I didn’t expect to think of the Fraggles when reading about Indigenous perspectives on the environment, but that’s just how my brain works. Despite the weird connection, it gave me a new perspective on how I can treat holiday gifts and in fact, our whole community in the year to come.
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“You’re so brave,” said a woman on the sidewalk as I pedaled by her slowly. Her words came right on the heels of me tearing into my older son about not screwing around while biking in the road. (He was riding so slowly I was almost crashing into him and swerving.) “Uh, thanks?” I stammered, not sure what else to say.
While I didn’t have much to respond in the moment, the comment stuck with me. Brave? What did she mean by that?
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Are you a tired person? (Probably – if you’re reading my blog, you’re probably a parent or somehow responsible for small kids.) Do you want to take action on climate change? (Even if you don’t, you should!) If both of these things – or neither – apply to you, be sure to check out the Climate Action for Tired People: A Toolkit and Quiz for Parents and Others! Developed by climate communicator and therapist Kate Schapira in collaboration with me, it helps you figure out where you fit in the climate justice movement and how to use your skills effectively.
Parents are supposed to keep their kids safe, right? But how can we do that when the world around us is falling apart? There’s escalating climate change, COVID getting ever more contagious, civil rights eroding constantly, gun violence heightening, and democracy in danger. Not to mention the less privileged of us who have more individual, very real worries about their children’s everyday safety.
Some people retreat to denial, pretending nothing’s wrong at all and they play no part. Others – far more dangerously – blame vulnerable groups for “corrupting” children, when they are the corrupting ones instilling hate and fear.
Then there’s those of us who know what’s happening and don’t know what to do about it. I include myself in this group because as much as I intellectually know what to do about it, emotionally I still feel befuddled much of the time.
I started writing this from the balcony of a hotel while I was isolating from my kids because I tested positive for COVID. I worked so hard for more than two years to avoid it and the moment we went on vacation, got it. What else could I have done? I have no idea. There’s no way we could have expected this would still be going this long and be even more contagious when we planned this trip a year ago. That was when it was at all-time lows!
While emotionally I’m flailing, intellectually I do know some things that can help.
“31 students, that’s pretty good, considering the weather!” I breathed a sigh of relief looking at the sign-in sheet for our school’s first Bike to School Day. It wasn’t torrential rain, but I was worried that even the gray drizzle would be enough to warn people off. But we had a full bike rack and a number of happy kids with Safe Routes to School goodie bags.
The event was a result of a few months of direct work, but even more organizing time before that. This was the first year I had truly been involved in organizing at my kids’ school. Even though I wrote in my book about how to make your kids’ school more environmentally friendly, it was all based on expert interviews, not personal experience.
In working with our school and school district this year, I learned quite a few things first-hand about general advocacy in schools and bike advocacy specifically.
“Hi!” my older son chirps to people walking by on the sidewalk as he pedals by on his bike. A few minutes later, he yells to me about the injustice of how short the green is on this traffic light – we’re stopped at a red light *again* – and how we have to wait for it. Honestly, of all the things he could get angry about, it’s pretty harmless. Throughout the ride, my younger son chatters away sitting behind me, telling me all the observations he held in during class.
Reaching up in my closet for my sewing bag, I asked my then-six year old son, “Do you want me to teach you how to sew?”
“No,” he said, with an edge in his voice of “And why would I?”
But as I settled down on the couch, his attitude shifted. He wandered over, asking, “Can I see what you’re doing?”
“I’m sure the mayor will respond to you – they love getting stuff from kids,” I promised my kids, crossing my fingers. In the back of my head, I thought “Damn right, she better.”
I was trying to convince them to write letters to our local city government officials about climate change. While heavy topics like climate change can seem scary for adults to talk to kids about, finding ways to empower kids can help them be much less anxiety-inspiring. When kids know that they are not helpless – that they can make a difference and that their parents want to do it with them – they can tackle hard topics much better than we would expect.
“Thank you for what you did for us, tree,” I sniffed, watching my kids hug the huge pine tree in our yard. They were probably getting sap on their shirts, but it didn’t matter. The tree was going to be gone soon. We each told it that we would miss it, calling out “Goodbye.”
“But how does the story end?” my older son asked.
We had just finished reading We Are Water Protectors, a powerful picture book written from the perspective of an Anishinaabe girl. She talks about how her people regard water as life and how a “big black snake” threatens the water and therefore them. While the book never names what the “snake” is, the pictures clue the reader in – it’s an oil pipeline. Like many real-life young people like Autumn Peltier, the narrator is an Indigenous water protector committed to halting water from becoming polluted with death instead of life.