The Makings of a Trash Talker

What happens on the other side of doing something that really, really, scares you.

Julia Li
7 min readJun 18, 2021

When I reflect on my desire to be a part of the solution to climate change, I realize that I can trace this calling back to 2012. I had made a doodle in my journal at the time, brainstorming all sorts of potential interesting careers for myself — psychologist, graphic designer, chef… Despite not knowing exactly which path spoke to me the most, I vividly remember writing down what would become my future guiding principle: “I want to leave the earth in a better place than it was in when I entered it.”

The doodle from 2012.

It wasn’t until a few years later that I knew how this “make the world better” mission would be achieved — through working on sustainability¹. I had just graduated college with a degree in Neuroscience (because it sounded cool!) and a minor in business (because I knew nothing about it, but it sounded like it could get me a job). Then I read the book Ishmael by Daniel Quinn and suddenly realized, “Oh no, I studied the wrong thing. I should have studied environmental management.”

Though Ishmael is not strictly a book about climate change (rather, it is the story of a talking gorilla guru), it opened my eyes to the sense of entitlement that humans² feel towards the Earth and its resources. I saw that our rapacious delusion, of chasing an impossible goal of more, better, faster, forever… was not only risking the extinction of every other species, it would inevitably lead to our own as well. A truth became clear to me — there is no task more important to humanity right now than saving the life-sustaining planet we depend on.

During my time at Google, my job was within the advertising industry, but I always maintained a handful of sustainability-related side projects, knowing that I eventually wanted to transition into it full-time. Of these, the one I am most proud of was founding a sustainability lifestyle newsletter titled “Trash Talk.”

I had noticed there were various company newsletters that others had also started purely out of personal interest, on topics such as mindfulness, well-being, and productivity hacks. It seemed there was a gap I could fill — I was already researching ways to live my own life in a more climate conscious way, and felt that others could benefit from the information I was learning too.

The name for “Trash Talk” came about because my partner called me a “trash talker” one day, due to my frequent commentary on our tubs of compost scraps.

I’m proud of Trash Talk for many reasons, but the biggest one is because of what it taught me about myself. Trash Talk showed me that my self-perceived limitations are fluid boundaries, malleable and impermanent.

For my entire life, I had never considered myself a writer. I was envious of others who seemed to effortlessly scrawl wit on paper as I racked my mind for just the right word, one I could feel the essence of but whose… articulation? locution? diction?… always lay just outside my mental grasp (I either blamed my English-as-second-language brain or a general innate lack of talent). The thought of attempting to write something not just coherent, but persuasive, (and not only once, but regularly!) felt daunting and exhausting (and mildly masochistic).

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something I was meant to bring to life. So I did… because no one else was going to do it for me.

Through doing this, continuing to show up despite the constantly looming self-doubt, I experienced for myself the true driver of achievement— that commitment trumps talent any day. I didn’t do that commitment perfectly, starting the newsletter at weekly then moving it to biweekly, then even dropping it completely for 3 months during the middle of 2020 before sheepishly picking it back up again, but every episode I did write was a cumulative 4–5 hours of brainstorming, outlining, researching, stream-of-consciousness-ing, deleting, refining, and polishing before resulting in a short piece that could be read in less than 5 minutes. The work behind each piece was invisible to the eyes of the reader, but it was showing me that I was capable. I already knew I had a voice, and I already knew I wanted to share that voice, but only by putting in the time was I slowly learning how to express that voice.

All in all, I wrote 30 episodes of Trash Talk (including 3 guest features) from July 2019 until I left Google in January 2021, a culmination of ~150 hours of writing practice. The pride I feel today compared to the apprehension I felt two years ago exemplifies another lesson I already knew, but can always be reminded of: If something scares you, then it is a sign that you should maybe, probably, most definitely do it.

Bungee jumping in New Zealand. I am absolutely terrified of heights, and actually chickened out at the moment of truth (then the guide pushed me off the ledge). I screamed and laughed hysterically all the way down. To this day, it remains one of my favorite memories.

It’s more important now than ever to cultivate a resilient sense of self-trust, to acknowledge your ideas as valid, and if you want to do something, to have the faith in yourself to know that you are indeed, capable of bringing it to life.

One of my favorite quotes is by environmentalist Paul Hawken, who says,

The great thing about the dilemma we’re in is that we get to re-imagine every single thing we do… There isn’t a single thing that doesn’t require a complete remake.

There are two ways of looking at that. One is: Oh my gosh, what a big burden. The other way, which I prefer, is: What a great time to be born! What a great time to be alive! Because this generation gets to essentially completely change the world.

I frequently come back to that mantra, reminding myself what a privilege it is to be born into arguably the most paradigm-shaking time during the history of human civilization. I remember that courage is not found in doing something you’re not scared of, courage is practiced through pursuing something you’re terrified of, but doing it anyway. Instead of regarding this time of great need as a discouraging misfortune, what if we saw it as the most welcoming invitation we could ever hope for? What if the epoch into which we emerged is actually a celestial blessing, one that catalyzes us like no other era could, to step into the full potential of our creativity, grit, and capacity to fulfill a vision for a better future?

Every time I have stepped past the boundary of fear, I have unlocked new skills, insights, and wisdom that no amount of safety or comfort could have produced.

So, I’ve decided to walk through that portal once again, this time to re-launch Trash Talk to the rest of the world. It will go live next Friday, and subsequent episodes will be published biweekly here on Medium. The first one will cover Trash Talk philosophy and what you can expect (hint: it’s centered on educational empowerment, self-compassion, and what it means to be an imperfect climate activist).

If you’d like to be notified via email when new episodes are released, you can set that up by 1) following my profile on Medium, and 2) scrolling to the bottom of my page and clicking “Subscribe”.

With love, gratitude, and hope,

Julia

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[1] I use the term “sustainability” to refer to working on reversing climate change, because it is the most broadly understood term among the general public. However, this is where the constructs of colloquial language fail us, because it’s not exactly a term that captures the idea correctly. Given that climate change is already upon us (yes, it is already happening RIGHT NOW. It is not a prediction of a distant future as many are still led to believe), there isn’t anything we actually want to “sustain” about the current system. Perhaps in the next few years a more precise phrase will emerge across common cultural understanding that is a better representation of what we’re trying to achieve. Some candidates I like are: planetary regeneration, biodiversity/ecosystem restoration, re-wilding, circularity.

[2] This is a very broad generalization only reflecting my understanding at the time, primarily pointing to western, industrialized human culture. As I’ve deepened my comprehension of the different causes of climate change, I’ve learned that not all humans feel this way. In particular, indigenous communities tend to have a different relationship, generally perceiving humans as within, rather than separate from, nature. “Natural resources” are imbued with their own spiritual and sentient traits, rather than merely perceived as property to be conquered. The wisdom of indigenous cultures is one of the many reasons why it is so important to preserve their ways of life, so that we may relearn from them a more balanced understanding of how to coexist in harmony with our ecosystem.

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Julia Li
Julia Li

Written by Julia Li

Sustainability writer, mindfulness & yoga teacher, artist, foodie. Solving for food waste at Afresh.

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