Through my research on environmental justice, the environmental movement, and environmental politics over the past 20 years as a scholar, I would never have said that my work slipped into anything resembling "activism." Advocacy, yes, because I would always conclude things like "we should stop doing X, and start doing Y to protect human and environmental wellbeing," or whatever. But a march? No thank you.
And I don't really like high-schoolers. Nothing against any of them individually, but high school was not a good time in my life, and even seeing high schools triggers me a bit. I can do college students, barely, because at least they want to be there, and at least I can tailor my curriculum to their passions. They are ostensibly adults, so even on a high-hormone, poorly-developed pre-frontal cortex day, this pretense of maturity helps elevate the tone of our interactions.
So how did I end up speaking for the 30 or so Eureka high school students for today's Youth Climate Strike?
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| My daughter and friend school striking with us at the Youth Climate March |
Sure, that's not a lot of people. But there was also once a time when Greta Thunberg was not a lot of people either.
What a march does is turns one person into thirty people into tens of thousands of people, right before your eyes, in the flesh, across the planet.
It counteracts all the ways that capitalism would have us think of ourselves as individuals, operating in our bubbles, tiny nobodies with no power to do anything against the monstrous beast of climate change. Showing up is not my thing. But showing up today because I couldn't see the grey area in the issue of young people really freaking out about the planet they will be inheriting, showed me that the showing up is a bolt of energy to everybody around you. It's also just the beginning, a symbol of what's to come. When you surround yourself with people working on solutions, hope is inevitable. As Greta Thunberg might say, you can't wait around to feel hopeful before you act. Action brings hope.
I'm not likely to show up to a lot of marches or other showing up opportunities, but on occasion, especially when I'm offered a chance to, even in a small way bolster youth passion and help steer the narrative a bit as a speaker, I just gotta go.
Maybe it's the urgency of the situation, maybe it's the certainty of issues, maybe I'm getting older and feel like I have less time to dawdle over grey areas (though that's generally where you'll still find me), maybe it's having kids, maybe it's the Facebook algorithms. But I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I've become a bit of a climate justice advocate. I still don't like the mainstream environmental stance on climate change--it's all too much about science and facts and ice caps--and I really don't like the climate movement's inability to think about racial justice, but I am convinced that the movement is moving in the right directions. It's getting more intersectional, more savvy about identity politics, class, and justice, and more aware of how climate change is not about wilderness and rock-climbing, it's about urban infrastructure, access to resources, distribution of pollutants, and both human and natural resource exploitation. And guess who's fixing the climate movement to figure all this out? KIDS.
I'm blown away by the Sunrise Movement's language about social justice. I'm blown away by even what I'm seeing with the Green New Deal. It may not acknowledge colonialism, and it may not fully get the grassroots aspects of climate justice, but it really soothes my soul that this proposal is getting so much air time, and that it seeks to connect issues of social structure, class, race, geography, and justice with the environmental crisis. That's a revelation.
In the past, I would have said, it's not good enough. I would have put on my academic hat and criticized it line by line. I probably would have even called it oppressive, even bad for the environment. I would have argued that if mainstream politicians are backing it, then by definition it can't be good enough. My scholarship was perhaps more "radical" in my early days.
In the past, I would have poo-poo'ed marches as mere performances of self-righteousness. And of course, they don't themselves change anything. That is always the problem with getting people to show up for things-- showing up itself never changes anything, it just offers a space for people to vent about how bad things are. Who wants that? Not me. I'm already overwhelmed with thinking about how bad things are. I can't stand the thought of amplifying my inner voice by hanging out with others who feel the same way.
But I'm starting to get that marches can offer a crucial ingredient for social change. That's why they're called an "action," even though I've often disagreed with that characterization. Knowing you are not alone in your frustrations and fears, and that you can huddle up with this group before you charge onto the field, creates a kind of awareness of collectivity that I have only recently begun to study. It turns out that this "infrastructure" of collective resilience and solidarity is really important. Researchers are showing that it is more valuable dollar for dollar to repairing communities in the face of climate disruption than what we spend on improved dykes, repaired highways, and new buildings.
That juice you feel when you realize you're not alone? That's not just warm fuzzies, that's the most important ingredient for climate adaptation.
I was amazed the high schoolers didn't just use the march as an opportunity to ditch class. I am amazed they were thinking passionately about the fate of the planet. I am amazed that they are willing to respond to parents and critics who say they should be working out these problems in the classroom by saying that the classroom isn't doing enough, and that it will be too late when those solutions come to pass.*
I am just in total awe that the youth climate movement is taking the narrative and the politics in their own hands. Kudos to Stella Saba, Nigella Baur, and the high school students from Arcata and Eureka who had the courage to face climate change, their futures, and maybe even their parents, in the face. It feels like change is a'coming.
*Don't get me wrong, as a professor, I want students showing up. But it's ALWAYS a struggle. My students can barely stand being in class while the world burns and so much suffering is going on. I get it: though I disagree, I can see why students feel the classroom doesn't always feel like the place where solutions will emerge.
Maybe it's the urgency of the situation, maybe it's the certainty of issues, maybe I'm getting older and feel like I have less time to dawdle over grey areas (though that's generally where you'll still find me), maybe it's having kids, maybe it's the Facebook algorithms. But I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I've become a bit of a climate justice advocate. I still don't like the mainstream environmental stance on climate change--it's all too much about science and facts and ice caps--and I really don't like the climate movement's inability to think about racial justice, but I am convinced that the movement is moving in the right directions. It's getting more intersectional, more savvy about identity politics, class, and justice, and more aware of how climate change is not about wilderness and rock-climbing, it's about urban infrastructure, access to resources, distribution of pollutants, and both human and natural resource exploitation. And guess who's fixing the climate movement to figure all this out? KIDS.
I'm blown away by the Sunrise Movement's language about social justice. I'm blown away by even what I'm seeing with the Green New Deal. It may not acknowledge colonialism, and it may not fully get the grassroots aspects of climate justice, but it really soothes my soul that this proposal is getting so much air time, and that it seeks to connect issues of social structure, class, race, geography, and justice with the environmental crisis. That's a revelation.
In the past, I would have said, it's not good enough. I would have put on my academic hat and criticized it line by line. I probably would have even called it oppressive, even bad for the environment. I would have argued that if mainstream politicians are backing it, then by definition it can't be good enough. My scholarship was perhaps more "radical" in my early days.
In the past, I would have poo-poo'ed marches as mere performances of self-righteousness. And of course, they don't themselves change anything. That is always the problem with getting people to show up for things-- showing up itself never changes anything, it just offers a space for people to vent about how bad things are. Who wants that? Not me. I'm already overwhelmed with thinking about how bad things are. I can't stand the thought of amplifying my inner voice by hanging out with others who feel the same way.
But I'm starting to get that marches can offer a crucial ingredient for social change. That's why they're called an "action," even though I've often disagreed with that characterization. Knowing you are not alone in your frustrations and fears, and that you can huddle up with this group before you charge onto the field, creates a kind of awareness of collectivity that I have only recently begun to study. It turns out that this "infrastructure" of collective resilience and solidarity is really important. Researchers are showing that it is more valuable dollar for dollar to repairing communities in the face of climate disruption than what we spend on improved dykes, repaired highways, and new buildings.
That juice you feel when you realize you're not alone? That's not just warm fuzzies, that's the most important ingredient for climate adaptation.
I was amazed the high schoolers didn't just use the march as an opportunity to ditch class. I am amazed they were thinking passionately about the fate of the planet. I am amazed that they are willing to respond to parents and critics who say they should be working out these problems in the classroom by saying that the classroom isn't doing enough, and that it will be too late when those solutions come to pass.*
I am just in total awe that the youth climate movement is taking the narrative and the politics in their own hands. Kudos to Stella Saba, Nigella Baur, and the high school students from Arcata and Eureka who had the courage to face climate change, their futures, and maybe even their parents, in the face. It feels like change is a'coming.
*Don't get me wrong, as a professor, I want students showing up. But it's ALWAYS a struggle. My students can barely stand being in class while the world burns and so much suffering is going on. I get it: though I disagree, I can see why students feel the classroom doesn't always feel like the place where solutions will emerge.
