“Why are you here?”, someone asked me during yesterday’s climate march in Brussels. They were taking short interviews to put together a video for social media. As soon as my brain registered the question, filtering through the sounds of drums, songs and chatter around me, I felt a shiver down my spine. Where do you begin when answering this question?
Grief, fear, and a stubborn kind of hope
Because I mourn what’s already lost, and what will be lost on this beautiful, heating planet? Because I actively, desperately, forcefully cling to the hope that the children of this world will inherit a liveable planet? Because of the forests burning, the corals dying, the people dying? About Nepal, where another devastating flash flood has struck, just two months after the last one? And the glaciers melting, And the mountains becoming more unstable, and the communities living with the consequences?
Do I say about how disasters we see in Europe are scary, and yet small in comparison, because Europe has more resources for monitoring, early warnings and protection? Because climate injustice is also this: those who have contributed the least to this crisis are often the ones most exposed to its consequences, and least equipped to protect themselves.
“I am here because the roots are connected”, I thought of saying. The violence against the planet, against women, against nations and peoples of certain religions are all manifestations of the same illness. The same patriarchal “power over” (or shall I call it domination?) is feeding the “club of bullies “ – those insatiable creatures, whose hunger can never be satisfied, set to destroy everything I love in this life for…profits? Those who say that “climate change is not real” while yet another forests burns down. Those who invest in robots and oil-drilling and weapons rather than in people, nature and peace. Those who take over democracies and buy out our politicians.
When we come together, something changes
I am here because I need to. Walking in the climate march might be as much about helping myself as about helping the planet. Last year, there were 30k people marching through Brussels. This year, 45k to 60k. I met friends, colleagues and neighbours at the march. Some I expected would be there, others not. So I know what across the world, millions feel the urgency of this moment.
Because it is easy to feel disheartened and angry when we’re alone. But when we come together, dancing, singing, marching and chanting, something shifts. Anger makes room for hope, and in coming together we create a different kind of power – people power. Together, the world makes so much more sense. We remind each other that another kind of world is possible. That all these constructs we sometimes take for granted (patriarchy, racism, and all the other “isms”) can be challenged, dismantled, replaced. Not by a handful of us acting alone, but by many of us coming together.
Because the time is now. Because I know we’re at a crossroads. And the direction we take can be determined either by the club of bullies or by us, those who see the violence, the madness, the injustice, and can choose for something different.
I am here because when someone shouts, “What do we want?”, I hear my own voice answering: “Climate justice!” And my voice is surrounded by thousands of other voices. And I know it’s much more than 45,000 or 60,000. It’s millions, perhaps billions, of people who want a different world.
And if you’ve read this far into this post, there’s a big chance you’re one of them.
To me, this is precisely the point behind the Flamingo Collective. We need eachother and we need communities – so here you can find a community of ecofeminists from across Europe, questioning the systems of power that produce the injustice we and the planet endure. Imagining what a different Europe looks like, and finding wisdom, strength and community in eachother.
I am here because I need you, and you need me. And we need our planet much more than the planet needs us.
Curious to meet us? Join our next community call.