Sewage fertilizer can cause illness and harm the environment. Why are some Oklahoma offici
April 23, 2025
On a brisk morning in early 2017, Paula Yockel power-washed the family’s propane tank at her home in rural Oklahoma, about 15 miles from downtown Oklahoma City. As she sprayed away thick layers of grime that had built up, the water bounced off the cylindrical tank, filling the air with a fine mist.
Within 36 hours, she became severely ill with stomach pain, diarrhea and debilitating aches throughout her body.
After seeing a doctor and getting bloodwork done, Yockel got a call from the Oklahoma State Department of Health: she had cryptosporidiosis, a potentially deadly illness usually spread through feces-contaminated water.
Her property, which she has since sold, was surrounded by farms that use biosolids — a type of fertilizer made from treated human waste.
Yockel had moved to the property in 2004, along with her husband and son. Over the years, they all suffered from a range of health problems that worsened every time a fresh batch of biosolids was spread across nearby fields.
While she could not definitively link all of her family’s ailments to the fertilizer, she did gather enough evidence to show that biosolids most likely caused her cryptosporidiosis. (The disease-causing parasite was found on both the propane tank and the biosolid-treated fields near her home.)
For more than a decade, Yockel felt like a lone voice in Oklahoma, sounding the alarm about the dangers of biosolids — only to be dismissed by city council members, state lawmakers, the Oklahoma Department of Environmental Quality, and even the Oklahoma Secretary of Agriculture, according to Yockel. But in recent years, research has increasingly shown that the black sludge can contain heavy concentrations of chemicals linked to cancer and birth defects.
The findings have sparked lawsuits and led to bans on biosolid fertilizer in some parts of the country. In Oklahoma, a major farm insurance provider recently decided to exclude coverage for biosolids-related damages.
Earlier this year, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency acknowledged that biosolids containing high levels of certain chemicals may pose risks to human health. The agency also warned that drinking groundwater from areas where biosolids are applied — common in many parts of Oklahoma — can lead to health problems.
Despite the EPA’s warning, Oklahoma’s response has been to stall.
A bill that would have banned the use of sewage fertilizer by 2027 was unexpectedly halted this month, despite acknowledgements from Oklahoma City that the practice is unsustainable. The state’s Department of Environmental Quality — charged with protecting public health and the environment — promotes the material as beneficial and has pushed for legal protections for cities, while the Department of Agriculture has taken little action. Meanwhile, farmers are left in limbo — unsure whether their soil, water and livestock have been contaminated, with no guidance on protecting their land or livelihood.
“Not only are people not aware that we do this across the nation, we have no knowledge of the chronic exposure,” Yockel said. “We were on 25 acres at the time, not knowing that right across our fence, during the day while we were at work, dozens — sometimes probably hundreds — of truckloads would be dumping sewage next to our home.”
‘Defecating on the rural communities’
For Yockel, the stench of biosolids, which she describes as “horrendous” and “suffocating,” should be reason enough to ban their use. But for the EPA, it was the discovery of high concentrations of PFAS — also known as “forever chemicals,” due to their persistence in the environment and human body for decades or even longer — that led the agency to acknowledge the fertilizer’s potential health risks. It has not yet issued new regulations.
PFAS, or per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, are chemicals used in everything from razors, firefighting foam, nonstick cookware, and clothing. Exposure to these chemicals has been linked to an increased risk of prostate and kidney cancer, developmental delays in children, and elevated cholesterol levels, among many other health issues.
Last year, the EPA set official rules to limit the amount of PFAS chemicals allowed in public drinking water.
But when it comes to PFAS in biosolid fertilizer, used widely by farmers across the country, its regulation is currently left to the states. Some states have already moved to ban or restrict its use, while others are waiting for the EPA to take the lead.
In Oklahoma, advocates like Yockel had seen progress in their push to ban biosolids — until a recent shift threatened those gains.
Senate Bill 3, which sought to ban the land application of sewage sludge by 2027, received a bipartisan vote of 42 to 4 in the Senate. Among the few opposing it was Sen. Dave Rader, R-Tulsa, who introduced a separate bill to shield cities and municipalities from biosolids-related lawsuits.
During a committee hearing for Senate Bill 3, Sen. Shane Jett, R-Shawnee, who has worked for years to restrict the fertilizer, said that cities have been “quite frankly, defecating on the rural communities that we represent.”
However, the momentum behind the bill stalled in the House, where the chair of the agriculture committee, Rep. Kenton Patzkowski, R-Balko, declined to schedule a hearing.
“This is the same committee and committee chair that refused to hear my biosolids bill,” said Rep. Jim Shaw, R-Chandler, who introduced a different, more aggressive measure to ban the fertilizer. “It’s my understanding the Oklahoma Municipal League as a whole lobbied heavily to stop this legislation from advancing.”
The Oklahoma Municipal League, an organization that advocates for the interests of municipalities across the state, has publicly raised concerns about Senate Bill 3, warning it will cost municipalities millions.
The organization also has lobbyists registered to lobby the state legislature and the Oklahoma Department of Environmental Quality (ODEQ), the agency that requested Rader’s bill shielding cities from liability.
An investigation by Investigate Midwest last year found that more than 80% of the state’s wastewater sludge ends up on crop fields. Around 40% of that sludge comes from Oklahoma City waste.
The city reports that around 11,000 acres of agricultural land are permitted for the application of biosolids from its four wastewater treatment plants. This includes 40 acres in Logan County, 5,000 acres in Lincoln County, and 6,000 acres in Oklahoma County.
These biosolids support row crops for animal feed, as well as Bermuda and native Oklahoma grasses used for grazing and sod farms.
The city faces a dilemma: what to do with the 350 tons of biosolids it produces daily.
Since 1982, the land application of biosolids has provided a cheap solution for the city to dispose of its waste.
Wastewater from toilets, sinks and industrial facilities flows to the city treatment plants, where liquids and solids are separated. The solids are mixed with lime to kill pathogens like Salmonella and Norovirus, then tested for heavy metals in accordance with state and federal regulations. Inframark, the private company that operates the city’s plants, has a contract with Synagro — a company owned by Goldman Sachs — to transport the biosolids to farmers, who receive the fertilizer for free.
“To our knowledge, there has been no revenue obtained by Inframark for the proper disposal of biosolids,” said Jasmine Morris, the public information manager with the Oklahoma City Utilities Department.
For years, Oklahoma City promoted biosolids as a sustainable solution. But recently, officials acknowledged the long-term limitations of spreading treated waste on farmland.
“The City is aware that land application of biosolids is not a long-term sustainable method,” wrote Leigh Ann Kitsmiller, a regulatory compliance manager with Oklahoma City, in a report summarizing the city’s efforts related to biosolids land application and PFAS regulations.
Anticipating the possibility of a future ban — either through state legislation or federal action by the EPA — the city began exploring alternative disposal methods several years ago.
It is currently considering three options: anaerobic digestion, which uses bacteria to break down waste; incineration; and landfill disposal, but only in combination with one or both of the other methods due to limited space.
Implementing these changes will cost more than $100 million and five to 10 years to complete, the city estimates. It is unclear how the city would pay for it.
Kenneth Ede, who served as director of the Environmental Science Graduate Program at Oklahoma State University, has authored numerous articles on PFAS and directed and co-authored the first PFAS sampling guidelines for the state of Oklahoma.
Ede believes Oklahomans should not bear the cost of the city’s plans; instead, he argues, “the polluter should pay.” He said that the primary source of PFAS is waste from industries, not from homes.
“Industry should be testing their effluent to determine their PFAS concentration,” Ede said, referring tothe wastewater that comes from factories. “If the PFAS is elevated, the industry should investigate which product they are using that is high in PFAS.”
This year, the city has instructed industries suspected of contributing to PFAS pollution — such as industrial laundry, aerospace and metal manufacturing — to self-monitor and test for PFAS annually.
The city also began its own testing in July 2022. However, officials say there’s not enough data yet to pinpoint which industries are the primary sources of PFAS contamination.
“Sampling of the OKC permitted industries has only been completed on a handful of industries and has been completed only once,” said Morris, from the Oklahoma City Utilities Department.
What the city has found so far, however, does little to ease concerns. The average PFAS level in biosolids spread on Oklahoma farmland is significantly higher than what the EPA considers safe.
In one sample, the level of PFAS was alarmingly high — over 48 parts per billion (ppb). The EPA considers anything above 1 ppb to pose potential risks to human health.
Given that biosolids are used to grow grass and crops for animal consumption, Ede finds these results “a little disturbing.”
“If I put biosolids on soil, and I’m growing grass and I have dairy cows – that milk, I will not be able to sell it,” he said.
While the scenario Ede describes hasn’t happened in Oklahoma — at least not yet — it has played out in other states. In Maine, farmers were forced to stop selling milk and meat tainted with PFAS. In Michigan, a cattle farm was shut down after officials discovered PFAS in livestock, grain, and groundwater. And in Texas, farmers say the chemicals killed their animals.
Farmers face uncertainty as biosolids concerns trigger local bans, insurance shifts
Last month, Gov. Kevin Stitt posted a video on Facebook proudly showing off rows of freshly planted potatoes in his garden.
The video was flooded with comments referencing biosolids.
“I bet you don’t use biosolids, aka humanure aka biosludge, in your garden. You should help prohibit its use on pastures if you’re not willing to use it on your yard or garden,” said one of the comments.
As farmers in other parts of the country file lawsuits over contamination of their farmland, Oklahomans in rural areas are becoming more aware of the issue. The town of Luther has banned biosolid fertilizer in response to local pressure. Supporters of the ban also played a key role in Rep. Jim Shaw’s upset victory last year over a longtime incumbent who was a user of biosolids.
But many still do not know that their livestock’s health — and their own — could be at risk.
In a 2023 document, the EPA and the National Association of State Departments of Agriculture (NASDA) — which represents state agriculture departments nationwide — agreed to work with state agencies on the issue and offer “support for farmers and ranchers to access relevant federal and state assistance programs.” The issue was one of NASDA’s “2024 policy priorities.”
Nearly two years after the document was signed, however, Oklahoma farmers and ranchers have not been given access to any assistance programs or been informed about the potential dangers of biosolids.
“Why haven’t a single farmer or rancher that I have talked to been notified that this was a problem?” says Saundra Traywick, a farmer who successfully pushed for a ban on biosolids in the town of Luther. “Why haven’t they received a letter stating, ‘Hey, don’t take biosolids, because you might contaminate your farm, your ranch, your water, your neighbor’s water, your beef, your produce’.”
Blayne Arthur, Oklahoma’s current Secretary of Agriculture and former president of NASDA (2023–2024), did not respond to a request for comment.
ODEQ, which regulates the use of sewage fertilizer, has focused its efforts on testing PFAS in drinking water rather than in biosolids, as it awaits the EPA’s completion of its risk assessment and the establishment of regulations.
“As biosolid land application has become a more visible topic in Oklahoma, I am certain more work will be done to determine its impact on public health and the environment,” said Erin Hatfield, director of communications for ODEQ.
But the agency, tasked with protecting Oklahoma’s air, land and water, has actively fought to protect cities. Last year, the agency’s director endorsed a bill that would shield cities from lawsuits related to biosolid fertilizer.
And when the town of Luther held a board meeting in 2020 to discuss banning biosolids, ODEQ employees showed up along with Synagro representatives to defend the practice. “It’s well-documented to be suitable for farmland,” said agency engineer Myles Mungle, according to the Luther Register.
Insurance companies are also paying attention.
Oklahoma Farm Bureau Insurance recently notified customers that it will not cover damages related to animal and human waste.
Previously, the policy excluded coverage for bodily injury or property damage caused by things like smoke, acids or toxic chemicals. Now, the insurance company has added “biosolids” and “materials generated by wastewater, animal waste, or human waste treatment” to that list of exclusions.
Oklahoma Farm Bureau Insurance is a subsidiary of the Oklahoma Farm Bureau. While the Oklahoma Farm Bureau focuses on advocacy, policy development and member services for agriculture, its insurance branch operates as a separate business entity.
Gary Buckner, the executive vice president and general manager of Oklahoma Farm Bureau Insurance, said in a statement that the recent change in coverage “ensures the financial viability of Oklahoma Farm Bureau Insurance.”
Farm Bureau Insurance is the only insurance provider in Oklahoma to implement this type of coverage change, according to Glen Mulready, who heads the Oklahoma Insurance Department, the agency tasked with regulating the state’s insurance industry.
Robert Bierschenk, a farmer and former president of the Oklahoma County Farm Bureau, believes that the change unfairly shifts responsibility from the Bureau to the farmers.
Bierschenk was among the first Oklahoma farmers to speak out against biosolids, raising concerns about pathogens and toxic metals polluting groundwater in 2016, well before PFAS entered the conversation.
He said his concerns have been largely dismissed by the Bureau’s board members. “The state office has never tried to help us get rid of the stuff,” Bierschenk said. “I guess because they don’t want to step in the farmers’ business.”
He described a similar lack of engagement from Arthur, the Oklahoma Secretary of Agriculture, whom he invited to speak with the Oklahoma County Farm Bureau last year. According to Bierschenk, she never responded.
Research explores hemp to combat PFAS pollution, while advocates call for federal ban
As Oklahoma and other states wait for the EPA to take action, some are looking for solutions.
At Penn State University, Heather Preisendanz, director of the Institute for Sustainable Agricultural, Food, and Environmental Science, is leading a study to evaluate whether hemp could be used to absorb PFAS from contaminated soil.
“There’s been some evidence that hemp is really good at taking up heavy metals,” Preisendanz said. “The (Pennsylvania Department of Agriculture) was really curious if that might be another benefit of growing hemp on a contaminated site: could it also take up PFAS?”
The research is still in its early phases, with preliminary findings expected next year. While Preisendanz acknowledges the risks of using biosolids as fertilizer, she doesn’t support an outright ban.
For Yockel, however, a federal ban is the only answer, since PFAS is just one of many problems with biosolids — as she experienced firsthand while living in rural Oklahoma.
“I don’t want us to not have access to biosolids as a nutrient source, because it is such a valuable, beneficial reuse of those materials,” she said. “I don’t want us to be sending all of the country’s biosolids to landfills or burning them. I don’t think that’s the right solution.”
Instead, she advocates for a threshold approach with different guidelines for different levels of PFAS.
Yockel and her husband eventually sold their property and moved to an area away from farms treated with the sludge. Shortly after the move, many of their health problems began to disappear, including her respiratory infections, her husband’s skin rashes, and her son’s chronic throat infections.
After spending thousands of dollars on testing and research, Yockel founded the nonprofit Mission 503 to share her findings and raise awareness. The group’s website includes biosolids sample results, a map of application sites in Oklahoma, and multiple scientific studies that outline the risks connected to the fertilizer.
Yockel believes the goal should mostly be to get rid of biosolids. She imagines a system where, instead of sending the waste to farms or landfills, trucks would take it to new treatment plants. There, it could be studied, some of it possibly reused — for example, turned into energy — and the rest safely destroyed.
“We need another tier of national infrastructure,” she said. “We can harvest something that may be usable, but the rest of it gets destroyed. The technology is partially there, but it can be there if it’s a priority. We have to give people a shred of hope that there is a different way of dealing with this.”
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