Climate anxiety or climate advocacy

“If you really think that the environment is less important than the economy, try holding your breath while you count your money.” — Guy McPherson
I have always felt a bit “out of place”.
Over a good couple of years here on earth (45 to be exact), I have collected quite a few descriptive words for my “state of mind”: to name a few lets start with introverted, unsocial, socially awkward, shy, moody, absent minded, anxious, quiet, different, withdrawn, reserved and I am sure I can fill this endless page with more “labels”. The truth is, although it’s contrary to the “labels” above, I have a deep connection with life on earth, well-being and care for people.
I grew up in a place called “Witbank”, a town situated on the Highveld of Mpumalanga, South Africa. A town born from coal exploitation and even renamed on March 3rd 2006 as eMalahleni, meaning “place of coal”. The town has grown since 1890, on one side into a business destination where companies found substantial returns on their investments and on the other side a place where people struggle to breathe. As a child in this town, the hospital became my second home whilst being connected to an oxygen tent. When at home my best buddy was the oxygen tank, which was a more portable solution.

At the age of 5 after suffering years of respiratory related illnesses, I was diagnosed with Rheumatic Fever, imprisoning me to months and months in hospital. The diagnoses of Rheumatic fever is associated with ‘overcrowding, poor sanitation and other conditions that can easily result in the rapid transmission or multiple exposures to strep bacteria’. Now if I think back, these “associations” are really strange environmental factors, as at the time I was living in a privileged home, no over crowding and definitely no poor sanitation. It’s only recently that studies showed that exposure to air pollution in early life may be a contributing factor. Never the less, at the time, we were advised to medicate and move towns and let the coal mines carry on with their profitable endeavors.
Maybe it’s the time that I spend in the hospital whilst watching the other kids play outside that made me feel different, socially awkward and excluded. Maybe it was the frustration of being a child and not having a voice (children should be seen and not heard). Maybe it’s because I witnessed firsthand the rows and rows of kids, like me, confided to their beds that made me care about well-being. Maybe it was just the will to breathe.
Whatever it was, there are no excuses, in my 45 years on earth I did nothing. I did not speak up, even though I suffered first hand from the chase of economic growth and greed.
I hope through this journal to honor those kids that are speaking up even though society or those in power might attach “labels” to them. These are the kids that are brave, these are the kids that are causing climate panic, these are the kids that will bring those to justice for chasing greed .
Some may say these kids suffer from climate anxiety, I call it climate advocacy.
