I felt grief for our world from a young age, and never knew why. The emotions were red hot: anger, disappointment, frustration. The world was not as I had been taught it was. My window out to it from the bulwarks of privilege I grew up behind was through story. I shed tears for the Amazon, for the Cree of Alberta, for the children of the Niger Delta. I devoured words of writers looking to shake their readers. I shook. I translated my emotions to actions, charged similarly. I hid lightbulbs in my home. I raged against waste. I stood guard over the thermostat. I began to see the interconnection between my own actions and pain and suffering a world away.
While I initially shouldered the weight of this connection as a behavioral crisis, I soon felt that my recycling was not going far enough. At the age of twelve I began to write to politicians, demanding change: in climate policy, agricultural policy, energy policy. When the responses were non-committal, I decided to study engineering. Perhaps I could physically recreate the technological systems behind the climate crisis. Just as I staled in my outdated and reductionist studies, the fossil fuel divestment movement took the country by storm. Here, finally, I felt a response to the climate crisis that worked at the depth required: our cultural mythology and understanding of the way things are. Divestment works to change the story: from the fossil fuel industry as a revered backbone of our lives to a moral pariah writing death notes for millions. I learnt more than I ever could have imagined - about building power, storytelling and shaping community. I began to feel part of the intersectional, vibrant social movement that we need to enact change at every level of our world: behavioral, political, technological, cultural, spiritual.
Our generation is living in a moment unprecedented in human history. We occupy a unique fold in time, where decisions we make about how we live our lives today are impacting future generations millennia from now. In the midst of this catastrophic opportunity each of us is presented with a choice: how do we choose to respond? Do we keep our heads down and keep on keeping on, or do we stand up and be counted as part of the greatest transition human civilization has ever seen? I believe that when we step up to what science and justice demands of us, and give our whole selves to charting a safe, just and sustainable future for our communities, our families, our world, we open the door to finding our true gifts. We find peace when we reveal those passions and put them to the service of the world.
In 2015, Morgan spent six months cycling from Maine to Paris in order to attend the U.N Climate Conference as a youth delegate for an organization called Sustain U.S. She works tirelessly and creatively to fight for those that are most affected by our changing climate. She is a voice and a glimmer of hope to those under-represented communities who are often the least responsible for the environmental damage that they find around them