 12 churches, just under half (5) were predominantly Black churches and located in North Baton Rouge (defined as North of Florida Boulevard). Of the remaining 7 in South Baton Rouge, 5 were predominantly White, and 2 were predominantly Black and located in “Old South” neighborhood.

Approximately 47% of the total participants (n = 69) attended workshops at churches located in North Baton Rouge, all 5 of which are predominantly Black churches. The rest (53%) attended workshops as churches in the south, five of which were predominantly White churches and two that were predominantly Black and located in “Old South Baton Rouge”. As described in

Table 1. Characteristics of participating churches (N = 12).

	North	South
Total Institutions	42% (5)	58% (7)
Predominantly White	0	71% (5)
Predominantly Black	100% (5)	29% (2)
Denomination:
Baptist	40% (2)	14% (1)
Catholic	20% (1)	14% (1)
Others	40% (2)	71% (5)
Number of Assets Identified	214	209
Number of Actions Discussed	4	4
Total Participants (n and %)	47% (69)	53% (79)

, there was greater variety in terms of religious denomination in South EBRP churches. A total of eight actions were discussed across all churches.

2.5. Data Collection

We collected qualitative data during the community-based support component of the COPE intervention session that integrated CAM as a central activity. Data collected included photographs of materials from mapping activity and detailed observations recorded in field notes by four trained note-takers. Field notes documented thematic content of participant discussions, including direct quotes and examples. Notetakers also wrote reflexive memos about their own reflections and observations to account for their positionality and enhance trustworthiness (Birks et al. 2008). All data, including field notes and photos, were stored in the MAXQDA software platform (Release 24.7.0; VERBI Software 2024).

2.6. Analysis

As the initial task of data analysis, the authors chose to use both deductive and inductive thematic content analysis to analyze and quantify assets (Elo and Kyngäs 2008). Our coding process was iterative, beginning with an open coding of the field notes, participant discussions, and asset mapping photos, focusing on the small group as our unit of analysis. After initial open coding, we utilized a deductive approach to analyze identified assets following the process described by Elo and Kyngäs (2008). We sorted text coded as assets into a categorization matrix (see

Table 2. Asset categorization matrix.

	Individual	Network	Institutional	Physical	Economic	Cultural
What assets were identified?
What assets were anomalies?
What assets were absent?

) of the six types (individual, network, institutional, physical, economic and cultural) presented to participants during the COPE workshop session. We considered whether the assets discussed were identified as present or absent in the communities. We then assessed what assets were anomalies, meaning they were only discussed by one group, regardless of whether present or absent. Finally, given our questions regarding differences across geography and/or race and after sorting the coded meaning units into the matrix, we color-coded units by geography (blue = north BR; green = south BR) to assess for patterns.

After deductive coding, we took an inductive approach to identifying themes from the entire body of data. We developed categories to explore differences in how assets were identified and utilized across racial and geographic lines. This analytic approach aimed to highlight both strengths and gaps in community resources, with a focus on how communities mobilize these assets to foster resilience. We used the MAXQDA software to facilitate the iterative coding process (Release, 24.7.0; VERBI Software 2024).

3. Findings

We found that participants at the COPE workshops held at faith-based CBOs across EBRP identified the ‘church’ as a central asset, regardless of whether they were a member of that or another church, it was the one they attended, or it was their own denomination or faith. In small group discussions focused on mapping assets in geographies surrounding their institution, we found distinctions in assets identified by geography, and common ways of thinking about engagement. First, in “Church Stepped Up”, we discuss the central theme of our deductive analysis, the church as the central asset, mentioned by all groups and in each of the six asset categories. Second, in Community Assets, we discuss distinctions in the tangible and intangible resources that participants identified in their neighborhoods according to asset type. Third, in Assets to Actions, we report findings from our inductive process. We found four distinct themes typified how participants discussed engaging in their communities: charity (“We got to feed the people”), resource facilitation (“There Should Be A List”), supporting and connecting with the most vulnerable (Supporting grandparents, getting the youth), and making up for the lack of external support (“Government’s not gonna come to our rescue”).

3.1. “Church Stepped Up”

Central to nearly every small discussion and mentioned in connection with each of the six asset types was the church. There are an estimated 532 churches in EBRP (Association of Religion Data Archives 2020), and sometimes as many as three on a city block. Even if churches were not the primary hosts for the workshops, their presence in the city cannot be overstated. The church was described as a vital institution supporting those disproportionately impacted by disasters and other EJ concerns, providing essential needs such as shelter and food while also assisting in rebuilding after hurricanes and floods.

Church leaders (i.e., the pastor, used when not otherwise specified, reverend, father, priest, and ministers) and volunteers (i.e., ushers, members of ministries or other teams like disaster response or social justice) were named as important individual assets across 12 groups. In one conversation a participant shared the following: “around the same time as the flood, my father died, and the Pastor came and helped me through grief”. At a different church, another group recalled that the “Father [redacted] was constantly getting stuff from different charitable organizations for people who needed cleaning supplies and stuff” after the flood. The church was also described as a group and network asset, as a venue to house groups like Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), mental health and support groups, outreach ministries, and other informal social groups. In addition to their people, church buildings and grounds were referenced as physical assets. One woman at a church in the south noted that “the building in [town in north EBRP] was used to shelter people”. Another described their church building as “a refuge” to Hurricane Katrina survivors.

Most frequently, the church was described as an economic asset. Participants mentioned examples of material or financial support provided to church members and non-members alike. One older woman at a church in the north reflected on her experience during 2016 flood: “I lost my home and everything… They provided supplies for my home, like sheetrock, and people came in to help rebuild… It made me feel like I was really important, knowing that people cared enough to come out and help me… It showed me how valuable community support is… how important it is to stay in touch with others, even when it’s not a disaster”. Another woman from a different church in the north stated the following (to the applause and nods of others): “Been here 33 years, I remember one girl telling me that she was going to [another church] and needed a light bill paid, and they told her ‘go to [our church] because they do it all the time’”. At a church in the south, a woman shared how a church member housed her belongings in a spare room for an entire year after the 2016 flood when storage spaces were unavailable.

Finally, churches were cultural assets—places of worship, shared beliefs, and social connections uniting people through shared experiences. When her group was asking each other to name cultural assets, one woman at a church in the north asked the following: “What about our fish fries? And storytelling…” At a church in the south, there was active discussion about the church’s participation in a Mardi Gras float. A disabled woman in the north reflected on her church’s support during a particularly difficult time of her life: “Family is not always your blood”. This was echoed by a woman at a church in the south who recalled “[my] church family was right there with me”, during a time she was facing personal difficulty.

3.2. Community Assets

We analyzed how assets were identified and categorized across different groups using our asset categorization matrix (see

Table 3. Matrix of EBRP community assets.

	Individual	Network	Institutional	Physical	Economic	Cultural
What assets were identified?	Pastors; Elected Officials	Sorority/ Fraternity; Neighborhood Association; High School Alumni Networks	Church; Schools; Community Center; Library	Parks; Lake; Bike Paths; Community Centers	Local Business; Banks; Credit Union; SU Small Business Association	Festivals; Parades; University Museums; University Football Teams and Tail Gate; Church Activities
What assets were anomalies?			Police; Meat Market	Mississippi River	High Tax Base
What assets were absent?	Skilled People	Directory of Church Members	Reliable Transportation; Grocery Store; Hospital		Sustainable Funding for Community Projects	Diversity
Green = South Baton Rouge church(es); Blue = North Baton Rouge church(es)

) as a framework.

Individual. People with talents, skills, time, abilities, money, or “smart ideas” were identified across institutions as individual assets. Groups centered church leaders and in some cases in North Baton Rouge as “our council person and representative”. Additionally, individuals with specific professions, including attorney/lawyer, therapist/counselor, and in one instance mechanic, were all recognized as assets. Although individuals with resources (like a boat) were discussed as valuable, they were often not identified as individual assets. One Catholic woman from a church in the north reflected on her experience during the 2016 floods: “My husband had a boat in the backyard, and we used it to get to the place where they were picking up people… My son and I rode the boat about a mile and a half to meet my daughter…”. She went on to assert the following: “It was a community support because it was my brother and his friends, turned that boat over and plugged it up and pulled her out of there”.

Group and Network. Fifty-six distinct types of groups or networks were identified across the small group conversations. These ranged from the Cajun Navy (a volunteer disaster response group) to self-help groups to sororities and fraternities. Across the Parish, self-help groups and 12-step programs (e.g., AA) were emphasized. One Baptist woman shared the following: “[Friends from AA] will come and try to like, take the liquor out of the house and put the drugs in the toilet and just do things for me”. Sororities and fraternities were discussed only among four predominantly Black churches; however, at the predominantly White churches, formalized civic networks, like neighborhood associations and labor unions, were the groups and networks credited with organizing collective action and addressing local needs.

Institutional. Across groups, 78 different types of institutions were identified. Healthcare institutions (e.g., hospitals, wellness centers, and behavioral health services) were the central topic of discussion (aside from the church) often with regard to the stark geographic disparities in their locations. A Methodist woman in the north exclaimed that “The hospitals are on the other side”, referring to the other side—the south side—of town. This concern was echoed at a Catholic church in the north: “And if you get shot in this area…You have to ride a good ways to get to the hospital… they took away Earl K Long and closed BR mid-city”. Although an emergency room and primary care unit had been reestablished in north EBRP following these closures, a participant stated the following: “they can’t do certain things. You still have to go somewhere else”. Churches in the south located nearer Florida Boulevard also reflected on this reality: “Many assets not in the area are relied on, such as the hospital” a Unitarian woman remarked, further noting that “the police building used to be a hospital”, but the hospital had relocated further south. At three other churches—two predominantly Black and one white—in South Baton Rouge, participants did not identify full hospitals as assets in their area; however, they also did not discuss the absence of hospitals. In contrast, three predominantly White churches identified full hospitals on their maps, yet had little to no discussion about the significance of these healthcare facilities in their community. At one Catholic church in the south, an immigrant woman reflected that given her good experience at the hospital compared to her home country, she was surprised to learn that “Louisiana is the worst state in the USA” for health.

Physical. Parks and recreational areas were among the most frequently identified physical assets, reflecting the over 180 parks maintained by Baton Rouge Recreation (BREC) within the city limits that offer recreation, programming, adult classes and physical activity. However, one Baptist woman expressed a desire for “more green space”, while another noted that “something is being developed for a walkway”. In addition to parks, groups identified lakes, nature trails, bike paths, and highways as physical assets. The LSU Lakes are recognized as recreational spaces that “draw people… we have so many people moving around, getting exercise, getting fresh air”, but one Presbyterian man described those same artificial lakes as “a barrier that’s almost impenetrable”. He shared that the artificial lakes and interstates divided communities based on race, suggesting “that’s by design”. The lack of bike trails was also noted in North Baton Rouge; one older adult reflected how he used to take a bike to school, but that “doesn’t seem as possible anymore”.

Public transit was a widely discussed physical asset most often with the description offered by a woman in the north: “The buses here are terrible”. How transit was discussed reflected differences in access. At a church in the south near LSU, a resident connected the lack of bus service as something presenting a “difficult[y] for them to access job opportunities”. At a church in the south in an area that lacks sidewalks and becomes increasingly rural, a woman downplayed the relevance, saying “what is so important about that, the walkability? That’s not for most people in this area. That is not an issue. You need a car. Well, if you don’t have a car, and you live [in the area]…nobody walks to this church… you would get killed”. In contrast, a North Baton Rouge woman recalled the following: “They were trying to get rid of the buses, and we got together and went to all the homes in this area to let people know the importance of voting, because it was going to be on the list”.

Economic. Economic assets identified across groups varied widely, from local businesses (grocery stores) and banks/credit unions to non-profits (food bank, school supplies) and local institutions. At some institutions, a narrower range of entities like banks was discussed, often noting absence rather than their presence. For example, participants from two churches in the north identified Liberty Bank and Neighbors Credit Union as assets but noted an absence of businesses. One man from a Catholic church in the north commented the following: “We have to start putting together monies and stuff like that so that we can take back over these businesses”. In the south, participants noted a growing presence of credit unions with one stating that “Those seem to be cropping up more and more,” and another commenting that “credit unions is a really great thing to do business with… they also gave me a really nice grant last year to paint the park at the library”.

Grocery stores were another asset that highlighted geographic difference. Frequently cited as missing in the north, “we have no grocery store, we have no public transportation”, a Baptist woman stated, alternatives like Dollar Tree, Dollar General, Shopper’s Value, Bodega, Gas Stations, Seafood Corner, and Meat Markets were identified as assets instead, though often with caveats of safety concerns and high costs: “They’re always robbing that place. All the Dollar Generals get robbed”, while another added the “Shoppers Value up in Baker” yet qualifying that it “add[s] 10% when you get up to the counter”. In contrast, in the south, participants identified the Mall of Louisiana, Perkins Rowe Plaza, and Siegen Lane with many local and national businesses. Additionally, economic assets were often tied to institutions, namely LSU in the south and Sothern University (SU) in the north. One resident describes accessing SU’s small business association for her business plan, noting “You don’t pay for that”.

Cultural. Cultural assets identified centered the universities and festivals, highlighting their influence on community identity. Southern University, the HBCU in the north, was noted for its football team, heritage museum, and cultural events like tailgates, while Louisiana State University, the PWI in the south, for the football team, art galleries, and cultural landmarks like the LSU Tiger Stadium. Mardi Gras, parades and “jazz festivals or zydeco festivals” were also identified as cultural assets. These activities often feature food, which, along with restaurants, was also consistently named as an asset.

Conversations among EBRP residents about community assets highlighted their ever-present awareness of the disparities in access. Distinctions across geography in how groups discussed physical assets like transportation options and green spaces, institutional assets like healthcare, and economic assets like financial institutions, grocery stores, and small businesses highlighted uneven distributions of resources that exacerbate existing inequalities. These contrasts demonstrated how awareness of these distinctions was more than academic, it was an everyday consideration.

3.3. Assets to Action

Across the groups and institutions, discussions of strategies for action focused on providing direct support (“we got to feed the people”), developing resource lists to both encourage effective action and avoid it (“there should be a list”), engaging across generations (“supporting grandparents, getting the youth”), and, across all institutions, an overwhelming sentiment that their communities were on their own and could not count on support from the state or other entities (“Government’s not gonna come to our rescue”). Levels of commitment to strategies were widely variable, ranging from suggestions at a Methodist church in a self-described “vision-planning phase” to incorporate some of the group’s ideas into the church’s priorities, to a scheduled action or to no planned action at all.

3.4. “We Got to Feed the People”

Addressing immediate needs by providing material support was expressed across all churches as both a practical need and a moral responsibility. As a participant passionately stated at one of the Baptist churches, “We got to feed the people!” In response, the facilitator suggested combining monthly contributions with grants to make the feeding program sustainable. At a Catholic church, the conversation turned to how to amplify the work of their food pantry “and figure out how to reach these people in the community that need food and [tell them] how they can sign up”.

Dedication to providing people with material support was often wrapped into a dedication to volunteerism. A young Black Baptist woman shared her involvement with the American Cancer Society through her sorority, emphasizing that “Since I’ve been with them, I’ve been doing community service”, she explained. She described plans to support the homeless population as winter approaches, saying “We’re getting ready to put some things together for them, like gloves, stuff to keep them warm”, as an example of how the church can provide support. Another group at the catholic church suggested starting a community garden, connected to previous efforts for which they had already cleared trees, and another participant mentioned “the refrigerators you find in different communities”, referring to the Community Fridges, refrigerators available 24/7 where people can anonymously access or donate food. One woman highlighted the particular value of these “low-hanging fruit” projects, adding another one—a free books box—as “something easily done, like the garden will take a little work, but something fast that we can see, like immediate gratification”.

3.5. “There Should Be a List”

The need for better coordination and resources to assist those in need was a refrain that echoed throughout most churches, one most commonly expressed as a need for a list or cataloging of the church’s assets. One church member suggested that “If you have started a collection, connection with people like that, you will have a list of people”. Although participants acknowledged the church had existing communication tools that could be amplified, “a Facebook page, and they could put more information or call”, or the church bulletin, concern that “not everybody reads that,” or that they were underutilized was common across institutions and churches. At a different Catholic church, a participant remarked that “if in a disaster we need to provide assistance, there should be a list of who has what, so we know where to go”, and volunteered to help create such a list. At a church in the north, groups connected identifying specific people with resources to (re)activate community outreach efforts and make them more effective. As an older woman stated the following: “We had a lady come here, and she needed housing. I didn’t know where to go to help her—we never did find a place that helped her permanently”. The group stated that “We can expand that connection [to named church member] … already on campus”, aiming to deepen relationships with members who were connected to resources at the University. At a different church of the same denomination in the south, an older member of a Black Greek-lettered sorority emphasized the importance of building a list of not just individuals, but of agency community partners for referrals, recalling their efforts in supporting Jackson, Mississippi, during its water crisis.

Commitments to develop lists and catalogs of resources may, however, raise questions about institutions’ concerns and hesitancies with taking actual and specific action. Indeed, in four churches, no clear actions were agreed upon outside of the development of a list. In one church, liability concerns were raised explicitly by a woman who cautioned that “We need to be careful… because if someone got hurt, we’d be asking, ‘What happened?’” Adding to the caution, another shared that “The challenge is that they could lean on you too much—it becomes a job. How do we stop it from being a problem? We can’t work 12–18 h a day providing support”. At another church, concerns about action emerged as concerns about theft. One suggested mitigating this by not making the assets (in this case, a garden) exclusive, saying that “When you structure it, the way you say things like, ‘this is a community garden’, people will know don’t really need to steal, right? But because they know they can just come”. These concerns were in real tension with others who felt they, as one older White woman expressed, “better do than not do.” This shared commitment to creating lists reflects both the cautious pragmatism and the sense of responsibility driving these churches to find actionable ways to meet their community’s needs.

3.6. “Supporting Grandparents, Getting the Youth”

The needs of older adult residents in nursing homes were raised across six churches. Upon visiting a nursing home to consider it for her dad, one woman expressed that “It was horrible. I wouldn’t put my dog in the nursing home”. Another reflected on the emotional toll of visiting her loved one and one participant suggested that “Even if we could visit some of the elderly people who are so lonely, right? We all saw what it was like if you had a family member in a nursing home like we did… Tears your heart”. In a different church, a leader suggested the following: “Maybe bring some supplies, or if nothing else, just go to say, ‘Hey, how you doing?’ you know, just spend some time” visiting residents at a nearby nursing home. Another church explored ways to scale their current nursing home outreach efforts, with one participant animated enough she volunteered to lead the initiative, suggesting the following: “I could announce—I’ll be the point person on that, and we can communicate it to the group, to the whole church”. In addition, this church discussed encouraging youths to “sign up to get a buddy at the nursing home”, particularly during the holidays, to foster intergenerational connection.

All churches discussed the challenges of attracting and retaining youth at their church. One woman stated that “We need to get more young people. You see, all of the ministries need to have a young person that could follow in their footsteps… we just don’t have any, the same in the ushers… We getting older, and that’s a lot of standing, you know, back and forth…” Five churches across the groups emphasized the importance of providing opportunities specifically for young people. Practical ideas, such as “hotdogs and chips,” outreach for children, and mentorship opportunities like guiding youth through scholarship applications and college admissions, were raised. Ideas highlighted social opportunities and community involvement as key focus areas, mentioning creating more opportunities for sports, recreational facilities, or programs like a Boys and Girls Club. At another church, a participant emphasized partnering with organizations like cosmetology schools to “provide opportunities for youth to gain new skills”, and another suggested youth programs “covering topics like financial literacy and mental health”. Underscoring sentiments felt behind many of the expressed concerns about engaging youth was the need for intergenerational connection to ensure the continuation of their institutions, as one woman put it, “to ensure that the church has leaders for the future and that ministries continue to thrive”. Still, no group agreed upon or committed to taking an action to attract or retain youth in the church.

3.7. “Government’s Not Gonna Come to Our Rescue”

Resonant throughout the discussions was a feeling that they were being overlooked, as one Catholic man stated that “We have got to understand that at some point, the government [is] not gonna come to our rescue”. Groups discussed the need to develop their own responses to disasters and solutions to community problems. A Black fire chief echoed this sentiment, reflecting that “the boat we got on was a private–wasn’t no fire department–boat. But [a neighbor] pulled his own out, his own boat, out to start rescuing people and stuff”. He added that “I wish I could see the government work together better to provide the things that we needed at the time”. With evident frustration, he noted an ongoing “battle between the government and the Cajun Navy about this”. At a different congregation, this awareness of the absence of outside support was expressed in group discussions that centered on establishing their own formal disaster response group to be prepared to support members during emergencies given what one participant described as an “increasing intolerance towards individuals”. This appeared in their memories of the 2016 floods, protests of police violence, and the exacerbation of social divisions by COVID-19. One man shared that “To this day, [COVID-19] divides my family, my friends, my acquaintances about their belief in science, or lack thereof”.

Other conversations turned to creating formal collective groups to address economic needs. For instance, one church in the south decided to continue meeting after the COPE intervention to create a new group centered on fellowship and social action. A at a Black Catholic church in a northern neighborhood that has felt the effects of city disinvestment, one man suggested that they “start putting together monies and stuff like that so that we can take back over these businesses and run them”. The context of such exchanges reflected a collective awareness of the persistent disinvestment and disinterest (perceived or actual) of the government to provide needed infrastructure support. In its absence, participants contended with what it would take to create opportunities that foster community economic reliance over the long term and strategies to better leverage community resources to draw attention to the need for additional city infrastructure support.

These discussions highlight how communities disproportionately affected by systemic neglect and disaster consider possibilities for response. Frequently, these historical inequities require people to create their own solutions in the absence of adequate government support (Rivera and Nickels 2014).

4. Discussion

Our findings reveal the multi-faceted ways that communities of faith-based institutions identify resources and imagine addressing the intersecting environmental, social, and economic challenges facing the East Baton Rouge Parish. We developed and deployed COPE as a response to the worsening mental health and isolation felt by the people of a city-parish with long felt systemic divisions and environmental inequities, compounded by disasters and made acute by the COVID-19 pandemic, given our increasing understanding of the relationship between environmental stress and mental health (Collins et al. 2019; Sederer 2016; Ventriglio et al. 2021). Aligned with scholarship on EJ principles that emphasizes the importance of collective resources and social capital in mitigating the physical and psychological impacts of systemic inequities and environmental risks (Royer 2022; Schlosberg and Collins 2014), COPE engaged small groups in CAM activities to identify assets and imagine actions they could take to improve community life.

4.1. Anchors and Social Cohesion

The church was recognized as central, a support to both its own congregation and the broader community. Identified in each type of asset, many of the functions highlighted point to the church’s role as a tool for strengthening social cohesion (Richardson and Maninger 2016; Stone et al. 2004). Churches were described as bridging bonds across the community, not just their own membership, via the provision of material aid like meals, utility bill payments, and school supplies. The utility of providing material support to strengthen social bonds was also reflected in how participants thought of action, often that “we got to feed the people” actions of charity. In addition to material support, church rituals and other gatherings, from fish frys to Mardi Gras, were recognized for their importance to building relationships and strengthening social bonds, a key component of social capital (Bourdieu 1986; Coleman 1988; Putnam 1995). Assets identified reflected varied priorities and experiences shaped by geographic and racial contexts. For example, in the predominantly Black churches in North Baton Rouge, group discussions emphasized resource gaps, such as inadequate public transportation and healthcare access. Conversely, South Baton Rouge churches, including predominantly White institutions, identified a broader array of resources (Rothstein 2017). Overall, we found that despite distinctions in the content of asset identification, the deep engagement of participants in CAM with others in churches across the geography of EBRP highlighted the role the church could play in improving public deliberation on EJ issues in today’s increasingly polarized environment (Prado et al. 2024; Abdullah et al. 2016).

Additionally, when grounded in conversations about assets, groups were able to imagine actions they might take together to address EJ issues. We found across institutions that participants envisioned that “there should be a list” and mechanisms for engaging across generations (supporting grandparents, getting the youth). Both imaginations demonstrate awareness of what studies have supported, i.e., social cohesion and networks help to mitigate the impact of EJ issues (Benevolenza and DeRigne 2019; First et al. 2021; Lowe et al. 2015; Reininger et al. 2013). Interestingly, however, we also noted how imaginations of resource lists also pointed to active non-engagement. How groups discussed youth engagement also had a pragmatic element, i.e., recognition that fostering the next generation was necessary to ensuring continuity, given the aging membership base of many of the congregations. This interest revealed a similar tension between the church’s role in serving the community and ensuring its own survival. This dual motivation speaks to the broader literature on institutional resilience that highlights how organizations balance outward-facing community work with internal sustainability efforts (Barasa et al. 2018). In tandem, it captures the distinct and specific challenges facing membership-based institutions like churches given both the aging population and the now long-running trend of declining participation (Putnam 1995).

Finally, conversations in many of the churches expressed a sentiment that their communities were on their own and could not count on support from the state or other entities, as the “government’s not gonna come to our rescue”. Legacies of racism and inequities have left the most marginalized communities under-resourced and structurally excluded from essential services and infrastructure (Lynch et al. 2021). Increasing political polarization and the residual effects of the COVID-19 pandemic have also led to what the U.S. Surgeon General declared an “epidemic’ of social isolation (Office of the U.S. Surgeon General 2023). Indeed, these challenges brought the authors and TBR together to develop COPE and engage in the CAM process. This sentiment was revealed through expressed interest in developing other mechanisms of support in the absence of state. Although municipal challenges require systemic investment beyond localized initiatives, social capital theory underscores their value, as they strengthen “bonding” and “bridging” ties within and across communities, potentially contributing to greater resilience and resourcefulness (Coleman 1988; Putnam 1995).

4.2. Limitations

A few limitations are important to consider. First, the study’s scope is constrained to a specific geographic area, EBRP, limiting the transferability of the findings to similarly situated mixed urban and suburban areas (Elo and Kyngäs 2008). Future research exploring how discussions of assets are navigated during CAM in rural communities would add important context to the relationship between factors of geography and awareness of differences in access to formal institutions or social services. Second, differences in note-takers for field notes introduce variability in the data collection process. Each note-taker may have differed in their focus, level of detail, and interpretation of discussions that could have influenced the final analysis. Finally, the cross-sectional nature of the data collection means we cannot definitively assess the long-term impact of asset identification on social capital and community action. Future research could address these limitations by expanding geographic diversity, incorporating longitudinal data, and exploring the contributions of non-religious organizations to community resilience.

4.3. Future Directions

The findings point to the potential of CAM as a tool to identify assets and imagine actions to (re)build institutional trust and social capital in the face of growing environmental climate crisis, a resource to empower faith-based institutions in these efforts. The findings contribute to the growing body of literature on CBPR and asset-based approaches to disaster resilience. They highlight the potential of CAM as a tool for identifying and leveraging resources within communities, consistent with Jakes et al.’s (2015) argument that CAM facilitates sustainable community development. As specific strategies, faith-based and secular institutions should consider strategies not only to update directories, but also to build relationships with enhanced awareness of potential individual contributions and stronger cross-community collaborations. Future CAM efforts could also facilitate conversations about across institutions, fostering greater solidarity in addressing inequities across racial and class lines and developing bridging social capital.