In 1998, I was an eleven-year-old child growing up on the coast of Ecuador. I had no knowledge of the term “climate change,” but that didn’t stop my family and me from experiencing its devastating effects. We endured the rage of El Fenómeno del Niño, a periodic warming of the Pacific Ocean that influences global weather events and that has been getting worse since the 1970s due to the impact of the Earth’s rising temperature.
I had never seen so much rain before. It continued pouring and flooding and, ultimately, it altered my life forever.
The author as a child, pictured with her mother, in one of the few photos salvaged from the flooding.
It was 3 a.m., and it had been raining all night. I woke up to the sound of running water and found that my small room was full of it—brown, thick, smelly water that touched the mattress I was sleeping on. To this day, I can still remember the awful sewage-like odor.
As I waded through the river that used to be my house, my mom was in the living room desperately trying to bail us out with a bucket. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. I could see how powerless she felt as waves of water continued to pour through our front door. Her efforts to save our belongings failed. After a couple of hours, the foul water was waist-high inside our home.
My mom grabbed a bag with some of my clothes and called a friend who lived in a middle-class neighborhood on higher ground and agreed to watch me until the water went down. Outside, the streets had transformed into a dirty sea so high that my mom had to carry me on her back. I was terrified yet also angry that she had to face the flooding alone while I was going to be in a dry, comfortable place.
The flood damage worsened as we walked through poorer neighborhoods. Natural disasters like El Fenómeno del Niño often hit the poor hardest. Even before the flooding, my neighborhood had a sewage problem because the government neglected to invest in or maintain our infrastructure. Now that neglect was turning into devastation.
Days passed before the water went down. We lost many of our possessions, including our family photo albums. We had to find a new place to live, away from our old friends, community, and neighborhood. I was devastated.
Around 30,000 people in Ecuador became homeless in the aftermath of the 1998 El Fenómeno del Niño and many children suffered from infectious diseases due to the floods and standing water. This was one of the three El Niños since the 1970s deemed a “super” El Niño due to the strength and devastation of its impact. The 2015 El Niño was one of the strongest due to Earth’s temperature change; this same year was declared by the United Nations to be the hottest year on record.
The newest report from the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change paints an alarming picture of the catastrophic changes already unfolding, with 3.3 billion people already “highly vulnerable to climate change” in their daily lives and fifteen times more likely to die from natural disasters.
The author in the Ecuadorian Amazon.
Given my own experience, I can only imagine the physical impact and mental toll on those directly impacted by a warmer future, especially neglected and historically underserved communities. Of course, climate change is already altering our lives—not just in the Global South, but right here in the United States.
Thankfully, I have not lost loved ones due to the climate crisis, though many others have. Livelihoods are impacted every day by the greed of people in power that profit from sickening our planet, and it is only going to continue to get worse. We will face greater risks as El Niño intensifies, bringing devastation and heartbreak in its wake.
The resiliency of directly impacted communities like mine motivates me to embark on the fight for our climate, our planet, and our people. I have dedicated my life to amplifying and elevating the voices and stories of those directly impacted by the pressing issues of our time. Climate change is no different.
The author during her military service in the U.S. Navy.
My experience has helped me understand and empathize with what many communities are facing, just as serving in the U.S. Navy gave me an even deeper understanding of the systemic issues at the heart of this crisis (including the Navy’s contamination of oceans).
When I advocate for climate justice, my lived experiences inform my understanding of how and why this crisis continues to grow. We all bring unique, varied, and potentially conflicting experiences and identities with us to this work—and that’s exactly why we need everyone coming together to fight for a healthier planet.
This crisis we are facing is monumental, which in return requires a monumental effort.
Grassroots organizations across the country are transforming communities, and there’s a role for everyone in these groups and in this movement. I want to encourage all of you to get involved. Whether or not you are a veteran, if you are ready to serve and fight for climate justice, join me. Together we can win.