Going Plastic-Free? Avoid the Guilt Spiral — It’s Bigger Than You Think

I’ve spent the last decade teaching environmental science. I’ve worked in solar, wind, and agriculture, and studied permaculture, conservation, and green building. I’ve been a part of international consulting teams, from an ecovillage in Australia, to a sustainable boarding school in Ghana, to rainwater harvesting in Mexico.

And I couldn’t even go plastic-free.

I’m not sharing this to throw my eco-weight around or discourage you from a plastic-free Lent. I’m sharing this to reassure you that it’s a daunting task, even for people with a deep-green environmental ethic.

My Attempt

Just a girl and her freezer compost.

In January of last year, bright-eyed and riding the high of a Vox video, I pledged to have a “Trash-Free 2018”. I bought the jars, set my intentions, and prayed to the plastic-free gods that I, too, could achieve the high-holy status of Zero Waste Woman. I already recycled and composted, and actively tried to avoid excess packaging as much as possible. How hard could it be?

Turns out, it was a much bigger challenge than I expected. From the smallest items — plastic tags from clothing, laminated paper from tea bags, stickers — to much bigger concerns — torn clothing, e-waste, packaging from an online order — it quickly became overwhelming to figure out how to dispose of everyday things. I started to wonder (and not for the first time) if sanity and sustainability were compatible.

The weeks went by, my trash jar filled, and my shame grew. How could I be so careless to forget my reusable mug three days this week? Why couldn’t I find time to make my own laundry detergent, deodorant, toothpaste, and shampoo like the succulent-studded Instagram accounts I followed? I must have regressed to being a lazy, half-hearted environmentalist.

March gave the fatal blow to my zero-waste goals. Both of my parents needed surgeries, and as a freelancer, I already had a full calendar of commitments. More and more, I needed to eat on-the-go, which meant individually-wrapped snacks, packaging, and plastic utensils. I’m embarrassed to share that it even got to the point where I’d ignore my hunger and skip meals just to avoid plastic packaging.

A Consideration

Needless to say, the experiment ended there. My health had to come first, and for the time being, that meant taking advantage of pre-packaged meals, quick purchases, and online orders. It was hard not to blame myself for not being green/organized/meal-prepped/dedicated enough, but there was no way I could find the time to DIY my life when I had to be focused on my career, family, and health.

These convenience products exist for a reason. Modern life means most of our time is spent at work, commuting to work, preparing for work, and decompressing from work. Over half of our waking hours are dedicated to work-related tasks, leaving little time and energy to invest in our personal relationships, health, and generally enjoying life. And with our personal time so limited, every minute becomes even more precious.

I know I’d rather spend 30 minutes shopping at a store and meet a range of different needs all at once than spend hours DIY-ing things I could buy. Even though I care deeply about the environment and feel a serious responsibility to protect it, I also have to care about my own quality of life. There’s lots of people caring about the planet, but only one person looking out for my best interest.

I’m not alone in this, and my experience is exceptionally privileged. There are people with much fuller schedules, much more urgent health conditions, and much tighter wallets. I might groan about having to pay $12 for a healthy meal in Manhattan, but I can (begrudgingly) afford it. I spend most days commuting between clients, hospitals, and home visits, but I can take ride-shares when I’m exhausted or public transportation is too complicated. I can reach out to close family when I’m overstretched, and they’re able to help. I can afford to purchase things to meet my physical, mental, and emotional needs, instead of forgoing them.

That’s not the case for most Americans. And I think this is an important point that doesn’t get the emphasis it deserves:

Reducing waste is not a matter of willpower. It means defying an entire economy and culture that values cheap, fast, and disposable goods and services, and — dare I say — labor.

When you’re concerned about making ends meet at the end of the month, how can you possibly be bothered to worry about the single-use coffee cup in your hand? When you’re spending the majority of your waking hours on work-related tasks, how can you consider adding more housework to your life?

When cheap-fast-disposable is your only feasible option because you’re being treated as cheap-fast-disposable, how can you be expected to simultaneously subvert this socio-economic system?

Going plastic-free and zero-waste is a worthy endeavor. It’s a powerful statement. It’s a bold and necessary step to protecting our planet and our future.

But please remember — it’s also a privilege. It’s going against the grain. It takes extra effort, energy, time, and money to do the opposite of the cultural norm. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. We’ve got bigger work to do.

What You Can Do

Again, all of this is not to say you should forget about reducing your waste and return to a life of guilt-free consumption. But I encourage you to not take on too much personal blame. Set realistic expectations of how much you can take on, and remember that what works for you might not work for everyone. We’re all doing the best we can with what we have.

• If you have the time, energy, and options to go zero-waste, go for it!
• If going zero-waste is a challenge, see what you can do, and and go easy on yourself.
• If you’ve got more urgent priorities than worrying about wrappers, you do you.

Instead of taking on all the blame ourselves, let’s turn our attention to the companies who create the packaging and products in the first place. Let’s support the systems and infrastructure around us, and demonstrate that there’s a demand for responsible waste-disposal services.

• All of us can petition companies to take more responsibility for the waste they create. Recently Trader Joe’s has pledged to reduce plastic in its stores, and a new partnership (Loop) will help big brands go zero-waste. You can find similar petitions on Change.org.
• All of us can learn about our local recycling and waste disposal options. Try your borough or county’s website, or information line (311/411).
• All of us can compost food waste — either at home with a worm bin, compost tumbler, or Bokashi system — or with a farmer’s market drop-off, local service, local business, or curbside pickup program. Your county’s Cooperative Extension Unit can help you find the option that works best for you.

Just as we can take responsibility for our actions as consumers, companies need to take responsibility for their role as manufacturers. We can’t take on all the shame and blame ourselves as individuals. It takes all of us, working together, in our communities and across the supply chain, to change things for the better. It’s not easy. But we were a plastic-free culture not so long ago, and we can create that again.