i looked up at the sky.

this is a stream-of-consciousness.

it’s been a long time since i’ve written about anything related to “activism.”

this might be unrelated, but i’m trans now, and my name is benny, and i’m hitting it off on tiktok, and trying to get a job at a cute bookstore, and i don’t know what i’m going to do with this blog anymore….hi, it’s been a long pandemic.

y’know, they make movies about this crap. and you can either watch the movie, with popcorn, or you can get your *** out of your seat.

and, y’know, i, for one, used to be a “climate activist.”

last night i was telling my friend kevin - kevin j. patel, fellow human being who cares about the world & its ecosystems - how i wrote for years, poured my heart out for years, and i didn’t see anyone show they cared, or were listening, except for my mother’s Facebook friends; i burnt myself out.

an instagram post or two i was tagged in, and that’s about it. and that's a shallow thing to care about, i know, and i know being represented, being visible, being validated, being famous for 15 secs, isn’t everything; that’s not even what i want, what i ask for. but i look around and see my friends, my abled friends, i see them all being interviewed and consulted, every other day, and then i look back at myself. disabled, crippled, retarded. (for those of who you are wondering about my use of that word, “retarded,” it’s a slur, yes, in reference to autistic folks & other mentally disabled folks. i’m reclaiming it.) (and i am White™️, and that should’ve given me a leg-up. it does give me a leg-up, above those who are silenced completely.) i do not have the skills, the body, the stamina, to be worth of an audience. again, it’s shallow, but don’t mistake me for a performer. for those that want to change anything, for those that care about anything, an audience gives you reach beyond your own neighborhood. and the world we care about is such a big, deep place. such is “activism;” and i’ve always found that to be superficial, the word itself, “activist,” it’s like admitting you do it as a hobby instead of as necessary.

i used to do it as a hobby.

i used to be a “climate activist.”

and then i looked up at the sky.

and i thought, “how am i different? how am i different from any other person looking up at this same sky, with their feet on this same ground?” i’m not. i’m really not. i’m not any different. i don’t stand out. i shouldn’t. hasn’t everyone had thoughts of our planet? we all live on it. how is it that a select few can make a career out of that? but it makes me think of how many human beings don’t care about the world; how many others imagine that they are separate from the sky above us and the ground below. and how they continue to move through this world as though they are separate from it. it’s the lethargy that gets to me, the idea that we can be in this moment, with this knowledge, and not be in the streets everyday. i’m not blaming anyone for the lethargy. i certainly wouldn’t be able to maintain that momentum; not in a physical sense, nor an emotional one. and i wouldn’t ask that of anyone.

it’s true that everything is connected, and that the climate & biological crises are an extension of colonization; but it’s one that affects more than us human beings. by upholding and expanding empires, we managed to destroy far more than just each other. and somehow the descendants of those empires such as myself are usually the ones that inspire the most momentum in these movements. ha, ha, ha.

but i almost wish i could maintain that momentum, to prove those who would, and do, stay lethargic & silent wrong.

if you left it up to me, though, i would fail you.

i knew a dude who cleaned away garbage, just your everyday trash, like, every day. how often do i even leave the house? how often does even my own personal baggage, my anxiety, let up enough for me to breathe? enter bo burnham’s bitter, resentful laughter, here not often, not often in the slightest. i’m the “‘ideas’ dude,” and i hit or miss, in terms of whether they’re practical or not, but i never shut up, and i don’t really have any other skills unrelated to the intangible. i can write like hell, but would that matter in a famine? or a flood? or a fire? who am i? why am i not strong enough?

why am i not strong enough, big enough, with enough reach, to save the world alone?

you, abled, non-crippled, non-retarded, might very well feel the same way. but if you’ve been feeling this way ever since you started resting, finally, after working for years, i’ll have you know i’ve felt this way my whole life. but i’m not resting. (i once asked an invisibly disabled friend why he didn’t identify as disabled; and i forget his answer, but it was something to do with that just not being his niche. i’d feel so lucky if i could hide myself like that. and i don’t even have a niche!) i hate predictions; i hate when scientists predict that by a certain year, say 2100, the world is going to have risen by a certain number of degrees in temperature. i hate that. because by now, already, so much has changed, and by then, who’s left? who are the scientists talking about, when they talk about who’s left and how well-off they are? when they talk about the living standards of the distant future, they’re talking about healthy, wealthy, folks in crises’-proof cities under a stable economy. in other words, normal folks.

and i’m not normal.

i would not be nearly half as well-off.

i’d be the first to fall, in any case; and i’m falling, already.

can i do anything about it? one more time pouring my heart out, and for what?

y’know, despite everything, i’m still hopeful. i’m still determined. i still believe in the power of, well, “human beings caring about the world.” i’m not blind, but i’m desperate. and loving. i widen our metaphorical window of opportunity with an equally metaphorical crowbar; that’s how i prefer to think about it. there’s a few lyrics, from one of my favorite songs at the moment, run the road (by santigold!):

From outside looks like a circle

From on this side it seems like a wall

Rough ride, get me through it some way

yeah, that’s about it.

in other words, you can't stop me from trying; and you definitely can’t make me shut up.

———

this lil’ personal essay is dedicated to Kevin, Jesus, and Sim, and, y’know, why not? the dude who surrounds himself in garbage & nature every single day, too….my old friends, from my “climate activism” days.

you can watch the video that inspired this essay here.