What does “sustainability” mean anymore?

Like most climate-conscious individuals in 2022, I take the idea of sustainability and sustainable practices very seriously. I compost food waste, recycle anything I can, limit my single-use items as much as possible, eat a plant-based diet, and try not to buy brand-new everything. But at what point do our calculations of our sustainable practices begin to not add up?

This concept began to occur to me when I read how many times you have to use a cotton tote bag to make it more sustainable than a plastic bag (the answer, according to one study, is 20,000 times!). Since then, I’ve tried to figure out what is more sustainable when I’m presented with a choice of what to buy or consume. Does my vegan meal still count as sustainable even though some of it required me buying items in single use plastic? What’s the impact of me ordering reusable straws from Amazon, knowing that their company’s practices are not sustainable? Is it okay that I’m watering my garden with municipal water as long as it benefits bees and other local wildlife? Why should I buy reusable bamboo fiber makeup rounds when cotton rounds are biodegradable? And what the heck is my pet’s carbon footprint?

These ideas and my attempts to calculate what is the most sustainable choice roll around in my head at least once a day. I’m also left frustrated by the lack of accountability in legislation for companies to call their products sustainable. There are no benchmarks for what is considered a sustainable product, unlike for organic products, for example. And furthermore, the onus should not be on the individual when it comes to best practices in sustainability. Many people who are living paycheck-to-paycheck or in poverty have bigger problems in their life than worrying about their personal environmental impact — which is why the government should be incentivizing and empowering individuals to move toward more eco-friendly practices.