The Revolution Starts Under the Sink

It’s all in the bins. In college, I have three: one for the trash, one for bottles, and one for paper. At home, though, it’s one giant white can, standing under the sink, quietly pocketing all the bottles and paper that would be recycled in a more eco-friendly home.

The trashcan was once reassuring: when we moved from Kiev, in Ukraine, to America, we put the new one in the same place, right underneath the sink. When we moved from southern Ohio to liberal Boston, the trashcan went again under the sink, without the accompaniment of any green neighbors. In the meantime, there were no stints with recycling, no separation of trash, and definitely no acknowledgement of our environmental apathy.

It’s not that my parents are in denial of global warming; they’re just in denial of the environmentalist movement. When I asked my mom about multiplying the number of bins, for example, she said, “Nyet, Asya. We’re not giving any of our money to those recycling corporations.” Since when is my anti-Communist mother also anti-corporation? Like my mom, my dad resents political attempts to have us regulate our lives under the banner of “eco-friendly.”

They have been making slow attempts at progress. The thermostat in our house is constant with outside temperature during the day, the light bulbs in our lamps are gradually replaced with energy-efficient ones, and my dad was even considering investing in a new electricity-powered car.

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