environmental activism

One year ago, I rather naively and nervously journeyed to London to participate in Extinction Rebellion’s first ‘International Rebellion’. I say naively because, at that stage in my activism journey, I had little to no knowledge of my rights to protest, the different laws I could potentially be breaking and the risks I was opening myself up to by partaking in an act of civil disobedience, to demand drastic climate action.

I want to preface this by saying I understand the flaws of the movement as a whole. In an ideal world, there would be no need for separate movements and organisations to focus on the climate crisis – we would work together, as a civilisation to mitigate the effects of an emergency that is very much still ongoing despite the current global pandemic that is upon us.

We would (and should) go to great lengths to raise the voices of those who have been paving the way since before climate change was ever something we had to consider.

I understand that the mostly positive experiences I have had over the past year, have come out of a place of privilege and out of the little risk to my safety, wellbeing and overall security. I will never beat around the bush that this type of activism can often cost a fair amount of money (whether it’s for covering accommodation, food, travel or other expenses), take a lot of time and have potential legal consequences.

Not everybody can afford to take two weeks off of work or travel the country frequently, no matter how much they understand and appreciate the severity of the issue.

Direct action is not the be-all and end-all of activism (believing this is a very ableist view on activism) nor is it always the best way to bring about change – it is simply one way and one way that has come to resonate and work for me on an individual basis. However, I will note that there are many ways you can support a movement like XR, without taking to the streets.

This has been a year of my personal rebellion. It’s been one of learning and growing and coming to understand what I value in a world which is constantly challenging my reasons for staying hopeful.

If anything, this isn’t going to be about ecological collapse, facing mass extinction or discussing the reasons for acting in the first place – this is going to be about community and how now, in a time of global uncertainty, I have never felt more sure that coming together and holding hands with each other (metaphorically, of course), is the most important thing we can do to challenge the systems that are failing us. In a sense, this is a journal entry.

On this day last year, I showed up and I knew nobody.

But what came out of that day was discovering that being a part of a community isn’t about knowing anybody; it’s about coming together for a common cause, a goal or a vested interest and holding each other up on the journey that you’re all on.

It’s about the small in-between moments that we’re currently having to replicate virtually – the brief check-ins, the tilt of the head before you step in and ask if somebody’s okay. All of the things that seem like common decency but are often left behind in the fast-paced world we’ve become so used to.

Obviously, this is coming from the perspective of someone living in a country where we’ve all become so wrapped up in capitalism’s individualism that these basic human interactions seem to have slipped away.

This reflection comes at a time which feels more poignant than ever because if it wasn’t for community, the lockdown that many of us in 2020 suddenly find ourselves in, would be an even harder struggle.

There would be no mutual aid groups, clapping on our doorsteps (no matter how politically divisive that may be), singing in the streets or motivational messages being chalked onto pavements.

That first day of my rebellion, which helped in tipping the agenda to a point in which the UK Parliament declared a climate emergency, was my first true taste of this.

There was a moment that may sound insignificant if you’ve been fortunate enough to find yourself among what feels like ‘your people’ before, which always comes to mind. I can’t quite remember if this was the Monday or the Friday in which I returned for a second day of action after not being able to sit still for the days in between but I’m not sure it matters.

I was sat in the middle of Oxford Circus as the sun began to set on an unusually warm (well – is it really unusual when 2019 was one of the hottest years on record?) April evening surrounded by unfamiliar faces when a selection of biscuits started to be passed around. (The biscuits aren’t an important part of this story – if anything, it just makes the story more entertaining to retell).

Maybe it was just something about the way the light was falling on the pink boat that sat in front of me, the sheer monumental feeling of being a part of what would likely become a piece of history or the beauty of something as simple as a biscuit to fuel me after a day of exhaustion – but I felt at peace.

I felt okay in all my fear and the few strands of hope I was clinging on to with my recent realisation that there is no going back from the impact that’s been made on our planet, our world and our futures.

No matter what changes we make, no matter how we start to adapt, we will, unfortunately, see the consequences of our actions (more on this here).

I felt comforted, supported and suddenly not so alone.

And I now know that I was there by that pink boat draped in sunlight with many people I would now call friends, without knowing it.

I now know that the person who spoke in the middle of Piccadilly Circus about losing their father and how it made fighting for climate justice all the more personal, as Talia.

I now know the person who boarded the same return coach home as me, with the blue hair and the Irish accent, as Jess.

I now know the name of the person wearing the XR-themed jewellery who also boarded that very same coach and sat in the seat behind me. A few months later, I would find myself holding their hands with my eyes filled with tears, as they were lifted into a police van for continuing to take a stand.

I can now recognise faces in crowds and the people behind the instruments that echo through the streets when we come together as a band made up of strangers.

I remember those I’ve shared vulnerable moments with, and I’ve reconnected with them on the basis that we know we can find ourselves in a safe space when we see each other again.

I’ve had low moments and phone calls to get me through that I never would have received otherwise. I’ve had emails filled with wisdom and messages full of love.

Even when I’ve shown up alone, it’s never felt that way. It’s like one big interconnected family that was created out of something as necessary as wanting to protect life.

I’ve felt seen and heard. I’ve felt accepted without judgement because this cause doesn’t depend on who you are. It just needs you to show up in all your true colours; with tears and grief and hope and all.

Imagining a new world isn’t easy for me. There are too many obstacles in the way, too many reasons to look away and crumble at reality. But I now know that a new world relies on us. It relies on us being an us. It relies on a collective. A we. A sense of togetherness and solidarity for those who aren’t within our reach.

The belief that nobody should have no-one to turn to.

It’s self-sufficient but only if the self means more than one. It’s a world where we rely on each other because we know that there is nothing stronger. I see hope in each other more than anything else because there is never-ending proof that we work.

So, if anything, this is a thank you.

A thank you to every person that has welcomed and accepted me and not only understood but related to my fears. It’s a thank you to the shoulders I’ve cried on without barely having spoken a word.

A thank you for the joy and the laughter when there are so many reasons to stay in the darkness – because what’s the reason for fighting for life if we don’t celebrate the simple act of living?

In this past year, I’ve lived deeply but only because I’ve found people who have given me the space to do so.

For me, celebrating life despite all of the injustices and all of the battles we’ve yet to face is as good an act of rebellion as any other.

I wrote this blog post over a couple of weeks, letting some feelings sink in. Take this as a brain-dump (and a question) as sorts, as I try to re-evaluate my relationship with sustainability and activism…

Part of the reason my blog isn’t as active as it used to be is that over time, I’ve come to appreciate more considered, thought-out writing that is as helpful and as insightful as it can be for my readers.

However, that sort of content can take time and with the recent report from the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) stating that by 2040 we could see major irreparable effects of global warming, it suddenly feels as if we don’t have that time and that the time we do have, shouldn’t be spent writing a blog or hosting an Instagram profile that’s main purpose is to try and get people to shop differently.

If 100 companies have been named as the source of more than 70% of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions by the Carbon Disclosure Project – most of which are companies leading the oil and coal industries -, then surely it’s time to focus our efforts on bringing them down than pointing a finger at people who aren’t turning down single-use straws or buying a new pair of pyjamas from Primark?

Before you attempt to predict where this piece is going, I’ll do the work for you by saying that I won’t be finishing it off by promoting the idea of small steps saving the world. I would hope to never enforce that idea, only the thought that of course, small steps are better than nothing and are often a great way to instil a peace of mind for our own consciences (as well as being a tool to continue these sorts of climate-related conversations, everyday).

In fact, it’s quite likely that the majority of this post will be uninspiring and demotivating. You may even come away from this blog post with dread.

For me, even making sure this piece is factually correct by researching different articles and reports, has left me feeling hopeless and honestly, rather terrified for our future. I feel as if I’m in a state of panic. Seeing a headline which talks about a possible outcome for babies born today, leaves a lump in my throat.

My youngest nephew has just turned two-years-old and he’ll only be entering his mid-twenties by the time the damage has – or could have – become unstoppable and the idea of that, has me contemplating my own future life choices and whether a family (one of blood and the same genetics) will be one of them.

The IPCC report states that the world’s carbon pollution would have to be cut dramatically to ensure that we are down to 0% carbon emissions by 2050. At the current rate and with no dramatic changes in place, whether it be politically or industry-wide, the world as we know it is heading for a 3-centigrade rise in warming and I don’t believe anyone truly knows what that would look like.

The dramatic changes which could be made to avoid this involve things such as increasing carbon tax (fellow eco-activist Alden Wicker touched on this here, discussing how it would hike up prices of services such as air travel yet could also be rewarding, as the tax contribution could be reinvested annually), as well as quite frankly, pulling the plugs on the worst offenders, even if it makes life a lot more inconvenient.

All of this has left me at a bit of a crossroads. How do I, as somebody who has a platform and has recently been given the ‘environmental activist’ label, move forwards? And in which direction should that be? As I said, it’s got me questioning whether I am using my time or my voice as wisely as I should be.

That’s not to say I’m going to let this all stop me; as Mary Robinson (former President of Ireland) so rightly said, “Feeling ‘this is too big for me’, is no use to anybody”. Quite a few of you wanted to remind me of that too, when I jumped to Instagram Stories stating I was having a crisis.

Thankfully since then, I’ve also seen a notable rise in people discussing topics such as fast-fashion and sustainability, even if they never have before. I think we have Stacey Dooley’s BBC documentary “Fashion’s Dirty Secrets” to thank for this.

With more people starting to add to the conversation at the same time as more frightening statistics, it’s important that we don’t let go of any kind of motivation or momentum that is spurring us on to make positive change because it shows that we care and that we don’t want to just sit back and accept the doom and gloom for normality.

The voice in the back of my head – or your head – telling me that I’m not doing enough, shouldn’t be one to guilt me or turn me into a fearful wreck; it should be the one I hold onto tightly and when I’m ready, use to the best of my abilities to prove that I can do enough and more.

The biggest question mark and challenge I currently face though, is what should I use it for? I then realised, often when discussing these issues, the term ‘we’ is used. We could this. We could that. Why aren’t we changing our actions? So, why aren’t I thinking of this as a chance to ask and include others? What can we do? How can we use our voices and progress forwards, even in a pit of despair and defeat?

So, yes, I’m going to ask you. Take it as a bit of research. I want to know how you think we – yes, you and me, the reader of this blog – can start to do more. I don’t mean in the sense of cutting down on plastic or going out to vote. Both of those options have their own levels of importance and there are many people already pushing these as ways to go (including myself).

What I mean is – how can we pull together and do something as a team (yes, we’re a team now) that can create some sort of positive change? How we can drag ourselves out of the comforts of clicktivism and into the scary waters of real-life action?

I’ve thrown this idea out into the world a couple of times recently, so, I’ll throw it around here publicly. Something I’d like to achieve in the future (possibly the very near future) is a campaign of sorts. I don’t know how I’ll do it but I know I’d love for you to all be involved somehow and perhaps this can be the beginning of working out what we can do to make it happen.

I’m leaving this blog post as a place to mull over ideas. What issues – within the realm of ethical and sustainable fashion – are the ones you believe we could really help to solve? The time we do have, I’d like to us to use wisely. Have a think, let me know and hopefully, we can all come out of this collective, climate change fear-induced slump together!

Whether you leave a comment on here or Instagram, send me a tweet or go one step further to express your thoughts via email (my inbox is always open!), I look forward to hearing from you.

In the meantime, not too long ago I discussed how to avoid becoming overwhelmed by sustainable issues, which might come in helpful if you’re experiencing similar feelings. I also recently posted on Instagram, a tiny list of things that are keeping me going.