Category Archives: Sea Rise

The Belém Blues: What COP30 Delivered (And What It Absolutely Didn’t)

Stepping off the plane last night, I still felt the faint trace of Amazon humidity clinging to my skin, as if the rainforest hadn’t quite let me go. It’s strange; I went to COP30 with the weight of Palau, who I represented, in my hands, and I came home with the weight of the world on my heart. Belém was verdant, alive, vast, a city perched between river and forest, between ancient ecological wisdom and urgent planetary crisis. It was the perfect place to host a climate conference that demanded courage.

And yet, as always, what we needed and what we achieved were not always the same.

Much like Miami, the air both inside the negotiating rooms and outside in the sweltering heat was thick with urgency. Though now, I have swapped the deep green pulse of the Amazon rainforest for our own salty, humid reality back here in Miami and have been reflecting on what COP30 accomplished, what it didn’t, what it all means for South Florida, and what’s next.

What COP30 Accomplished

For those of us living on the front lines of sea level rise and monster storms, the big wins were all about survival and fairness.

1. A Stronger Global Mitigation Pledge

For the first time, nearly every major emitter agreed to submit enhanced 2035 Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) by next year (2026), and to align those targets with the 1.5°C pathway. This is a milestone that many of us, especially those representing vulnerable nations, have been fighting toward for years.

While the language was carefully negotiated (as always), the commitment is real enough to matter: a global push to accelerate the phase-out of coal and limit new fossil-fuel permitting. Not a full ban, but a turn in the right direction

2. A Renewed Adaptation Goal With Actual Numbers

This was one of Palau’s top priorities, and I am proud of what we secured: a dedicated adaptation finance floor — not just a wish list, but a real number. Parties agreed to a political signal to triple adaptation finance by 2035. For small island states, this means reliable resources for seawalls, freshwater protection, food security, and coastal resilience.

While 2035 is not soon enough, it sets a clear, global expectation to scale up resources. For SIDS and coastal communities, this is a much-needed signal that the world acknowledges the damage is here and requires real money.

3. New Protections for Indigenous Communities of the Amazon

Given where we met, this felt deeply symbolic. For the first time, Indigenous Peoples, whose land and knowledge are literally saving the world’s most vital ecosystems, participated in greater numbers than ever before. Brazil announced new Indigenous territories, and amajor new forest finance facility was launched, partly dedicated to supporting Indigenous Peoples and local communities.

Being in Belém, on the Amazon’s doorstep, made it clear that protecting nature protects people. The recognition of Indigenous land rights as a climate solution is critical, and we need to remember that lesson in Florida as we fight to protect our own vulnerable ecosystems, from the Keys to the Everglades. 

4. A Just Transition Mechanism

The parties agreed to establish the Belém Action Mechanism (BAM) for a Global Just Transition. This formalizes the idea that climate action must be fair, especially for communities and workers who suffer the most (but historically have contributed the least to climate change).

This is a big win for climate justice advocates. It means the global shift toward clean energy isn’t just about technology; it now has a formal UN home to coordinate assistance, protect workers, and ensure that developing countries can grow their economies without polluting the way the G-20 (countries of major economies, collectively contributing to 85% of global GDP and 73% of fossil fuel emissions) did.

What COP30 Did NOT Accomplish

1. A Full Fossil Fuel Phase-Out

Despite more than 80 countries advocating for a global roadmap to “phase out” fossil fuels, the final text of the Global Mutrião (meaning “collective effort”) decision failed to include any binding commitment or roadmap to phase out, or even phase down, fossil fuels. The word “fossil fuels” was effectively scrubbed from the final decision.

This was the heartbreak of Belém. The science is screaming at us. We are already acknowledging the likelihood of overshooting 1.5°C of warming (and have done so temporarily). Yet a powerful coalition of wealthy, oil-rich nations (including the United States, which was conspicuously absent) successfully blocked any meaningful commitment to address the crisis’s root cause. It’s unconscionable. Petrostates weaponized the entire negotiating process to protect their profits over our future.

2. Loss & Damage Funding Still Lags Far Behind Reality

Despite progress last year, the COP30 replenishment round fell significantly short of the scale scientists say is necessary. For nations like Palau, whose present-day losses are existential, this shortfall cuts deep.

Imagine asking a family losing their home to rising seas to “wait for the next fiscal cycle.” That’s the message they hear.

3. Weak Accountability Mechanisms

Yes, countries agreed to submit improved national climate plans. No, there are no strong enforcement tools if they fail.
We left with a framework, but not with teeth.

4. Forest Commitments Without Enforcement

Despite the Amazon’s symbolic importance at this COP, the failure to agree on a binding global roadmap to halt deforestation was deeply disappointing. We need clear, enforceable rules, not just new finance mechanisms that lack accountability. The Amazon is one of the Earth’s two lungs. Without a binding global agreement, we’re essentially leaving our life support system vulnerable to the highest bidder. Being in Belém should have been the final, definitive moment for forest protection, but instead, it ended in compromise.

The Bottom Line for Miami & What Comes Next

Representing Palau was as humbling as it was heartbreaking. When I sat in rooms full of negotiators, I carried the stories of families who live meters from shorelines that shrink every year. I thought about the coral reefs I’ve studied since childhood, reefs now bleaching, weakening, dissolving. I thought about the children I’ve met who already talk about relocation, as if their homeland’s expiration date is written in tide charts.

COP30 was a mixed bag of necessary technical progress and catastrophic political failure.

But it did deliver momentum, and sometimes, in the climate fight, momentum is the currency of hope. We secured better tools for adaptationand formalized the concept of a fair transition. That’s the good news.

The truly terrifying news is that the powerful fossil fuel lobby (the same actors who block clean energy laws here in Florida) is still successfully vetoing global climate action. In fact, fossil fuel lobbyists outnumbered every single delegation at COP30, except for Brazil’s. They are holding our cities, our coral reefs, and our future hostage.

The fight isn’t over. In fact, it just got harder. We can’t wait for the next COp; we must turn up the pressure on our own elected officials to enact mitigation that the global stage failed to deliver. The next time I post, I hope it will be about how we plan to use the Belém wins to push for local change, because our survival depends on it.

A Day in the Life at COP30

If you’ve been following my work for a while, you know that the annual UN Climate Conferences (COPs) aren’t exactly glamorous. They’re inspiring, stressful, frustrating, hopeful, exhausting, and energizing all at once.

Here at COP30 in Belém, Brazil, I’ve been working for the small island state of Palau, and the conference has, true to form, been all of these things rolled into one, and I thought you might find the daily details of what happens at these unique meetings interesting.

My work this year has had me deep in the weeds of climate finance negotiations, the alphabet soup of COP, where terms like NCQG (New Collective Quantified Goal), SCF (Standing Committee on Finance), GEF (Global Environment Facility), GCF (Green Climate Fund), AFB (Adaptation Fund Board), FRLD (Fund for responding to Loss and Damage), and Article 2.1(c) (all finance acronyms/terms) get tossed around like everyone was born speaking the unique United Nations language that intends to save Earth from burning. These discussions ultimately decide whether frontline communities, including small island states like Palau, will actually receive the financial support they need to survive a warming planet. Palau and developing nations like it around the world contribute nearly nothing to the cause of our climate crisis, yet are subject to its warming oceans, elevated temperatures, and rising sea levels in alarming, disproportionate ways that place their nations and the people who live there at dire risk. So yes, the stakes are high… and the hours are long.

Daily Schedule: 8 AM – 9 PM (or Later)

Most mornings start with a quick breakfast eaten while scrolling through overnight draft negotiation texts and tracking which paragraphs have magically appeared, disappeared, or multiplied. By 8:00 AM, I’m heading through security on my way to the Alliance of Small Island States’ (AOSIS) morning coordination, where small island nations coordinate their positions on different agenda topics to align as a larger group of 39 countries.

After that, and maybe grabbing another cup of coffee, it’s time to sit through, some days, four or five negotiations in a row (Article 9.5 transparency, the Standing Committee on Finance (SCF), Global Environment Facility (GEF) replenishment guidance, Adaptation Fund negotiations), and so forth. Each one with its own tone, tensions, and tiny battles hiding in the footnotes.

It is during these meetings that you hear nations argue over whether the COP will “invite,” “request,” or “urge” countries to contribute to a fund (yes, this matters). Developing countries will fight to keep language, ensuring that all developing nations, not just a select few, have access to the funds they need to protect themselves. Developed countries will insist on deleting paragraphs that micromanage the fund’s Board. Small Island Developing States (SIDS) and Least Developed Countries (LDCs) will try to hold the line on adaptation finance and the New Collective Quantified Goal on Climate Finance (NCQG) target. Everyone will bracket everything (bracketed text is not agreed upon or official until the brackets are removed).

By late afternoon or, on many days, evening, the room temperature is usually warm (or unusually cold this year, especially for Brazil), the coffee is flowing, and the interventions start getting pointed. Sometimes even loud. In the hallways, leaders, negotiators, diplomats, and civil society huddle to strategize and support one another in a battle whose stakes are, in many cases, survival. These are the moments you realize international climate diplomacy is equal parts politics, persistence, and people.

This is the COP rhythm: intense, purposeful, and powered by caffeine, urgency, and a belief that we must do better.

A Rare Day Off: Breathing in Belém

The annual COP meetings take place over about two weeks, and participants work six days straight, taking off Sunday. Amid the choreographed chaos of COP, on my one day off, I wanted to step into a different world and spent the day at Parque do Utinga, just outside Belém, wandering along leafy trails surrounded by the symphony of the Amazon Rainforest. And honestly, it was magical.

Amazonia, long a symbolic, hopeful location for this COP meeting, is stunningly beautiful. As I strolled through Parque do Utinga, monkeys were swinging overhead from tree to tree, butterflies the size of my hand drifted by like living confetti, and birds of every color imaginable were saying hello in, I assumed, Portuguese from the canopies or while wading in tall grass. As far as you can see, there is an endless array of plant life, vines, flowers, and towering trees so tall that they reminded me exactly what we’re fighting for inside those windowless negotiation rooms back at the conference center.

For a few hours, I wasn’t thinking about brackets or paragraphs or whether “mobilize” should be replaced with “channel.” I was thinking about the Amazon, about places like Miami and Palau, about our ocean, about the ecosystems and people whose lives depend on these negotiations landing in the right place.

Why I Keep Coming Back

The work is long, and the days are longer at these conferences. And yet, moments in Parque do Utinga and in the plenary when countries stand up for justice, equity, and survival in the only international climate forum we have on earth remind me why I do this and why I love doing it.

Communities like mine in South Florida don’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect politics. Neither do SIDS, LDCs, or anyone living on the frontlines of rising seas, intensifying storms, and unbearable heat. No matter the hours or the imperfections in the process, we have no choice but to continue fighting until we solve this ever-so complex global problem.

And so, it is. Aside from the travel, long hours, and nonstop challenges of trying to get nearly 200 nations to agree on how to fix and finance the solutions needed, I plan to keep showing up. Whether tracking paragraphs, translating jargon, endlessly negotiating, or pushing for real financial answers to protect those most vulnerable, and all the rest that happens in a blur at a COP. The work is worth it for places like Miami, small island states like Palau, and, most certainly, the “lungs of the Earth,” as the Amazon has been called, to thrive, let alone survive.

Youth vs. Trump: Our Day in Court for the Climate

Today is a day I will never forget. Alongside 21 of my friends and fellow plaintiffs from all across these United States of America, I will walk into a federal courtroom in Missoula, Montana, to participate in a historic hearing in our case, Lighthiser v. Trump. You see, this will be the very first time in the history of our country that a federal court and judge will hear live testimony in a youth-led constitutional climate lawsuit. 

For many years, young Americans like me have spoken out about the climate crisis in classrooms, at rallies small and large, in city halls, and even on the global stage about our concerns related to our warming world.

But today, September 16th, 2025, is dramatically different.

Today, we are standing in court to demand that the U.S. Constitution protect our most basic rights to life, liberty, and security.

On his first day back in office, President Trump signed a series of Executive Orders that declared a fabricated, fake “National Energy Emergency” and directed the federal government to: 

• Unleash more oil, gas, and coal on public lands;

• Block clean energy programs and infrastructure; and 

• Suppress climate science and the public’s access to critical data. 

Those Executive Orders are already being implemented – keeping coal plants open, shutting down renewable energy projects, and cutting off the science and tools we rely on to understand and prepare for the impacts of climate change. 

Our case argues that these orders are unconstitutional because they violate our rights under the Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. The government cannot knowingly endanger young people’s lives and futures by expanding fossil fuels, blocking solutions, and silencing science. Over the next two days, the judge in our case will hear arguments on two major motions: 

1. Our motion for a preliminary injunction, which asks the court to block President Trump’s Executive Orders before they cause further and irreparable harm. 

2. The government’s motions to dismiss our case, which have been supported by federal agencies, 19 states, and Guam, each sympathetic to the President’s desire to embrace fossil fuel pollution rather than the health of our citizens and environment, and who have joined the case in an attempt to stop us. 

Our legal team will present undeniable climate science along with the testimony from my fellow youth plaintiffs that will vividly explain how the President’s Executive Orders put us in danger. Testimony will come from a Nobel Prize-winning scientist, a Stanford energy expert, a renowned energy economist, an eminent pediatrician, a distinguished renewable energy leader, and several of us youth plaintiffs.

Our government, the defendants, has chosen not to present any witnesses. Not a single one.

To be clear, our case is not just about protecting the environment; it’s about protecting our democracy. Presidents are not supposed to be above the law. We do not have kings rule the United States. And even if there were a real “emergency,” Presidents are not supposed to trample the Constitution, override Congress, or sacrifice our lives for political purposes.

As someone who has spent most of my young life fighting for climate action in Florida, from the rising seas that flood our streets to the ever-increasing extreme heat that bakes our souls and the monster storms that batter our coasts, I know firsthand how high the stakes are this week. These short-sighted Executive Orders don’t just threaten some distant, far-away future; they make our lives and democracy more dangerous right now.  

And while I never, ever imagined that at the age of 26 I’d be involved in my third lawsuit against our government, much less feel the need to sue the President, I also never imagined that I would watch our government knowingly work to unleash fossil fuel pollution while simultaneously silencing science and scientists and eliminating the sustainable energy solutions we so desperately need and, frankly, deserve. Simply stated, I’m not suing because I want to, but because I must. 

Like I said, the stakes here are extraordinarily high—life and death high. If we win, the court will dismiss the President’s unconstitutional orders, protecting not only the 22 of us who are suing the President but tens of millions of others across the United States while also sending our country a clear message: the U.S. Constitution protects young people’s right to a safe climate future. 

Of course, I can’t predict the outcome of our case, but I do know that this week’s hearing proves that our judicial system continues to perform an essential function as a check on abusive power in America and that young people play a truly vital role in defending our democracy and its Constitution.

Here’s to hoping that our democracy wins this historic case.

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