I care about climate change. And not in a “save the turtles” way, but rather in a “eating less meat and avoiding buying new clothes” way. In my quest to become a more “true” climate advocate, I became a pescatarian, did extensive research on sustainable clothing, and tried to remain involved in student movements. Yet, even with these efforts, I still feel unequivocally hypocritical. By attending boarding school, flying to and from school for the holidays, or indulging in fish at times, I’m perpetuating carbon emissions. If I’m not being a model, sustainable citizen, how can I encourage others to contribute to the movement? Even if not about climate change, we as students often feel the pressure as a generation of “change-makers” to do something different. But this comes with the pressure and guilt when we take one backwards step: giving one more dollar to an unethical company or offering one less tip to an underpaid waitress. In the face of this anxiety onslaught, we often forget that preventing harm doesn’t equate to perfection. Though we have responsibility as privileged members of society, justice movements are not made by one person but by many organizations, conglomerates, and people who try to get better together.
Current climate change messaging often perpetuates negative feelings called “climate anxiety”– we see a melting iceberg and a crying polar bear, but what can we possibly do about that? The climate change movement isn’t alone in this; racial injustice, animal equality, and more movements send a message that makes youth feel incredibly guilty about what they are and aren’t doing to support these causes. A 2023 Study surveying youth in the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union) Advocacy Institute found that youth who advocate often suffer from immense guilt, rage, and disappointment related to issues they care about. Though I strongly believe those who want to fight climate change should help however they can, I can’t help but feel some discontent towards the general public who don’t care to reduce their meat intake at all, or those who order DoorDash incessantly from places less than a mile away. However, more productive thinking is instead looking at how, in joining these movements, we as individuals have grown to consider how we consume and become more self-conscious. As I look back at how I interacted with climate change just a year ago, I inevitably see how I have become more sustainable and aware, and using plastic utensils one time doesn’t erase that.
Overcoming such guilt is one part of the process, yet identifying the perpetrators of such feelings is another. For example, in the case of racial injustice, it is not the actions of 500 people that push the need, but systemic reformation that makes a difference. The government and media win by pushing guilt onto the people, repeating that individuals must change their lifestyles in order to be more ethical. Feeling shame about not minimizing your impact enough, or about mistakes we’ve made, leads to a disconnect from issues we’re trying to support. In this guilt, we withdraw from advocacy and weaken the threads holding together our movement, which in turn allows blame to be shifted away from systems and to people. We advocate to remind us that people are voices, but not the only vehicles of change. Rather, we’re catalysts for powerful organizations to reform– the party that should be feeling the guilt.
We can’t expect to be ethical in every step of our lives: we can’t always choose plant-based food, the most ethical labor factories, or donate as much money as we want. Yet, guilt and shame are not what we should take away from those moments, but a hope to get better. As we involve ourselves in social justice, we’re always getting more informed, more aware, and more ethical; room to grow always exists. When systems that perpetrate injustice shift blame onto us, we as individuals shouldn’t accept it, but call out those parties, using them to fuel activism efforts.
