Simple Changes Towards an Environmentally Conscious Lifestyle

If you know me, then you’ve probably heard me rant about environmentalism. It started young: at the age of eight, I wrote a letter to George W. Bush about developers clearing the land near my house, asking him to step in and stop the destruction of the forest. Since I can remember, I’ve always aligned myself with tree-huggers, arguing about the bleak reality of global climate change with friends and adults alike in my conservative hometown.

However, post-undergrad, I moved into an apartment alone for the first time, and I was forced to confront a difficult question: did my consumption reflect my environmentalist views? This was around the time zero-waste living (producing no plastic waste) was going viral, and it provided a new lens within which to examine one’s environmental commitment. So many of us grew up with that adage, “Reduce, reuse, recycle,” but how many of us actually paid attention to reducing—both consumption and waste—and reusing what we already have?

I acknowledge that personal positive lifestyle changes will only do so much to impact the environmental crisis. As of 2017, just 100 companies were responsible for 71% of global carbon emissions, and a majority of plastic in the oceans comes from inadequate waste management systems in middle and low-income countries—it’s clear the only way to mitigate the environmental crisis we face in the 21st century is to vote for politicians who view the crisis as immediate and will enact sustainable policies, as well as cooperate with world leaders to lead global efforts towards change.

However, making environmentally conscious personal lifestyle changes still has a huge impact on businesses: it puts pressure on them to bend to consumer demands. The more we show corporate America that we as consumers will not purchase their goods if they aren’t meeting environmentally conscious standards, the more positive changes these corporations will make. This pressure is already being felt: in October 2018, two hundred and fifty organizations (including H&M, Unilever, PespsiCo, L'Oreal, Nestle, and Coca-Cola) responsible for 20 percent of the plastic packaging produced around the world started an initiative to promote a circular economy for plastic. And large fast-food chains like Burger King and KFC are experimenting with meat substitutes.

So while I’m far from perfect, here are some simple lifestyle changes I’ve implemented in the past few years to reflect my stance as an environmentally conscious consumer, as well as to reduce waste and consumption and reuse what I already have:

#1: I stopped using paper towels and instead use cotton rags and dish-towels.

In 1931, paper towel rolls began mass production for kitchen use, and since then, they’ve become a staple in our households. More than 13 billion pounds of paper towels are used each year in the U.S, amounting to 40 pounds, or 80 rolls, per person, per year. Growing up, paper towels were just something we always had—we used them to dry fruits and veggies after washing them, to clean up spills, to Pledge the kitchen table, to keep our food from splattering all over the microwave.

Paper towel production consumes 110 million trees per year and 130 billion gallons of water—all for something you toss in the trash after one use. While other paper products can often be recycled, the fibers in paper towels are too short to be woven into new paper products. In the landfill, paper towels break down and produce methane, one of the greenhouse gases that contributes to global climate change.

A huge part of becoming more environmentally conscious is to stop valuing efficiency over environmental cost. In many ways, it’s easier to tear off a paper towel and toss it in the trash after it’s been used, but it’s costing you money and depleting the earth of its natural resources.

The simplest fix for this issue is to substitute reusable dish towels and rags for the same purposes as the paper towels. Older t-shirts can always be turned into cleaning rags, and dish towels are perfect for cleaning up kitchen messes—most messes, you’ll find, are small enough that you can rinse your towel in the sink and continue using it throughout the week. For about $5, I bought myself a set of reusable cotton napkins (which has the added bonus of making you feel a little fancy). The only difference I’ve noticed in this change is having to wash the towels and napkins every month or so (I rotate them out, so I don’t add much to my laundry cycle).

#2: I ditched pads and tampons and switched to a menstrual cup and reusable pads.

Ever since the menstrual cup became popular, I’ve been terrified of it. It seemed daunting to insert, unlikely to function better than a tampon, and cumbersome to clean. However, the facts began to pile up: an individual goes through approximately 11,000 disposable pads and/or tampons in a lifetime—in the U.S. alone, 12 billion pads and 7 million tampons pollute landfills annually, with the majority of these single-use products being wrapped in plastic. Cotton, used for absorption in sanitary products, is the world’s thirstiest crop, requiring six pints of water to grow just one bud.

Besides being resource-intensive, disposable sanitary products are also chemical-intensive: most pads contain polyethylene plastic (the adhesive that’s used to make the pad stick to your underwear), which is an environmentally harmful pollutant. And most tampons contain chemicals such as dioxin, chlorine, and rayon, which not only get soaked up by your body, but also get released as pollution into the groundwater and air as the products sit in landfills.

Last year, I made the switch to reusable pads to catch any tampon leaks (I purchased them from Precious Stars, a UK-based small business, for about $4 per machine-washable pad), but I still couldn’t get over my fear of the cup. However, after these facts weighed on my conscience for so long, I finally made the switch to a menstrual cup during my last cycle, and I am never looking back. As a tampon user with a heavy flow, not only is my risk of toxic shock syndrome lowered to almost none (cups are made of medical-grade silicone that doesn’t absorb blood or fluids), but I also have to empty the cup so much less than I had to change my tampon (the average cup can hold about four times as much as a tampon). And I don’t have to buy pads or tampons anymore! I spent about $28 on my cup (the Saalt cup), which would amount to about three-four months of tampon/pad supplies for me normally—but unlike single-use sanitary products, menstrual cups last 5-10 years.

I recommend doing your research before purchasing. I used this quiz from Put a Cup In It to determine what size and brand of cup I needed (they vary in firmness and size, depending on the height of your cervix and whether you’ve had children). I then watched lots of Youtube videos about menstrual cups to feel educated enough that I wouldn’t leak everywhere or cause an embarrassing ER visit. I found Bryony Farmer’s (the owner of Precious Stars) Youtube channel to be very informative and reassuring (click here to check her out).

#3: I reduced my use of plastic bags while shopping.

One of the easiest ways to reduce single-use plastic consumption is to remember your reusable grocery bags before that trip to Kroger. Only 1 to 3% of plastic bags are recycled, and in the U.S. alone, more than 100 billion plastic bags are used each year. Reusable grocery bags are cheap—I bought my main one from Trader Joe’s for $1.50. But something I realized recently was that I actually, probably like many of you, have a ridiculous number of totes—most of them free from conferences or university events. These totes make perfect reusable grocery bags, and you’ll be saving yourself a little extra money by putting them to use instead of buying a reusable one.

I also stopped using the single-use plastic produce bags you use to bag up loose fruits and veggies. I had a realization that I always wash them before I cook or eat them anyway—why separate them in plastic? It’s an easy change to make, and there’s really no need to invest in a set of reusable produce bags.

Finally, I started telling stores that I didn’t want a bag—no matter where I was. If you’re like me, you’re not always going to remember your reusable tote bag when going to Marshall’s or Lowe’s. If you were more prepared, you might put a fold-up tote in your purse for such occasions, but I’m not that type of person. So I forced myself to get over my shyness and just tell the employees, no matter how awkward, that I didn’t need a bag. It might involve a little contortion to carry the paint brushes and succulents to the car, but it can be done.

#4: I stopped eating meat while cooking at home.

This one will be controversial, but there’s just no way around it: according to Scientific American, meat production, which includes the production of beef, chicken, and pork, "emits more atmospheric greenhouse gases than do all forms of global transportation or industrial processes." Beef alone is responsible for 41% of livestock greenhouse gas emissions and that livestock accounts for 14.5% of total global emissions. According to a 2018 UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report, shifting to more plant-based diets could contribute 20% of the effort needed to keep global temperatures from rising 2°C above pre-industrial levels.

The Amazon rainforest fires, which sparked global outcry this summer, were caused primarily by loggers and ranchers to clear land for cattle. And it was this stark example of the cost of meat consumption that made me reevaluate my lifestyle. While I have shifted to a completely meatless diet while at home (I still eat meat if I’m at a restaurant, though this will most likely change in the future), this reduction could also be as simple as a day or two without meat each week. You’ll find that with companies like Beyond Burger and Impossible Meats pioneering meat substitutes, it has never been easier to reduce your meat consumption (I’ve personally, as a meat eater, tried Beyond Burger, and its resemblance in both flavor and texture to a real burger is uncanny when cooked correctly). And while some argue that it’s more expensive to eat vegetarian, I have found absolutely no difference in my monthly grocery bill by sticking to simple fruits, veggies, and grains rather than processed, ready-made options and meat substitutes. And bonus: it’s better for your health too!

If you’re an anti-vegetarian and view meat-eating as part of your identity or physical needs, I’d ask you to consider how much of that resistance to reducing meat consumption is actually based on scientific fact. According to scientific journalist Marta Zaraska, “Our belief that we need protein from meat to function—and yes, that's a myth—goes back to the 19th century, when a few German scientists did a few not particularly scientific studies (the standards were very different back then) and made people believe that without tons of meat in our diets our bodies would fail. One of these scientists, for example, Carl von Voit, calculated how much protein soldiers, laborers, or prisoners consume each day and from this inferred that the resulting number represented how much their bodies actually need. Imagine that today you'd calculate how many sugary drinks kids have per day, and from that infer that they need tons of sugar to grow well!” Meat consumption has also been linked to symbols of power and wealth, as well as traditional masculinity—but that’s all a social construct, and a destructive one at that.

The bottom line is that as long you are researching the nutrients you need and identifying vegetables, fruits, and grains that account for your daily needs, you can easily cut out meat. It’s just a matter of valuing the reduction of environmental cost over your resistance to change.

#5: I stopped buying new clothes.

For my engagement photos, I knew I wanted floor-length and fancy, so I “thrifted” this lovely Nordstrom romper-dress from Poshmark for only $35. It worked out perfectly!

More than 150 billion garments are produced annually, enough to provide 20 new garments to every person on the planet, every year. Fast-fashion, inexpensive clothing produced rapidly by mass-market retailers in response to the latest trends, is partially to blame for this, as consumers shop at places like H&M, Forever21, and Primark each season, wear the trendy clothes only a handful of times, then either find that they fall apart due to poor quality and throw them away, or they dump them at a Goodwill to purchase new clothes the next season.

In addition to the wasteful mentality of fast fashion, the apparel industry accounts for 10% of global carbon emissions and is the second largest industry polluter, second only to oil. Over 70 million trees are logged every year and turned into fabrics like rayon, viscose, modal, and lyocell. Cheap synthetic fibers emit gasses like nitrous oxide, a greenhouse gas and ozone destroyer, and plastic microfibers shed from our synthetic clothing into the water supply account for 85% of the human-made material found along ocean shores, threatening marine wildlife and ending up in our food supply.

One response to this issue is to research the brands you’re supporting. Many ethical companies will be upfront about their workers’ conditions, as well as their sustainable production policies. Another response is to research fabrics that have less environmental impact, like wool and linen, which last longer and cost less in precious natural resources.

My approach was to stop buying new clothing altogether. With the 150 billion new garments produced every year, there are way too many new and barely used clothes being thrifted or put up for sale on places like Poshmark and eBay for me to justify buying new. Not only do I save money, but I reduce my contribution to the demand on the fast fashion industry as well. I’ve also found that I tend to buy less clothes by using Poshmark due to the process of bartering over prices and taking my time to decide if I really need that item of clothing.

And if this radical of a change seems too daunting—I managed to “thrift” my entire wedding outfit for next July. I bought my BHLDN wedding dress on Poshmark (unworn and unaltered, purchased as a backup dress for another bride) for a whopping $240 (originally retailing for $1,100). My shoes were an eBay find for $8. And I’m re-wearing the earrings I bought for my high-school prom because while society pressures us into thinking we need something new for it to be special, that’s not always the case.

Obviously, thrifting my wedding dress and shoes is an extreme example of reducing fashion consumption, but even limiting yourself to one new outfit per season or only shopping at sustainable companies is a simple change that can have a big impact on the fashion industry, forcing corporations to create more environmental initiatives to meet consumer demand.

I hope these examples of simple ways you can change your lifestyle to have a positive impact on the environment show how easy it is to do your part towards environmental stewardship. As I said, I’m not perfect—I still haven’t moved to zero waste, though I’d like to, I still eat fast food sometimes, I still order books from Amazon in plastic packaging, the list goes on—but what’s important is all of us taking small steps towards those sustainability goals. And if you have more suggestions on ways everyone can reduce and reuse, leave them in the comments!

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