We connect you with grassroots climate change solutions.
With a problem as extensive as climate change, many of us do not know the best way to support. Community-based climate action has a large collective impact, but it can challenging to figure out how to support local, community-based work. We are changing that.
Our Climate Voices augments climate stories to spark climate action. We:
1) Humanize the climate disaster through storytelling. Personal climate stories are often left out of mainstream climate dialogue, but climate change is affecting our communities and our spaces now and it is necessary that we talk about it.
2) Center the voices of those most impacted. Countless people are being impacted by climate change today, but their voices are rarely heard. The perspective of those most impacted are must be represented in climate problem solving.
3) Connect you with grassroots solutions to make a difference today. Together, we can support local solutions and have a large collective impact. We listen to fresh perspectives from grassroots leaders and support their work.
Read our stories below.
OCV 2019 Series
“Because of our drought, the sand around Cameron became super dry. Then, because of the winds, nothing was keeping it in one place. So we had a reservoir, and it dried up. Then one day it rained very hard. And I remember back when I was smaller, the rains used to be really nice—smooth and consistent. But this rain was very harsh, and a lot of water came down all of a sudden. And it caused the reservoir to fill up, which is sort of good. But then the next few days after that, it was super dry, so it weirdly resulted in dry sand on the top layer. And the lake was super muddy, almost like tar. And after the rain, wild horses came to this one little puddle. They tried to get to the puddle, and it was all like quicksand, and they didn’t see it because the topsoil blew over it, and they couldn’t get out. It resulted I think in one-hundred-twenty horses found dead in that area.”
The Marshall Islands has been fighting for justice for a long, long time. Before colonialism, the Marshall Islands had a lot of natural resources. The United States did 67 nuclear tests and tested the first hydrogen bomb there. Several of those bombs vaporized islands right off the map. There have been islanders who were unable to return home because of radiation. And now, on top of that, the Marshall Islands is on the front lines of climate change. It is a very narrow, flat, small set of islands. It’s in danger of being one of the first countries to go underwater. There are no mountains or anything. There’s literally nowhere to escape to if there is a flood, or a hurricane. Ocean acidification and the rising sea levels are causing erosion, making the islands significantly smaller. King tides are flooding the land. Ocean acidification is making fishing—a huge part of Marshallese culture—challenging. On top of that, when the waters come rushing in, they wash away cemeteries where our grandparents and other ancestors are buried. Our people are tied to the land and our ancestors are on that land.
“In the Arctic, the effects of climate change are much more pronounced than in Minnesota because the further north you go, the more advanced the impacts are. There’s a number of reasons why it plays out that way, but it all culminates at the North Pole, which is truly ground zero for climate change. The impacts of climate change at the pole provide data to model the impacts that are likely to be felt further south here in the decade ahead. It’s very much in-your-face visible when you’re in the Arctic.
I worry for my kids and grandkids because I know that the Boundary Waters are destined for dramatic change, and we’ve got to wrap our heads and hearts around that. We have to reconcile the things that can be done to adapt and realign to accommodate that. In the long-term, the heartbreaking element for me is that changes are occurring with sufficient speed such that, as much as I’ve enjoyed my career in Arctic adventure travel and operating a dogsledding operation in the Boundary Waters, I would never encourage my children to follow in my footsteps and do the same. I don’t think this will be a viable career a decade or two from now, or maybe even sooner.”
OCV 2018 SERIES
“My name is Dania, and I live in Jurupa Valley, California. I attend school next to a road which sees over 800 trucks pass every hour, and our community suffers serious health effects because of it. The Mira Loma community in the city of Jurupa Valley has been fighting against the industrialization of their neighborhoods for years. A once rural-agricultural community has been overrun with warehouses and diesel trucks that pollute the air and lungs of residents and create excess traffic and increasing commute times.”
“Growing up, I could see smokestacks near my house that filled the entire sky with clouds. The power plant was planned in a predominantly white community, but the people of Denver rallied and said that it was unsafe. Xcel Energy moved it two hours south to my predominantly Hispanic town—Pueblo, Colorado. The company was aware of the health risks and offered the community free energy and jobs in exchange. The city took it. After ten years or so, the company stopped giving free energy and rerouted the jobs. Now my hometown is experiencing pollution and destruction from this power plant without anything in return.”
“There is cultural damage because of climate change. People talk about loss and damage a lot in traditional climate dialogue spaces, but it’s always controlled by Western thought and Western methodology. They talk about people being displaced by storms. But, for Indigenous people, when we get displaced, we’re not just displaced from our homes, we’re also displaced from our homelands, our way of life, place-based spirituality, and all the things that are ingrained in our cultures and traditions. Maybe people who get displaced in a place like Miami will miss their home if it flooded, but it’s not the same as someone who has been in their community for thousands of years, from places where their ancestors are buried or where their landmarks stand. If we have to move, it’s irreversible cultural identity loss and damage. Removed tribes suffered that once already, like the Shawnee, through federal policy in the 1800s.”
“Last summer, there were two weeks where it was so smoky we couldn’t see blue sky. That has never happened in my life. I didn’t notice how intense it was until it was dragging on and on, there were barely any days when it got lighter. We had to wear particle masks. It’s extremely bothersome on a farm. It’s scratchy. It’s hot. Finally, I started to see blue sky again. I was so thankful. But, then I thought, ‘The way things are going, it’s probably going to be worse next year.’ As wildfires get more severe and common with climate change, the chance of our farm being in the target area, the burn area, increases more and more every year.”
“The night the flooding happened, I wasn’t the person who noticed. I was asleep because it was midnight. I have a sister who’s a year older than me and stays up. She was on her computer when she noticed flood water coming under her door. She moved her electronics then woke up my oldest sister. When there’s rain, it goes downwards to the back of the house. My room is at the back of the house and it got worse back there because the house isn’t level.”
"The environmental movement has been predominantly white for a long time. It’s really important to bring new voices, new faces, and new colors to the movement. It’s the Hispanic populations, the Latino populations, and the African American populations that are already seeing the impact of climate change. They are living closer to oil and gas operations, and closer to toxic chemical facilities. The only way that we’re going to get movement and action is if we address this inequality and hear the stories of those directly impacted."
OCV 2017 Series
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