Let’s talk trash
I braved a low-waste week, and it involved more digging through university trash cans than I could handle.
Story by Audra Anderson
When Americans think of low-waste, they tend to imagine bamboo utensils, stainless steel straws, Mason jars and a criminal quantity of loose beans from the bulk section. I imagined the same things, along with BYOM (bring your own mug) coffee dates and the surge of adrenaline I would feel at the opportunity to decline a plastic straw. Aesthetic, minimalistic and environmentally ethical, it’s the perfect contemporary adult life.
But not for most people.
The average American produces 4.4 pounds of trash every day, according to the Environmental Protection Agency. Assuming I fall within the description of an average American, in a week I produce as many pounds of trash as the weight of my Australian shepherd, Roxy.
After reading these statistics, I was haunted by mental images of hauling Roxy out to the alley trash. The next day, I decided to tackle a week of living low-waste.
Pursuing a low-waste lifestyle wasn’t a new idea for me. As a teenager, I was inspired by the story of a young woman, Lauren Singer, who collected four years’ worth of trash in a single 16-ounce Mason jar. Her only waste included tiny bits of plastic she couldn’t avoid, like the plastic fasteners on price tags and the occasional bar straw. Like other environmental activists, her dedicated lifestyle was borne out of her fear for a dying planet. Singer is part of a growing movement of low-waste individuals, inspired by the climate crisis and pollution to limit or omit personal waste.
Decomposing trash in landfills accounts for 12% of global methane emissions — methane being powerful greenhouse gas in the atmosphere that prevents heat from escaping. Unsurprisingly, the five warmest years in recorded history have happened since 2010. Not to mention, climate change has a destructive friend without benefits: pollution. Each year, 8 million tons of garbage are dumped into our waters, resulting in increasingly warmer and more acidic oceans.
Color me concerned for the state of our planet, as all Earth-loving beings should be. Living low-waste for a week felt like asking my planet for a little forgiveness, and I was ready to make amends.
Low-Waste Week Rules
1. Collect all trash in a Mason jar
2. Try eating out at least once
3. Try buying coffee at least once
4. Go grocery shopping
Limitations
Toilet paper and feminine products.
Due to poor planning, the first day of my low-waste week was a Tuesday, the day of my 8 a.m. analytical chemistry lab. I didn’t expect my low-waste week to challenge me at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. but challenge me it did.
After snoozing my alarm twice, I stepped into the bathroom and began rubbing my face with a single-use facial wipe. I felt a twinge of frustration and asked myself why I couldn’t have just washed my face with soap and water and towel-dried.
I was mere minutes into my challenge, yet I had one of the most important realizations of the week: Reducing waste is about breaking routines you’ve spent years perfecting.
Sage Berglund has spent a little over a year breaking free from her routines. The 25-year-old project engineer hasn’t taken out her apartment trash in three months — she hasn’t needed to. Beneath her kitchen sink, she keeps old socks, which she uses to wipe down her countertops. Her recent wardrobe is all thrifted. She is armed with a metal fork and spoon and won’t be caught dead using a plastic utensil.
“For me, it was about realizing [that] doing one thing is better than nothing — doing something is better than nothing,” Berglund said. “Change what you can as you can change it, and try not to worry too much about what you can’t.”
As I struggled through my first day of low-waste — which included the search-and-rescue of a muffin wrapper I had accidentally thrown out and a disposable cup taunting me seconds into a sip — I realized all the conveniences I would be giving up. I was intimidated and surprised by how much waste I actively choose to produce each day by buying single-use items.
“The things that seem convenient now won’t be convenient for whoever has to deal with those things in the future.”
Berglund suffered a similar realization when her new lifestyle prevented her from purchasing her favorite plastic-packaged cinnamon rolls. But her beloved pastries were encased in waste that could take 1,000 years to decompose.
“The things that seem convenient now won’t be convenient for whoever has to deal with those things in the future,” Berglund said. “Like, a plastic bag seems convenient, but it won’t be in 50 years when it’s in the ocean wrapped around a turtle.”
A low-waste lifestyle isn’t only good for the turtles. It works in tandem with local economies, creating a circular system in which money is spent on local items rather than on outsourced goods. Also, reducing, reusing and recycling creates ten times more jobs than disposal at places like remanufacturing and compost facilities, as well as antique stores, thrift stores, tailors, auto salvage yards, computer refurbishers and used-book stores.
With the increasing popularity of the movement, it’s no surprise that companies have jumped on the bandwagon, boasting of renewable energy and sustainable products. Emma Bjornsrud, a 20-year-old Western student, describes the process as “greenwashing,” a term coined by environmentalist Jay Westerveld in 1986.
Bjornsrud, who has been low-waste for more than a year, believes one’s low-waste lifestyle should be driven by using what they already have, not by purchasing dozens of new sustainable products to support the lifestyle change.
Throughout my low-waste week, I tried to use as many forgotten things around the house as I could. Much to my convenience, our house ran out of paper towels before my low-waste week began, and no one bothered to replace them. I used old towels and rags to clean the kitchen the entire week and barely noticed the absence of paper towels.
On the fifth night, I was out of fresh food, so I cooked a large stir-fry using up three half-eaten bags of frozen vegetables and soy cubes. It was satisfying and jarring at the same time: satisfying to know I used up three bags that had been in the freezer since the birth of Christ and jarring to see three bags destined for the landfill.
Nevertheless, I came to another important realization: Limiting waste is not about fancy bamboo utensils and metal straws, it’s about using what you have until you desperately need more.
When it was time to grocery shop, the most difficult part was finding an unpackaged vegetarian protein. Usually, I buy copious amounts of tofu or tempeh, but for my low-waste week, I opted for canned beans. I bulldozed my cart through the aisles with brows furrowed in concentration, passing item after item wrapped in plastic. I focused on fresh produce since any waste from fruits and vegetables could be composted. I was surprised half-cartons of almond milk are recyclable as a paper product, even with the plastic spout and cap. It was one of many misconceptions my low-waste week corrected.
Bjornsrud and Berglund both primarily shop at the Community Food Co-op and local farmers markets. Produce and bulk items tend to be more expensive at farmers markets than at chain grocery stores, but to Berglund, it’s an investment in her community and health.
“A lot of good things are good for a lot of reasons,” Berglund said. “Shopping at a farmers’ market is good because it’s low-waste, but it’s also good because you’re supporting the people around you.”
By the end of the week, I felt like I had made an impact. I was proud, looking at my small Mason jar of waste, but I also felt exhausted. The level of perfection I was striving for required an unsustainable amount of energy, time and planning. If I had continued the experiment for more than a week, I am confident I would have cheated or quit altogether. The most significant part of my low-waste week was how much I learned about waste, how much I produce and how often.
I learned if I toss compostable items in the garbage, they will not decompose in the landfill because they require oxygen.
I learned I spend too much money on convenience items because I don’t wake up early enough to eat breakfast and pack a lunch before classes.
I learned trying to limit all my waste was maddening and discouraging.
And finally, I learned low-waste means something different to everyone.
There is a common misconception that low-waste lifestyles are expensive, inconvenient and difficult. If you demand perfection, they can be. But the reality is, a flawless low-waste Instagram influencer isn’t going to pop out of the freezer section of Grocery Outlet and admonish you for buying an unrecyclable carton of ice cream. No one will. Any low-waste effort is a worthwhile effort because it’s a lifestyle that is meant to be accessible for everyone. There are no rules that have to be followed, no methods that have to be perfect.
Living low-waste can be as simple as letting your fresh produce go bagless in your cart at the store or as complex as collecting all your waste in a single jar for four years.
“Zero-waste isn’t about one person doing it perfectly,” Bjornsrud said. “But a lot of people doing it imperfectly.”
