The high cost of going green
It’s not financial—it’s emotional
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Learn more and register at What’s Next Collective. Sam is offering Purse readers a discount: $130 off if you use the code PURSE130. (The offer expires on April 22, 2024, at 11:59 p.m. ET)2
The High Cost of Going Green
It’s mid-April, which means now that I’m done worrying about paying my taxes, I can start worrying about the environment. Or at least that’s what marketers with a content calendar would lead you to believe. (Sorry, I know it’s a little tacky to start a newsletter with such a heavy dose of snark.)
I feel about Earth Day the same way I feel about International Women’s Day. What a load of crap! It’s a lame excuse for consumer goods companies to tout their so-called green products as they encourage us to spend money on things we don’t need. The irony of the Sephora sale falling during “Earth Month” is not lost on me, given the many, many environmental challenges facing the beauty industry. (So. Much. Waste.)
Some of you might be wondering why I’m writing about climate change in a newsletter that’s supposed to be about women and money. And why I’m making you feel guilty about your Sephora haul. Not only was it bad for your wallet—it was bad for the environment, too!
I’m kidding—kind of. Maybe the only thing worse than someone who nags you about your spending is someone who also notes that those purchases are causing our climate crisis.
I’ve long been interested in the connection between personal finance and environmental sustainability. Being a conscious consumer and being eco-friendly go hand in hand: One of the best ways to help the environment is simply to buy fewer things. And arguably one of the most powerful ways to effect change is by protesting with our pocketbooks. If we don’t like the environmental policies of a company, we can choose to not buy their goods.
But another reason why I wanted to write about money and the environment is because this is an issue that I agonize over all the time. I worry, as with so many things (the gender wage gap, reasonable gun laws, protecting women’s reproductive rights), that my meager efforts are essentially pointless since society (capitalism? The Man? IDK who to blame?!) essentially laughs in my face while continuing to push us to overconsume. While I want the planet to be inhabitable for future generations, at the end of the day, living an eco-conscious life just feels so expensive, not necessarily financially (though sometimes) but emotionally.
I spend a stupid amount of time online looking up how to recycle or upcycle anything and everything that I need to get rid of: empty makeup containers, old T-shirts, worn-out running shoes, burned-out light bulbs, and on and on. I have sort of a weirdly intense anxiety about throwing anything away because I hate the idea of it ending up in a landfill—especially if I think that item might have a second life. I’ve got two shitty backpacks from my kid’s summer camp that I can’t bring myself to toss because there’s nothing wrong with them, but I also know they can't be donated because no one wants them. So they just sit there, taunting me, living rent free in my storage locker and my brain.
At the same time, I feel very much like a bad Catholic, so to speak, as some of my other habits are not at all eco-friendly. I still eat meat. I use paper towels liberally. I buy individual yogurt pouches for my kid.
I feel so much personal responsibility to be more eco-conscious while at the same time feeling like it can’t possibly be all my responsibility. I know plastic is bad, and that I should consume less of it, but have you been to the grocery store lately? Everything is wrapped in plastic! (If you’re in the mood for some dark humor, please say that last line like Pete Martell in Twin Peaks. If you’re not, that’s OK, too. And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, go watch that series. It’s amazing!)
Last year, when I worked at Fortune, I met Ibrahim AlHusseini, who is the founder and managing partner at FullCycle, a venture fund focused on green technology. During our initial conversation, I remember him telling me that even if I was the most virtuous environmentalist on the planet—eating vegan, never flying, and never, ever using paper towels—the positive impact I would have on stopping our environmental crisis would be negligible. I’ll admit, that idea makes me feel a little better every time I buy a plastic water bottle because I forgot my reusable one at home.
When I started thinking about this newsletter, I knew I wanted to talk to Ibrahim again to share my environmental anxieties in hopes that maybe he would alleviate them. If curbing my carbon footprint doesn’t account for real change, why should I feel guilty every time I use a paper towel?
Ibrahim told me that in the ’90s, the big oil companies hired a really good advertising agency that created a campaign encouraging people to recycle plastic, even though executives knew most plastic couldn’t really be recycled. Like DeBeers and the bullshit about spending three months’ salary on an engagement ring, the idea that humans are personally responsible for curbing climate change was the brainchild of a well-paid ad man and evil corporations. They sold us on this ridiculous idea that’s now stuck in our brains, making us feel guilty for personal choices we have little control over while they continue to pollute with abandon. (NPR and PBS had a big report on this in September 2020. Totally understandable if you missed it, seeing as we were in the middle of a pandemic and a presidential election, and that fall, many parents were also trying to navigate remote learning and full-time jobs.)
Yet Ibrahim wasn’t quick to let me off the hook. Yes, he points out that research has found 100 corporations are responsible for roughly 70% of all global emissions. And of the 48 million tons of plastic waste generated in the U.S. each year; only 5 to 6% is recycled. But ultimately, it’s about personal integrity. It’s important to do the right thing—to be mindful consumers, to try to reduce our carbon footprint, even if it feels futile at times. He reminds me of the Alice Walker quote, “Activism is my rent for living on the planet.”
Sigh. I know he’s right. And while a conversation with Ibrahim can at times be depressing—nothing quite as maddening as discussing how cancer caused by environmental factors is somehow also good for the GDP (at least on paper)—I always leave feeling resolved to do better, if only because he’s right: It’s about integrity.
My friend
, who writes the essential newsletter and is my environmental guru, always listens to me as I spiral out about climate change and the burden of making this a personal responsibility. She is one of the most environmentally thoughtful people I know, and I admire that about her. Pre-pandemic, when we both worked full-time media jobs in Manhattan, we would meet up for coffee, and she would always have the barista pour her drink into a reusable cup she brought with her. I remember reading a newsletter she wrote about packing her lunch for work and having a coworker tease her for bringing a half-eaten apple her son had abandoned that she didn’t want to waste.
I emailed Laura saying that I wanted to write about the high cost of going green, and that I’d love her opinion. As usual, I went off on a bit of a tirade, complaining about how expensive and impractical (for me!) CSAs are, my love of Trader Joe’s orange chicken, how much I stress about throwing away old things, and how mad I was about the crummy Target knockoff Stasher bags I bought recently. (Don’t fall for this shit! I’m still mad about what crap they are!)
“When we talk today, I want to talk about the emotional and financial expense of trying to be environmentally conscious. That often these so-called green products are much more expensive. And honestly, it's easier to just throw things away.”
I adore Laura because she listens patiently while I rant and then talks me off the ledge. And then she makes a clear-headed argument that the most sustainable choice will ultimately be the least expensive. Even if the upfront cost is more, in the long run, it will be cheaper if you consider the cost per use.
The CSA, for example. Sure, it might not be right for my lifestyle at the moment if I’m going to let the food waste in the fridge. But fundamentally, it is both affordable and sustainable when you consider how much it would cost to buy all that produce at the grocery store—produce that’s probably wrapped in plastic and trucked in from faraway places.
A meal kit is another example she points out: Buying those ingredients individually would be less expensive and involve less packaging. But making a meal from scratch can be time-consuming, and so many of us (me included!) want something convenient, a quick fix, an easy way to get breakfast/lunch/dinner on the table fast so we have more time to do…
To do what? What do we need more time for? Now that I work from home, I arguably have more time. In discussing the energy that it takes to live a more sustainable life, Laura and I don’t dive into what we do with the extra time we supposedly get from convenience products, but I can’t help but think about it later. When I rely on a Trader Joe’s pre-made meal to help me get dinner on the table fast, what do I do with that extra time? “Washing machine time,” as
referred to it in her lovely newsletter . Honestly, I’m probably scrolling social media or texting a friend or working (always working). I’m not usually reading a book, hanging out with my kid, or doing anything truly useful or meaningful with this found time. And I enjoy cooking! Why am I always trying to rush this chore?A concept I keep coming back to time and time again with this newsletter is the idea that just because something is hard, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. I feel like we’re living in a very strange time where we are prioritizing our own comfort and convenience over almost everything else. We would rather not interact with others who have a difference of opinion because it makes us feel uncomfortable. We would rather order everything off the internet and have it delivered to our doorstep because it’s easier than leaving the house.
And when we feel bad—sad or unhappy or anxious or lonely—society and social media urges us to self-medicate by shopping. There’s nothing a new shiny object can’t fix. At least for a day or so. When that dopamine hit wears off, Instagram will surface another ad for another thing that you’re made to believe will fix all your problems if you just spend money. And when all that stuff you didn’t need piles up and you get tired of it or it breaks because it wasn’t well made, you can just toss it. Because even though we’re seeing record-breaking hot summers and devastating natural disasters happening in our own backyards, most of us can’t be bothered to change our consumption habits.
OK, I’m climbing down off my high horse now.
The other thing Laura and I talk about is how important it is to strive to live environmentally sustainable lives for our children.
“I really believe my main reasons for [living like] this is to model it to my child and to make it less hard for him because it’s just how he grew up, and it’s normal—to make it feel like it’s not a sacrifice or a burden,” Laura says.
I want there to be a solution at the end of this email because I want a better world for my child, too—for all our kids. I don’t want this to just be a rant. Yes, we need to change our consumer habits and get more comfortable living with less. But it’s not just about using cloth napkins instead of paper towels or skipping Starbucks to brew your own coffee. To make true change, we need big corporations to step up. And while Ibrahim argues that there’s significant money to be made in investing in climate-related technology—which hopefully means that eventually our capitalist country will embrace it—he also admits that, as individuals, the most important thing we can do is vote. Laura echoes this sentiment.
And maybe you’re rolling your eyes because we’re living in a politically fraught time, and many of us on both sides of the aisle are wondering, “What the heck has a politician done for me lately?” But both Laura and Ibrahim point out that the Inflation Reduction Act made major investments in the environment, and Laura also adds that she’s seen her local leaders doing a lot in favor of a greener future. So don’t underestimate the power of going to the polls.
I often daydream about how much nicer our world would be if we prioritized the environment. Fewer cars and more parks. Easier access to fresh fruits and vegetables and less processed foods in general. A society that embraces the circular economy. Where neighbors share lawn mowers—or, heck, don’t even mow their lawns at all. Where businesses encourage us to repair our things rather than toss them. Where urban and suburban developers prioritize small, sustainable housing and build walkable neighborhoods that favor bikes and pedestrians. It’s a world with more collaboration and less isolation, where we embrace the idea that we’re all in this together and not just rugged individuals struggling to get by on our own.
These changes would help the environment, sure, but they would also have an impact on our finances. Consuming less means spending less means more money to invest in what’s most important to us. The ripple effect could be magical.
Talking to Laura and Ibrahim, I want to believe it’s possible. That this isn’t a pipe dream. That even the act of writing this newsletter is a step in advocating for a greener future. What do you think? Are you with me?
xx
Lindsey
p.s. Laura encouraged me to throw away the backpacks without feeling guilty. Unless you know anyone who wants one? 🙂
p.p.s. I didn’t have room to fit everything I wanted in this newsletter (always the case!), but I wanted to add that I was inspired by
’s newsletter “Did you eat plastic for breakfast” and ’s newsletter “It's Earth Month—and we can’t buy our way into a sustainable future.”The WIN Summit
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Negotiating Tip of the Week: Stop seeing negotiation as a conflict. Instead, it is about communicating your needs to get what you deserve.
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Whew, I have a lot of thoughts on this (and to be transparent, I work for a company that builds out EV infrastructure). I share your anxiety around plastics and the individual waste my family creates. BUT -- but -- I don't believe that we are going to buy or recycle ourselves out of the climate crisis. If you're looking at the financial piece of "going green" -- there is so much more than buying a bamboo toothbrush or whatever.
A) Where is your money? And what policies do those banks have? Let's make sure our money isn't tied up in banks that hold fossil fuel investments: https://fossilfreefunds.org/
[NOTE: This is something I am actively working on myself!]
B) How is your home being heated and cooled? What kinda stove are you using? Are you due to replace a boiler soon? Could installing rooftop solar actually make your electric bill cheaper and more predictable? Could you plan on getting an EV for your next car purchase? Could you try out an electric bike?
C) I'd argue it's a better use of ALL of our time to advocate for change at the systemic level rather than worry about what we buy. Yes, you can do both, but time is limited and thinking of the climate crisis on the individual level is futile and uninspiring. How can you spend your time electing politicians who want to make change and then holding those politicians accountable?
I truly believe that leading a "green" life is BETTER and not entirely full of costs. My induction stove is easier to cook on and reduces air pollution inside my home. My EV is more fun to drive and will save me money over time. A local credit union is less likely to fuck me over than a giant multinational bank. While I'm very fortunate to get to make these decisions financially, I also benefit from them.
I recently returned from a 2-year sail aboard our 44' sailboat across the Pacific Ocean, visiting many island nations such as French Polynesia, Tuvalu, Fiji, Tonga, and the Marshall Islands. Before departure we made huge efforts to minimize our environmental impact including stocking up on shampoo bars (vs. shampoo in plastic bottles), using a bidet (vs. toilet paper), powering our electricity needs with solar (vs. using diesel fuel for the engine to charge batteries). I also made myself insane with reusing ziploc plastic bags (a ridiculous amount of my time was spent washing these effing bags). I was really proud of our efforts and it felt good to be leaving no trace.
Upon arrival at these tiny island nations, though, I'd feel like such an idiot for my efforts. Plastic waste is everywhere on the ocean because these islands have no infrastructure to deal with garbage or recycling. My impact is so small compared to the power of big business and governments. These islands are dealing with plastic waste generated all over the world.
I don't know what the answers are. But my experience has left me jaded about individual efforts. I love the statement in your newsletter that voting is the biggest act we can take to combat climate change. That's reasonable and real. Thanks for that.