Quick! Check your inventory - Do you have your mask? Gloves? Hand sanitizer? A shred of normalcy grounding you back to reality? 

What the “comfort of home” once brought us now feels something akin to living in a plastic bubble while the coronavirus runs rampant across the globe, unraveling the fabric of daily routine. While our minds are busy with anxiety and fear, it seems our bodies can only hope to keep up as we rush to Marie Kondo our homes and compile references for our at-home workouts while our sourdough starter sits on the kitchen counter. For most of us, this is as anxiety-inducing as it gets, but for others, this experience is an unattainable dream. 

We are now positioned at a unique crossroads where climate change, environmental justice, and healthcare all happen to converge, and it’s a connection we must acknowledge. The issue of climate change and its impact on the world have been sounding an alarm for decades, and it certainly won’t wait a second longer for anyone. No politician, no budget, no virus. 

Many vulnerable populations do not have the privilege to continue ignoring the environmental impacts that have already taken a toll on their communities, making them even more susceptible to the destructive effects of COVID-19. To address this health pandemic is to address climate change and environmental justice. From historically black and brown neighborhoods in southern California to our fellow Filipinos half a world away, the call for a collective and intersectional response to the climate crisis is now.

THE OTHER ‘INVISIBLE KILLER’: ENVIRONMENTAL RACISM

Climate change is no longer solely about melting ice caps or “reduce, reuse, recycle.” Over the last 70 years, the need for action has grown beyond saving turtles and banning plastic bags at the grocery store. Climate change has become a culmination of increasingly extreme weather events, the crumbling of vast ecosystems due to pollution, and the mass loss of human lives here in the United States and around the globe at the hands of environmental racism. 

Just as COVID-19 has been linked to “invisible killer” rhetoric, everyday minoritized communities across the U.S. are significantly and disproportionately impacted by the effects of environmental racism. Coined by civil rights leader Rev. Dr. Benjamin Chavis Jr., environmental racism is “racial discrimination in environmental policy-making and the unequal enforcement of the environmental laws and regulations.”  For example, the placement of toxic waste facilities and dumping sites for pollutants and debris in low-income, communities of color are no coincidence. Since the 1990s, it was found that a highly disproportionate number of toxic waste facilities were found in predominantly black and ethnic neighborhoods. While white Americans had the privilege to relocate out of these urban areas and into suburbs, many others did not have that same luxury. 

“Most folks are going to fight for the polar bears and even saving the trees, and those are all important,” says Jan Andasan of the East Yard Communities for Environmental Justice (EYCEJ), based out of California. “But nobody is going to come to West Long Beach, East L.A., Southeast L.A., and say ‘Hey, we’re going to protect the black and brown, the indigenous folks, that are literally dying on a daily basis as a result of air pollution.’” 

Today, nearly 2 million people in the U.S. continue to live in areas within a mile radius of extremely contaminated land and water, making those who inhabit these communities much more vulnerable to flooding and other environmental disasters caused by climate change. According to a study done in 2017, the Asian American community, though largely underemphasized in studies of environmental health and injustice, face the greatest risk of exposure to carcinogenic and other hazardous air pollutants. Santa Clara county in California, which is home to over 59,000 Filipino Americans, contains more toxic facility sites than anywhere else in the country. The study also found that Filipinos were among the highest Asian American demographics to develop asthma due to living in areas enveloped in hazardous air particles. This exposure inadvertently puts the community at a higher risk of contracting or succumbing to respiratory diseases like COVID-19.

HITTING TOO CLOSE TO HOME

With thousands of people affected by environmental racism, why is it that this corner of the greater climate movement remains in the dark? It’s quite possible that the reason lies within other shrouded truths buried at the intersection where environmentalism meets imperialism and where lucrative solutions meet disadvantaged communities. 

U.S. imperialism has a long, historical impact on global environmentalism, and this is especially true in the Philippines. Some of what we believe to be “natural” disasters affecting the islands are strongly connected to human action. For example, the burning of fossil fuels due to aggressive extractions of natural resources in the Philippines to the benefit of the top 1%. 

The Philippines is a country abundant in minerals and natural resources, however, considering the island nation’s colonial past with the U.S., imperialism has prevented these natural resources from being utilized for the benefit of the Filipino people. Instead, the fifth most mineral-rich country in the world exports such valuable assets to overseas companies. Mining for such resources contributes to destabilizing the surrounding land and polluting nearby streams and rivers, some of which may be the only sources of water for rural and indigenous communities. Furthermore, military aid from the U.S. sent to the Philippines has been used to support raids on indigenous Lumad villages in order to gain access to their land. All the while, farmworkers and activists fighting for land and climate reform are forced into silence. 

And while the Philippine government continues to export their natural resources to foreign interests, they find themselves receiving an abundance of plastic waste and trash in return.

Theoretically, the physical harm done to human bodies in these circumstances would be mitigated under a strong healthcare system. Similarly, COVID-19 reminds us that well-resourced, equitable health systems are essential to protecting us from health security threats, like climate change. Currently, the Philippines is one of the leading southeast Asian countries in COVID-19 cases while also reflecting the lowest doctor-to-population ratio amongst its neighbors. This reflects the country’s challenging healthcare system which remains inaccessible and difficult to navigate for marginalized communities facing the ongoing health pandemic.

THE MOST DANGEROUS PLACE FOR ENVIRONMENTAL ACTIVISM

As mentioned, climate change waits for no one. While the protection of people’s livelihood continues to be a debate in both Philippine and U.S. politics, a handful of Filipino people (including indigenous leaders, teachers, students, and researchers) have taken it upon themselves to advocate for their fellow kababayans and the rest of the world — even if it means risking their lives.

Environmental activists have mobilized in order to protect the future of the islands as well as shed light on the role political leaders play in the destruction of land. They have facilitated town halls and campaigns, helped establish clinics and medical centers in rural communities, and fundraised for the most at-risk populations. However, the same critical dialogues prompted by these necessary actions have placed many activists on the country’s terrorist watch lists or put their lives in danger of extrajudicial killings — thus labelling the Philippines as the most dangerous place for environmental activists.

Those involved in the Philippine climate movement, both in the motherland and abroad, may be familiar with the 2010 killing of Filipino botanist and researcher, Leonard Co, who was targeted by government forces on the mere assumption that his environmental work was related to a domestic insurgency group. More recently in 2019, San Francisco-born journalist and activist, Brandon Lee, miraculously survived an assassination attempt while working as an educator in the Lumad villages. Though these two cases have garnered a lot of attention, countless others remain suppressed or unresolved, showing the concerning reality of working toward environmental justice in the Philippines. 

Although the organizing power of the Filipino people may be limited within the confines of a government that only acts on its financial interests, with over 10.2 million Filipinos around the world (and nearly half of that number residing in the U.S.), our voices can carry an immense collective power. Whether you have been to the Philippines, or not, we all have a personal connection to the motherland in some way or another — be it our parents, extended family members, friends, or the billions of dollars in remittances sent home every year to loved ones by Filipinos overseas.

Living in the U.S., we may never have to worry about tsunamis destroying our homes and neighborhoods 20 times a year, or feel as if we have no outlets to speak freely about what we believe in. Being able to even partake in environmental work in the U.S. is a privilege that we know others around the world don’t have. As the world faces the current coronavirus pandemic, the weak points in our society become more easily identifiable. 

For the global Filipino, it’s important to examine the privileges we carry by being part of such a larger diaspora, and what that means for us in the bigger picture of this climate movement. 

PROGRESS IN PEOPLE POWER: TAKING ACTION HERE AND ABROAD

Calling upon action for climate change is impactful beyond preserving land; it can mean preserving the people and the culture tied to the land. With our actions, we can protect that which has become extremely vulnerable to destruction with no authority willing to protect it.

We’ve seen what the advocacy of young climate activists like Carlos Manuel, Greta Thunberg, and Kaia Yonamine, among many others, have done to advance the environmental movement of this generation. We must learn from their determination and do the same to uplift the voices of climate and land defenders who are ceaselessly targeted every day.

Though the future is filled with uncertainties, and our present ability to act to our fullest extent may be limited, there are various ways to remain engaged with the movement and to help shed light on the impacts of climate change in our most at-risk communities.

Connect with community partners and local, grassroots organizations to share resources and information with your network. Engage with, and prioritize members of, communities directly impacted by environmental injustice. Staying connected with these communities is especially crucial in creating sustainable environmental action. If you’re able, offering financial support to domestic and international nonprofits can be a tremendous help in continuing to provide aid and advocacy to the communities they serve. 

The Portland chapter of the International Coalition for Human Rights in the Philippines (ICHRP) has also shown how contacting your political leaders and representatives can be extremely effective in bringing about the change in policies we need in order to protect our people and the future of this world.

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During such unprecedented and difficult times, it can be easy to slip into a helpless state of mind. But it is also at these points where we feel we have hit the lowest that an understanding of our shared humanity can fully emerge. 

COVID-19 threatens many at-risk populations, but especially for the children and families who continue the battle to survive in communities affected by environmental racism and remnants of imperialism; communities that many of us and our kababayans call home. To fight against this pandemic is to advocate for their voices and environmental rights, too — locally and globally. 

The climate alarm has been going off for so long, and it’s now more than ever that we must stop hitting the snooze button. It is time to raise our voices and build solidarity with those who do not have the privilege or influence in the spaces they are in to do so; for the indigenous villages of the motherland, the displaced families around the world, and the lives lost of those who have come before us in this work.

To my fellow Filipinos across the U.S. and in the global diaspora: as we find ourselves at these crossroads of racism, imperialism and environmental justice, the time to rise up is now.

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Abby Pasion is a Filipina American storyteller and community organizer based out of Portland, Oregon. Abby completed her B.A. degree at Oregon State University in 2019, studying Education and Ethnic Studies. She currently works for the Portland Public Schools District while also serving as Advisory Board Chair for the Northwest Filipino American Student Alliance. Follow her writing and creative adventures on Instagram!"

Editor: Kristine De Los Santos, Director Of Operations | One Down | Kristine@One-Down.Com

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