For the Ladies

LISTENING: to hotel lobby music aka sia
FEELING: excited to be in Italy!
SEEING: a neon green "21" sign at my hotel

I've just arrived in Milan, Italy. I'm here because I've been nominated for an award: The Inge Feltrinelli Award. Before being a finalist, I knew nothing about Feltrinelli, for whom the award is named. I live in the U.S. She was Italian. I've since learned a lot more about the famed photographer and publisher.

I learned that she got to hang out with the author Ernest Hemingway. I learned that her husband, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, whose surname she took, believed in Palestinian freedom. I learned that, like me, she loved to wear bright colors. Most importantly, I learned that she believed in the power of words and images to tell stories.

That's what her award honors. I'll know Friday whether I've won. Fingers crossed, but I don't need a victory to celebrate. I'm in Italy for the first time—haven't I already won?

I feel compelled to honor Feltrinelli's history—to honor the history of the women her foundation is uplifting. The story that caught their attention is my piece on how climate change is boiling the Southwest U.S. and the increased heat endangering migrants who pass through. That piece honors a few women: Adriana Carillo, who goes in search of migrants and their remains in the desert, and my mom, whose own struggle migrating to the U.S. has instilled an immense sense of righteousness in me.

Welcome to Possibilities, a creative climate newsletter on the possibilities that lie where crisis meets community. I’m Yessenia Funes, and I'm raising a glass to the women sowing seeds to bloom the next generation's flowers.

I think that most people who do the work I do — reporting on issues relating to climate change and weaving them into narratives people can connect with — do so because they care. As for me, I care about climate change, in part, because I know what it means for my family members who don't have the privilege of living here in the U.S. like I do. I care because when I read about folks traversing to the U.S. in search of a better life after surviving a hurricane or wildfire or drought or famine, I see my own mother's face. She, too, came to the U.S. looking for a new future. She didn't want to come. But she had to. Not because of extreme weather but because of economic hardship and familial pressures.

These honorary months — be it Latine Heritage Month in September or Women's History Month in March — always feel a little performative and tangential to actual change. Then, I remember the importance of looking back. I remember we must not forget the stories of our ancestors, the lessons of past lives.

I think of my mother and her strength — of how much she sacrificed so I could be here today sharing stories about climate justice and revolution with you all. I think of Feltrinelli, who worked in the industry at a time when women were not respected but treated as entertainment for men. I am grateful to her for paving a path forward for the next generation of women like me and Alice Speri and Ira Lupu and Wanqing Zhang and Antonia Timmerman and Marcela Turati — all women journalists whose work was recognized for this award.

I'm in Italy until Sunday. Next week, I'll be writing you all from Miami. Hold onto the women in your life, and thank them. We never do get enough thanks. 🌀

Rest in Power

While we can't say for certain that climate change led to these specific weather events (we need attribution studies for that), we do know that the Earth's rising temperatures are already creating more disasters like these.

In Pakistan, torrential rains killed at least 35 people last week.

In Oaxaca, Mexico, five people died attempting to combat a wildfire on March 1.

The Texas wildfires have killed a second person.

Currently Reading

A nuanced look at a billionaire buying up land in Hawaii.

Grist's latest investigation highlights an issue that requires more attention: ethylene oxide poison.

We need to start keeping better track of how many people are dying from climate-related disasters.

We love to see Bill McKibben in Atmos.

From the brilliant Sabrina Imbler: "When we exit the zoo, we understand we are the only species allowed to do so."

Who knew anchovy sex would be so riveting?

A complicated piece about Native identity from The New Yorker.

Poetry

alternative universe

I never fly to Italy
or Brazil or Malawi
stories go untold,
voices silenced
I cannot fathom
what I never see
with my own two eyes

alternative universe

I am an only child
without a sister whose hand to hold
without a brother to scold
I am a lonely, bitter, selfish critter
my heart is a shell of what it could be

current universe

I slurp fresh pasta
I practice my poor Italian
I create new memories
with my baby sister, my best friend
I am my ancestors' wildest dreams:
a brown woman defying borders
whose words command attention

I am victorious—
my mami is proud

inspired by yesika salgado's "poet travels the multiverse"

See you next week. xx

- Yessenia