Articles

On the morning of September 19th, I entered the Sustainability Hub at STU 101 for FreeSCycle Friday, expecting a simple event. Instead, it was like walking into a small, temporary ecosystem constructed entirely around reuse. Rows of tables were placed across the room, stacked with things that had been forgotten, from AirPods, tablets, e-readers, to glasses, mugs, and desk lamps. What surprised me the most was not the variety but the abundance. Dozens of AirPods and glasses were sitting neatly in rows, reminding me how quickly valuable things slip out of our lives and are left unused.

When one thinks of Los Angeles and sustainability, a common mental image usually involves the physical environment: air quality, drought, urban heat, wildfires, and loss of green space. However, this perspective captures only the surface of what sustainability truly means in this great city. What I’ve come to understand is that the environmental realities of LA are layered on top of a wealth of history of migration, segregation, displacement, and cultural survival. The land of Los Angeles is so much more than just dirt and trees: it is also about the people who live here. To understand sustainability in LA, one must understand the people who live on this land, the stories they carry, and the vulnerabilities that shaped their history.

By the time I reached my junior year as an Environmental Studies major, the coursework I once found riveting began to feel more like an echochamber. Each assignment – whether scheming the replenishment of an aquifer, modeling global carbon emissions, or revising Shake Shack’s ESG goals – reinforced ideologies already cemented into my being rather than introducing anything new. The boredom unsettled me. How could I, someone who has devoted their education to sustainability, feel disconnected from the material? And if I feel so disconnected, how could I expect anyone else to feel moved by it?

When I first arrived at USC, I did not think much about how sustainability showed up in my everyday routine. I grabbed lunch between classes at the Village, picked up groceries at Trader Joe’s, and mindlessly ate the plant-based options in the dining halls. I always knew food was important for sustainability. However, I did not realize the multitude of systems in play when it comes to food choice. Listening to “The Food Fight” podcast this semester reinforced the significance of food and deepened my understanding of how the food one eats is impacted by more than just mere personal choice. Here at the University of Southern California, students on the meal plan do not choose their food. Their food choices are shaped by USC and the systems of Los Angeles. These choices have impacts. More plant-based diets are better for the environment; more meat-heavy diets are more harmful for sustainability. The choices of the individual are small and have no real impact. However, when combined, these small impacts result in a larger impact, whether for the better or for worse. Many, including me in the past, do not realize the impact of food choices. Something as simple as choosing a meal on USC campus is connected to a much larger story about sustainability.

It’s time for the truth about windmills. Yeah sure, they generate lots of electricity and make renewable energy and all that jazzy stuff. They are also an eyesore that interrupts the beautiful, pure, and peaceful places that are California highways. And like yeah temperatures rising and ice melting and climate change matter… but what about my property value? 

It may begin with a celebration, reaching a significant milestone, or your first major purchase, where you make a substantial investment in your future. When it arrives, it comes contained in a white, minimalistic box, perfectly proportioned. You could be starting high school or college, but no matter what state of life you’re in, you’re staring at a physical manifestation of your potential. This isn’t just a laptop; it’s a commitment, a gift signaling the start of something big. 

“Planting a tree is a way to be a good ancestor.”

I didn’t hear that line until the end of the day, but it ended up framing how I understood the entire experience.

When our event chair at 180 Degrees Consulting (one of my clubs at USC) mentioned we’d be volunteering with TreePeople - an LA-based nonprofit that focuses on reforestation and urban greening - I was immediately interested.

What happens when the solution becomes the problem? In Los Angeles, the Metro rail line system intends to support marginalized communities, but it also threatens to displace those same residents in those homes through gentrification. I had the opportunity to address this paradox through my Geodesign major at the University of Southern California. This interdisciplinary program integrates spatial sciences, urban planning, and other disciplines to create sustainable solutions to complex urban challenges.