I have a confession to make. Last week, I ate salami.

That is not a rare occurrence, even though I am a self-branded “environmentalist” who gave up red meat in middle school to mitigate my personal carbon footprint.

I am incredibly passionate about leading a sustainable lifestyle that embodies my values and sets an example for others. I lead this lifestyle every day, salami aside, even though a part of me knows that one individual action is not going to make or break whether our world gets through the climate crisis. 

And, believe me, I understand the reality of the crisis. I dedicate—almost all of—my time to organizing county-wide climate rallies, emailing congressional aides to book private meetings with politicians, and pushing for highly impactful climate policy like Make Polluters Pay or a nationwide carbon tax. 

I am knee-deep in grasstops climate advocacy, but progress is incredibly slow. So, as our world burns, there are a few specific times that I have felt completely burnt out from fighting to save the planet and its humans. In those moments, I have lost motivation to lead my youth policy group meetings, to make public comments at city council, or to start a new sustainability initiative at school. 

I have pushed through that grief and numbness—not by achieving groundbreaking climate policy—but by doing what I can through the smaller, individual things: giving up red meat, using a reusable water bottle, resisting a microtrend, avoiding plastic when I can, driving an electric car or taking public transport, and trying to not waste food. I talk with my friends, family, and strangers about sustainable choices, and I post eco-tip videos to my environmental social media page. 

The reason that I care about living sustainably is twofold. First, my family comes from an immigrant background, I’m third-generation Taiwanese, and some things about waste reduction are simply intrinsic to how we live. We stuff plastic bags in a drawer so we can reuse them later, save a paper towel to be used once more, and cook bitter watermelon rinds into soup. 

Funnily enough, we do these individual actions for economical reasons—and, yet, they are coincidentally the most thrifty and sustainable, too. 

So, while I understand how a sustainable lifestyle can be perceived as an inaccessible, luxury experience—expensive “slow fashion,” eco-luxe beauty products, and bougie organic groceries—I firmly believe that living sustainably is accessible. For example, shopping at Goodwill is not a luxury experience, but thrifting is great for the environment by promoting a circular economy.

Second, I worry that saying, “I have no individual responsibility towards protecting our world against climate change” can be a cop-out: a way to avoid taking any action at all to support the sustainable future that young people are fighting tirelessly for. 

I know that we should pin blame on big polluters and irresponsible governments, but one individual making non-eco-friendly choices will also—let’s be clear—harm the environment. Sure, refusing a plastic water bottle will not save us, but putting one extra plastic bottle into the environment is one more risk to a sea turtle. 

Finally, I want to stress that embracing environmentalism doesn’t have to be seen as a sacrifice, but instead something you’re gaining. If you’re thrifting clothes, you’re gaining clothes without the lead that SHEIN and H&M’s apparel have. If you’re avoiding red meat, you’re choosing a healthier diet and finding more tasty plant-based options. If you’re choosing not to drink from a plastic water bottle, you’re gaining a reusable bottle that isn’t going to fill your body with microplastics. 

The way we correct institutional problems is by walking the talk. I know that, one day, our world will have a more circular and sustainable economy because of what’s already happening today: our societies and economies are beginning to realize that a consumerist and unsustainable model cannot last forever. So, as cheesy as it sounds, why not leap toward the future with a tote bag in hand?