The TV in our inn at Clyde River this morning.

Today – my second day in town – the Supreme Court of Canada agreed to hear Clyde River’s appeal against seismic testing for offshore oil and gas. This is a really big deal! It was so great to be gathered with everyone around the TV, which was playing live news of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s visit to Washington, D.C., hearing both Prime Minister Trudeau and President Obama address Arctic issues, on the same day that the Supreme Court made its decision.

It was even more incredible to be watching this with the Arctic right outside the window, to be sitting with people who have been so dedicated and involved in protecting their communities, livelihood, and survival in the face of seismic testing.

This tiny hamlet has received international attention for its battle against seismic testing. The Government of Canada has granted three fossil fuel companies – companies whose identities have not been revealed – permits to conduct seismic testing off Clyde’s shores. The community argues that they live off the land – that the seismic testing will affect narwhals and other marine mammals, sources of food that they depend on. These fears have been supported both historically – the seal population in Clyde River suffered after seismic tests in the 1970’s – and through scientific research.

I was obviously very happy to hear this news yesterday, but I also came to a realization.

As a community organizer around climate justice issues, I am all too familiar with so many community battles against fossil fuel infrastructure (in fact, my Senior Fellowship application was in large part motivated by a desire to contribute to these campaigns). However, I realized that I am not even close to being a part of this campaign, even peripherally. I can share petitions or write opinion pieces, trying to bring attention to their cause, until I am blue in the face, but I am not from here, and this fight does not directly affect my livelihood (even though global climate change does). In fact, wearing my researcher’s hat actually makes me even more separated from this community.

I am Canadian, but I am a southerner. I love the Arctic, but I am not from here. I can care about these issues, but I need to be invited to be a part of this community. It is not a given. And, as a researcher, I cannot stay here for very long. How can I expect to be welcomed when I am not here for very long? How can I be welcomed if I must gather data? How can I use the resources I’ve been given to benefit this community, how can I be of use, how can I learn so that we can better work on solving climate change issues?

These are the questions I’ve been grappling with this week.