You Are NOT Complicit.

Not if you're trying.

Years ago, on a sunny day in San Francisco, I was studying tragedy. My Environmental Law & Policy professor was lecturing on a pollution case. If I recall, it was a local issue with the Chevron refinery across the bay. Environmental justice was an element of the case, as the refinery harmed mostly people of colour who lived nearby. The end result was a settlement—somehow that was “justice.” The people there were still not free from pollution. The people there did not have their health problems resolved. They just had some extra cash, without apology, to either pay off their medical bills or try to leave for a better neighbourhood—perhaps leaving loved ones behind. And the refinery continued to spew shit into the air, damaging the global climate and threatening all life as we know it.

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

The class discussion took a turn: how we are all complicit in climate change and other environmental destruction because we put gas in our cars and buy food wrapped in plastic. Before I knew it, my mouth decided I’d had enough.

“That’s a lie,” I blurted out.

“What’s a lie?” My professor seemed genuinely confused.

“We are not complicit in environmental destruction. We are fighting it every day. Everyone in this room has dedicated insane amounts of money and time to get a law degree to save the planet in one form or another, to change the system. You can’t call people complicit for being born into a system they did not create. I’m a woman living in a patriarchal society, but that doesn’t mean I’m complicit in my own dehumanisation. I fight it every day. That community in Richmond fought Chevron—would you call them complicit? Would you call any person of colour complicit in white supremacy because they were born into such a system? Why do we demand perfection when it comes to systems that harm the environment? You cannot live perfectly in an imperfect system!”

The class was silent. My professor said something, but I was in no mood.

“And how are we supposed to escape the system? By moving onto a homestead, being completely off-grid? Becoming a monk high up in the mountains? Maybe our individual actions no longer directly contribute to the fossil fuel machine, but how does that actually help solve the problem? How does removing ourselves from society help those who need it most? How are we fighting climate change, fighting environmental racism, fighting any kind of injustice if we are hidden away, not participating in society at all?

This narrative that we are complicit if we do not live perfectly in harmony with the environment only benefits the conservatives, because they get to call us hypocrites—they get to say that we don’t have integrity, or that we can’t even make the ‘extreme’ changes we’re asking all of society to make. But that argument is backwards; systems must be in place for individuals to make eco-friendly choices, or simply to make everything eco-friendly, and don’t tell me it can’t be done, it already has been countless times around the world. But big oil doesn’t want you to know that, they want you feeling guilty and inadequate and obsessed with your grocery list so that you don’t have the time or the money or the energy to engage in collective action. They want you to feel like it’s your fault, to paralyse you with guilt, and it’s the biggest con in history! The destruction of the climate is not a suicide; it’s a homicide.”

I don’t remember what happened after that. Class was almost over. My professor may have said something like “interesting perspective,” I’m not sure. Later, some students told me they liked what I said.

I always loved the graffiti near my tiny San Francisco apartment.

I share this memory because it was a turning point for me. While I had known for years that British Petroleum put the first carbon footprint calculator online, something clicked. It sank in. You can know something, but it’s not fully integrated until you know it and feel it.

That day, rage welled up in my stomach about this false narrative, solidifying in my mind and heart that we are not “complicit.” I felt the need to stand up for my classmates, not necessarily against our professor, but against the narrative in general. As it goes, standing up for others changes you. I never felt climate guilt again.

I hope this little story does something for all of you—you who work every day to change the system. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re complicit—don’t let them undermine your effort, your impact, your time. You are doing the work. It won’t be perfect or immediate, but it’s better than doing nothing. Those who know of a problem and do nothing are the complicit ones.

Here’s a hug from me to all of you out there, the activists, advocates, educators, guides, caregivers, etc., doing your best to change the system for a better future. More power to you.

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