by Andrea O’Ferrall
I want you to picture for a moment, millions of mussels, clams, and shellfish in the intertidal zone, the ones near you, or the ones you’ve seen when travelling. I envision those on the coast of Washington, near me at Lincoln Park in West Seattle, or Seahurst Park heading south.
Now picture those millions of shellfish baking in the sun during the heatwave that hit Western Washington in the summer of 2021. Literally millions dead… a tragedy. It makes me cry thinking about it and I wonder who speaks for them?
I admit, I’m a crier. I’ve always been this way. Not that my dad spanked us when we were kids — I mean he NEVER had to spank me because all he had to do was give me a disappointed look and I took it really hard. I wasn’t a goody-goody or perfect. But crying under pressure came easy to me. It’s a special gift I still own.
But before I share my story, I want to bring up an article by George Monbiot in the Guardian that I share widely because it really speaks to me — Capitalism is Killing the Planet — It’s Time to Stop Buying into Our Own Destruction.
To me this is a perfect piece of writing because it seamlessly connects the facets of climate and ecological crisis through science and human behavior, history and economics. While I appreciate everything Monbiot says, two parts particularly stand out.
First, he begins with the science, “Crucial systems appear to be approaching their tipping points… Global circulation is already looking vulnerable. For example, the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC) is being disrupted by the melting of Artic ice, and has begun to weaken…Everything we know and love depends on the AMOC remaining in the ‘on’ state.”
That’s pretty powerful information, but what can I do about that?
Monbiot then pivots to human behavior, the part that motivated me to share his words, “In his book Life and Fate, Vasily Grossman notes that when Stalin and Hitler were in power, ‘one of the most astonishing human traits that came to light at this time was obedience.’ The instinct to obey, he observed, was stronger than the instinct to survive. Acting alone, seeing ourselves as consumers, fixating on (the small stuff) and mind-numbing trivia, even as systemic environmental collapse looms: these are forms of obedience. We would rather face civilizational death than the social embarrassment caused by raising awkward subjects, and the political trouble involved in resisting powerful forces. The obedience reflex is our greatest flaw, the kink in the human brain that threatens our lives.”
We need to fight that instinct to obey.
Now back to my story.
I don’t remember specific instances of crying early on. They were commonplace. The one that really stands out was after the last day of High School. We went home on the bus and walked over to my friend Laura’s house. We were excited to share a bottle of champagne. Three best friends, all 18 and legal, ready to share this celebratory drink. We went in the kitchen, took the champagne out of the fridge, then headed into the dining room to get the champagne glasses. Laura took down some really lovely crystal tapered champagne glasses and we poured three, one for Hilary, one for Laura and one for me.
We raised the glasses, tapped them together. Cheers!
Woo-hoo. We were done with High School!
We stood in Laura’s dining room feeling as bubbly as the champagne we were drinking.
Unfortunately, her mother came home. She started yelling at Laura for having friends over without permission and using her Baccarat Champagne glasses. Then she turned to me. The responsible one.
“And you should have known better than to let her use those flutes,” she said pointedly.
I, of course, started to cry. The moment of joy had gone sour in an instant.
“You know, I’m done with you crying,” she shouted. “You’re 18 now. Instead of taking responsibility, you just cry.”
Well, that didn’t make things any better. I left her house and walked home feeling pathetic for crying, annoyed that her mother was blaming me.
So why am I telling this story?
Because even though I feel the stress of the introvert under attack, and even though I know speaking up is going to feel like an oppressive weight is on my chest, even though I know I’m going to lose my “cool,” I speak up anyway.
Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash
I just cry and then I keep on going.
There have been times in my life that I haven’t spoken up about something I feel I should have, either because I didn’t want to make someone uncomfortable, was afraid of how I’d come across or I didn’t want to alienate people. But mostly I’ve found that although I may be afraid in the short term, in the long term, I’m going to be on the side of justice. I push past the fear, past the discomfort and say what’s troubling me.
It’s uncomfortable to say to someone what they just said sounded racist. It’s uncomfortable to bring up the serious crisis we’re facing because of capitalism’s destructive features. It’s stress inducing to bring up to a friend who loves to travel that flying is bad, or a meat loving athlete that they can get protein from plant-based sources. Its agonizing to explain to your neighbor that, no, he shouldn’t spray herbicide all over his yard to kill the blackberry bushes. Folks don’t want to hear it.
But these are messages people need to hear. So, I breathe deep. I wait for the right moment, and I speak up. The alternative, obediently staying silent, doesn’t feel like a viable option.
Because, who is going to speak for the clams and mussels? Who speaks for the lichen and sea stars?
I had a teaching partner who after staff meetings would say, “Thank you Andrea for saying what I was thinking.”
I felt good that I was speaking up then — about planning time, or schedules or hating the teacher evaluation system. Maybe it was speaking up against taking away recess time from students, or getting rid of fiction read aloud in the push for more non-fiction reading.
I thought. I cried from the stress of letting my feelings known, and I spoke up. Many of the teachers would sit silently during a staff meeting and then complain to each other afterward. Why? What were they afraid of?
We have a lot to be afraid of. Transitioning off of fossil fuels and away from capitalism will be inherently difficult.
Violence, fascism, climate disasters, lack of resources, outrageous income inequality, racism, patriarchy. Those are fearsome.
Find strength, not fear, in disobedience. It’s okay to not go along with something when you realize the harm it’s causing. Keep your mind open and learn every day.
Think. Speak up for what you know is right. If I can do it through my tears, you can too.
Andrea
July 2022
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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Photo credit: Intricate Explorer on Unsplash