We’re Alive and We Have the Power to Breathe
In early January, clouds of smoke changed the air quality in Los Angeles. Breathing outside without a special mask ran the risk of the intake of thousands of tiny, but toxic, cancer-causing particulates. People in the area have been warned not to breathe their air — the air from which millions of Angelenos took their first breaths, the air that gives them life.
The sight of blood orange and the sound of embers crackling remained on my mind after I scrolled endlessly through videos of the multiple wildfires ravaging the shrubbed hills of LA County. The videos were filmed by LA residents, whose voices shattered as they spoke about the fire engulfing their homes—and all the keepsakes and memories inside.
As more videos come out of LA, so have scores of social media posts calling the disaster what it is—a symptom of climate change. In 2024, global temperatures exceeded the 1.5°C pledged by the Paris Agreement, the world’s leading climate commitment. In the case of Southern California, the earth’s higher temperatures have increased drought conditions, meaning low levels of soil moisture and high levels of vegetation dryness. Paired with dry Santa Ana winds, which come from the desert toward the sea, fires can spread very fast. Even California’s Governor, Gavin Newsom, has said, “There’s no fire season [anymore]…it’s fire year.”
Seeing the fires from my screen, after having lived in LA earlier this year, was close to home, and honestly—dystopian. In January, I moved to LA to attend a study-away partnership between my school, Duke University, and the University of Southern California. While living in the city for five months, I fell in love with exploring its architecture, cultural diversity, and history, all of which reminded me of my hometown of Chicago. In my last few days as an LA resident, I repeated many of the things I loved to do— rom walks on the Santa Monica Boardwalk to nights under the neon signs on Sunset in Silver Lake. I knew deep in my heart that this was a place I loved deeply.
In August, I returned to North Carolina for my final year of school at Duke, a university in a state where I spent countless summers growing up horseback riding through its beautiful mountains and gazing at its sunset’s pink and orange hues.
Many of my reflections last year were about how lucky I was to find a home in Los Angeles, Chicago, and North Carolina. Yet, in the span of a few months, two of these places faced massive climate tragedy. While LA faced historic wildfires, at the end of September, in Western NC, where my grandparents live, Hurricane Helene washed away entire villages in landslides and floods and killed 111 people.
As we have learned from the devastation caused by Hurricane Helene, and now, that of the Southern California wildfires, the frequency of climate-fueled natural disasters will only continue to increase. Nowhere is safe from climate change. And if we don’t divest from fossil fuels, it will become a matter of when, not if, disaster strikes at our doorsteps.
While many citizens and climate experts alike can tell just from the devastation that these disasters are extremely expensive, the people who have the power to change this—the elected officials who spend our tax dollars—have not invested enough into sustainability and climate change adaptation. The lack of climate investment can be coupled with the fact that just 100 fossil fuel companies have been responsible for 71% of global greenhouse gas emissions since 1988, which trap heat in the atmosphere and cause global warming. These companies also employ some of the highest-paid lobbyists of environmental policy in the nation. They spend millions of dollars to compel politicians to then support fossil fuel subsidies and block policies that would harm Big Oil’s business practices.
The world we live in is corrupt. And this corruption is leading to the downfall of our beautiful planet as we know it. But it doesn’t have to be this way.
Two months ago, I wrote a piece published by the RCC titled “All that you touch, you change.” The article was a reference to the opening words of Octavia Butler’s 1993 novel Parable of the Sower, an apocalyptic tale about the United States falling apart due to unchecked capitalism causing climate change and civil unrest. After reading the book last summer, I noticed “chillingly prophetic” similarities between its timelines and that of 2024’s reality.
January’s wildfires are an exact continuation to Parable of the Sower’s predictions for 2025. Upon this event, Butler, who was an Altadena native, the area most impacted by the Eaton fire, and her 1993 novel have become the subject of countless conversations regarding what I claim to be the most far-seeing science fiction book ever. While in Butler’s apocalyptic reality things never get better on a grand scale, her characters, who have been through so much trauma, find and lean on each other.
That is exactly what we’re seeing happen in LA County—housands of people have come together through donations, advice, free meals, volunteer hours, and simply just finding ways to be as helpful as possible. The air might not be breathable, but these people are lending a hand in any way they can. It was the same way communities in North Carolina came together to provide relief for the western part of the state this fall. And whenever tragedy struck in Chicago, I saw our community come together and constantly lift each other up.
We know how strong our communities are. And now, we know that we have no choice but to be active citizens. Apathy is negligence. Everyone owes it to their future to call for reform, attend town halls, audit their representatives, join local environmental groups, know who their local journalists and activists are, and file lawsuits against fossil fuel and governments who don’t do their job. Whatever it takes. The power is not out of our hands if we find alliances in our local communities.
While it may feel like the world is ending, we all have the power to save it, even in the tiniest ways. Climate change is an issue caused by the individuals controlling the top ranks of our economic order. And it will be individuals who challenge it, fight it, and beat it. Self-preservation will never come easy, and now, it is necessary to work with as many people as possible, as hard as we can go, to clear the air, and give the Earth and ourselves the power to breathe.
If you’re looking for some starting questions to look up to make a difference, I‘ve written some below:
Who are your local representatives?
Use “https://www.usa.gov/elected-officials” to find who your local representatives are. You can also use the League of Conservation Voters website to search their environmental scorecard.
How to find your local or state budget
Search local budget + [state name] online, you will find some resources on identifying budgets for different climate programs. You can organize these and look up how your representatives are delivering on promises. You can also do further research against certain programs too.
Thinking of suing for climate negligence?
Check out: NRDC, Earthjustice, search online environmental lawyers near you.
Join local environmental groups
Sunrise Movement, Climate Justice Alliance, and Citizens Climate Lobby are a few of plenty environmental justice groups. I recommend joining groups that focus on environmental justice rather than just environmental conservation, as they seek to solve the systemic issues causing environmental problems and their impacts on people. Keep up with advocacy organizations such as the Rachel Carson Council as well as national and regional campaigns.
RCC National Environment Leadership Fellow — Ana Young – Duke University
Ana is a senior at Duke University studying Public Policy with a focus on clean energy and environmental justice, a minor in Journalism and Media, and a certificate in Innovation and Entrepreneurship, concentrating on clean and climate tech.
