In his debut book Blue, the visual artist, advocate and author shares his experiences, emotions of and hopes for a world that is blue on so many levels.
When you think of activists, people from older generations or celebrities come to mind. They use their platform, power, and money to influence an opinion or cause close to their heart.
But what is an activist? What is a real change-maker? And do you need fame and fortune to take a stand?
In 2019, one young man, then aged 15, together with some other youngsters from all over the world, decided to do what adults hadn’t achieved. Next to Greta Thunberg and as part of Fridays for Future, Elijah McKenzie-Jackson mobilised over 100,000 young demonstrators in the UK to skip school and to protest environmental destruction – and the demise of our children’s future.
Since then, he has gone on to speak at the Houses of Parliament, founded his own grassroots organisation Waicup and has been instrumental in the eventual abandonment of West Cumbria coal mine. He has drawn America’s presidents Clinton and Biden, as well as Prince Harry, and his sculpture of a bejewelled megaphone called ‘There’s No Place Like Home’ has been displayed on billboards in Times Square. What’s more, he is also a fierce advocate of the LGBTQIA+ and indigenous communities, fighting for their rights and their voices to be heard.
His latest creative project is an accumulation of essays that paint a picture through words of his journey that started when he was still a child. Elijah says about Blue that he first of all chose it alluding to his ongoing journey with mental health. “But also”, he adds, “because of the endless possibilities of the blue skies, of ice caps and of denim.” He explains that blue used to be the most expensive pigment in ancient history, yet now it’s the most working class pigment precisely because of its use in denim. “It’s part of the workforce, it’s ‘everyday’ and reclaimed by people”, he explains the metaphor, and hints at the message of empowerment of those who often feel powerless.
As one of the founding forces behind Fridays For Future, Elijah pushed himself further out of his comfort zone in his youth than many people do in a lifetime.
“It was a really influential time for me, not just publicly breaking history for one of the biggest mobilisations in the UK, but also privately. I suffered with anxiety growing up, and was super anxious to go on public transport and to be in central London. So going to the first ever climate strike, which was February 2019, was actually one of the first times I went on a tube in my teenage life, which was a big step for me personally.”
For Elijah, depression was the first to knock on his door. His internal conflict was fueled by worries about the steady demise of our planet, coupled with ever-changing ideas and feelings about identity, sexuality, and sense of self. Nevertheless, he felt he was never as isolated as others in his situation could have been and also credits some of his teachers who supported him throughout his journey of becoming a public figure.
“I had some really amazing educators in my school who were really influential and who I’m still friends with today. I didn’t have many friends at school, but these teachers made me feel seen and heard. I felt safe in their classrooms which was, I think, a really important space for me to have. So then, when I did go out and do activism, I felt their support. Like back then, I have a really great support system, and I feel really lucky to have that.”
Elijah first started to think about writing about his lived experience when he returned from an expedition to the Amazon rainforest with the Guardian newspaper, and then COP25 in Spain. During the expedition he met a young girl, Anita. She was his age and they formed a bond despite not speaking each other’s languages. They communicated through sounds, smiles and signalling; she painted his arm in indigenous patterns with an ink she had made herself. Elijah was surprised to note that the girl held no ill will against him, even though the society he comes from has significantly contributed to the destruction of the girl’s world. “I think to see headlines and to read data is completely different to seeing those numbers translated into a human life or into a story. That’s why I think art’s very powerful.”
He tells me that this reflection started a grieving process on what he thought he knew about the world.
“As children we’re told that adults will take care of us and adults understand what’s happening, and they speak up for the children, and they nurture children and protect them. But that isn’t the case. Maybe on an immediate level, when we’re talking about sociology, maybe in that interactionist perspective, yes. But on the macro perspective, we are completely disregarded, and I would argue actually fought against.”
Elijah realised that he was unable to articulate this sense of overwhelming sadness over the lie his whole generation was told. Articulating it into a social media post or a work of art that existed in isolation also wasn’t an option for him.
“These feelings weren’t just attached to propaganda in the media, to climate change, or to mobilisation, they were attached to my identity, and they were said through my lens. I think that it’s really important for me to recognize that I have a degree of privilege in society, and I also don’t. And my lived experience, my thoughts and feelings will be different to everyone else’s. But that is the beauty of life: Having those diverse perspectives. That’s why I wanted to sit down and understand what I was feeling and empower myself again. I wanted to feel that I could make a difference, and give space for other people to go through that process, too. Because if I read a book like that when I was 15, and I could subsequently understand what I was feeling, connecting the dots, I think I would have been able to deal with that situation a lot better.”
Although Elijah is no stranger to pushing himself way out of his comfort zone and speaking about challenging and difficult topics, I still asked whether it was nerve wracking or scary to publish any of his essays.
“It definitely was”, he nods. “I’ve got a whole chapter called ‘To All White People’, which is an academic text. Of course, that name is quite divisive, but I think it’s really important to say. Lots of issues in our society, which comes about with race and with identity, it falls on the burden of those people who are affected to educate. When actually, I think it’s really important for the privileged to educate and to learn themselves. So I took that role within that chapter. And I hope I got it right. I think there’s always a risk. I’m not living that experience and could get it wrong. But I think that’s okay, as well, if the intention’s there.”
He admits that publishing his essays made him more vulnerable and exposed him to hate. “But your vulnerabilities can also be strengths, which is how I view them. And, especially as a man, it’s hard speaking about your emotions, because society is still prejudiced about that. So, I was not necessarily nervous, but I was very aware that the way I present the work needs to be representative of how I feel about it. I didn’t want it to become tokenised to a man talking about mental health. And it didn’t go beyond identity, because this is, I mean, this, these essays are rooted in ideology, they’re rooted in scholarly material. And I think that storytelling aspect in connection with facts and figures is so important. And I hope I did that correctly.”
Elijah’s humility despite his impactful and important achievement at his young age are enough to inspire anyone of any age to pick up his book. We talk about the possibility of making it compulsory reading at secondary schools and a must-read for adults of all ages. For anyone still sitting on the fence, I ask him, why should people read his book?
“I wrote the book deliberately as an entry point to everyone”, Elijah smiles. “So if you have any knowledge or no knowledge at all, you can understand this book and it’s quite digestible.”
He recalls reading We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie when he was 13 years old.
“It spoke about her life story as a young black woman growing up in Lagos, Nigeria. I really enjoyed that I could read it as a story, but also understand her perspective within my privilege. And I loved how it was written. I think an old white person reading this book could really understand something. I could understand something. And then probably someone who was in her demographic and someone who experienced the same could find solace in it, too. And that’s what I want my book to do. I want it for educators to be able to read and understand what their kids and their classes are going through. I want younger people to read it and not feel alone in the complex contradiction of life. And then I want my peers to read it to understand that journeys can be different and to embrace everyone’s journey and to spend enough time to understand it.”
I marvel at Elijah’s warmth, kindness and passion he still carries so obviously with him. He’s been in the public eye from a young age whilst carrying a huge burden on his shoulders. To feel this responsibility and the conviction to spend his teenage years fighting for a future for us all, despite feeling abandoned by those who should have protected his generation, must have left its mark. It makes me wonder where this incredible young man gets his strength to carry on from and how he remains grounded in an overall political climate that is set out to undermine his efforts and actions.
“I’ve found it very difficult in the past to allow myself to feel happy”, he admits candidly. “To this day, to have time where I don’t focus on my activism, to not be at the front line of those crises, I still find that a difficult conflict.”
“There’s always going to be challenges when it comes to speaking the truth in a world which ignores truth or being educated in a world of ignorance”, he continues. “It’s going to be difficult. But to have a community who feels the same way and shares that feeling is really important. When I enter my house, that is my safe space where I don’t really have many people come in. I’ve got my cat, I’m married to my husband, who does similar work to me, which is really nice. I keep my circle small, but the people who are my circle, I think we don’t even need to talk about politics because we all understand where we sit and are so comfortable with the work we do. It’s just a given what we think. It’s an evolving process. The world evolves, I think. And as I grow up, my mental landscape will change because the context in which you live changes.”
Having had an extraordinary life so far because of his relentless hope and belief that our planet can be saved, I wonder which of the many incredible things he has done hold a special place in his heart. Elijah tells me that there are many moments he still finds surreal.
“I think on the 20th of September 2019 when we had over 100,000 people in London for the climate strike, that was a big moment where I just sat back and saw how influential we were. Not just myself but our whole generation. We even broke the national record for the biggest environmental demonstration!”
Throughout it all, there seems to be the dual thread of art and activism weaving through Elijah’s life, one ever so tightly and securely intertwined with his love and care for our planet. The question had been playing on my mind from the moment I became aware of this extraordinary young man, and started finding out more about him. Genuinely curious about his response, I ask him, akin to a chicken and egg scenario, what he believes came first into his life: Art or activism? Instantly, I’m able to sense that he enjoys this playful question, and, with intrigue, listen to what he has to say.
“I think having two mums and going to Pride since I was a baby always made me aware that I was in a place to speak up. I also grew up vegetarian, so that always opposed me to animal cruelty and to fight for the planet. I wasn’t necessarily confident in speaking back then, and I’m still not. That’s why I think art was always my personal side and activism was more the public side. I’d also argue that activism inherently itself is creative. It’s creative in a different form because it’s going against the system and coming up with ways and being innovative to go outside that and meet at the top. You are designing a way to be heard and you’re designing the way, you’re designing another game to play and that inherently is very creative. As is painting on a canvas and using materials. So, I don’t have the answer, even though it’s a great question.”
The importance of ‘Artivism’, as Elijah describes it in his book, the close bond between art and activism, is now clearer than ever. With a world in turmoil, human rights violations and environmental destruction at a rate like never before, I want to know his advice for fellow artists who feel lost, scared and worried that their art won’t be able to have an impact.
“Beforehand I was always creating art but that was never really the focus in the public eye, even though of course activism is creative as we’ve just discussed. I’m still learning what my image is, what my visuals are, and I think that’s forever going to grow as an artist. I feel very fortunate to come into the arts from a different position. I know lots of other artists who are really undermined within their work, when I already have a backing from the activism I’ve done.”
“My advice would be to just draw outside the lines and don’t confine yourself to anything. And when you find your style, when you find a way you want to be seen or a way you feel like you can impact the most, that will happen. And just persevere, because I believe you’re doing art to make an impact for someone else, as well as for yourself. It’s a two-way street: you’re not just creating for the viewer, but you’re creating for yourself and then the viewer gets to also feel something. Once it’s out into the world it’s not yours anymore, it’s theirs.”
There is a sense of calm and strength, and an unwavering force of hope in Elijah’s presence from the moment you have the honour of being in his presence. A man so young that, only a few years ago, he could have been one of my students. And just like they did, he’s already taught me so much more in a short time than any grown adult ever could.
As ashamed as I feel of my own and the older generations, and those long gone, all who have contributed to the mess we find ourselves in, as proud am I of this young man who has achieved more meaningful things in a short time than some of our politicians ever will. When I (reluctantly) say good-bye to him, I know that, with people like him, and a young generation that actually cares, the world has hope. He reminds us that anyone can be an activist and part of creating change. Now we just need to do our bit, sacrifice comfort over action, and follow in Elijah’s blue footsteps.
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