The Color of Climate Anxiety (and Kid Questions)
Exploring race, reproductive anxiety, and how environmental injustice affects people’s bodies
As we mark World Mental Health Day, Hurricane Milton is shocking the world, right after Hurricane Helene robbed so much of so many. Milton transformed from a tropical storm to a Category 5 hurricane in just 36 hours. Meteorologists were left speechless. One veteran scientist at NBC6 Miami broke down in tears on air. Personally I’m very terrified right now for the people in Florida who aren’t able to evacuate, who we know will be disproportionately made up of the elderly, those living with various disabilities, the unhoused, the poor…
This tragedy is a direct result of the fossil fuel industry’s greed, and their decades of deception that have knowingly driven our planet to the brink. The oceans are warming, the atmosphere is destabilizing—and neither are “natural.” It’s the legacy of burning fossil fuels at reckless rates, despite years of warnings from scientists, activists, and frontline communities.
The fossil fuel industry has spent billions burying the truth, and we’re paying for it with our lives, our sanity, and our future. So as we reflect on World Mental Health Day, let’s not just talk about how to cope and feel better, let’s talk about our reasonable anger, and focus on how we can connect with each other to channel our distress into empowerment and courage to transform the deadly systems we’re living in.
Much love.
Today’s guest post delves into the much-debated topic of whether or not to bring a new baby into a climate crisis. Jade S. Sasser, an Associate Professor of Gender & Sexuality Studies at the University of California Riverside, says we can and should continue to create the families we desire, but that doing so equitably will require deep commitments to social, reproductive, and climate justice. Her new book Climate Anxiety and the Kid Question analyzes the role of race in environmental emotions and the reproductive plans people are making as a result. Now over to Jade.
Image credit: Jade S. Sasser. Design by Gen Dread.
In early 2019, while attending a conference, I met a young Black woman who was concerned about having kids because of climate change. “My friends and I talk about this all the time,” she said. “We want to have children, but will this world as we know it even be here twenty, thirty years from now? Should we take that chance?” She noted that she attended an HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities), and that all of her friends in the conversation were people of color. Unlike some others who link the issue to population debates, they were concerned about vulnerability, their own and that of their potential future children. They were looking for answers. There were none to be found.
Several months later, I met Britt Wray at a coffee shop to hear about her work in climate mental health, and to share my insights from years of research on reproductive justice. Our conversation was impactful: hearing from Britt helped me situate the role of climate emotions and climate mental health in broader conversations about climate and reproductive desires. I went to the literature, but it was vanishingly small at the time, and of the handful of studies I could find, none situated race as a key variable in climate emotions, climate mental health, and how they intersect with parenting plans. Perhaps that makes sense outside of the U.S., but here, we know that race and class are key determinants of social vulnerability, including vulnerability to climate impacts and challenges in recovering from those impacts. I began having anecdotal conversations on the subject with friends, family members, and students, all of them Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), and I discovered two things: climate change was a real source of worry, particularly for those under 30, and it was increasingly a part of the conversation about whether, when, and how to become parents. Putting on my researcher’s hat, I decided to explore further.
The result of those explorations is my new book, Climate Anxiety and the Kid Question: Deciding Whether to Have Children in an Uncertain Future (University of California Press, 2024). The book analyzes dozens of interviews with Gen Zers and Millennials of color, as well as their white counterparts, exploring their climate emotions and how those emotions factor into their desires and plans around raising children. I spoke to activists leading big public campaigns, who argued that climate-driven reproductive anxiety is the responsibility of fossil fuel corporations and government leaders; parents who are navigating ongoing climate distress while working to raise resilient children; and deeply ambivalent climate activists who want children but feel overwhelmed at the thought of raising them in a state of climate chaos. We also had conversations about adoption and fostering, building non-biological kin relations, and the long history of marginalized communities raising families and persevering in the face of deep existential threats.
The book also presents the results of a nationwide survey I conducted among 2,500 people in their reproductive years, finding (unsurprisingly) that race is in fact a factor in both climate emotions and how those climate emotions impact the desire to have children. People of color in the survey were significantly more likely to report feeling traumatized by climate change, while white men were more likely to report feeling numb, checked out, or having no emotions about it. However, an interesting and stark contrast emerged: people of color were the most likely to report emotions like motivation and happiness when considering becoming parents in the midst of climate change (this was most likely among those who identified as Christian), and yet, those who—because of climate change—were actively planning smaller families than they actually want were disproportionately women of color. Even in the midst of the contrasts, interviews revealed that climate change heightened people’s feelings of social vulnerability. It increased feelings of overwhelm, exacerbated pre-existing mental health challenges, and made people who wanted large families rethink their plans. Most often, those I interviewed cited it as a source of compounding trauma, “one more thing” that, added to other existing stressors, felt like too much to manage, particularly when imagining raising children.
Of course, there are no simple solutions. While many people experience climate anxiety as an isolating experience, it is the result of collective systems and structures. In my research, I found that resisting those systems and structures through collective organizing can help reduce isolation and make room for more emotions, like efficacy, determination, and connection to others. At the same time, disparities in climate emotions are the result of social inequality and injustice. Addressing those disparities requires a close alignment between mental and emotional support services and more comprehensive interventions for climate justice.
Jade’s new book is available here with a 30% discount (code: UCPSAVE30) ❤️ Her podcast, Climate Anxiety and the Kid Question can be found here and on all major podcast platforms.
Making Waves
Spotify is hosting Take A Beat: Tune into Nature for World Mental Health Day which features curated playlists and highlights different orgs addressing climate mental health. We’re honored that Gen Dread is featured. Listen here, take action here or read about it here.
The Climate Reality Project chaired by former US Vice President Al Gore, is excited to announce the upcoming 57th Climate Reality Leadership training, held virtually for participants from across the US on Oct 17–23, 2024. Apply here.
Become a Climate Circle Host is an online training open to all people with experience in climate change work or activism. Join One Resilient Earth on Wednesday 23 October, 9 am-12pm EST / 3-6pm CET if you want to support the well-being of your friends, colleagues and community members in a chaotic climate.
Honoring outgoing Gen Dread teammates
I want to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude for Anis Annisa Maryan and Sophie Kohn, who have been contributors to this newsletter for nearly the last two years, and are now moving on to other projects. Annisa’s vibrant and creative vision brought each issue to life with designs that showcased the people at the heart of our work, adding layers of depth and beauty to our stories. Sophie, with her signature humor and sharp, nuanced writing style made even the heaviest topics feel engaging and relatable. I am so thankful for the energy, talent, and dedication that they each poured into this publication. Thank you, Annisa and Sophie—you’ve left an indelible mark on Gen Dread.
‘Till next time!
Mental health awareness is frequently overlooked in my country. Reading inspiring posts like this motivates me to initiate a movement that centers on the mental health of young people in the face of climate anxiety.
When I heard about the meteorologist who broke down on air… I honestly wanted to die right there and then. But here I stand. And I don’t know why I don’t have the courage to off myself in protest of what’s going on.
I previously wrote to the climate therapist about the horror movie my life had become thanks to climate anxiety and dread. They told me apocalyptic thinking wasn’t doing me any favors. Well, the apocalypse is officially here and there’s literally no other way my neurodivergent mind can think.
What frustrates me to no end and has me considering ending my own life is my inability to fight due to my neurodivergent mind. I can’t advocate for myself, let alone the planet. I have no spine and that’s why I’m pretty much institutionalized. I try to confront people and I end up running the other way. I back down in the face of others’ anger.
If I can’t fight for the future, then I am truly worthless. And I can’t fight because of literally how my brain is wired.
And yet I’m still alive anyway. Why? Why must I witness everything falling apart and become even more powerless as everything does? Am I really living in Hell? I have to be. There’s no other explanation.
I don’t know what I need at this point. All I can think of is that life isn’t worth it.
IMPORTANT UPDATE: I’m in no physical danger. I have, with some help, managed to suppress the desire for unaliving, for now, anyway. However, I still would like a response to this. I’m still at the end of my rope and still need help.