I don't know how to do this
But I'm going to keep doing it anyway.

Very often, I don’t know how I’m supposed to move forward.
How am I supposed to keep writing about, and caring about, climate change and pollution and government capture by Big Oil, when the government is executing people in broad daylight? How am I supposed to watch the country descend into full-throated fascism, and then log on to my computer and say: anyway, about those methane regulations?
This is something I’ve struggled with a lot over the last few years. Watching state-sponsored terror campaigns, genocide, famine, hate crimes, and then opening my laptop and returning to the climate beat. My job asks me to direct your attention toward the horizon. But my own eyes are fixed on the acute violence happening right in front of me.
In these moments, I find I need to hype myself up, to talk myself into continuing, to tell myself that continuing to pay attention to climate change is not insensitive or irresponsible, but necessary. I thought it might be helpful this time to share with you some of the things I’ve been repeating to myself this weekend.
Alex Pretti cared about this work
This isn’t the most relevant for every situation but it’s what’s helping me the most tonight, as I ask myself how to return to work tomorrow. On Saturday, the Associated Press reported:
Pretti’s mother said her son cared immensely about the direction the county was headed, especially the Trump administration’s rollback of environmental regulations.
“He hated that, you know, people were just trashing the land,” Susan Pretti said. “He was an outdoorsman. He took his dog everywhere he went. You know, he loved this country, but he hated what people were doing to it.”
If Pretti could care about two things at once, so can I.

Climate change is state violence, too
When I get into these funks, it’s like I start believing that climate change is something separate from state violence—and it’s not.
The climate chaos we’re experiencing now, and what we will continue to experience, is a direct, conscious choice by the state to allow certain people to die. It kills through heatwaves, asthma, hunger, and displacement instead of bullets and batons, but the logic behind both is identical: certain people, mostly brown, can be sacrificed.
I always need to remind myself that these are not two separate emergencies competing for attention, but one story unfolding on different timelines. That helps reignite the fire to continue.
Immigrant rights depend on climate justice
While doomscrolling this weekend, I came across a video of birds flying south for the winter, with a text overlay that said “migration is an earth right.” It had more than 900,000 likes.
That simple 20-second clip was powerful to me, not just because of the actual message of the video—that immigration is natural, that borders are manmade—but because of how many people seemed to understand that connection.
But while immigration is natural, the climate crisis is not. This conscious decision by powerful governments and polluters is increasingly forcing people from their homes, and into the horrific violence we’re witnessing today.
Scientists and migration researchers are increasingly clear: climate-fueled droughts extreme weather, and environmental degradation are already contributing to migration pressures around the world. The horrors we’re seeing from ICE now are just a glimpse of the violence that could unfold as climate change worsens, and those migration pressures increase. Climate change is also driving a rise in eco-fascist rhetoric, wherein conservatives argue for increased border militarization to prevent brown people from further bespoiling the pristine U.S. environment.
These stories aren’t distractions from the current political moment. They’re a necessary complement.
The fascists want us to stop paying attention to climate
I’m a primarily spite-motivated person, so this one is perhaps my most-repeated mantra. One of the oldest tricks of authoritarians is to shock and overwhelm people until they feel exactly the way I was feeling after Pretti’s murder, and until I started writing this newsletter.
Fuck them and fuck that.
It’s also ok to take a little break
But when spite is not enough to get me back on the horse, I always give myself permission to take a break. I’m in this for the long haul. The horrors will be here when I return.
Anyway, that’s the pep talk I’ve got for myself this weekend. It’s certainly not foolproof, but it’s enough to get me back to work tomorrow.
If you’ve got your own ways of staying upright, I’d genuinely love to hear them. How are you staying present, or angry, or compassionate, or awake? What are the mantras or rituals or distractions or coping mechanisms that work for you?
Let me know. None of us get through this by ourselves.
And when all else fails, bake.



Thank you for this piece, Emily. It speaks to my conflicts and my heart. The issues ARE all connected. So thank you for keeping at what you do best and for making the connections.
I feel it gratifying to read that you find yourself motivated by spite, because it honestly motivates me a lot, too. Fuck this administration and all the fascists who support it. Also, those cookies look damn good.