A LITTLE BETTER: Make Less Trash on a Business Trip

Monday 18 March 2019Tuesday 19 March 2019 kristyA Little Better, click click click, climate change, Earth Day, Menry, sustainability, zero wasteLeave a comment

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This weekend I got to go to a conference in Chicago. I am a huge nerd, and I don’t get to go to many conferences,* so it was really exciting for me. But there’s one aspect of conferences I strongly dislike. They are so trash-y. I mean, have you ever seen a conference room at the end of an event without overflowing trash cans? Then again, the overflowing trash cans are a result of one of the best parts of conferences: talking over (free!) food and drinks with like-minded people.

I knew there would be free breakfast, lunch, and a small dinner at the conference I attended, and I thought that all the plates, cups, and utensils would most likely be disposable (I was right), but I didn’t want to miss out on the food or make a fuss. (My thinking is that there are times to make a big deal about our choices and setting an example, and there are times for blending in and talking about other things that you have in common with people. And honestly, the times to make a big deal are few and far between.)

So I tried to follow the advice hanging in my aunt Menry’s kitchen, which just says, “Try a Little Harder to Be a Little Better.”

Here’s what I came up with:

• a big bag to skip the free tote bags that are often given out at conferences. I try not to have such big bags because when I do, I fill them up with anything and everything (“just in case” and end up with a backache), so I rented this one from Rent the Runway.

• a thermos, which is easy to fill with tea, coffee, water, whatever. I just make sure to rinse it before filling it with something new, and I always, always, always make sure to empty it before putting it back in my bag (which is also a nice trick for making sure I’m drinking enough water). If you need one, there are tons of thermoses on eBay!

• a spoon and fork from home and a cloth napkin to wrap them in. I have no idea where all our cloth napkins came from, but they fill my house with color and make me so happy that I actually look forward to cleaning up all the food I spill on myself #MessyEater. Like I said, I have no idea where ours came from (I think they were gifts), but if you’re in the market, Etsy is the place to buy cloth napkins online.

…That’s it! Did I make “zero waste”? Definitely not.** But I made much less trash, and the people around me didn’t seem to notice I was using fewer disposables, so I don’t think my small changes detracted from the conversation or made me seem like a “weird, save-the-planet person.” ; )

* partly because I try not to fly in order to pollute less.

**For the curious: I used a paper cup to serve myself fruit in the morning, ate a sandwich box complete with an individually-wrapped cookie and a bag of chips, and used one plastic plate for dinner.

One month ago today

Tuesday 21 October 2014 kristyactivism, climate change, global warming, New York, People's Climate March2 Comments

On the 21st of September I marched with over 400,000 people to demand action on climate change as part of the People’s Climate March. I had a hard time deciding who to march with. Devin organized university alumni; our church moved Sunday service so that everyone could march together in bright yellow Unitarian Universalist shirts; my union turned out en masse; and of course there were lots of feminist groups. In the end, I ended up marching with the part of my identity that felt most important that day: I marched as an immigrant. I thought of the way my family got stranded driving home after my wedding because of torrential rain, the pictures of drowned cars in the Chihuahua airport parking lot, and the small but highly unusual earthquake of last year. I am not a climate refugee, but I know if we continue on our current path, people will have to flee Chihuaha––it will simply be too hot to survive––and I know New York City will get smaller and smaller as sea levels rise. It is heart-breaking and overwhelming to think about.

But I felt the exact opposite of heartbreak at the People’s Climate March. What I will always remember is holding a moment of silence followed by a wave of cheers to “sound the alarm on climate change.” I got goosebumps as I heard cheers carry over forty city blocks until the wave reached my section on 82nd Street and Central Park West. Then, we erupted in cheers, yells, whistles, laughs, and I thought, “This is the sound of hope, and it is LOUD.”

I do believe that we can change the world, and I know the first step is just knowing that.

On saying I love you

Thursday 13 March 2014Thursday 13 March 2014 kristyactivism, climate change, love8 Comments

I consider myself an activist, so this is really embarrassing to admit.

For the past couple of years, I’ve had a recurring wish: I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could shop without thinking about where all that alluring stuff comes from (sweatshops) and where it ends up (landfills). I wish I could ‘take a joke’. I wish I could go to the hip new bar down the street without thinking about gentrification. I wish I could get caught up in mainstream fads like Twilight without thinking about what they teach young people.

I’m just one person with very limited power facing huge systems that perpetuate and protect the status quo. What difference can I make?

Often my beliefs don’t even impact my choices, only how I feel about those choices.

I’ve said to Devin (many times) ‘I wish I didn’t care. I’d be so much happier if I could just shrug and say “Not my problem”’.

I’ve escaped into daydreams of maxing out my credit card, traveling with no thought of my carbon footprint, and never again interrupting a fun conversation with a timid ‘But what about…?’

Only as much as I’ve secretly longed for those things, I’ve never succeeded in turing off that part of myself—the It’s Not Fair alarm.

For the most part, I get it. I’m lucky to have a choice in my activism, and I’m just doing what my conscience demands (and being accountable to myself when I don’t live up to my values).

What hurts is the doubt. Does any of it make a difference? It’s all wasted energy. What is the point?

A couple of weeks ago, at the XL Dissent protest, I wasn’t plagued by those questions. Devin and I joined over a thousand young people to demand that President Obama not approve a dirty oil project that climate scientists have called Game Over in the fight against climate change.

My favorite sign read ‘IS THIS WHAT’S BEST FOR SASHA AND MALIA?’ I really hope the president sees that one.

We marched from Georgetown to the White House. When we got there, Ben Thompson, along with a few other remarkable activists, spoke. He talked about how activism should be an act of love.

It makes no sense not to love everyone if you’re standing up for everyone. That’s just logical, but I’d never heard it put that way.

After the speeches, we walked to the White House. There, 398 people—most of them college students—committed an act of civil disobedience. The majority tied themselves to the White House gate while others created a symbolic oil spill complete with models of the animals that die in those 100% preventable disasters.

Soon the police, some on horseback, some on foot, erected a barricade between the protesters willing to get arrested and the rest of us.

When you are arrested, every glove, scarf, piece of gum, and dollar bill in your possession has to be catalogued. The more you have the longer it takes for everyone to be processed—and the longer it takes for everyone to be released. When the protesters tied themselves to the fence at noon, it was sunny and relatively warm, but as the day progressed, the temperature dropped, clouds covered the sky, and fat drops of rain began to fall.

Most of the protesters were underdressed, and we watched them shiver helplessly while their coats waited in piles by our feet.

The police glared at the crowd while other cops processed people at a snail’s pace (I learned that this is a discouragement tactic, so people won’t be willing to get arrested again).

We were yelling our normal protest chants about the pipeline when someone started yelling ‘I love you! I love you!’ Soon hundreds of people were yelling ‘I love you’ across a police barricade. We were yelling it to the people tied up to the gate, and they were yelling it back. Some were even saying it to the cops themselves. The cops couldn’t help looking a little less fierce.

Then, someone brought out a guitar and someone else, a harmonica. Two kids had empty trash bins that they turned into drums, and we began to sing. I sang hoping that our voices could provide some sort of comfort against the cold and the pain of standing for so many hours.

I felt an overwhelming sense of solidarity signing ‘This Land Is Your Land’. And no cop could keep from grinning when everyone, on either side of the barricade, erupted into the ‘Na nana nanana nanana’ verse of ‘Hey Jude’.

It took over seven hours for all the protesters to be arrested.

The next day, running to the subway after five hours of sleep, I reflected on the protest. I’d been so cold; my feet hurt; I couldn’t feel my nose. Despite that, it was one of the most joyful experiences of my life.

I finally realized I do know the point of my activism.

I want to stop the powers that be from perpetuating the horrible systems we’re trapped in, but even if I never make any sort of difference, even if I never get to live in a society that values people over profit, lives in harmony with the land, and never again wages war, my efforts will have been worthwhile. They will have made a difference in my life.

Change is the goal, but it is not the reason. I am an activist because it makes me happy.