Why Climate Action Starts With Seeing People: The Warm Hearts Awareness Campaign

by Emily Kantardzic for The 44 North

Youth Climate Fellow—Stanford Climate Fellowship & Rustic Pathways

People in coats walking through a blizzard in a city

"One of the most important lessons the fellowship taught me is that you don’t need a perfect plan or a large platform to begin. I used to believe meaningful change required waiting—for the right idea, the right time, or the right level of confidence. This experience showed me that starting small isn’t a weakness. It’s often how change becomes possible."

Before joining the Stanford Climate Fellowship through Rustic Pathways, I thought climate change was something I understood. I followed the news, knew the statistics, and cared deeply about the issue. However, based on what I’d seen in the media, heard from adults, and believed, I thought: Because I’m a teenager, my voice isn’t big enough to make any change. It was amazing how wrong I was. After doing my research into the opportunities available to teens like me—who want to make change but don't know how to—everything shifted. My perspective on the change I could make transformed once I began connecting climate issues to real people and lived experiences through the sources that were right at my fingertips (and are at yours too!).

The fellowship wasn’t just about learning facts—it was about noticing how climate change shows up in everyday life. Through conversations, workshops, and shared projects, I started to see how environmental challenges are deeply tied to social ones, particularly for people who are already vulnerable.

One moment that stayed with me was realizing how extreme weather affects youth experiencing homelessness in my own city. Cold winters aren’t just uncomfortable—they can be dangerous. That realization pushed me to think differently about what climate awareness can look like when it’s rooted in local, human realities.

Learning to Take Action

As part of the fellowship, we were encouraged to design a project connected to our communities. That’s how Warm Hearts began—a youth-led awareness campaign focused on youth homelessness in Toronto alongside sustainable clothing practices. While it’s still early in its journey, Warm Hearts has already helped turn concern into action.

Through the campaign, I share information about youth homelessness, extreme cold, and the environmental impact of clothing waste on Instagram and TikTok (@warmheartsac). The idea is simple: donating gently used clothing can support young people in need while also reducing textile waste and the carbon footprint of fast fashion.

Partnering with Covenant House in Etobicoke, Warm Hearts has helped collect winter clothing and raise funds for youth experiencing homelessness. Equally meaningful are the conversations it sparks—moments when peers, friends, and community members pause to reflect on empathy, sustainability, and how they can make a difference in their own ways.

Emily wearing a red holiday sweater and a Santa hat, holding a hand-drawn Warm Hearts sign.

What I Took Away From the Fellowship

One of the most important lessons the fellowship taught me is that you don’t need a perfect plan or a large platform to begin. I used to believe meaningful change required waiting—for the right idea, the right time, or the right level of confidence. This experience showed me that starting small isn’t a weakness. It’s often how change becomes possible.

I also learned the power of sharing stories. When people understand why something matters, they’re more likely to care and stay engaged. That mindset has shaped how I think about climate issues, leadership, and community action.

Moving Forward

Warm Hearts is just the beginning. I hope it grows into a broader platform that inspires young people to get involved in issues they care about—whether that’s climate justice, homelessness, sustainability, or something else entirely.

More than anything, the fellowship gave me confidence: confidence to speak up, to try, and to keep going even when things feel uncertain.

The Warm Hearts logo

A Note to Other Young People

If you feel a calling to help change the world, that urge is already halfway to the goal. Your voice isn’t too small—don’t let anyone convince you any differently. In situations where most people follow the crowd and don't speak up about topics that really matter, don’t be a follower; be a leader. You don’t need everything figured out to begin. Paying attention, learning, and responding to what matters around you already counts.

Sometimes, meaningful change starts there—and if you want to see what that can look like, Warm Hearts is one example of how young people can take action in their communities. You can follow the journey on Instagram and TikTok @warmheartsac.

How to Shop Smart for Your First Place: Thrifty is the New Bougie

by Abbigale Kernya for The 44 North

Managing Editor

A woman in a shopping cart, posing in sunglasses

"At the end of the day, your financial and personal safety is worth way more than taking risks on those too good to be true listings that just smell a little fishy. Shopping smart is as much about safety as it is about affordability."​​​​

Moving out of your parents' house for the first time is both the most exciting step into adulthood and a scary path full of unknown and hard lessons waiting around every corner. From navigating new friendships to learning how to live independently, everything feels like a first in this new chapter of life. One of these firsts—my favourite aspect of moving out—was decorating my very own space. Whether it be a dorm room or an apartment, freedom and creative control can easily have harsh consequences on your bank account. To help ease the financial burden, I’ve compiled some life lessons, tips and tricks, and words of wisdom to help make your space uniquely yours without hurting your wallet.

Patience makes perfect: take what you can get

It doesn’t matter how many hours you’ve spent on Pinterest refining the aesthetic you’re going for, or how many times you’ve had to explain what “coastal grandma” means to your parents. It doesn’t matter how prepared you think you are: nothing happens all at once. Speaking from experience, furnishing a new place always takes 10x as long as you expect it to and always—always—costs more than you budget for. Second-hand stores and hand-me-downs are your new best friend. That desk that a friend-of-a-friend’s roommate left last semester may not be cute—it may even be kind of ugly—but it’s free and it’s more realistic than the Anthropologie desk you’ve had pinned for seven months. 

If anything, this may be the time in your life when you are about to get really good at making someone else’s trash your very own curated collection of pre-loved gold. As someone who really, really likes interior design—and spends way too much time curating perfectly balanced moody collages on Pinterest—this was hard for me to accept when I first moved into my university apartment. It felt like someone dumped a cold bucket of water on my head when I realized that rent and hydro bills take priority over wall sconces.

This seems like common sense now, but moving into your first place is a momentously exciting adventure and some of us (myself included) can’t help but get a little carried away in our daydreaming. 

Don’t sleep on the thrift stores

Speaking of wall sconces: the best apartment decor I ever scored was sitting dusty in a back aisle of Value Village on a random Wednesday. The gold bow-shaped candle sconces I had saved to my mood board were there, looking right at me. The very sconces I’d fixated on in the weeks leading up to my move and told everyone I had to have (be it overpriced on Etsy or not) were $4.

Everyone, so I’ve come to understand, has a story about crossing paths with something so sought after and seemingly impossible to find, about striking gold at a thrift store that completely transformed not only their new space, but made it feel a little more like home. When you’re far from home for the first time or feeling a bit lost in a new place, finding second-hand decor is an easy way to stay within your budget and maintain peace of mind.  

DIY (no really, you can do it yourself!)

Remember that pre-loved gold I mentioned earlier? Sometimes second-hand finds can be functional and a convenient way to stay on budget, but they’re not always… cute. To manage your finances while striving for a place that feels like home, DIY arts and crafts are a good compromise. Take picture frames for example: I thrifted quite a few (and still do!)  for my apartment and while they might not have been the perfect shade of black or the right vibe I was going for, with a quick coat of dollar store acrylic paint and a good wash later, I’d taken a pre-loved item and made it something that reflects the intention of my space. 

There are so many other hacks out there to transform something less than optimal into what brings you joy. From cute cushions to cover up a weird shade of couch fabric, throw blankets to add dimension to an awkwardly shaped room, a thrifted lamp shade to elevate your elementary childhood desk lamp, or finding thrifted fabric for flowy curtains that offset how the landlord painted over your four-bedroom apartment: the world is your imagination.

Just remember to keep all DIY fire smart, especially if you’re upcycling a lamp shade … 

This is the time to change who you are—your space included. 

Second-hand shopping is a miracle for not only your wallet, but for the space it offers to reinvent yourself again, and again, and another time, and probably once more for good measure. Finding apartment decor for a fraction of the price means you are allowing yourself the financial freedom to discover what you really like. Who are you away from your parents? What do you like? Who do you want to be? Maybe you can be someone with a cupboard solely full of mason jars or funky martini glasses or maybe even that friend who collects bird mugs, because why not? You can change yourself however many times you need because this is the time in your life when anything and everything is at your fingertips. So yeah, get that weird-looking oil painting of a pug you thrifted and hang it over the couch your brother’s friend gave you. In the realm of discovering who you are and how you fit into adulthood, discounted second-hand decor helps you along that journey. 

The downside of nifty thrifting: how to not get scammed

I’ve been here one too many times, unfortunately. Sometimes, when pursuing Facebook Marketplace or Kijiji, things are simply too good to be true. Not in the “Oh wow, I can’t believe someone is just giving this nightstand away for free” kind of way, but in the way that just screams scam. 

Recently, I moved out of my university apartment and made the move across the country with my partner. Starting with only what could fit in a Honda Civic, we were in desperate need of quick, cheap furniture on Facebook Marketplace. We found a beautiful sectional sofa couch for a fraction of the price it should have been sold for, and only a $75 delivery fee to have it brought to our apartment in another town. It felt too good to be true, and it most certainly was. The first red flag should have been that the account was made only 15 hours before and had no personal information or any indication that there was an actual person by the name of “Linda” behind the ad. The second flag we ignored—in our desperation to not sit on the floor of our apartment anymore—was that “Linda” would only take e-transfer (and would only hold the couch if we made the delivery deposit). 

Here is where I wish everyone would stop and think for a minute: listen to the alarm bells ringing in your gut and ask yourself if this is legit. Unfortunately, scams are waiting in every corner of the internet, and this one left my partner out $75 and with a very frustrating afternoon at the bank trying to unlock his debit card. 

A good rule of thumb, which I should have followed while shopping on second-hand sites, is: always use cash, always bring someone else with you for pick-ups, do a background check on whoever you’re buying from, and always listen to your gut. At the end of the day, your financial and personal safety is worth way more than taking risks on those too good to be true listings that just smell a little fishy. Shopping smart is as much about safety as it is about affordability. Keeping both in mind will allow furnishing and decorating your first place to be memorable, in the best ways!

I Just Graduated, Now What?

by Abbigale Kernya for The 44 North

Managing Editor

Students tossing their graduation caps in the air.

To be honest, I don’t really know. 

What comes after four hard, draining years besides a pile of debt and a sense that everywhere you step is the wrong direction? It’s a strange sort of navigation to move past everything that defined you as an adult: the transition from teenager to student to know a third unknown, unfamiliar identity. Who am I now? Who am I supposed to be?

What if I don’t like my degree?

I am the first person in my family to graduate from university. I am the first sibling to pursue post-secondary education and the first grandchild to leave home. There is no guide book on how to walk through this world, let alone ropes to lean on from anyone else who vaguely knows this feeling of displacement, that somehow I just seem to be floating through life in between my last exam and crossing that stage.

At times it feels surreal that I managed to finish at all. Holding down two jobs, full time studies, and living in an unaffordable city broke me out in hives more than I’d like to admit. On top of never feeling like I am never living in the moment or never doing as good as I know I could. It was hard. It was really, really hard to get to this point. I wrote years ago when I finished my first year how university was lonely. How I felt cold and lost and everywhere I went felt like the wrong place to be. To be honest, some of that never went away. Some of that I know now was undiagnosed generalized anxiety, but most of that was a pattern of self-sabotage that led me to isolate and never allow myself to engage in social circles or make new friends. 

I remember one lecture where I sat in my usual corner in the back of the room, low on gas and hungry, staring at the back of people’s heads silently willing someone to talk to me. That someone would turn around and confess they were just as lonely as me. Remembering how the first two years of school felt makes it hard for me to talk to family friends or cousins or anyone else who asks for advice. Mabe for their own child, themselves, or to curb the curiosity of how a hyper-independent student like myself graced through her studies supposedly unfazed by everything. 

To be honest, I don’t know what advice I could give without thinking of that girl in the back of the class wishing for divine intervention to cure her haunting loneliness. The past two years were black and white compared to the beginning of my degree, but it is hard to imagine I could have ever gotten to where I did without being thrown into a battle between myself and the realization that your suffering is not unique. Everyone else in that class had their own walk with post-secondary loneliness but was hiding it just as good as I was. 

Looking back, it’s sort of unifying to know now that everyone was just as scared as me.

I ask again: what if I don’t like my degree?

This is something I’ve been quietly asking myself as the last exam sits dusty in my Google Drive and my impending post-graduation move across the country quickly approaches. Do I like my degree? What can I do with a degree in English Literature and creative writing? Much like the tone of this piece: I am not totally sure. 

What I do know more than everything I have learned during my years at school is that plans rarely materialize like you had planned. If you were to say to me four years ago that I never studied abroad and took a job in a field I vowed to never enter and leave it three years later having spent the time of your life working it surrounded by the greatest people you have ever met, I don’t think I would have believed you. 

If you were to say I found my partner forty minutes from my childhood home and not in some far away corner of Europe where I lived out my middle school fantasy of meeting a British boy and travelling the world before I was 23, well, I think my childhood One Direction craze might be to blame for that one. 

Everything I had planned my life to be from applying to Trent University to walking across the convocation stage evaporated the second this chapter of my life began, leaving a path open to explore every possibility I never even dreamed possible. I became someone little me would have looked up to. Though she feels cooler with her high school band and the guitars and the pent up angst that made for arguably better taste in music, everything I wanted to be is staring back at her. 

That is not to say that these past four years were without struggle. Money was hard. School was hard. Balancing budding friendships and work life balance was hard. Coming to terms with mental health was even harder. I found myself distancing myself from my degree and the people in it. English is one of those disciplines where the professors—in all of their inconsistent views on literature and expectations for “subjective” essays—warped my passion for exploring stories and deeper connections to literature instead into “how can I best manipulate 1500 words into whatever suits the prof?” It cost me sort of everything. Having your own views and opinions I’ve learned can cost you grades you need to keep a scholarship. Having multiple jobs to pay for the rising cost of living can cost you your potential, too. 

This is all to say that I have found myself in unexpected places with the most unexpected outcomes during my time at university. More than all the essays and discussion groups and failed group assignments, what I’ve taken away with me is the lesson that if one thing isn’t working, try again. 

Nothing is set in stone. If you don’t like where you are, try again. Close that door and open another one. Don’t like your degree? You’re not the first person, go back again. Try again. Move to a new city, make new friends, experience life from a different perspective, take that job offer, write a book, go travel, fall in love and fall out of love: nothing is permanent. 

I am not the first person to not know where to go after graduation, and my anxiety is not unique: this is part of being an adult, so I’m learning. 

What comes next, you might ask? I have no idea, but I’m excited to find out.