Let’s get real for a second. The world is burning, the oceans are rising, and the air we’re breathing is choking us. Climate change isn’t just coming—it’s here. And yet, when you look around, what do you see? SUVs the size of small yachts, plastic-wrapped organic kale, and corporations slapping “eco-friendly” on products that are anything but.
It’s like we’re in a house fire, but instead of grabbing a hose, we’re debating whether to use the “good” china to scoop water.
Let’s talk about greenwashing, because it’s everywhere. Major corporations love to plaster their packaging with green leaves and earthy slogans, all while polluting the planet on a scale that makes individual efforts look like drops in the bucket. Reusable bags and metal straws aren’t going to fix the fact that fossil fuel giants are dumping billions of tons of carbon into the atmosphere every year.
And let’s not let individuals off the hook either. Performative activism is rampant. Posting a meme about saving the turtles while tossing Starbucks cups in the trash isn’t activism—it’s hypocrisy. Buying electric vehicles is great, but if you’re still driving solo in a 5,000-pound car to pick up a loaf of bread, you’re missing the point.
Here’s the hard truth: most of us aren’t willing to sacrifice convenience for change. Why? Because it’s uncomfortable. We want to “save the planet,” but we don’t want to walk to work, grow our own food, or give up fast fashion.
On the farm, this hypocrisy hits close to home. Every choice we make here—every compost pile, every solar panel we’ve considered, every rain barrel we set up—is a pushback against a system that prioritizes profit over sustainability. But it’s not enough. The work we’re doing to care for our little slice of the Earth won’t matter if the rest of the world doesn’t step up.
And don’t even get me started on how agriculture gets demonized in the climate conversation. Yes, industrial farming is a problem. Monoculture crops and factory farms are disasters for the environment. But regenerative farming? That’s part of the solution. We’re proof that you can grow food in ways that heal the land, capture carbon, and support biodiversity.
But how many people are willing to make the switch? How many are willing to give up their out-of-season strawberries flown in from halfway across the world or their year-round avocados?
This isn’t just about corporations. It’s about us. It’s about every choice we make, every dollar we spend, and every habit we cling to. Change starts with questioning the systems we support. Do we really need to order next-day delivery? Do we really need individually wrapped everything? Do we really need to keep consuming as if the Earth isn’t finite?
Let’s be honest: the climate crisis is terrifying. It’s overwhelming. But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. We need to demand more from corporations, yes—but we also need to demand more from ourselves.
Because at the end of the day, the planet doesn’t need us. It’s been here for billions of years and will be here for billions more. We’re the ones who need the planet. So let’s start acting like it.
Until next time,
Traci
