I wish one would not have to write this stuff. But "othering" the environment - through labeling and name-calling, and imagining that the environment is something you "enjoy on weekends" "elsewhere," has come back to bite us. Big time.

This poem has been in me for a while.

Othering the Environment

When they began felling trees, I did not speak up —

Because I was not a “tree-hugger”

When they began damming rivers, I did not speak up —

Because I was not an “eco-nut”

When they began mining under forests, I did not speak up —

Because I was not an “environmentalist”

When they sprouted polluting industries, I did not speak up —

Because I was not a “greenie”

When the rain vanished, and taps ran dry, temperatures soared, and a thick air turned brown, I wanted to speak up —

But it was too late.

(Channeling my inner Niemoller)