Holding the minority view in an unsustainable world.
The phrase imposter syndrome is definitely something I have been dealing with from the day I got the message from a well-known climate journalist who I had met in passing at a sustainability networking session. “I’ve given them your name as a possible speaker at the climate campaign for youths!” His tone, almost proud that he had recommended me, why, I didn’t know.
Immediately alarm bells went off in my head. “Me?” First of all, how did he remember me, and secondly, what on earth prompted him to do that? Being given the immense opportunity to talk to a group of young climate activists is not something I take lightly. So, the same questions have been playing over and over in my head. What to say? Who am I? What could I possibly share that they don’t know already? What did I say to the journalist to impress him? What can I say to impress them?
Difficult questions to answer when you’re someone with self-esteem levels like mine. Constant doubt fills my thoughts. Twenty years of insomnia has resulted from my monkey-mind just not leaving things be. You can imagine then, a task like this, public speaking, on a stage organized by an international organization, and shared with science communication heavy-weights, resulted in many more sleepless nights.
A week before the panel discussion was to take place, I woke up at 5.45am. I am not exactly sure if I woke up or just opened my eyes at the sound of the alarm, but I hit snooze at least three times, and then waited for the 6am SMS from a friend with whom I was to go for a bike ride. “Please rain!” was the mantra I repeated, willing the skies to open up and flood the roads, for lightning to crash and make it too dangerous for two wheels. Instead, the message I got was, “Remember your helmet and lights! See you in 30 minutes!” Begrudgingly, I dragged myself to the shower, got dressed, fed the cats, strapped lights to my helmet and bicycle, and headed out the door. Throughout the ride, which was my initiation to road cycling, I thought to myself, how did I get here. My brain slowly realizing I was cycling alongside morning traffic, on the side of a Singaporean street, with a guy I had met twice.
Later that day, I went for a walk. Exhausted from the early morning ride, what I really needed was a nap; but couldn’t, due to the hungry ghost month festivities banging away literally outside my front door all day. I wanted to cancel, and again prayed for a deluge, but figured if I stayed home, I’d have to listen to the racket all afternoon anyway. So again, I dragged myself to MacRitchie and waited for my walking companion to arrive. Again, I wondered, “How come she picked me?” I had met my trail buddy only once before.
That night I got home and thought about all my activities that day. A bike ride with someone I had met through a conference, and who wanted to see if we could collaborate. We had kept in touch, and had met for coffee after he had read my profile on LinkedIn. A lunch-time meeting with the youth campaign clinic mentors that I got connected with through someone I had met at a networking session. Someone who had also added me on LinkedIn and recommended me for the speaking position. And then, traipsing through a park, getting to know a girl I had met through a sustainability media academy, and who wanted to collaborate on an article, based on another article I had reposted on LinkedIn with some thoughts of my own. I looked at my calendar for the week, and there was another meeting the following Monday with another girl from the same academy session, to discuss our collaboration on articles, and to organize an event together.
During the walk, the bike ride, the coffee meeting, the sustainability academy, the networking session, and the initial talk with the girl I was going to meet the following Monday, everyone spoke to me like I had something they were interested in finding out more about. They saw something in me that I didn’t. Something I could offer. I couldn’t see that, and most of the time, I don’t.
Like me, many people, regardless of age, experience, and education level, feel the same. We are all so afraid of judgment, failure, negative evaluation and simply, not being perfect, and therefore we stay huddled in our little corners, too terrified to make a peep, even though we might have something to bring to the table.
What does that say about the society that we live in? One that is so fixated on perfection. Do we silence voices that need to be heard? Do we negate the value of the more introverted? Do we place a stigma on people who question? Calling them trouble makers because they dare to ask questions, and refuse to comply? Do we silence people just because their views might be different to that of the majority?
What if everyone had a safe space? A place to say whatever you thought, however stupid you may think it sounded, and that people around wouldn’t ask questions, they’d not judge, and they wouldn’t start to prepare answers in their head while the words were still leaving your lips. A space where listeners would sit, and they would actively listen, and they would accept. This is you. This is who you are, and you’re allowed to be that person. What if we gave people the ability to be as creative as they wanted, not dumbing down innovation or scrunching up faces, deciding that “this will not work” even before the opportunity to try? What if we knew that we could share our ideas, and it would always be okay? What if every suggestion was at least heard, before being shut down? What kind of world would we live in then?
Now, of course, there will be people who will completely take advantage of this freedom of speech and deliberately cause trouble. But how about the rest? Everyone has ideas, dreams, and goals. Even the rebels who want to disrupt. Maybe they also just wanted some attention, someone to hear them, someone to say it is okay.
Coming back to preparing for my panel discussion later this week, I am wondering, what could I say to these youths, to empower them to use their voices? How do I tell them, “Yes, you! You have value and something to offer!” How do I tell myself this as well?
We have been tasked with the humongous burden of being the voice for the planet. We have been given the job to speak up in a world where conservation-focused, save-the-planet-minded, eco-warrior-people hold the minority view. But this is our task. And if you have an ability, skill, vision, or ambition to save the planet, use it. Because if we do not, who will? However small, deluded, incapable, weak, unprepared, floundering, insignificant, we feel we may be, we have a job to do. Just do it.
And that will be what I tell them, and what I will tell myself.