New York Times - Alexandra Yoon-Hendricks
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| “The
march is a launch,” Jamie Margolin, the founder of Zero Hour, said of
Saturday’s demonstration in Washington. “It isn’t, ‘That’s it, we’re
done.’” Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
WASHINGTON
— Some of them met on Instagram. Others coordinated during lunchtime
phone conferences. Most of them haven’t even graduated from high school.
The teenagers behind
Zero Hour
— an environmentally focused, creatively minded and technologically
savvy nationwide coalition — are trying to build a youth-led movement to
sound the alarm and call for action on climate change and environmental
justice.
For the last year, a
tight-knit group spanning both coasts has been organizing on social
media. The teenagers kicked off their campaign with a protest on
Saturday at the National Mall in Washington, along with sister marches
across the country.
As sea levels
rise, ice caps melt and erratic weather affects communities across the
globe, they say time is running out to address climate change. The core
organizing group of about 20 met with almost 40 federal lawmakers about
their platforms on Thursday, and hope to inspire other teenagers to step up and demand change.
“The
march is a launch. It isn’t, ‘That’s it, we’re done,’” said Jamie
Margolin, the founder of Zero Hour. “It means it doesn’t give them an
excuse to be like, ‘I don’t know what the kids want.’ It’s like, ‘Yes,
you do.’”
They are trying to prove
the adults wrong, to show that people their age are taking heed of what
they see as the greatest crisis threatening their generation.
“In
our generation when we talk about climate change, they’re like: ‘Ha ha,
that’s so funny. It’s not something we’ll have to deal with,’” said
Nadia Nazar, Zero Hour’s art director. “‘Oh, yeah, the polar bears will
just die, the seas will just rise.’ They don’t understand the actual
caliber of the destruction.”
The group is building off the momentum of other recent youth-led movements, such as the
nationwide March for Our Lives rallies against gun violence.
“No
one gives you an organizing guide of how to raise thousands of dollars,
how to get people on board, how to mobilize,” Ms. Margolin said. “There
was no help. It was just me floundering around with Dory-like
determination, like, ‘Just keep swimming,’” she said, referring to the
Disney movie “Finding Nemo.”
At
the Sierra Club’s Washington headquarters on Wednesday, as Zero Hour
members continued to make preparations, six of the coalition’s leaders
and founding members discussed how they became involved with the group,
and why they think it’s one of young people’s best shots at creating a
healthy, sustainable environment.
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| Ms.
Margolin said she has been overwhelmed by the response from people of
all ages to Zero Hour. “We’ve proven ourselves,” she said. Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
‘We are on the verge of something amazing’
Jamie Margolin, 16, Seattle
“I’ve
always planned my future in ifs,” Ms. Margolin said. If climate change
hasn’t destroyed this, if the environment hasn’t become that.
So
for the last few years, Ms. Margolin has worked to raise awareness
about climate justice issues. A passionate writer, she went through an
“op-ed phase,” submitting essays to publications, like one titled “An
Open Letter to Climate Change Deniers” published in the monthly magazine
Teen Ink.
Still, Ms. Margolin thought that she and other young people could — and should — be doing more.
“I
had had this idea building up since January, since the Women’s March”
last year, Ms. Margolin said. “The kind of idea that was nagging me and
you try to ignore, but it’s an idea poking you.”
At
a Princeton University summer program last year, she met other
teenagers interested in taking action on climate change and created Zero
Hour. They began to plan a huge protest in the nation’s capital. On
social media, Ms. Margolin espoused factoids and reached out to other
young activists.
A professed climate
justice advocate, Ms. Margolin has kept the movement inclusive, putting
the stories and concerns of those most directly affected by
environmental issues at the heart of Zero Hour’s mission. Youths from in
and around the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation spoke on Saturday, and
others repeatedly called attention to those killed during Hurricane
Maria and
threatened by rising sea levels in the Marshall Islands.
Since
starting Zero Hour, Ms. Margolin said she had been overwhelmed by the
response from people of all ages. Dozens of environmental advocacy
groups and nonprofits have approached the coalition, looking to donate
to or sponsor it.
“We flipped the
scenario as the underdog. We’ve proven ourselves,” she said. “We are on
the verge of something amazing. We’re going to change history.”
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| Kallan Benson has encouraged other young people to express their concerns about the climate through art. Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
Showing a movement’s artistic side
Kallan Benson, 14, Crownsville, Md.
When Ms. Benson was planning a trip to the
Peoples Climate March last year with her family, she knew she wanted to make a statement.
Ms. Benson doesn’t consider herself an artist. But a
24-foot-wide play parachute
that she covered in a gigantic monarch butterfly design and hundreds of
signatures from children in her community became a canvas for her to
display the dire future she and coming generations may face, and express
optimism that they will overcome it.
A chance encounter with the son of the founder of the nonprofit
Mother Earth Project
led Ms. Benson to encourage children around the world to create
parachutes of their own made of recycled bedsheets (to be
“environmentally conscious,” of course).
Inspired by the
AIDS Memorial Quilt
that has been unfurled on the National Mall in years past, some of
those parachutes, sent from every continent except Antarctica, were laid
out on the grass during Saturday’s march.
“The
original idea was, ‘We got to get them on the National Mall,’ but then
we thought that, ‘Well that shouldn’t be our first exhibit; it’s a
little ambitious,’” Ms. Benson said.
“Then
we talked to Zero Hour and they were like, ‘Hey, why don’t you bring
them out?’” she continued. “I never imagined it would get this far.”
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| Madelaine Tew’s finance team has raised about $70,000 for Zero Hour. Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
Where business and the environment meet
Madelaine Tew, 15, Teaneck, N.J.
As Zero Hour’s director of finance, Ms. Tew has had to get creative about securing funds and grants.
On
the day of a deadline for a major grant — $16,000 from the Common Sense
Fund — Ms. Tew’s school was hosting an event where seniors gave
presentations about their internships. But she knew the grant would be a
huge boost for Zero Hour.
“So I went
to the nurse and was like: ‘Oh, I have cramps. Can I lie down with my
computer?’” she said. “Then I just went in and wrote the whole grant.”
Her
stunt paid off. Zero Hour secured the grant, and now Ms. Tew’s finance
team, made up of students just like her, has raised about $70,000 for
the coalition.
Ms.
Tew, who attends a magnet high school where she takes classes in
business and finance, has been involved in clubs to get the school and
local businesses to adopt more renewable practices. But before meeting
Ms. Margolin at the Princeton summer program last year, she thought
those local efforts were “as far as you can go” for someone her age.
“It shifted from youth being a limitation to ‘it doesn’t matter,’” Ms. Tew said.
Though
the practices of big corporations can sometimes anger
environmentalists, for Ms. Tew, combining “my love for business and my
care, my concern for climate” just makes sense.
“In many cases you can see how the environmental movement can be rooted in the way we do business,” she said.
That could take the form of encouraging companies to divest from fossil fuel industries or having local communities
build their own solar or wind grids.
“We’re
not just talking about building more cooperative farms,” Ms. Tew said,
but also figuring out how to integrate ethical and sustainable
environmental policies into business so “we can continue the American
economy’s future.”
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| Iris Fen Gillingham believes that sustainable lifestyles are essential for the success of her generation. Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
‘Repping the younger generation’
Iris Fen Gillingham, 18, Livingston Manor, N.Y.
When
three floods in the mid- to late 2000s swept through the vegetable farm
Iris Fen Gillingham’s family owned in the Catskill Mountains, the
topsoil was washed away and their equipment was submerged, eliminating
their main source of income.
The
floods devastated Ms. Gillingham’s family, which has always lived “very
consciously with the land and with nature,” she said. Even her name,
Iris Fen, like the flower and marshy wetland behind her house, alludes
to that attachment.
“I have a pair of
mittens that are made out of one of our Icelandic sheep, Rosalie,” Ms.
Gillingham said. “My brother named her, I remember her being born and
I’ve seen her grow up and my mom sheering her and spinning the wool.”
So
when landsmen came to explore the possibility of hydraulic fracturing —
a technique of oil and gas extraction also known as fracking — in their
neighborhood when she was about 10, Ms. Gillingham joined her father,
an environmental activist, in speaking out at local meetings, often as
the youngest in the room.
“It was
always myself repping the younger generation,” Ms. Gillingham said.
“Part of that was my brother and I saying, ‘We don’t want to play on
contaminated soil,’” (The Environmental Protection Agency has concluded
that fracking
can contaminate drinking water in some circumstances.)
But
part of it was also knowing firsthand how essential a sustainable
lifestyle — growing food at home, conscious spending, building greener
homes — will be for her generation.
“We’re
setting aside our differences and we are building a family and a
community using our skills and our creativity,” Ms. Gillingham said of
the movement. “We’re having fun, we’re laughing with each other, but
we’re also talking about some pretty serious issues and injustices
happening in this country.”
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| Nadia Nazar got her start as an activist by trying to persuade people not to go to SeaWorld. Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
Linking animal rights and environmentalism
Nadia Nazar, 16, Baltimore
Before joining Zero Hour, Nadia Nazar considered herself mostly an animal-rights activist. When she was 12, she saw
a PETA video on slaughterhouses and immediately became a vegetarian.
“I had just gotten a cat,” Ms. Nazar said. “What if my cat was that cow?”
She
got her start as an activist by trying to persuade people in her
neighborhood not to go to SeaWorld, which has been criticized over its
treatment of animals. (“I was slightly successful in that.”)
Then she dug deeper into the root causes of animal suffering and death.
“I
found out how so many species are endangered by climate change, and how
many are dying and going towards extinction that we caused ourselves,”
Ms. Nazar said.
During a class, she
stumbled upon Ms. Margolin’s Teen Ink essay and followed her on
Instagram. And a little over a year ago, when Ms. Nazar saw a post by
Ms. Margolin calling for action, she knew it was her chance to put her
artistic skills to use. As art director, she helped organize a smaller
art festival on Friday, and created the majority of the graphic elements
for the coalition.
“Her story said: ‘I’m going to do it. Who wants to join me?” Ms. Nazar said. She immediately messaged Ms. Margolin. She was in.
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| Zanagee Artis said he was inspired by Ms. Margolin’s enthusiasm to do “a big, big thing.” Credit Erin Schaff for The New York Times |
Working together toward a bigger goal
Zanagee Artis, 18, Clinton, Conn.
Zanagee
Artis’s journey as an environmentalist began in the same place many
other budding activists get their start — in a high school club.
During
his junior year, he had big ambitions for his school: the building
facilities department would finally start recycling white paper,
students would start composting their food waste and the lunchroom would
be free of plastic foam trays.
“I’m
going to accomplish all these things and I’m going to go to the
administration and tell them, ‘Stuff needs to change,’” Mr. Artis said.
But,
he said, “nothing ever happened.” Mr. Artis said the problem was clear:
Without engaging other students who might be interested, change was
unlikely to happen.
So he started a
sustainability committee within the school’s National Honor Society, and
the results spoke for themselves. The group was able to buy the school
an
aquaponic system
— a tank-based farming system that combines hydroponics (water-based
planting) and aquaculture (fish cultivation) — and raise $700 to install
water bottle refilling stations.
“So
we accomplished all these things because we worked together as a
community, and that’s how I feel about the climate movement,” he said.
Still,
Mr. Artis said he “really didn’t think I could do much” beyond his
local community until he met Ms. Margolin and Ms. Tew last summer at
Princeton. Inspired by Ms. Margolin’s enthusiasm to do “a big, big
thing,” Mr. Artis became Zero Hour’s logistics director, in charge of
submitting permits for Saturday’s march, estimating attendance numbers,
checking for counterprotests and helping sister marches with logistical
issues.
“I was like, ‘Yes!’” he said with a satisfying clap. “‘Let’s do it.’”
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