Op-Ed: Mangroves, the overlooked DUFF of coastal ecosystems in Belize and The Bahamas

If we were to classify nature with the same social hierarchy as a high school movie, our plants and trees would fit into some pretty recognizable cliques. At the top of the popularity pyramid, you’d find the fruit-bearing trees—mango, avocado, soursop, and coconut. They’re the jocks of the ecosystem, beloved by all, constantly in the limelight, and always producing something that makes them a crowd favorite. They’re the ones who everyone wants to be seen with (or, in this case, eat).

Right next to them are the flashy flowering trees like poincianas, yellow elders, and hibiscus—the cheerleaders of nature. Bright, colorful, and definitely the life of the party… but, like actual cheerleaders, a little moody and seasonal. They show up for a short but good time, and they turn heads when they do.

Then there are the palm trees—the mean girls. They’re effortlessly stylish, showing up only in prime spots, and everybody knows they’re there for the aesthetic. Palm trees are Instagram-ready at all times, perfectly posed along resort entrances and sandy beaches, making the rest of the landscape feel, well… basic.

The nerds of the group? That title goes to the functional trees and vines like cerasee and moringa. They may not be much to look at, but they’ve got brains for days, filled with useful medicinal properties and packed with knowledge. You don’t pay them much attention until you need them, but when you do, they’re lifesavers.

And, of course, we can’t forget about the outcasts, like the invasive casuarina trees. They don’t fit in, don’t belong, and mostly make things worse. They’re the kids eating lunch alone because they’ve wrecked the social (read: ecological) balance.

Finally, at the bottom of the social ladder, we have the DUFF—Designated Ugly Fat Friend of the plant world: the mangroves. Awkward, tangled, and swampy, they’re not the Instagram queens of the beach. Developers and tourists often see them as ugly obstacles to paradise, standing in the way of luxury ocean views and perfectly curated sunsets. But, like the DUFF in every teen movie, these mangroves are the ones doing all the heavy lifting. 

“Most of the seafoods that we eat or consume comes from the mangrove at some point,” explained Dr Ancilleno Davis, owner of the Science And Perspective brand. “You have fish, conch, lobster… they spend their time in or near the mangrove habitat. It’s also this really cool place to be. All type of birds, other wildlife, live there so there’s a lot of reasons that make mangroves awesome other than just protecting our coastlines.”

While everyone’s swooning over the palms and beaches, mangroves are the ones keeping things together—quietly protecting the coastlines, acting as nurseries for marine life, and storing a serious amount of carbon. All the while, they’re content hanging in the background, waiting for their spot in the limelight.

For environmental advocates like Casuarina McKinney-Lambert, executive director of The Bahamas Reef Environment Educational Foundation, the beauty of mangroves is found in their multifaceted attributes.

“Red mangroves have beautiful long red legs with their feet rooted deep in the soft squishy mud,” noted McKinney-Lambert. “Little fish hide safely behind the mangrove legs (prop roots) to escape from predators.”

In Belize and The Bahamas, mangroves are the ultimate unsung heroes. Their destruction in the name of cosmetic appeal leaves communities exposed and natural resources depleted. Ironically, it is only when disaster strikes—when storm surges flood homes or marine life declines—that we remember how much we relied on them.

Both nations face unique conservation challenges, but they share the need for a shift in mindset to appreciate the true worth of these ecosystems before it’s too late.

Belize: Guardians of the Mesoamerican Reef

Belize’s mangrove cover spans 759 square kilometers (75,900 hectares), lining the coast and serving as the first line of defense for communities and ecosystems. These forests are critical to the health of the Mesoamerican Reef, acting as nurseries for marine life and stabilizing coral reefs. For the fishing industry, mangroves are essential breeding grounds, directly supporting the livelihoods of locals. Recent mapping by the Belize Coastal Zone Management Authority emphasizes how mangroves shield coastal communities from rising sea levels and severe storms.

Yet Belize’s mangroves face serious threats from agriculture, tourism development, and urban expansion. Waterfront construction projects often involve the clearing of mangroves to create open views for resorts, ignoring the long-term environmental consequences. Conservation efforts, however, are gaining ground.

According to the Belize Mangrove Alliance Action Plan, mangroves, while vital to the ecosystem, remain among the least represented ecosystems in the National Protected Areas System. As of 2019, only 12,800 hectares of mangrove—representing a mere 16.6% of Belize’s total mangrove coverage—were protected. Given the significant value of this ecosystem and the mounting pressures it faces, there is a critical need to prioritize efforts that ensure its long-term viability.

Local NGOs, such as the Turneffe Atoll Sustainability Association, have initiated restoration programs, replanting mangroves and advocating for sustainable tourism models to protect these critical habitats. Much like the DUFF, mangroves in Belize remain underappreciated until their absence is felt in the form of coastal erosion or declining fish stocks.

The Bahamas: Battling Storms and Tourism Pressures

The Bahamas boasts approximately 2,500 square kilometers (250,000 hectares) of mangrove forests, which play a critical role in shielding the islands from extreme weather. During Hurricane Dorian in 2019, mangroves absorbed much of the storm surge, saving inland areas from even greater destruction. However, these ecosystems did not emerge unscathed—22% of mangrove cover on Grand Bahama and 14% on Abaco were lost to the storm.

In the wake of the hurricane, restoration efforts have been underway, with over 20,000 mangrove seedlings planted. However, tourism development continues to put pressure on these ecosystems as prime coastal areas are cleared to make way for hotels and resorts.

By removing mangroves, developers undermine the very ecosystems that protect their investments, exposing communities to future hurricanes and coastal flooding. Just as the DUFF is often discarded for superficial reasons, mangroves in The Bahamas are uprooted for short-term aesthetic gains, leaving the islands vulnerable to long-term environmental risks.

A DUFF Comparison: Shared Struggles in Belize and The Bahamas

Both Belize and The Bahamas treat mangroves much like the DUFF in social dynamics—taken for granted until needed, undervalued despite their vital contributions, and discarded when inconvenient. In both countries, mangroves serve as the first and last line of defense against climate change, offering protection from storms, nurturing marine biodiversity, and sequestering carbon at rates three to five times higher than tropical forests.

However, the pressures on mangroves differ slightly between the two countries. In Belize, the threats come primarily from agriculture and urbanization, while in The Bahamas, tourism-driven coastal development is the main culprit. Both nations, though, share the challenge of balancing economic growth with environmental conservation. And like the DUFF, mangroves are rarely given the credit they deserve—until their absence triggers disaster.

According to the Caribbean Biodiversity Fund, the Caribbean holds 12% of the world’s mangrove forests, but these ecosystems are shrinking rapidly. Loss of mangrove cover compromises not just individual countries but the entire region’s ability to fight climate change, protect fisheries, and sustain tourism economies.

Recognizing the Value of Mangroves Before It’s Too Late

Mangroves, like the DUFF, ask for little and give everything. They thrive naturally with minimal care, protecting coastlines, fostering marine life, and storing carbon. However, their destruction leaves communities exposed to storms, floods, and environmental decline. In both Belize and The Bahamas, mangroves must be viewed not as obstacles but as critical assets—heroes operating in the shadows to safeguard lives and livelihoods.

Just as social dynamics shift when people begin to see the DUFF’s true value, these countries must reframe how they view their mangroves. Conservation efforts must be prioritized over short-term development, with sustainable tourism and restoration initiatives leading the way. By recognizing mangroves’ importance before it’s too late, Belize and The Bahamas can protect their environments and economies from future environmental challenges.

Whether through replanting programs, community education, or stricter policies, both nations have the opportunity to change the narrative. If we can embrace the DUFF’s quiet strength and resilience, we can give mangroves the respect they’ve always deserved—and ensure that these invaluable ecosystems remain a cornerstone of coastal life for generations to come. With the right policies and investments in place, Belize and The Bahamas can demonstrate how environmental stewardship strengthens resilience and sustains economies, even in the face of climate change.

 

This story was published with the support of the Caribbean Climate Justice Journalism Fellowship, which is a joint venture of Climate Tracker and Open Society Foundations.

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