My First March
I would like to dedicate this to my fellow co-worker’s, aka, my good friends, who encourage and inspire me in and outside of the store every day.
September 27, 2019, the day of the Toronto Climate March.
Flashback to the day before, our store, Patagonia Toronto, hosted a sign making event. You never quite know what the turnout could be like with each event, but it was better than we could have hoped for. Half of the store was filled with activists painting. People were coming in after their work, then going out to get their friends to only come back a short while later. What was truly heart-warming was that new acquaintances were painting and make signs together, sharing ideas and creating impactful statements. Even more compelling was that the majority who took part were younger business people and students who were all there for one reason. A future.
While talking with other youth activists, I felt inspired to create a sign of my own.
At 21, I made my first sign. A sense of shame came with that thought. Did it really take myself 21 years to have the courage to stand up for something? That something being Earth. On the other hand, I was angry and disappointed in the fact that it took most of humanity (including myself) till now to stand up for the climate and the fact that we let climate change go this far.
After going back and forth, I finally decided on the message I wanted to say.
March Now or Swim Later.
Ocean levels on average rise 3.3 millimeters a year. For reference, every centimeter of rise in global sea levels means that approximately 6 million people are vulnerable to coastal flooding. I let the words March Now or Swim later sink in and as extreme as it may sound, it is one of the many realities to which we are heading too.
Fast forward to the next morning, I was somewhat anxious. Being the emotional person that I am, I had no idea what my body or mind was about to experience. Was I going to be overcome with anger, sadness, grief or all of the above? Regardless, I was about to find out
The prelude to the march started off with multiple speeches and songs performed by First Nations singers and groups. The most disturbing tale was the story of Grassy Narrows. Not only has the Asubpeeschoseewagong First Nations people had Mercury problems since 1975, they are also one of more than 100 First Nations communities in Canada without access to clean drinking water. They have been haunted by a big corporation’s decision to dump almost 10,000 tons of Mercury into the river systems that affect their water and food on a daily basis. That is their reality, every single day. Furthermore, Ontario’s provincial and federal governments inaction has further fueled this issue. Yet, regardless of the common storyline of being beaten down and forgotten, I know for certain that the First Nations people will continue to make their voices heard.
To me, it only makes sense to me that we should be following in the footsteps of our First Nations, Inuit and Metis communities instead of going to battle with them every chance we get. They understand that a deep connection to the land, water and air is crucial for the health of themselves and their home planet. These deep connections to mother nature teach us what it means to respect these lands, the things in it and how it is a privilege to live on this Earth.
After the opening speeches and songs, it was time to walk the walk. The crowd was getting restless as we felt the urgency to protest. It was necessary to purge these emotions about the state of disarray that our climate is in. The stage had been set, and we began marching in front of big business’ in the Financial District of downtown Toronto. And it felt oh so very right doing it.
Throughout the march, I began to notice adults double my age and children half my age chanting along beside me. They do it with such grace and confidence, all without missing a beat. The children especially brought tears to my eyes, as I realized that not only do they have the whole world in front of them but they carry the weight of the world with them. Without these children beside me, I to would forget that I have the same power that they do.
As the time comes for me to leave and head back to work, I seize the moment to take it all in. An event of this magnitude happening all over the world simultaneously does not happen every day. Maybe it should.
I admire the marchers still persistently chanting and I surprisingly don’t feel guilty for taking my leave. A sense of pride is ever present in me as I know that the thousands marching here and the millions of people marching all over the world will continue this fight with me. That gives me hope.
