Abstract

This essay is a reflection on both my relationship with ecology and my relationship with society. Acknowledging my surface level relationship with nature and lack of real initiative to do anything, I reflect over what I have done and what I can still do. I analyze the origins of my education in ecology and, in general, the life around me, starting at the peak of both the pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement.

 

Original Copy

AnysaCampbell-Eco-literacyNarrative.pdf

 

 

Revised Version

 

 

Where I started Vs Where I’m at

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I’ve realized lately that my relationship with nature is still very new, and kind of superficial. I take on the personification of the “earth girl”: that person that’s into crystals and tarot, that’s connected with the universe or spirituality and, on a less ”woo-woo” scale, nature. I love being in nature because I love what it gives me; I love how it makes me feel. But really, I’ve noticed that when it comes down to talking about what we can do to give back to our earth, I fall back into the “reduce, reuse, recycle” pattern and sort of just leave it there. I don’t think about what more I can do to help our environment. 

All my life, I’ve been told that I need to care about my environment, and that if I don’t, our world would suffer irreversible consequences, and that we would all inevitably die. As I look back on my life, I realize that I didn’t have much that I actually cared about. As I was learning how to navigate middle school to junior high, I was constantly stuck in survival mode. I was so focused on how my life sucked, or what was going wrong, and how awful my parents were because they wouldn’t let me have a sleepover that I asked for the same day of. I existed because I was supposed to and not because I wanted to. 

It took early summer 2019 for me to wake up to the world around me. George Floyd had just been murdered; people were rioting through the streets at the height of a global pandemic—something that I would have never even believed could happen in my lifetime— and there was always some sort of climate crisis happening somewhere in the world. All that stuff about plagues shutting down the world, causing thousands of casualties, or people fighting for the rights of theirs and others had always been a thing of the past. It was then that all of the times my dad tried to preach to me about the importance of knowing my culture and the history of black lives finally became a thing of actualization, and I finally knew just what he was talking about. For the first time in my life, I actually cared about something more than just myself. 

I started to educate myself on various different things of the political nature and became very interested in different forms of activism. I added two environmental science classes to my schedule in my senior year class. The two classes were something along the lines of the study of the ocean and a regular environmental class. 

It was through these classes that I learned about the impact that society’s developments have had on the ecosystems around us. I do believe these were necessary for human advancement; however, it became a little less necessary when we decided to do what was easier instead of what was ecologically beneficial. Trash and plastics wind up in the ocean, and oil spills into our waters, whether intentionally or not. And as we eat the fish caught from these environments, we’re also eating the pollution the fish consumed before making its way to our shelves. These classes have given me the belief that in order to have a semblance of a shot at healing our earth, we must begin more sustainable practices of living.

But then comes the time to put your money where your mouth is. Once I was aware of the ways in which we damage our earth, I got into a fix of trying to live as sustainably as I can. I grew comfortable with the reduce, reuse, and recycle concept, and I’d be extra mindful to pick food brands that had symbols marking these brands for their sustainable practice. I felt good about it for a while. And then I joined this course, I sat down to write this essay, and I realized that I’m not doing enough. Aside from doing my due diligence, if I really want to make an impact, a genuine change, I need to do more than just “reduce, reuse, recycle”. And then I’m confronted by that feeling of discomfort as I acknowledge that if I really want to make a real change, I also need to make sacrifices. 

The other end of the spectrum is that point in ecological based courses where I feel this sense of Nihilism. Because even if I do my best to make my own personal changes, if the rest of the world isn’t on the same page and these big corporations continue to exist, then what real impact am I individually having on this earth? It leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth. There’s always this hopelessness that sinks in whenever I think about it on a grand scale. And with the way society has been led so far, it’s even harder to find hope for my future. 

I do care a lot about nature. I love going outside, or laying in the grass sunbathing, because it helps me reconnect with not only myself, but the world. Not only is it inexplicably beautiful, but it’s the personification of life. But when it comes to taking care of it, I have a very hard time. Not for lack of effort, but because once you’ve been living a certain way for so long, it’s hard to get not only yourself, but also the people around you acclimated to living in a more eco-mindful way. 

My family and I try to live in a more mindful way: recycling, reusing, taking care of plants, using paper materials instead of plastic, just to name a few. But for me, it’s hard to feel like any of that is really having an impact, especially when it’s such a small contribution to a really big problem. It’s also through gaining more knowledge and talking about my experience that I realize that I can be doing so much more. At the very least, all I can do is try.