This paragraph from my HuffPost piece was cut to meet word count, so I’m reinserting it here, because I can do that. 😊 Also, super honored by the fantastic accompanying art made by @mariamedem (thank you!):

“My son has hockey on Thursdays and Sundays. The sport requires a duffel bag so big he could grow six inches and still zip himself into it. The duffel holds an absurd amount of gear and one day while trying to gather his arm pads and knee pads and chest plate and jock cup and weird large-knit leg warmers and padded shorts and skates and skate covers and two different hockey sticks and the helmet with the dumb snaps that only an adult can close, I drop the bag on the floor and yell at my husband, “Hockey is not an apocalypse skill!” Because this is always in the back of my mind and at the tip of my tongue when I am at the cusp of my tolerance for things that don’t make sense. Which feels, to me, every day in the year 2021. My husband, the eternal optimist who I need lest I’d never get out of bed, seems unwilling to entertain human existentiality without hockey. But this moment with the black body-sized bag at my feet and the tears in my eyes, it’s important. Because it means my fear of climate crisis has tipped. My fear of climate crisis outweighs my fear of DENYING climate crisis. It outweighs my fear of exploring an alternate reality. A bold new reality that requires not just physical reach, but metacognitive leap.”

#climatecrisis #climatedenial #womenleadclimate #extinctionrebellion #climateparents #climateemergency @michael.pollan