I like to think of myself as an “eco-warrior;” I’ve always tried to do my best when it comes to living a sustainable lifestyle. I bring my reusable bags to the grocery, I fill my own jars with bulk items to avoid plastic packaging, I never leave the house without my aluminum water bottle and bamboo utensils. I’m by no means perfect, but I try very hard to make sure sustainability is at the heart of all my decisions. Now, amidst this COVID-19 crisis, I find myself having to sacrifice a lot of my core values in favor of prioritizing the health and safety of myself and others. Over the past few weeks, I’ve purchased a ridiculous amount of food in plastic packaging, a lot of it being plastic that I know can’t even be recycled. It all has me feeling a mix of confusion, anxiety, and sadness. These pillars that I’ve carefully built up as my identity just came crashing down all around me.

Side note – I’d like to start off by saying that I 100 percent understand and appreciate what a privilege it is for me to even have the means to buy several weeks worth of food right now. This isn’t meant to be a complaint, just an exploration into my personal values as well as the priorities of society as a whole.

In the beginning of all the panic, I started receiving emails (you know the ones) from various companies listing all of the precautions they’re taking to limit the spread of the disease. Most of them were from random mailing lists that I was just too lazy to unsubscribe from. I mean, do I really care what my old dentist in my hometown is doing to combat COVID-19? Delete. 

But one that did catch my eye was from Wheatsville Food Co-op, where I’ve  been a loyal member for the past few years, mainly because I appreciate the efforts they make in the ways of sustainability and community. I started reading through the list of precautions – hand sanitizer readily available (duh)… employees washing hands (well I should hope so)… no more bringing personal containers for bulk products (EXCUSE ME?!). With panicked eyes, I glanced over at my pantry shelves beautifully lined with glass jars of rice, beans, oats, quinoa, nuts, and seeds. What a sad sight it would be to see those juxtaposed with ugly, non-recyclable plastic bags. But given the choice, I’d much rather have food in plastic than no food at all. Pick your battles.

The next hit came Monday morning as I was standing in line with several other people (6 feet apart, denoted by strips of painters tape on the sidewalk), waiting to enter Wheatsville. I begrudgingly left my jars at home, but I wouldn’t be caught dead without my reusable bags. And I wasn’t the only one. The employee manning the door said something to the woman in the front of the line. I watched as that message got passed back like a game of telephone until it landed at my feet with a thud – No reusable bags allowed. Me and my fellow eco-warriors looked around at each other in disbelief, desperately clutching our canvas bags to our chests until one brave soul finally trudged back to their car to abandon their bags and the rest of us glumly followed suit.

Perhaps one of the biggest blows of this whole situation has been the need to order so many things from Amazon. I’ve personally been trying to distance myself from online ordering because of the excessive packaging and the massive transportation footprint. I had a pretty good no-purchasing streak going and was even considering canceling my prime account. Now, I hate to say it, but it’s actually been a lifesaver amidst this crisis. I’ve been able to order shelf-stable food items that have been out of stock at my grocery store, pet food for my three ravenous animals, and even a desk chair so that I could properly join this whole #WFH club, all while sticking to the social distancing rules. Pro tip, courtesy of my mother – unbox your stuff outside (wearing gloves, if possible), immediately recycle/trash the packaging (do not make a box fort), then (you guessed it) WASH. YOUR. HANDS. Never hurts to be too careful. Thanks, Mom.

If you’re like me and you need some convincing to not feel guilty for buying rice in a plastic bag, try to think about it a different way. All of the single-use items I’ve bought during this pandemic are negligible compared to what the industry produces and society consumes on a normal basis. This doesn’t mean it’s the end of sustainability as we know it. It might be a slight hiccup, but it’s also a chance to show how resilient and creative and crafty we can get with our currently limited resources and potentially upend our normal, unsustainable systems. On any given day, my dad is brainstorming with students in his makerspace on how to reduce plastic use, but is now finding himself trying to source plastic to make into medical-grade face shields. Just goes to show that nothing is black and white.

My hope is that we can find ways to be sustainable in other areas of our lives where it’s safer to do so (i.e. don’t waste all that food you panic-bought) and carry some of these practices with us as we come out of this pandemic. The eco-warrior in me is swelling with pride as I think about how small my carbon footprint must be right now without all the driving or flying I normally do (though the wanderlusting nomad in me is *screaming*). Take this time to be more mindful and critical about what and how much you’re consuming, focus on the good you are doing, and come up with new ways to reduce your footprint at the end of all of this.

All of this rambling is just to say that you don’t have to have one and only one value that rules your life. In the midst of a crisis, it’s okay to shift your priorities. It doesn’t mean that I don’t value sustainability and zero-waste living because I’m buying plastic and creating waste. It just means that in the face of a global pandemic unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my lifetime, other things have to come first. In this moment, my focus is the health and safety of myself, my loved ones, and my community. But make no mistake, I’m still an eco-warrior at heart and at the end of all of this, I will throw you some shade for using that plastic straw.