By Davin Faris
The morning was gray and rain-soaked, one of those shivery January days meant for staying in bed. But for the thirty of us crammed into a small tenth-floor room of the Gaylord Hotel in D.C., the atmosphere was almost unbearably warm and stuffy, yet electric with anticipation. We talked in hushed voices to avoid being overheard by anyone outside. I caught up with friends from previous Climate Defiance demonstrations, introducing them to my mom, who was joining us for the first time. Organizers stepped in and out, negotiating a web of encrypted group-chats, rushing to maneuver all the pieces into place. We were the main Yellow team, on standby; outside the hotel, the Green team was setting up their picket signs for the rally; and in another room, overlooking the vast atrium, a third group was preparing the banner drop.
Evan, a Climate Defiance organizer and the action lead, gave a quick speech before we deployed, reminding us why we were here. “We’re making sure they can’t get away with it,” he said. We whispered a few practice chants and songs together, then all filed out into the corridor, packing into the elevator like a clown car. Once everyone was in place down in the lobby, we linked arms and began shouting “OFF FOSSIL FUELS, DEMS” at the top of our lungs, marching between the tables and garden installations, getting shoved back by security guards. A massive fifty-foot banner unfurled from a seventh-floor balcony, looking out over the restaurants and milling guests. In trademark Climate Defiance blue, black, and white, it declared: OIL $$$ OUT OF THE DNC.
That weekend, the Gaylord Hotel had the honor of hosting the Party Chair election of the Democratic National Committee. Hundreds of delegates from across the country were getting ready to cast their votes — and we were not going to let them ignore us. The night before, activists with Climate Defiance and the Sunrise Movement had repeatedly interrupted a televised debate, successfully getting all the chair candidates to commit to taking no fossil fuel donations. We were showing up again to drive home the message, demanding a clean break between Democratic leadership and the fossil fuel companies that collectively pour billions of dollars into our elections, directly influencing races and undermining policy.
For decades, people in power have told activists to be patient and polite, to work within the system, to play by the rules. But now, as global warming records are shattered every year and unprecedented natural disasters destroy communities around the world, groups like Climate Defiance are becoming more widespread and prominent. Founded in 2023 by young organizers deeply frustrated by consistent governmental inaction and corruption, they argue that patience doesn’t cut it when your city is on fire or washed away by mudslides. Politeness starts to seem like willful ignorance. Climate Defiance’s strategy, on the other hand, is all about direct non-violent confrontation. They get on stage and shut down oil or gas events, interrupt galas honoring billionaire executives, and challenge politicians bought out by fossil fuel money. “Name & Shame” organizing is flashy, funny, loud, and unapologetically disruptive. It’s successful, too, landing Climate Defiance a huge media presence, one-on-one meetings with senior officials, and often high-profile resignations or major concessions — as at the DNC.
But for me, it’s about more than all that. Nonviolent direct action, or NVDA, is how I remain hopeful for the country and the world. It’s what keeps me grounded and determined. I grew up in central Maryland, on a small family farm. When I think of home, I think of the land: our fields and forest, our sheep grazing on the hillside. That connection to nature first became political for me when I was fourteen. In the winter of 2020, I helped one of my best friends start a local county hub of the Sunrise Movement, a national youth-led climate nonprofit. We had no idea what we were doing — it was almost all trial and error. But those first experiences of organizing were a revelation for me. I fell in love with the tenacious engagement that activism demands.
It’s not an easy time to be an optimist. My generation has never known a time before weekly mass shootings, before mainstream political violence and disinformation, before ever-more-cataclysmic climate disasters. Our political system makes it hard for anyone — especially students — to feel heard. The easiest thing by far is to disengage, to look away. But direct action offers a radical alternative to that apathy. It insists that our individual actions matter, not in an abstract sense, but in tangible and immediate terms. Instead of unplugging, we demand to be heard. Instead of sinking into despair or giving up, we shine brighter.
My work with Sunrise in high school led me to more direct demonstrations, where I learned about Climate Defiance and found an intergenerational community of passionate and experienced organizers. When I was sixteen, I joined a blockade of former-Senator Joe Manchin’s coal plant in West Virginia. Last December, as a college freshman, I was arrested for the first time, along with twelve others from Climate Defiance, demanding the Department of Energy cancel six pending natural gas permits.
And in January, I was at the DNC election with my organizer friends and my mother, all of us getting pushed around and screamed at by security guards until they finally forced us out into the frigid rain. It was an exhausting, exhilarating day. Once again, the action yielded results. When Minnesota Democratic leader Ken Martin gave his acceptance speech as National Party Chair the next day, he pivoted to echo Climate Defiance’s message: “Are we on the side of the ultra-wealthy billionaire, the oil and gas polluter? Or are we on the side of the American working family, the immigrant, the students?” Of course, those words are cheap; activists will have to keep up the pressure and hold the DNC accountable to its promises. But it’s striking how much influence even a few people can exert, if we’re willing to break the rules and make ourselves heard.
Climate Defiance, the Sunrise Movement, and other disruptive groups have a critical role in this moment of division and chaos. By challenging the status quo and operating outside the political mainstream, they can appeal to people across the partisan spectrum, especially those dissatisfied with traditional politics. As natural disasters become more frequent and severe, the potential for a diverse, class-driven climate movement becomes more and more real. But to achieve that social, economic, and environmental justice requires far more than email petitions or permitted marches. It takes sustained and strategic nonviolent action. It takes all of us.
Find your people. Make some noise. Don’t let anyone take your hope away, as painful and difficult as it will be. In the end, I think that’s all any of us can do. When I get tired now, I remember that rainy morning in the Gaylord Hotel, chanting and singing, demanding change. That burning fire of defiance. We’re still here, radiant — and we aren’t going anywhere.