Why I Do This Work
Ten years ago, I was an image of corporate success – steadily increasing salary and benefits, fancier, more impressive titles, and a future of greater wealth and prestige. And, as I became more exposed to corporate power and the influence of money, I also became more aware of the greed and domination that came along with it. I witnessed the shared belief by some that they are deserving of privilege and excess that others aren’t. I was at the table while lobbyists strategized about which policies would result in greater profits and less competition for their clients. These realities weighed on me and I increasingly understood that I was these things that felt unfair and wrong, sometimes actively and sometimes as a silent bystander.
I always knew deep down that I wanted to make positive change in the world; to be part of something larger. When I was young, I engaged in bouts of activism but was easily frustrated and defeated by indifference. Eventually, I found a career working on energy policy and utility regulation and I was in love; it is dynamic and important and impacts everyone. Yet, I repeatedly changed jobs, hoping to find the right issue, place, and/or people to satisfy the voice inside that told me to stand up for something larger than and beyond myself.
I tried to do things outside of work. I coached a running club for girls. I joined my kids’ school caregiver council and equity team. I read books and participated in programs to find my calling. These were certainly valuable and wonderful experiences but ultimately not the “it” I was searching for. I engaged in anti-racism training and later became a facilitator – which transformed and motivated me. Yet, to my disappointment, the pool of white people willing to engage in that training was too small. My inspiration increased, but the channel for the work remained elusive.
Meditation also became a regular part of my life. As I learned more about myself and my connection to other beings, the misalignment between my current lifestyle and one that actively served my values and the needs of the world weighed on me. The impact was immense, and I became a certified meditation teacher to share the experience with others. While it influences all aspects of me, it was not to be my full-time work.
As I wrestled with these changes and explorations, a transition in the energy industry was underway to provide cleaner, more efficient energy options available to homes and communities. Additionally, a greater number of white people and those with privilege and power across the nation, like me, came to see and better understand systemic racial and class injustice and the role our collective lack of awareness played in exacerbating these forces. I was inspired to hear new discussions among my industry colleagues about how to incorporate equity into the policies fostering the transition. There was an opportunity to do things differently.
I was drawn to learn everything I could about how inequity and injustice were present in society broadly and utilities and related services specifically. I grew to see the connection to systemic causes of poverty and discriminatory distribution of related environmental harm. I came to understand that energy equity was just one facet of the broader struggle for social justice. And I realized that my silence and inaction supported a status quo that treats some people as less deserving than others. A reminder hangs on a piece of paper attached to my monitor, “How have I been complicit in creating the conditions I say I don’t want?” (one of Jerry Colonna’s Important Questions). I want to continue to be inspired and challenged to change my own actions and efforts, whatever role they play, in building a more equitable energy future.
It’s been about a year and a half now since I officially joined the fight for energy justice.
The lightbulb moment came in conversation with my partner as I was explaining that I resented having to work on other things, that action on energy justice was urgent because the door was open and would not always be, and that there were not enough people or resources dedicated to it. He said what I needed to hear – “you will never be ready if ‘ready’ means without uncertainty and risk; it sounds like now is the time.”
So, I took the leap.
Starting Elevated Engagement required lifestyle changes to minimize expenses that I was privileged to have the choice to make. The reality is that the work that really needs to be done isn’t often valued by society – it doesn’t always pay much or pay at all. In the end, I was blessed with a lot of support from friends and colleagues, funders and organizations, led by allies and advocates that see the need. Most importantly, I’m honored and grateful for the openness of those already fighting for justice that welcomed me, the white woman who just arrived to the work.
Energy justice is my work to do. I know how decisions are made and who has power and influence in utility regulation – a space known for being opaque and exclusive. I know the processes and incentives that change outcomes. I know how to navigate the system. And I know that it was built by and for people and organizations that have resources and time. Shifting the way things are done to change the outcomes is hard, even when the will is there, because so many are comfortable with the way things are — especially those in power. Change in this industry requires mass movement building and coordination of people power. It requires resources from everyone who knows that the system is unjust and that we must fight for and support the leadership and influence of those who have been, and often continue to be, harmed by historic energy policy. As Mikki Kendall reminds us, “No one has ever freed themselves from oppression by asking nicely.”
I do this work because each of us has a role to play in standing up to apathy and injustice, and this is mine. What is yours?
