Just a few days ago, I was standing in the kitchen rolling out bread to rise. My blender was whirring with homemade roasted red pepper hummus and a chicken pot pie cooled on the counter while Wild One played at my feet (okay, let’s be real: emptying the entire contents of my drawers onto the floor). I’m frequently described as a mess when I cook, and this day was no exception. 

But this time, the peace of my sunny afternoon in the kitchen was interrupted with a long-forgotten memory. In an instant, I was rocketing back in time to my first attempt to go zero waste. Upon relocating to Pittsburgh for graduate school, I’d taken the plunge. I’d removed the trash can from our small rental to avoid temptation. I was baking bread and making broth and had my Bassett hound on a vet-approved fresh food diet. And then, on one unassuming day I’d lost track of time and had to dash out the door to work, the kitchen still looking like a flour-bomb had exploded on every surface. And on that day, my then-husband took a picture of the kitchen and sent it to a female friend. They both had a good laugh at my expense. I know this because just a few weeks later, when I found out my ex was cheating on me with this friend, this image was one of the first things he shared. It was, in fact, one of his (many) justifications for cheating: You must be crazy if you won’t just buy packaged products like a normal person. And, somehow even worse, you aren’t a “real” woman if you let your kitchen be a mess.  And because this relationship was abusive in lots of other ways, I internalized this message: Following my convictions was crazy.

In the throes of a painful divorce at the ripe old age of 22, I let zero waste slide immediately. And in the years since then, I made excuses. Too hard. Too expensive. Too time-consuming. But really, my fear was this: Too weird. I didn’t want to be the girl that people could laugh at for any reason, really, but especially not for refusing plastics or insisting on reusable containers. I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself by upsetting the status quo. 

Of course, my interest in environmental issues didn’t disappear entirely. I still read environmental news nearly daily (which, over the past several years, was often an anxiety-producing endeavor), I still used organic, sustainably sourced products, and I still shunned single use products whenever I could do so without raising a big fuss. And when I found (and ultimately married) a loving partner, I felt more comfortable in my convictions… but I still didn’t want to “rock the boat.”

But then something happened that snapped me out of my complacency. I saw creative and passionate elementary and middle school students engage with environmental issues. They were primed for change, running energy audits in their homes and leading campaigns against plastic water bottles and packaging in the cafeteria. They expressed substantial anxiety about environmental issues, but they were committed to making a positive difference. And then, I saw the adults in their life break their hearts in the name of bureaucracy. Too busy to put it on the agenda, not cost-effective to end the sale of water bottles or even install more water fountains. Too concerned that we might upset a parent or donor involved in the fossil fuel or plastics industry. 

Because of these dismissive bureaucratic concerns, I found myself in the position of explaining to a group of 12 year olds, wise beyond their years, that their campaign may not succeed because adults didn’t want to give it the time of day. And as I watched them brainstorm ways to make the “important people” hear them, and ways to make up the budget shortfalls that might allow the school to stop selling single-use water bottles, my heart broke too. 

So now? Now, I’m ready for the big fuss. I don’t want the only passionate people in this fight to be children, whose only concerns should be what video games they want to play or what color they want to paint their nails. Children didn’t create the social or environmental ills that they are set to inherit– and we owe it to them to, in the words of Greta Thunberg, act like our house is on fire. We must create meaningful change on everything from plastic pollution to deforestation, chemical contamination, and greenhouse gases to preserve their future.

I’m called to act because I need my children and your children and our children’s children to know that we did not stay silent. What’s calling you?

Want to read more? Check out Ending the Tug of War: Making Sustainable Choices while Preserving Relationship Harmony or join the 30 Days to Limited Waste Living Challenge below.

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