Channel Kindness

by Born This Way Foundation Reporters

  How did this day come about? How did Ava, age seventeen, and I, age fifteen, decide to make this journey? What were we intent on learning from this visit and sharing with others? Where did our interest in the village of Newtok begin?

  Interestingly enough, our connection to all inhabitants of Alaska’s coastal villages dates back to a time in childhood when we received the gift of a cookbook, of all things, from our great-aunt. It was called The Shishmaref Day School Class of 1973 Eskimo Cookbook, a flimsy thin paperback of rumpled pages that changed my life.

  Shishmaref today, about 370 miles north of Newtok, is a poster child for climate-forced relocation. A village built on ice that is now vanishing, it will rapidly be uninhabitable. But when we were little girls, to us, it was an unspoiled spot on the map that offered food items like “Eskimo Ice Cream” and had other preparations of meals totally unlike those we were raised with.

  “Skin the seal, boil the blubber…” we read, our eyes wide with wonder. Adding salt was about as flavorful as any of it got.

  The recipes, vastly different from our own, left in our imaginations an indelible mark of curiosity and excitement that made us eager to follow stories of the real-life characters living in a world away from us. We felt as if we got to know the people personally. The expressions of pride and love they had for their land tugged at our hearts, drawing us closer to the villagers, connecting us so much that they didn’t seem so distant.

  Later, when we first heard of the Shishmaref relocation plight, we asked ourselves how families within the same country we inhabit could face problems so different from anything we had to confront. We had to do something. We had to help tell their story, and not just what was happening to the people of Shishmaref but also to the many other villagers up and down Alaska’s coasts who are now facing the harshest of realities.

  So, for those two years before our planned expedition, we spent our time doing extensive research, and that was how we came across the looming crisis for the people of Newtok. Surrounding the village on three of its sides is the Ninglick River. For years the river has eaten away at the land, sweeping it away forever with the tide, which empties into the Bering Sea. As temperatures rapidly increase, the permafrost underneath Newtok has continued to thaw. This has resulted in the erosion of approximately one hundred feet of land every year, pushing the water’s edge ever closer to villagers.

  From Romy Cadiente, Newtok’s village relocation coordinator, we learned that cemeteries, schools, and houses will be swept away in only a few years. Other villages also struggling with the rising threat of relocation have turned to seawalls to add time to their race against nature. However, Newtok is too fragile and low-lying for the seawalls to hold.

  This is not a question of if but rather of when. And when the land is overtaken by water, everyone’s lives will be in danger. Relocation to a new village is actually the only choice Newtok has.

  Even before we arrived in Alaska, the pending trauma of Newtok’s relocation led me to realize that the villagers are being forced to become refugees—not of war but of climate change.

  The more we learned, the more Ava and I felt a bond with Newtok that motivated us to do something bold and attention-getting, if only to raise awareness of the crisis. How many even know that whole villages are being forced to move due to weather-induced changes? It’s a clear warning of what’s to come in our collective future—a perilous fate if we don’t start to become better prepared.

  The way I see it, society has to work its way back to start erasing the damage we created in order to move forward. And the first step in accomplishing that is to become educated. To that end, Ava and I decided to chronicle the story of our trip to Newtok in a documentary.

  The moment when our plane touched down in Anchorage, Alaska, Ava and I exchanged looks of nervous anticipation. We were about to meet many of the people we’d come to know only through emails and phone calls. We wasted little time in moving forward with a series of interviews. It didn’t take long to find out that all we had studied from afar was very real.

  “The heat and rising sea levels have been making my salmon take different routes,” one local told us. “Me and my buddy … now we need to travel far from home to go to different streams. The gas money for the travel … you know, it all counts.”

  The seriousness of climate change was definitely on the radar of the Alaskan youth we met. “I thought about not having kids because I don’t want them to grow up in a world where it’s so uncertain because of climate change,” said Alex Jorgensen, Arctic Youth Ambassador.

  The thought occurred to me—it is this uncertainty in weather that frightens so many, understandably so, and what drives my initiative. If we know that weather uncertainty is uncontrollable, let’s focus our energy on something we can control. Our preparedness.

  From Anchorage, we flew to Bethel, and from there, we chartered a small nine-seater propeller plane to Newtok—where the most welcoming faces greeted my sister and me along with our team. They were visibly excited by our presence and by the fact that somehow two teens from Manhattan cared deeply about the ancestral land their Yupik culture was built upon.

  ATVs (all-terrain vehicles) picked us up from the airstrip. We drove on uneven planks of wood that acted as narrow roads atop the pervasive mud, just wide enough for the ATVs to traverse. As we drove, everyone waved to us. The air was clear and we were able to observe that the nearby water’s edge was being held back by only a limp wall of eroded land.

  Romy let us film a presentation he gave about the ominous erosion of the Alaskan coastline. Pointing to visuals on the screen, he said, “It may look like a map to you, but that flooding is right outside this door right here.”

  Even though relocation is the only option for Newtok, the largest logistical problem is that the price tag for the villagers to move all at once to their new village of Mertarvik is far too steep. A report by the US Army Corps of Engineers concluded that it would cost upward of $80 million or more. Nine miles away, Mertarvik sits atop a dark volcanic rock on Nelson Island. During the winter months, getting there will take approximately thirty minutes by snowmobile, and, of course, the trek involves crossing the Ninglick River.

  Fortunately, because it was summer when we visited, Ava and I were able to travel the nine miles by boat. We witnessed construction crews working on the first phase of infrastructure—running water, a sewer system, and six new homes. Working against the clock, a big push for construction has to happen in summer, as the colder months bring brutal storms and water levels that rapidly rise.

  All of this has spelled enormous trouble for the residents of Newtok, but they’re not alone in their worry. Nor is the crisis confined to Alaska. According to reports by the US Geological Survey (USGS), Louisiana is losing its coastline at the rate of one football field every one hundred minutes. Not only that, but NPR reports that more than half of the state’s population lives on the coast. States like Massachusetts, California, Texas, and Florida, as well as many countries outside of the US, are struggling with the same issues. Nonprofit organization Climate Central projected that the greatest sea level increase will occur on the shores of New York City. Significant storm surges, such as 2012’s Hurricane Sandy, will become more frequent and more impactful.

  We tend to assume that whatever happens weather-wise in a location as far away as the Arctic could never directly impact our weather. Not so. In fact, in early 2014, frigid air from the Arctic traveled to the Northern Hemisphere, causing extreme weather in multiple places, creating fifty daily record low temperatures on January 6 alone. Today, the Arctic continues to warm two times faster than the global average. What this is doing to the rest of the planet must not only be recognized but action must be taken. It’s a fact that climate-induced relocation is the extreme result of the weather shifts occurring around the world.

  Thank you for sharing this beautiful part of the world with us, Brooke, and for all that you and your sister, Ava, are doing to help it thrive for futur
e generations. Your enthusiasm and passion to protect the environment remind us that being kind includes being kind to the planet. I hope this story inspires us all to go green—recycle, plant a tree, green your commute, or reduce your carbon footprint. To watch Brooke’s documentary and support her climigration project, check out her nonprofit, Climigrate; and for more information about protecting and conserving the environment, visit Greenpeace or 350.org.

  The documentary that Ava and I set out to make, CLIMIGRATION: Our Generation’s Battle, is helping others learn about the issue and how it impacts communities across the globe. Because we were raised to care about the fate of those different from us—through an obscure cookbook given to us as children, no less—this for us is a labor of love. The message of our mission to Newtok is clear, but equally important is our emphasis on how we all have to get involved, however we can.

  It is my generation that most needs to see what’s happening in Alaska as a wake-up call for action. We need to be informed about extreme weather preparedness and not wait for another crisis to occur for it to become yet another cry for help.

  My sister and I feel so passionate about stimulating change to create a safer world for our generation that, in addition to our documentary, we created climigrate.org—a nonprofit that seeks to educate at-risk populations on climigration (the forced migration of a population due to climate change).

  One of our most important goals now is to raise money for the people of Newtok so they can move safely to Mertarvik. Once they were a tiny village that resembled another spot on the Alaska coast, known to us only for its seal-flavored Eskimo Ice Cream and other local delicacies. But now, as part of our human family, they are in desperate need of relocation funding, and we can’t turn away without doing all that we can to help.

  By taking action, we are putting kindness to work, proving that age is no barrier to action nor an excuse for inaction when it comes to caring for all who live on this earth, the only home we have.

  23

  INTERNATIONAL Day OF SELF-LOVE

  SANAH JIVANI

  I would like to tell you that the toughest day of my life began the morning I woke up to find all my hair on my pillow. But that was not really the toughest day of my life.

  It was definitely soul-crushing, though—a sight I’ll never forget. The mere thought of getting out of bed overwhelmed me. Even more terrifying was the idea of looking at myself in the mirror. When I finally did muster the strength to face the mirror, I could barely stand, let alone breathe. Fear and self-hatred immediately filled my being.

  Will I ever be able to truly love myself again?

  It was a long time before I could answer that, but I was soon diagnosed with alopecia universalis, an autoimmune condition that causes complete hair loss. My immediate reaction was to rush out and purchase a wig to hide the condition. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to see what I saw in the mirror that morning.

  When I walked into school for the first time after my diagnosis, it seemed rumors instantly began to spread about why I was wearing a wig. The bullying was endless, cruel and, well, original. From gum in my wig to a note in my locker with the words 50 Ways to Go Kill Yourself, I was heartbroken in every way. Some kids even created an online page to make fun of me, posting status updates with still more guesses as to why I was wearing a wig.

  More and more days stood in as candidates for Worst Day Ever until one particular afternoon, by chance, I noticed something that made my bleak day slightly better. All this time, people had been saying mean things to me, but the things I said to myself were ten times worse. Every day I would come home, look in the mirror, and add to the bullying that was already going on.

  Was self-bullying a real thing? Apparently for me, it was. In that moment of realization, I knew the first step in getting past my insecurity was learning to be kinder to myself. For starters, I consciously looked for ways to practice self-love and self-care. The investment in myself, by myself slowly but surely paid off. Once I learned to love and stand up for myself, the bullying really died down. My worth had nothing to do with what hair was on my head, and in a way, the fact that I had lived through such a hard passage and was dealing with the reality of my diagnosis made me feel bravely beautiful for who I am as a strong person. With that understanding, finally, I could feel at peace with myself, and it was a joy I had never before experienced.

  Then, another powerful realization struck me: I wanted to share this joy with others. Though I wasn’t sure how, I had a quirky idea that was hard to shake. What if, I wondered, there was a day where people could truly appreciate themselves? What if there was a day when we did not have to feel tied down by insecurities? What if there was a day that had nothing to do with other people validating us but everything to do with our own self-validation?

  With those thoughts, I developed the framework for the International Day of Self-Love—a day that lets us feel free to be ourselves. I decided to designate the celebration to be held on February 13, the day before Valentine’s Day; after all, it’s important to love and appreciate you before investing in others.

  Since developing the concept in 2011, this day has spread to more than a hundred schools in twenty-eight countries, reaching more than fifty thousand students. Schools that participate in the International Day of Self-Love receive free curriculum materials to help with building the skills of loving oneself. Often for the first time, students are taught the important practices of self-love and self-care.

  In 2018, a school in Bloomington, Illinois, decided to dress in “YOU-niforms”—plain white shirts on which students wrote an insecurity. Throughout the day, their peers wrote kind comments on their shirts to help them accept and embrace the quality they feel most insecure about. How amazing and inspiring. A school in Westerville, Ohio, decided that their theme one year was “Grow in Confidence.” They crafted a large tree in the cafeteria, where each leaf symbolized a strength of a student.

  A school in New York City decided to put an encouraging sticky note on each door, locker, window, and wall. They wanted to make sure students felt encouraged and inspired in every way.

  How can I begin to decide what has been the best day of my life so far? The contest will be between last year’s International Day of Self-Love and next year’s. I only hope it continues to grow every year, ultimately becoming a holiday that will someday be printed on every calendar around the globe.

  Why not?

  Never second-guess the power of an idea that channels kindness.

  When we talk about kindness, we often forget to talk about kindness to ourselves. For me, being kind to myself includes cooking, meditating, playing with my dogs, and being surrounded by friends and family. It’s not easy to learn how to be kind to yourself and to find a habit of self-love, and I applaud Sanah for learning to love herself. You are worthy of love, Sanah. We all are. We are all beautiful inside and out, and I encourage you to take a moment to write three things you love about yourself in the space below, and if you’d like to support Sanah in her mission to spread self-love, visit International Natural Day.

  24

  LEARNING TO LIVE LIFE AS IS

  PERRI EASLEY

  The most anxious time of my life crashed around me in the middle of the eleventh grade. Even though I’d been warned that junior year is the year that counts, I didn’t know how bad the pressure could be until it happened.

  Part of it is external. Students are constantly reminded that eleventh grade is one of the last times colleges and universities can see academic excellence. We hear how imperative it is to take a rigorous course load and also achieve high grades. On top of that, we have extracurriculars and other commitments vying for our time.

  The other part is internal—at least, it is for many of us who place high demands on ourselves. That’s who I had always been. People usually saw me as an accomplished go-getter and a bubbly, energetic girl, never seen without a smile on her face, someone who was always confident and upbeat. Deep down, I knew that
wasn’t the full story, but my ultra-happy, super-confident image was something I never tried to change.

  The pressure from outside and from within drained me—to the point where I no longer felt like myself at all. Even as I sank into what was soon unmistakably depression, I continued to hide behind my usual façade of happiness. The mask felt safer, offering some security despite being detrimental to my true well-being. So I played that part well, and I continued to suppress my true feelings and my worry that deep down I was becoming an unhappy, stressed-out girl who always wanted more and who could never simply live her life as is.

  Growing up, the truth is that I’d never been able to accept myself as is. Instead I had to be smarter, prettier, more personable, better. This drive to achieve may have motivated me to strive for excellence, but by junior year it had taken a tremendous toll on my disposition and overall well-being.

  Everyone noticed changes in me—my teachers, my family members, and my circle of friends and supporters. Even I saw a change in myself. Before long, I had to admit that it was time to seek some assistance.

  Two months before the end of the school year, I was officially diagnosed with depression. It did not come as a surprise, though. Something was wrong because I had lost touch with who I was, so if I was depressed, I had to hope that knowing there was a name for it would help me get to solid ground again. Or that’s what I tried to tell myself as I struggled to come to grips with my depression.

  The more I focused on what was wrong with me, the harder it became to find anything that was right with me. As noted by the National Alliance on Mental Illness, some of the most common signs of depression are trouble sleeping, moody behavior, and abnormal eating patterns. These symptoms, however, are often attributed to the typical stressed-out, overworked teenager. No one seemed to know or be able to tell me if this was just part of my presumed “teenage angst” or if it represented something larger. Answers were not fast in coming.