Victoria Bogatz
Bellevue, NE
2024, Senior, Creative Writing

My name is Victoria Bogatz.

I have a lot of climate anxiety.

I also have a loud voice.

And when these two things collided at the beginning of my sophomore year, it resulted in
a slew of writing and speaking as I campaigned for climate action. But let’s start at the beginning.

Environmental issues have hung heavy over my head since elementary school, when I tied up my blond hair in a ponytail so I could pick up trash in my local creek. I sorted through my green and blue colored pencils to craft recycling signs for my third-grade classroom. I unearthed a yellowing book from my basement called 50 Simple Things Kids Can Do To Save The Earth and read it ten times over, dragging my family into waste reduction activities and gardening.

I was a smart kid. It didn’t take me long to figure out that the environment was falling apart– and that humans were causing it. As I got older, it frustrated me to no end. I could see the big-picture impacts of driving to school every day and using Styrofoam trays at lunch, but I was never sure how to change any of it. So I started to speak up. I asked my elementary school principal if we could switch to reusable lunch trays. She said it would be too expensive, but applauded my efforts. I wrote to my senators and congresspeople, pleading with them to act on climate change. They returned eloquent promises that they never kept. Late at night, I composed angry poems that I never showed anyone. Climate change is an issue that keeps me up at night, I would think, so why does no one else seem to care? My whole body felt hot. My pen began to rip through the paper.

I got sick of depressing headlines and inaction, but I didn’t know how to channel that energy into anything productive. So I did the only thing I knew– I kept writing.

In my competitive speech class, I penned an oratory about climate anxiety. It was a deeply personal topic for me. I wrote about how witnessing the effects of climate change firsthand, along with doomsday news coverage, exacerbates climate anxiety. As I wrote, I thought of the Nebraska droughts and heat waves that seemed to crop up more frequently and more intensely. I thought about the week we held cross-country practice indoors because the air was so dangerously thick with heat. I thought about the browning grass of my front lawn, curling upwards in the relentless sun. Because even if the impacts of climate change seemed small, they were slowly creeping up on us. The headlines in the local paper would call out climate disasters halfway across the world, but they never seemed to recognize that the cycle of droughts and floods devastating our state could be caused by the same global warming. Record-breaking heat started to seem normal, but there was still an undercurrent of unease. I felt helpless. I felt like I was watching the world fall apart before my eyes.

But my speech had a turnaround. In my third point, I explained that the best way to ease climate anxiety was through collective climate action. I started to understand why my solo trash pickups never felt like enough. I needed a community. I needed to realize that I was not alone in this fight. I needed to take my own damn advice.

I became more active in my high school environmental club, Green Initiative. We held a roadside cleanup in the biting autumn wind, and seeing all the trash we had collected piled in yellow bags on the side of the road made my heart swell with pride. Here was real, tangible evidence that other people cared about the environment– and that if we worked together, we could achieve change. I started to crave a climate community. Later that fall, I attended the Nebraska Youth Climate Summit.

I almost didn’t go. I had been missing school constantly for cross-country, and I was tired of making up classwork. But after my dad reminded me of my burning desire to do something about climate change, I got called out of school and drove to the state capital for the summit. Pink notebook in hand, I was ready for a day of learning.

I’m so glad I went. That summit changed everything for me. I took pages of notes and saw myself reflected in the youth climate leaders who spoke. I chowed down on the vegan lunch. At the end of the summit, one of the speakers mentioned a local youth environmental group that she had loved being a part of– Students for Sustainability.

Two weeks later, I DM’d their Instagram asking to join. I showed up to my first meeting with my screw the patriarchy bracelet and a stomach full of social anxiety. I had no idea what was going on; the other kids were strangers. But I got an exhilarating glimpse of what it was like to be part of a group that took real action. These teenagers didn’t wait around for adults to organize events. They— we– took the initiative. I slowly became part of the group as we attended Earth Day events and community meetings about the city’s upcoming climate action plan. I’ll never forget our April climate strike. I stood on the bridge above Dodge Street and held up a hand-painted sign urging climate action. It was electrifying to take up space like that, demanding systemic change in my frizzy hair and sneakers.

I kept writing. I wrote articles for the school newspaper on my school’s new composting and recycling programs. The composting program especially thrilled me. Not only would it limit the school lunchroom waste that I had been complaining about for years, but it would reduce the emission of greenhouse gasses from landfills– emissions that directly cause climate change. I was determined to raise awareness about these efforts. I wrote another speech, this time to the school board, asking them to fund the composting program. The Green Initiative had scraped together money for grants, but it wouldn’t last. I wanted the school board to care as much about the environment as we did, and not only to care, but to prove that they did with action. I was, and am still, infuriated by our leaders’ empty promises. I am tired of them applauding us, being so proud of the youth daring to speak up, and thinking that’s enough. However, I still have immense respect for my district’s school board. That’s why I wanted to push them to support the environment more– because I had faith in their intentions. I simply wished to see them follow through.

So I delivered my speech for the school board. And I did it again for the City Council a few months later, informing them about our composting efforts and urging them to act on climate change.

It’s still hard. I’m still frustrated with the general public’s oblivion to the systems destroying our world. When I pick up recycling with my Green Initiative friends, I sometimes struggle to care about the environment when we’re bearing the brunt of the work and people are trying to recycle walking tacos. But every time that a hopeless headline– or a walking taco in the recycling bin– makes me want to cry, I remember that there’s a seed of optimism sprouting elsewhere. I remember the teachers who thank us for picking up their recycling with smiles on their faces. I remember the sound of my voice, shaky but sure, as I pleaded with the city council about climate change. I remember my own hopeful headline below the fold of my school newspaper, joyously declaring the arrival of the new composting program.

I wish I hadn’t spent so much time wasting away in my room, worrying myself silly instead of finding ways to take action. I think everyone should act on climate change, even if that action is small. Find your strengths– whether that be writing about climate change, organizing protests, or helping install renewable energy systems. Find a community. Do what makes you happy. But don’t forget your anxiety and anger; rather, channel it into your own climate revolution.

In a way, my climate story could be anyone’s story. I hope it will echo the stories of other youth who found empowerment in climate action, who believed that they had the power to make change. Because we all have that power.

My name is Victoria Bogatz.

I have a lot of climate anxiety.

I also have a loud voice.

I’m telling you my climate story now, but I’ve told it a dozen times already, because
storytelling is how I change the world.

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I Kept Writing: My Journey With Storytelling as Climate Action