There was a time when we didn’t know what the concept of fear was. We didn’t know that being afraid was a feeling. We didn’t even know that our minds could opt out of pursuing the dreams we so eagerly want to see come true. Don’t remember? Tap back into a time when you were eight years old with me.

I was eight, and my sister was five. Every summer was at the sea. Everyone else was flying to other countries, but we were in Sri Lanka, by her beaches. We’d go the extra mile of building sandcastles with deep moats to let the sea water protect our sand fortresses. We didn’t care that the salt water would fill our tummies or that the sand would intertwine in our hair and make us pretend we were the Little Mermaid searching for our Prince Charming. My sister and I never had a conversation about being afraid of the ocean and her mighty waves; the sea never gave us a reason to stay away from her. Over and over again, we wanted the force of the waves to push us back to shore and graze our knees on the sand, only to chase the waves back to their home and find shells under our tiny feet. Fear didn’t exist in this era of childhood where my playground was the water. How could it? I still remember the feeling of going so far out that I had enough space to dive under the water and watch as the waves rolled over us—the closest I could get to a rainbow. So far out into the sea that the lifeguards would need to whistle us back to shore, as I sat on my dad’s shoulders.

The shore had its own mini adventures. My mum and I once sat on the soft, steamy sand under the sun as these two ladies in bikinis offered us murruku, a crispy salty, spicy Sri Lankan snack. And my little eight-year-old mind wondered, ‘‘huh, these ‘non-Sri Lankan’ looking ladies in bikinis are offering Sri Lankan snacks… to me?’’ That thought ended quite quickly. But how often now do we feel such openness and comfort to be openly kind and offering without expecting anything in return?

I only ask because the world took away my story and gave us its own. That’s what the world turned into right? Or I guess that’s how it’s always been? The world took the sea from our hands and molded her into something she didn’t want to be—the world is ripping her of her children, her underwater homes, her gardens, her unknown, undiscovered families. The world forgot that there are many more little boys and girls out there, just like me, just like you, who only want to enjoy the sea for its freedom. For its peace. For its might and strength.

But no. The world didn’t want to hear my voice. Only its own, now trapping my best friend in everlasting polluted shackles, while she screams silently for freedom. Yes, I remember the ocean for what it used to be, because how can you ever blame an eight-year-old for creating her own stories and dreams by the water? But today, I see her as a distant friend tethered to those who want to rule this world; those who did not see her as enough.

Never misunderstand my words, for I know the ocean is powerful and fearless in her own right. I know she will fight her fights. But listen to her, because she is also fragile. She also needs protection. The world took away my playground, my friend. I may have grown up, but she stood by the whole way, wisdomous and free.

I was raised by a climate denier in the largest oil-producing state in the US: Texas. My dad told me that climate change was just an exaggeration made up by politicians, and a completely normal phenomenon that we didn’t have to worry or care about. 

Though I remember vividly caring for the environment growing up, and even trying to convince my fourth-grade class to take on recycling, my dad’s perspective, and my community—who didn’t bat an eye when I talked about my love for the environment and the natural world —locked me into believing that climate change, and caring about this earth, wasn’t a worthwhile effort. So you can imagine my surprise when my high school world geography teacher, Mrs. Stewart, taught a lesson on climate change and environmental pollution in our very first month at school. 

For this lesson, I had to argue in a debate that acid rain was not a significant enough environmental harm to warrant a change in the status quo of business. Out of my deep love for the earth, I begged my teacher to let me switch debate roles, from “business executive” to “environmentalist.” But she explained that, in order to change the status quo, I would need to understand the different perspectives around me, and the ways that other people love the earth in a different way. Shockingly, I won the debate, but I remember being incredibly annoyed. I didn’t understand how anyone debating away our future, our planet, and our home could ever win such an argument. 

With every passing day, debating climate change with my dad became a ritual in our home and over meals. Drawing upon what I had learned from Mrs. Stewart, I realized that in order to change my dad’s perspective, I would have to connect climate science and the ways that I love the earth to other issues that he cares about: homelessness and a strong economy (which is probably no surprise for someone coming from Texas). 

One day, I asked my dad how he would feel if I was homeless in the heat of the South Texas summer—which, by this time, we both agreed had gotten a lot hotter in the last 20 years that he had lived there. We both shared the hope that I wouldn’t be in that situation, and we agreed that having a strong economy with workforce development opportunities was really important—or at least helpful—for preventing homelessness. As we ended the discussion, I asked him, “Well, if we agree that it’s getting hotter, and that a strong economy can help prevent homelessness, then do we not also agree that climate change’s potential impact on the economy is significant enough to warrant action? And that even if it’s not, would it be such a bad thing to try to make this world a better place for me, and my future, and all of us in this community together?” 

At this point, we would normally laugh and joke because, yet again, I had brought climate change into another one of our discussions. We would begrudgingly agree to disagree and wait for the next debate. But on this day, my dad shocked me when he said, “Well, I guess that does make sense. Good thing you’re doing something about it.”

It was those words—that tiny little sentence—that made me realize, at that moment, that If I could change my father’s mind about climate change, then I could change so many more, one conversation and one action at a time. And so, empowered by this shift, instead of longing to be an activist, I decided: why don’t I become one? Don’t get me wrong—I was terrified. I wondered, what would my community think of me? What would my friends back home, who didn’t share the same love that I do for this earth, think of me? What would other activists think? Who was I to share this space with activists with stories of loss and damage of their culture and their childhoods, who don’t get to experience nature the same way they used to—stories that my experience can’t compare to. I am just a normal girl from Texas, who cares about the environment. 

But as I entered climate activism, I realized that none of those things mattered. I joined political movements and protests for the very first time at 21 years old. Unfortunately, during the 2022 United Nations climate conference, my dad suddenly passed away. Instead of flying home right away, my biggest cheerleader—my mom—encouraged me to stay and achieve the goals I had set in honor of my dad. So, drawing on my experience debating my dad and in Mrs. Stewart’s class, I went into action. And although I was sad, I left the conference excited, because I had been able to work together with hundreds of different civil society members, youth, activists, and leaders to get a novel agreement from 198 countries: the first-ever inclusion of young people as stakeholders in designing and implementing climate policies. 

My dad’s influence and my community could have prevented me from joining the climate movement, they ended up becoming my inspiration. Even though he’s no longer here, my dad continues to inspire me to keep pushing everyone around me to love the earth as much as I do, but in the way that they want to love the earth—and by doing so, gaining the ability to recognize what they love, understand their perspectives, and persevere without fear to empower everyone around me to care for the climate.

I’ve spent so many years hoping that something would happen, something that would make the world wake up and act. But climate change seems to be the only existential threat that humans don’t care about. What really bugged me was that not even my friends or family seemed to change, and it didn’t make sense, because they are intelligent and caring people who are well aware of the climate crisis. 

Why weren’t they doing more? It felt like when a friend has lost a loved one, and you know that no matter what you say or do, nothing can make things better.

So one day I stopped. I stopped being a climate activist. I stopped being the annoying one who constantly brought up the climate crisis. I stopped burning. 

And for a year I lived in this place I call the “Fairy-Tale World,” where so many people around me live. In the Fairy-Tale World, it’s enough to only care. There is no such thing as mass extinction or climate budgets, and you can talk about having kids without worrying about the thawing permafrost.

At first it was nice to be in the Fairy-Tale World. It was quite nice to be able to go to a party and not become “Climate Cecilia.” It was lovely to have space left for other things, and I became happier and lighter when I wasn’t constantly thinking about the climate collapse. I dropped some of my judgment towards my friends and family. I understood that it was easier to ignore the climate crisis than to really take it in, because that didn’t require anything of you, mentally or physically.

But this was also the thing that made me burn again, because I really, really wanted the world to take it all in. I wanted the world to be shaken to the core. I wanted it to fuel the transition.

I used to imagine how it would be the day the world woke up. I imagined I was entering the metro station, and everything was the same, yet different. The tempo was slower, and people were kinder, because everyone felt the burden and understood that kindness was needed. The billboards of the city were covered with environmental prompts, and it didn’t matter how many pages you turned in the newspaper, because it was all about the climate emergency and the ecological crisis. 

The other day I was listening to the radio on my way to work, and in one of the stories, a man declared that we wouldn’t be able to reach the 1.5-degree target. It was just a parenthesis, a side note mentioned like it was nothing. A tank ran over my chest. No big headlines, no press conferences, and still no awakenings. I was completely crushed.

My friend asked me, “But what do you want to happen?”

And I wanted to go on about how we need to halve our emissions every decade until we reach net zero by 2050. I wanted to stress that we have all the solutions, and we just need to act. But I knew she was asking me the same question that I’ve been wondering about for years: “What needs to happen for the world to truly wake up?”

I wish I knew the answer to that question.

Hello, Hello, Hello 

I call… 

While I’ll sleep here too, I feel the coldest nights go by. 

Where I’m under House Arrest 

While I have no choice but to sleep on a wooden floor, with no comfort, with no warmth but my voice to amplify my voice 

While I have complex needs with hidden disabilities, who is a Young Black Male Activist / Campaigner. Who is calling for systematic change in Equity and Climate Justice. 

While I’m stripped Bare from life, to breathe, to live, to see another day. 

While campaigning I am Physiologically abused for nearly half of my life, bullied, threatened and harassed by Public Sector & Social Services. To my own first years Educational life in local mainstream Education at eight half years of age. Who are not Educationally Qualified, however being directed by a not fit for purpose misconduct local authority by the name of Achieving for Children. When this is a matter of payment, accountability with delivery has been asked, but falls short to be seen. After six years of being denied an Education. 

While there was a victory for a short time after a six years’ battle by Mother of Pearl, for entitled human right of an Education by individual choice. However this Local Authority of Richmond Upon Thames Council by the name of Achieving for Children, could not bear but to sabotage the victory. With unlawful misconduct behavior. Which went against Human Rights and Duty of candor in the element of Special Educational Needs. 

While Education must always be about Education. My Educational years will never be returned back, my Educational years are not a Refund or a Buy one get one Tree. Trees are for the environment to breathe for another, breath for our one Earth. 

While we then find my case having a plus continue lost provision road of being denied Education since 2017. 

While facing Homelessness to being asked to pay for rent as a result of not being entitled due to the shortfalls within my education. When the Educational Profile has been doctored by the very misconduct local authority, of an individual who does not have hidden disabilities and an individual who is able. When I am not able and I have hidden complex disabilities. 

While: each day, I ask myself why am I discriminated against, why am I who I am, why am I discriminated against for my high complex creative high IQ. Is it a crime to be a passionate individual about Education, when we are never too old to learn or to be educated? 

While we call for the importance of Equity, we call for systematic change, we call for world peace, we call for the Paris Agreement, we call for Lost and Damaged, we call for
independent anti-corruption / money laundering task force to be created, we call for a non-commodity society, we call for Climate Justice, we call for British New Voting System, we call for British Sovereignty, we call for an Abolishment of NATO for enabling international peace, we call for Independent Investigation of all Local Authorities especially Richmond Upon Thames Council, Achieving for Children, with the important element of a Public Inquiry. 

While a list of vital demands could go on, I share this real continued experience story, which gives a glimpse of my House Arrest neglected narrative. With the world’s message of social change. 

We are unstoppable, anything is possible. 

Find your own inner Signature Uniqueness.