With more and more severe environmental disasters happening each year, along with mass protests and human rights disputes, the climate crisis is affecting Generation Z more than ever before. It has sparked the largest acts of civil disobedience in Canadian history, a new form of anxiety called "eco-anxiety", and a unique form of escapism as a coping mechanism.
British Columbia alone has taken massive hits of devastating wildfires and colossal floods in 2021. Meanwhile, big companies continue to invest in worsening the climate crisis. Teal-Jones Group is logging the old-growth forests of Fairy Creek, located on unceded Pacheedaht territory, and Coastal GasLink is attempting to build an oil pipeline through unceded Wet'suwet'en lands. Both companies are utilizing a militarized RCMP to enforce their work against peaceful land defenders.
Here in London, Ontario, concerns about these happenings are present in some Generation Zers. In interviewing random Gen-Z passersby on the street, I was able to capture the effects of these companies' actions despite being so far away from the action.
"I follow the Fairy Creek Blockade on Instagram for updates, and I occassionally see videos from the frontline land defenders on my [TikTok] for-you page," said Madeline Baker, 20. "[The peaceful protestors] are doing what needs to be done. Big companies destroying those ecosystems while the climate crisis really begins to take hold isn't good for anybody."
Another Gen-Z youth, Aaron King, 23, expressed similar concerns. "What makes me the angriest about [the happenings at the Gidimt'en checkpoint] is all the violent and illegal arrest of Wet'suwet'en land defenders," he said. "Not only that, but fossil fuel is definitely a major contributor to climate change. The construction of this pipeline at a time like this is pure greed."
Displaying deep passion for environmental activism is not as uncommon in Gen-Zers as you might think. Going onto Instagram to read the updates and see the videos at Fairy Creek and the Gidimt'en Checkpoint on Wet'suwet'en land for myself, many peaceful land defenders hold their ground, even while enduring assaults of macing, the danger of being around enormous falling trees, and the RCMp aggressively handling and arresting land defenders.
Despite facing the constant threat of harm and/or injury, land defenders will not back down. They do so in the name of preserving the land and climate for future generations. What's wrapped up in this motive is an immense amount of climate-based anxiety: people everywhere, but especially Generation Z, fear for the survivability of both their future selves and the next generations.
"Climate change occupies a large portion of my thoughts throughout the day," Baker said. "It's pretty distressing, especially since there's not a lot I can do about it right now except change my habits and attend walkouts and protests." Baker also noted that while trying to take on more sustainable practices and habits as an individual helps a little, it's nothing in comparison to real, systematic change that the environmental activism at places like Fairy Creek and the Gidimt'en Checkpoint are pushing for. Without governmental interference, Baker worries that the climate crisis will grow worse.
On the other hand, King worries that the government won't step in. "I don't think the government we live under wants us to seriously prioritize sustainability because, ultimately, it's not profitable," he said. "Everything they say is performative. I don't know what my future holds. And that's a scary thing, because all generations before ours have had that privilege."
This article by Sarah Simon on Verywell Health calls it "eco-anxiety". In this article, Navjot Bhullar, PhD, professor researching environmental influences on mental health at the University of New England in Australia, said that the symptoms of eco-anxiety can be similar to that of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), or even as severe as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). In the comments offered by Baker and King, these findings appear to hold true.
"[Climate change] just makes me anxious like nothing else," King said. "I feel stuck."
"It's like we're battling two mental health crises at once," Baker said. "One from the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdowns, and the other from the state of the climate."
Within the online community of Gen-Z, particularly on the popular video-sharing app known as TikTok, an interesting form of escapism is emerging as a coping mechanism for the youth facing these mental health crises. From my own experience within this space, many of my peers (myself included) are prioritizing spending more time in nature in order to combat the eco-anxiety.
Many of these TikTok users document their journey to become closer with nature, including learning to garden, forage, and identify various types of plants and mushrooms. Mushrooms, particularly, seem to be an area of interest for many. In addition, these creators are learning to utilize the plants and mushrooms to make eco-friendly versions of products, including homemade twine, dyes, teas, foraged meals, and much more, even going as far as glue.
Many even dream of owning and working a self-sustaining hobby farm. A TikTok creator by the name of Redleaf Ranch, who has accumulated 1.2 million followers, showcases his hobby farm. He has grown this popular by showing how abundant and secure this way of life can be. Many people seek the same kind of life, where they can grow closer to nature and lead physically, mentally, and spiritually healthier lives.
"I dream of creating a self-sustaining life for myself," Baker said. "I see more and more people shifting to off-grid living. I could have a garden and chickens, maybe some other animals, too."
To learn more about the Fairy Creek Blockade and how you can help, visit their LinkTree linked in their Instagram bio (@fairycreekblockade on Instagram). To learn more about the Gidimt'en Checkpoint for the oil pipeline on unceded Wet'suwet'en territory and how you can help, visit their website.
My dad has always been one to move slowly, and my mom hated it. He took a long time to fix the crack in the concrete foundation of the pool when they bought our house in 2001, and to change the oil in his car, and to get back from the grocery store, and to cook dinner (which he loves to do). My dad has always taken his time.
At a few points in my childhood, my cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents would visit us from Croatia. Since their first visit, I have waited ever so patiently for my dad to speak these words to me: "Darija, will you come home with me?". Of course I would. He hadn't been back since he fled the draft for the Yugoslav Wars in 1991.
I never understood why my dad was slow to do anything until we got back to Canada. In Croatia, there was ample time and space to wander about. Smell the lavender at the market; buy some fresh fruit; sit down for a drink. People came and went, moseying through their day. It wasn't so much about seeing the sights and doing the things as it was about sitting on a patio between two old, stone buildings and sipping a drink or two, reading a book or newspaper, talking to people around you. There wasn't a sense of rush—there wasn't anywhere anyone absolutely had to be. People strolled, shopped, chatted. It was calm. It was about stopping to admire your surroundings, to watch the people, to listen to the music being played in the square. Sometimes we'd stop to admire a view, and sometimes we'd spend an entire afternoon sitting on the patio of a cafe bar, completely welcome. Nobody rushed us away. It was unexpected, but welcome.
I guess my brain expected him to have a set plan that we'd execute efficiently. A travel itinerary. I don't know why. We were going to his home—we weren't tourists. I didn't want to be a tourist. Technically, I'm not: I have citizenship. But I felt like one. I don't speak Croatian, that's all.
I've always wanted to go to Tokyo.
bruh
yeah
yup