small town, BIG VOICES.

Avery

Science or silence. Planet over profit. Don’t be a fossil fool. The climate’s changing — why aren’t we… 

These were only five of the 250 signs representing peoples’ voices yesterday on September 20th, the latter two of which were mine. As a part of the global climate strikes led by Greta Thunberg, we led a strike in Westlake Village, a small town to say the least. 

I had never participated in a strike before. It seemed too “hippyish,” too progressive, too rebellious. Though I knew it didn’t have to be as extreme as skipping school every Friday to stand outside of Parliament and demand reform (love you Greta), I thought that showing my face at a strike would characterize me as too liberal.

Well, I don’t think that anymore.

I missed a quiz yesterday!!! No, I didn’t miss an entire day of school, but I did miss one period (environmental science, ironically), in which we were reviewing for Monday’s test and receiving last minute help. 

But as the WHS students began to assemble with me on the bridge, each student bolstered my confidence and shed away my fears a little bit more. Once about 20 of us departed from school at the same time in a suspicious mob, it didn’t seem like I was in Westlake Village anymore. I felt like I was in New York City — where students were excused from school for striking — or Australia — where over 300,000 people striked. 

Well, it was only about 250 of us, but still, we swarmed the biggest Westlake intersection like ants, gripping our signs while perspiring in the 80 degree heat and whooping every time cars honked at us in support. 

One thing I didn’t expect was the sheer amount of generational support; one little boy sat in his stroller with a sign stating “Not too small to make a difference” while an older woman next to him was decked out in her monkey necklace and flower-lined sign with the phrase “Our house is on fire.” 

Though two police officers lurked in the shadows of the trees, there was really no need. I mean, everyone was smiling or shouting with ectasy or laughing when passersby waved. 

So after yesterday, I am no longer afraid of protest. It doesn’t have to be violent, or “hippyish,” or “typical” for teenagers. It is just my way — and millions of other people’s way — of telling the world I have a voice and that I want to unite with others to make a difference. 

Westlake Village may be a small town, but the people in it have big voices.