I have had an emotional day, and it’s barely 1 PM.
Over class today, we talked about climate affect, how emotions are political, and how we can together start thinking of envisioning a better world. Often thinking about the world ending can be paralysing — often I find myself on the other end of questions of what for? How long for? How much more?
It has been difficult.
The Philippines is the most dangerous country in Asia for land and environmental defenders, and the third in the world (though with Lula now president of Brazil, perhaps even second). The Philippines is also home to the most climate anxious youth. I am well-acquainted with climate fear, and even more so with climate anxiety — it’s part and parcel of the climate justice work, and really just comes almost naturally with being Filipino. What I wasn’t prepared for, and one that I have been grappling for months since landing in Edinburgh, a city far safer than the entirety of the Philippines, has been climate guilt.
For being here because I have the privilege of stepping back and taking time for myself — for having the opportunity to acquire a degree and further my career, an opportunity not afforded to many others, particularly indigenous peoples, even more so those who have been killed, threatened, harassed, and never surfaced.
Over class today I talked about Chad Booc, and how he will never get that privilege (of moving, of further studies, of talking about his advocacy) despite being one of the smartest, most accomplished people I know. It has been almost two years since he was killed, and it remains to be difficult to grasp that reality — of finality, of end.
He lives on, of course. In each of us. In those of us who carry on his legacy, in those of us who fight for and with indigenous peoples, who amplify their voices, who work against fascist, violent regimes, who find light in the most unlikely of places, whose joy lie in community-building, whose hope remain with each other.
Still, it has not been easy.
The climate guilt remain intense, but I’m continuing to try and channel it into something “productive”, and if all I can do it about it now is talk about how I feel, then I have to believe that is enough.
Towards the end, we talked about hope, and whether or not hope remains. Many years in the climate justice sphere later, amidst violent, repressive regimes and daily terrors, within each others spaces and between the words that we chant, I think it does. I have to believe it does, if only – and especially – because the indigenous peoples I work with believe it does. Hope persists.
Of perpetual finds 