Zero or Hero: Going Low-Waste without (Too Much) Pain
Lauren Singer fit two years of her trash in a jar. Two years of stuff in one jar. That was all her trash.
Anna Sacks, aka “The Trash Walker” goes around Manhattan to CVS pulling things from their nightly garbage. She rescues things that are still usable and gifts or keeps them and posts it on her Instagram.
She does curb alerts, trash rescues, and has crusaded all the way to the top–CVS corporate, urging them to stop throwing away good things—things approaching expiration, out of season, or otherwise still usable.
I want to be a zero waster… the question is… can I?
One of my favorites–Zero Wasters is “Zero Waste Chef” who can make a banana peel into anything from dinner to personal care products. She can cook dinner out of things that would defeat an Iron Chef.
I used to lurk in zero-waste groups to be inspired, but more often than not I’d walk away feeling like a failure. I could never stop washing my hair to get rid of shampoo bottle waste, and let’s not discuss that jar of Hellman’s in my refrigerator…
“You know perfectly well how to make mayonnaise! That jar will be in the landfill forever!”
I’ll recycle anything not nailed to the ground, and nobody loves composting more than me, but the truth is, that’s not zero waste. In many communities recycling might as well be “throwing in the trash,” because only 10% of recyclables find their way into a recycling program since 2018 when China stopped importing US recyclables and trash.
I’m not a complete failure—I brought my own bags to the store years before it was cool, and I replaced the household paper products (except toilet paper) with reusable cloths years and years ago.
My family grumbled at first, but got used to cloths, fewer packaged foods, and bulk containers labeled in (my) handwriting they couldn’t read.
But there were some things that didn’t work out—homemade bread tastes amazing and is well worth the effort, but homemade ketchup—it’s not a crowd pleaser. And when I looked in the cabinets and closets, I still saw an awful lot of jars and packages.
I was not that close to zero waste.
I had to ask myself–did I really want to be zero waste… or was I a “waste poser”?
Let’s look at the challenges to zero waste.
Challenges to zero waste
Challenge One: “None of your recycling matters–it all goes to the same place.”
There’s a dirty truth about recycling. Not much gets recycled. People either don’t recycle, or don’t recycle correctly, which means workers have to throw out entire batches of unwashed jars or actual garbage that can’t easily be separated out.
“It all gets dumped in the same place. I’ve seen it.” My husband worked a trucking job that brought him to the landfill. “Don’t fool yourself thinking you’re recycling that peanut butter jar.”
This episode of Planet Money explains the process of recycling and why many places in America stopped. In a nutshell–America used to send recyclables overseas. Now, places like China don’t want it. In 2018, China stopped taking US garbage–effectively stalling global recycling. But, even before China decided not to take on the world’s pollution, the US was only really recycling (what you consider recycling… ) 9% of what people put in the bin.
Sounds dishonest, doesn’t it? Without a destination for our waste, there’s almost no point to continuing the charade. Some places–like where I live–continue to pick up the bins. It took years to train citizens to recycle.
Other places, like my parents county, stopped their programs altogether.
Challenge Two: I like toilet paper… and other things.
I have friends who have eliminated toilet paper, shampoo, deodorant, and tampons in the name of zero waste.
Even if I, myself, could do these things, I would have a family mutiny on my hands.
Cloth napkins and rags for cleaning are one thing, but reusable toilet paper is quite another.
If you’re okay with a baby with cloth diapers, this shouldn’t be a problem for you. But, for some reason, I haven’t made it to that level of zero waste sainthood.
Similarly, we could buy and wash handkerchiefs, but the idea of hanging on to my germs for a day or two doesn’t sit well with me. “Diva cups” and other reusable menstrual products are also haven’t made it onto my list.
The bathroom can be pretty close to zero waste if we want it to be. The problem: I don’t. Every time I try to make homemade personal care products like cream, for example, they don’t work or I walk around smelling like rotten dinner.
The zero-waste bathroom is a big fail for me so far.
Challenge Three: The kitchen
Now that I know that Hellman’s mayo jar is sitting in a landfill forever, I pause to think in the kitchen. This is my area of expertise. If there’s one room in the house where I can go zero-waste it should be the kitchen.
But, even this room defeats me.
The problem with the zero-waste kitchen is this–it’s still not zero waste. We don’t have a lot of bulk stores here. I can go to Whole Foods and buy flour out of bins but I still have to put it in a bag. And, they ordered it in boxes and packages and dumped in those into bins so I can put it in my plastic bag. Just because I don’t see the packaging on their end doesn’t make it zero waste.
For a while, I could bring my containers, but the pandemic stopped all that.
I can buy bulk online, but it’s coming in its own packaging and also a giant box for mailing.
Then, there are things I have to buy. I’m not going to ferment my own soy sauce or travel to Italy to have someone refill a five-gallon gas cans with freshly-pressed olive oil.
Other behaviors: Amazon and Online Shopping
Online shopping makes me feel especially wasteful. I’ve Amazoned entire holidays.
It’s so easy, but no matter what I buy, it comes in a box big enough to make into a tree fort. Entire rainforests died when I bought a sprouting lid for my mason jar.
That’s the opposite of zero waste, which makes me feel guilty.
CAN I DO BETTER?
Here are the easy things I did in the beginning to get closer to zero waste.
Stopped using one-use bottles. I have a Berkey water pitcher and I refill bottles and jars with water. The Berkey isn’t cheap (I got mine on eBay, my friend got hers at a garage sale because no one knew what it was). Its stainless steel, totally hippie approved, and the filters last about 4 years. This is a no-brainer.
Bring my Yeti mug with me. This is the best coffee mug ever. I’d wash it out and bring it to the barista if I was on the road, or just fill it myself if possible–I didn’t skimp on the coffee I bought and made, so I wasn’t cheating myself.
Got rid of paper towels and napkins. My family was on board with this. Guests get confused, but we help them through it. We have an emergency roll of paper towels for dog situations, and an emergency pack of napkins for guests who really can’t adjust.
Bought reusable silicone bags and containers for lunch. I used mason jars, a tiffin box, and bento gear, too.
Wrap my sandwich in cloth. Since I often bake bread, it’s odd shapes. I just plop it on the stone and bake “rustic” style. So, I wrap it in cloth napkins “furoshiki” style when I was teaching. It was waste free and odd looking, so I could explain the philosophy to anyone who asked.
Used my cloth bags for shopping, or skip bagging altogether. Post-covid, no one lets me bring in my bags, so I load my groceries back in the carriage just like they do in the warehouse and discount stores, and I bag them at my car.
Get off junk mail lists and convert my bills to digital. Paper mail is so last century. Not only is it wasteful, but it’s a security risk, too. People steal credit card statements, phone bills, and utility bills for identity theft and other nefarious purposes. Keep your waste factor down and your security up by checking “e-statement” to everything you can.
Refused straws. I never liked them anyway.
Ate out instead of ordering takeout. Or, cooked at home. We’re not close to takeout–we’re in the forest a bit. Food tastes better when someone brings it to me hot. I avoid takeout as much as possible and go to the chef, or just cook at home most nights, really.
Used less. I still get the products Iike, but I used less, or got large containers of things like shampoo and put them in small pump bottles in the shower. My family uses remarkably less product when it looks like there’s a normal amount. It seems like they pour the shampoo down the drain if it looks like there’s a gallon. Someone did a study on this once, and it’s a real thing. Invest in a pump bottle. You’ll see.
I’m shifting, over time, away from recycling, and trying to move toward growing, reusing, and repurposing.
PHASE TWO: Getting closer to zero.
After taking all the chip shots, I wanted to dive deeper.
I found some online merchants like Azure Standard that shipped in paper, efficiently, and, I put my groceries in the cart and pack them in my bags outside of the cashier’s watch.
And, before I buy something in a jar or box, I look carefully at it and ask, “Can I make that myself?” I can make mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, yogurt, sour cream, salad dressings, jams, and so many other things. For each one I make, that’s one container I’m not killing.
PHASE THREE: WHEN TO SAY “NO WAY!”
I’ve decided I’m not going to achieve zero waste, but I can get thoughtfully close. I compost. I reuse, I refuse to take in junk, and I upcycle. I source food as locally as I can.
I buy the big bottle of shampoo then use it responsibly. I found applicator-free tampons and toilet paper without rolls.
I make iced tea, coffee, brew beer and kombucha so I don’t need plastic to-go cups or one-use bottles. I can meats, meals, and jams. I dehydrate. I reuse the containers from the deli for freezer stocking.
“One thing at a time.”
It’s like peeling back layers of an onion
Going zero waste is very, very difficult. I’d have to rip every straw out of my 13-year-old’s hand and steal my husband’s tin foil from the grill. I have to be reasonable.
But there are things I can do…
look for things in my local “buy nothing” group before I go shopping
shop on Poshmark or thrift instead of buying new clothes.
shop at farms or grow things–no packaging there.
cook from scratch as much as I can.
That’s what the Poser Homestead is all about–do the next great thing every day. Every one thing I do is… one thing more.
I don’t have to be obsessive about this, just a little bit more thoughtful. I
Analyze my daily routine and note where you could pick a zero-waste option.
Act on that, one thing at a time.
How do I approach zero waste without being insane?
I pause. I ask myself, “Is this the lowest waste option I can realistically use? If no, I change my ways. If “yes,” I cheer.
“Realistically” includes budget, too.
Some zero-waste “environmental” options are unaffordable for the average person. There’s a company out there who designed reusable product jars for things you actually use—for example that Hellmans or ice cream. They partnered with these companies, ship products in these branded containers and swap it out for you.
It's way over my budget. There’s a delivery glass-bottle milkman I want to use here, too, but it’s 4x the cost.
I do what I can, one layer of the onion at a time. That’s my plan these days. I may not get to be zero waste like the pros, but I’ll continue to improve.
If everyone does… we’ll make some progress.
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