Guest Editorial
Bianka Emerson
by Bianka Emerson
Bianka Emerson is President of Colorado Black Women for Political Action and is a gubernatorial appointee to the Environmental Justice Advisory Board for the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment.
In America, turning on the kitchen faucet for a safe glass of water should be a given, not a gamble. Yet for far too many communities already burdened by environmental hazards, that simple act comes with fear and uncertainty
The tragedy of Flint, Michigan, is never far from mind, even here in Colorado. Every time I fill a glass, I want to trust that the water is safe. I want to trust that the taxes I pay, and the water bills I shoulder, are funding a system built to protect my health, not quietly threaten it. And I want my family, friends, neighbors, and people I fight for every day to share same trust.
But too many of us can’t.
One reason is simple: we don’t even know how many lead pipes still exist in our drinking water system. That uncertainty is the shadow of Flint, a reminder that what we don’t know can harm us.
And lead isn’t the only danger.
Polyvinyl chloride, or PVC, is one of the materials commonly used for pipes in drinking water systems today. PVC is promoted by the industry as a quick fix, but that convenience comes at the expense of long-term public health. Especially because there is an ugly truth that gets buried in the sales pitch by the plastics industry: PVC contains toxic chemicals that can leach into our drinking water. And as with lead, the communities most likely to bear the risks are the same ones already overburdened by environmental hazards.
This is a clear case of environmental inequity, with the heaviest burdens falling on communities already overexposed to pollution and under-protected by infrastructure.
PVC is made from vinyl chloride, a known human carcinogen. Its production releases dioxins and other dangerous byproducts into the air, often in or near neighborhoods with limited resources and political influence. From manufacturing to disposal, PVC leaves a toxic footprint. And when used in drinking water systems, the danger doesn’t stop at the factory gates as chemical additives can migrate into the water itself, especially as the pipes age, degrade, or are exposed to high temperatures.
The push for PVC fits right into this inequitable pattern. When city councils and utility boards opt for PVC, they’re making long-term decisions. And when those pipes begin to degrade, as all plastic inevitably does, it won’t be the contractors or suppliers who suffer the consequences: it will be us who are drinking water laced with endocrine-disrupting chemicals; it will be elders with compromised immune systems; and it will be pregnant women, children just starting their lives, and babies, all of whom are uniquely vulnerable.
What’s worse, PVC production itself is an environmental justice disaster. Look at Cancer Alley in Louisiana, an 85-mile stretch of the Mississippi River lined with more than 150 petrochemical plants. Many of those plants, including PVC manufacturers, operate in communities where residents face some of the nation’s highest cancer rates due to chronic industrial pollution. Residents there suffer some of the highest cancer rates in the nation. The same corporations making the PVC pipes pitched as “safe” for our water are also polluting the air these communities breathe.
Drinking water utilities in Colorado should adopt a precautionary principle: if a material poses a plausible risk to human health, it doesn’t belong in our drinking water systems. Safer alternatives exist, and they don’t come with the same long-term health liabilities.
Second, communities must have a seat at the table in infrastructure decisions. Too often, these choices are made behind closed doors, with little public notice or opportunity for input. Residents deserve transparency about the materials being used in our water systems and the health risks they carry.
Finally, we need national standards that address the environmental justice dimensions of water infrastructure. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency should not only regulate chemicals leaching from drinking water pipes but also consider the life-cycle pollution of materials like PVC, especially in vulnerable communities. The EPA is already investigating the human health risks associated with vinyl chloride, which tells us just how dangerous that chemical is.
For generations, the health of marginalized communities has been the price of cheap infrastructure. PVC is just the latest chapter in that story. We have the knowledge, the resources, and the alternatives to write a different ending, and it’s one where safe water is a universal right, not a privilege reserved for some.
The pipes we choose today will carry water into our children’s bodies for generations. Let’s make sure those pipes carry life, not poison.
