Science
'It's almost shameful to want to have children'
Jade S. Sasser is an associate professor in the Department of Gender & Sexuality Studies at UC Riverside. Her research explores the relationships between reproductive justice, women’s health and climate change, and she’s the host of the podcast “Climate Anxiety and the Kid Question.” The following excerpt is from her newest book, “Climate Anxiety and the Kid Question: Deciding Whether to Have Children in an Uncertain Future,” which was published earlier this year.
The kid question. It comes up over and over again in the form of family questions and expectations. It arises in conversations with peers, partners and new dates. It appears in the quiet times, sitting in the spaces where our wildest hopes and deepest fears collide.
American society feels more socially and politically polarized than ever. Is it right to bring another person into that?
In 2021 and 2022, I conducted a series of interviews on this topic with millennials and members of Generation Z, all of them people of color. Some grew up in low-income families and neighborhoods while others were from the middle- or upper-middle class. Some of them identify as queer, or their close family members and friends do, which shapes their sensitivity to discrimination against gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people.
These interviewees have more climate change knowledge than most people do. All of them are college-educated; most of them either grew up or have lived for some time in Southern California; and most have taken environmental studies classes, either as undergrads or in graduate school.
Their experiences as members of marginalized groups have shaped their experiences with climate emotions like anxiety, fear, and trauma — as well as hope and optimism. Paying closer attention to those emotions and mental health in communities of color, including how they shape reproductive plans, will become an increasingly important component of climate justice in the United States.
Bobby
Bobby, 22, considers himself an environmentalist. He recently graduated from college in Southern California with a degree in sustainability studies. His family is Guatemalan American.
Bobby is both confident that he will become a parent one day and also certain that he won’t bring his own biological kids into the world. His thoughts about the environment, the future, and parenting come into sharp relief through his current job at a restaurant, where he is unhappily employed. “There’s so much being wasted that could be returned to the earth.”
He connects these waste issues to carbon emissions and how he feels about having children. For Bobby, this is an ethical issue, a reason why he should not have biological children:
“I’m worried about what they would have to deal with growing up. I was already a young adult when I started to think about these things, but for them, at a young age they’re going to have to think about the environment and the fears that come along with pollution.
Students discard food into a bin as part of a lunch waste composting program at an elementary school.
(Associated Press)
“This is why I’m leaning more toward a foster kid, and maybe eventually adopting them. Because it wasn’t my choice to have that kid, but I can help guide them to have a better life. … The environment is really the deciding factor for me.”
Although he always wanted to have children, his thoughts about fostering arose from taking environmental studies classes. “Going into college was the first time I was exposed to this information firsthand, and I realized for the first time, it’s not all rainbows and sunshine. I had never learned before … about things like food waste and carbon emissions. And that’s when the gears started turning in my head about the future and what I wanted to do.”
Victoria
Victoria is the same age as Bobby; she graduated from the same university and is also from an immigrant family, though hers is from Ghana. In Victoria’s house there were four siblings and half a dozen cousins who were always around. As a result, Victoria really cherished the closeness and security of a large family.
“I guess in the future, I would love to have children,” she says. “I’d really like to have a big family. I grew up in a big family, so it’s nice.”
Victoria is interested in perhaps adopting or fostering, and she also connects the desire for this to her undergraduate education in environmental topics.
“I got a degree in sustainability, and I’ve always questioned bringing people into an environment [where] so much is going on politically, socially, health-wise, all of that. I always thought I wanted to give birth, but the more I look at foster care, I realize that I don’t need to physically have children to experience being a mom… . It’s a little selfish on my end to think I’m going to have all these kids when there are already kids in the world who would probably make me a better parent.”
Protesters hold a “silent march” against racial inequality and police brutality that was organized by Black Lives Matter Seattle-King County in June 2020.
(Associated Press)
Victoria’s concerns about biological children are multifaceted: She worries about the future of healthcare access, wealth inequality, and whether her children would receive a low-quality education or be racially tracked in public schools. Ultimately it comes back to how racial inequality interacts with other social challenges to heighten her own sense of vulnerability and that of her potential future children.
“If I have children, they will be Black children,” she says. “It isn’t self-hatred. I love being Black, but the things I’ve gone through I wouldn’t wish on other children.”
This is a frequent topic of conversation among Victoria and her friends. They talk about whether they want to have children in the future. Most of them do not.
That feeling of being traumatized by an awareness of ongoing racial inequality shaped the perspectives of a group of Black women I spoke to. They were different ages, from their 20s to their late 30s, and they ranged from just starting out to having established careers. However, each perceived herself, and the prospect of becoming a mother, through the lens of vulnerability.
Rosalind
Rosalind, 38, is a Black woman of Caribbean origin living in Southern California. She has a graduate degree, a job as a scientific researcher, and is settled in a community she likes. Nevertheless, thoughts of the future are a heavy, ever-present burden. When I ask if there is one issue that feels like the primary reason for not having kids, she answers decisively: racism.
“With all of the anti-Black violence, and the police violence against us, it just seems so unsafe. And I see so many of my friends who do have children that are constantly stressed because of this, especially the ones who have teenage boys who are taller than average. They send their kids out there and then just spend their time worrying about whether their child is going to be targeted or harassed in some way, or potentially killed. I just don’t think I have the disposition to put up with that kind of stress.”
Melanie
Melanie, a 26-year-old Native American woman, was raised on the Navajo reservation and in Southern California. She idealizes having a big, happy family, but there are aspects of the world that give her pause, so she struggles with whether it’s morally OK to have children.
“ I think I may not have children although I do want them,” she notes. “Just because, with all of the things we see going on in the world, it seems unfair to bring someone into all of this against their will.”
Drought last year took a toll on Joshua trees at Joshua Tree National Park.
(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)
Melanie’s feelings about climate change include a general sense of powerlessness and lack of control over other people’s actions, which directly translates into her fears about parenthood: “With climate change, we’re the driving force of things breaking down, but then also, the planet’s going to do what the planet’s going to do. … So … it almost feels, like, kind of shameful to want to have children.”
Juliana
Juliana, a 23-year-old Mexican American woman, is strongly aware of negative peer pressure from friends. She recently graduated from art school, and her friend circle is mainly composed of queer and transgender, anti-establishment artists. Most of them have no intention of having children of their own, which seeps into conversations with Juliana.
Her friends cite environmental and mental health concerns. Their anxiety tells them that they can’t properly take care of themselves, much less a child. They also struggle, as trans and nonbinary people, with the issues of access to fertility centers and the need to use reproductive technologies that feel out of reach.
Juliana feels that it may be unfair for her to consider having biological children. She tells me that these feelings are not entirely separate from how she feels about what her child’s racial upbringing would be.
The Borel fire devastated Havilah, a historic mining town in Kern County, in late July.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
As a dark-skinned Mexican woman, she regularly experienced racism growing up in Southern California— and given that her husband is white, any child she might birth would be biracial, which raises questions about whether and how they would navigate the world differently than she has. But Juliana is an optimist, and she does plan to have one child.
Elena
I spoke to several young women who are addressing the kid question with their dates, potential partners, and long-term boyfriends. Elena, 22, is one of the most certain people I’ve met: She is not having children.
She’s from a Salvadoran immigrant family in which she is one of four children, while her mother was one of 12. Her certainty that stems from both life experiences and climate fears:
“Me being interested in environmental policy cemented my decision to not have kids, but I do have some personal things that I’ve gone through in life that I wouldn’t want my kids going through, like not having a dad. So I feel like it’s best if I just focus on myself and take care of my mom. … I can also spend my time and energy focusing on someone that’s already here.”
Elena brings this conversation up on every first date with any new guy she sees. Given that most of them expect to have families in the future, Elena feels strongly that she does not want a relationship. This has been discouraging for her, but her mind is made up.
Like some of the other people I interviewed, Elena’s feelings about climate change were sparked by environmental studies classes. She says, “[I] started feeling like having kids is definitely not a sustainable thing to do. … I don’t want them to grow up and have to leave their home because of sea level rise. Or be worried because of really weird weather patterns.
“I know that things aren’t going to get better. So why would I want to put a child through that? Even when my sister gave birth to my nephew, I was like, Why? They’re gonna go through so much.”
A pump station sits idle near homes in Arvin, Calif., where toxic fumes from a nearby well made residents sick and forced evacuations in November 2019.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Veronica
Elena’s close friend Veronica, a 22-year-old from Los Angeles, manages the cultural expectations of a large, immigrant family from Guatemala. “Because of my Hispanic background people are always like, when are you gonna have children, of course you’re having children. It is what it is, right? But now that I’m an adult, I think about it differently. Would my child have a good quality of life? Will they be able to survive?”
She wants to have a child, “but I also want to be mindful of that child. Because it’s not just about having it, it’s about raising it. And being able to sustain it as well.”
For Veronica the everyday environmental concerns link directly to the larger issues shaping climate change: power, who has it, and who doesn’t. Though seemingly distant, intergenerational power imbalances — and older generations’ legacies of generating the emissions that have caused climate change — make her feel that it is unfair for people her age to have to ask the kid question.
She says: “I just think that people in power, whether they believe in climate change or not, it’s not beneficial for them to really do something about it. Because they’re older, it’s not going to affect them the way it affects us. … They have so much money and power it doesn’t affect them the same way. They can buy protection from what the rest of us are going to have to deal with.”
Although these interviews focused primarily on the challenges young people face as they approach reproductive questions, many of them still wanted families of their own. For those who were certain about having children, the reasons were emotional: love, joy, happiness, and hope.
Bobby was clear that he doesn’t plan on having biological children, but he was happy about the thought of fostering in the future and was particularly excited at the thought of his sister having kids.
“I would love to be an uncle,” he said. “Just seeing the next generation, the reason why I’ve been more optimistic about having a foster child of my own, is about being able to see them grow.”
Victoria was excited at the prospect of adopting multiple children.
This 2019 aerial photo provided by ConocoPhillips shows an exploratory drilling camp at the proposed site of the Willow oil project on Alaska’s North Slope.
(Associated Press)
“I want to create a space where kids have loving, supportive parents. My parents aren’t perfect, but I know that I grew up in a loving home where they would do anything for my success and protection, and I want to create that for someone else.”
Her sentiments were echoed by Melanie, whose experience living in a racially and gender-diverse family inspires her to want to recreate the same.
She said: “When I look within my own family, we’re very diverse. We’re Black, we’re white, we’re Native American. We’re straight, we’re queer, we’re nonbinary. And we still have compassion for each other and that kind of spills over into compassion for other people that we don’t know. And I think, like, I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to let the bad things dictate how I make my decisions
“The idea of bringing someone into this world and growing them with compassion and love, and making sure they grow up knowing to stand up for other people and stand up for what’s right, that’s a little glimmer of hope.”
Science
July Fourth fireworks may bring ‘hazardous’ air quality to Southern California. What you need to know
L.A.’s love of fireworks makes for a colorful Fourth of July, with dozens of official celebrations and countless illicit explosions expected for the holiday.
But as each sparkler, Roman candle, palm and peony dissipates, it leaves behind a cloud of noxious gases, soot and finely ground toxic metals — some of which ends up in the lungs of revelers and passersby below.
Hazardous levels of air pollution are expected across central and southern Los Angeles County, northern Orange County, and Riverside and San Bernardino counties from 5 p.m. Saturday evening through 3 p.m. Sunday, according to the South Coast Air Quality Management District. Unhealthy air quality is also expected in northern Los Angeles County and southern Orange County.
Pollution levels are expected to build from dusk onward Saturday, as light winds and increased firework activity lead to an increase in smoke, a South Coast AQMD advisory said. Soot and particulates will likely linger through Sunday afternoon before being dispersed by the wind.
Firework-related pollution can trigger coughs, breathing problems, asthma flares and heart attacks, according to Los Angeles County Public Health, and anyone experiencing severe or worsening cardiovascular symptoms like chest pain or difficulty breathing should seek medical attention immediately.
Pyrotechnics set off at home are even more likely to trigger cardiovascular problems, the American Lung Assn. says, as the burst of pollutants takes place closer to the ground.
July 4 and 5 are traditionally two of the worst days of the year for the region’s air quality, according to South Coast AQMD. This year’s celebration comes on the heels of a late June warehouse fire in Boyle Heights that released extraordinary amounts of soot and smoke across the county, on par with pollution generated by the previous year’s wildfires.
To limit negative health effects, the L.A. County public health department recommends avoiding strenuous physical activity and keeping doors and windows closed. As whole house fans and swamp coolers can suck additional pollutants inside, the department recommends using air purifiers or air conditioners as alternatives when possible.
Science
Contributor: Alcohol should be stigmatized like smoking
Few substances are as deeply woven into everyday life as alcohol. It is a fixture at holiday celebrations, work-related social gatherings, sporting events, airports, and brunch or dinner tables. All demonstrate how deeply alcohol has become embedded in social customs and cultural traditions.
Yet alcohol contributes to millions of deaths globally each year and is linked to cancer, liver disease, unintentional accidents, violence and, importantly, dependence and addiction. Despite this, the disconnect between alcohol’s cultural role and its serious health burden is striking. An estimated 2.3 billion people worldwide consume alcohol.
As a physician working in addiction medicine, I regularly care for patients whose alcohol use affects nearly every organ system. It is often not until these patients end up admitted to the hospital that they learn the effects of alcohol on various parts of their body besides their liver.
Newer evidence challenges assumptions about what was long considered “safe drinking.” Even moderate drinking carries risk and is not as harmless as people, including experts, once thought.
Many people associate alcohol risk primarily with addiction or dangerous behaviors such as driving while intoxicated. However, its effects extend far beyond this, into nearly every aspect of a person’s well-being.
While alcohol may transiently improve mood and ease social anxiety, long-term alcohol use can lead to a worsening of mood, cognition and sleep, which can further compound use.
A 2021 literature review found that consuming approximately two standard drinks roughly doubles the odds of sustaining injuries — with or without a vehicle involved. The review also found that heavy episodic (binge) drinking can increase the risk of injury by 50-fold, depending on the amount of alcohol consumed and the type of injury. While alcohol’s effects on the liver are well known, it can also lead to gastrointestinal complications and heart disease
The World Health Organization estimates that 2.6 million deaths each year are attributable to alcohol, accounting for nearly 1 in every 20 deaths worldwide.
While many people recognize the risks of alcohol addiction, people are generally much less aware of the links between alcohol use and cancer risk.
The World Health Organization classifies alcohol as a Group 1 carcinogen — the same category as tobacco and asbestos. In 2025, the U.S. surgeon general emphasized that alcohol increases the risk of at least seven cancers, including cancers of the breast, colorectal, liver, oral, esophagus and larynx. An advisory called for updated warning labels.
Yet fewer than half of Americans recognize alcohol as a risk factor for cancer, particularly for cancers such as breast cancer that are not commonly associated with alcohol use.
Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, observational studies suggested that moderate alcohol consumption might offer cardiovascular benefits. Over the past decade, however, higher-quality studies have challenged these findings, suggesting that much of the apparent benefit may have reflected differences in the health and lifestyles of moderate drinkers rather than a protective effect of alcohol itself.
Current evidence increasingly suggests that even low levels of alcohol may increase cancer risk.
Federal guidelines acknowledge that adults should “consume less alcohol for better overall health.” However, the most recent version of the “Dietary Guidelines for Americans,” updated in January, removed the previous recommendation to limit intake to no more than one drink per day for women and two for men. It also omitted explicit discussion of alcohol’s links to cancer.
These changes have drawn criticism from public health experts, who argue that the revised language plays down the growing evidence of alcohol-related harms and provides less specific guidance to consumers. The current administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services characterized alcohol as a “social lubricant” that brings people together, rather than emphasizing its well-established health risks.
This may be true physiologically, at least temporarily, but obscures the fact that relying on it as a social lubricant can lead to chemical and psychological dependency. In my view, statements to that effect are shortsighted, prioritizing short-term social effects over more insidious and long-term issues, including addiction.
While many dangerous mind-altering substances are hidden from public perception, alcohol is often placed at the center of it – a trend that shows no sign of changing imminently.
Further, large companies often profit from ads that appeal to young people.
Looking back at the history of tobacco smoking provides some helpful insights. In 1965, 42.4% of the U.S. population smoked. By 2022, that figure had dropped to 11.6%.
This steep decline did not happen because of a single intervention, but through decades of accumulating scientific evidence, public education campaigns, warning labels, restrictions on advertising, smoke-free policies, higher tobacco taxes and shifts in social norms. Together, these efforts transformed smoking from a widely accepted social behavior into one broadly recognized as a major health risk and correspondingly, less socially accepted.
Although alcohol consumption has modestly declined in recent years, it remains deeply embedded in social life in ways cigarette smoking no longer is.
People often assume that if a substance is legal, common and widely socially accepted — even encouraged — it must also be safe. But public health history suggests those assumptions can and should change.
Emma Fenske is an addiction medicine fellow and internal medicine physician at Oregon Health & Science University. This article was produced in partnership with the Conversation.
Science
Boyle Heights blaze choked L.A. with astronomical soot pollution
The air near the Lineage refrigerated warehouse fire in Boyle Heights carried astronomically high levels of smoke and soot, surpassing some of the worst air pollution during the Los Angeles County fires in January 2025, according to preliminary data from air officials.
The fire spewed thick black smoke for days. From downtown Los Angeles to the San Gabriel Valley, tens of thousands were enveloped in unhealthful levels of smoke, even as some local officials told residents that the air posed no danger.
As the days wore on, worst off were communities nearest the blaze. On June 19, three days after the facility ignited, a temporary air quality monitoring station at Eastman Elementary in unincorporated East Los Angeles measured an extremely hazardous 755 micrograms per cubic meter of fine particles for more than an hour, according to the South Coast Air Quality Management District.
For comparison, a Caltech air monitor in Pasadena recorded about 650 micrograms per cubic meter during the Eaton fire.
These high levels of fine particles, known as PM 2.5, probably resulted in the surge of residents into local emergency rooms during the fire, according to local health officials. But even now with the smoke gone, people still have not been told what chemicals they were breathing in during the weeklong ordeal.
Michael Jerrett, an environmental health professor at the UCLA Fielding School of Public Health, said his concern is the composition of materials emitted when the building burned.
“These contain many particularly toxic components,” Jerrett said, “and we know little about how these mixtures affect health.”
There is no completely safe level of fine particulate pollution, he noted, meaning higher concentrations are always worse.
During the 2025 L.A. County fires, local air officials announced that several monitors downwind had detected elevated levels of brain-damaging lead and cancer-causing arsenic from toxic paint and construction materials used in older homes.
The Lineage warehouse, built in 2018, is likely to contain different materials of concern. Thick insulation foam required for a massive refrigeration operation, solar panels and refrigerants were burned, leaving many residents on edge.
Even though three public agencies conducted air monitoring, the picture is still murky.
“[Public officials] are speaking with a lot of confidence but not a lot of information,” said mark! Lopez, a community organizer with East Yard Communities for Environmental Justice. “We’ve gotten in the room with folks to discuss where the gaps lie and where assumptions are being made. And I think they are realizing these agencies supposed to protect our air and our health aren’t as reliable as they thought they were.”
In response to the Boyle Heights fire, the South Coast air district deployed a mobile monitoring vehicle to screen for toxic substances in the community near the fire, according to Nahal Mogharabi, a spokesperson for the air district. It found increased levels of bromine, a chemical commonly found in fire retardant, and chlorine, often released from burning plastic. Both were below short-term health-based exposure thresholds.
Toxic metals, including lead and arsenic, were not elevated, according to air district data.
“That was the reassuring piece, that they were not picking up any of the metals,” said Dr. Nichole Quick, chief medical advisor for the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health. “But … that smoke is unhealthy. “You don’t want to be breathing it, regardless.”
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency set up air monitors around the perimeter of the facility to test for toxic air contaminants, has the results and has not made them public. Julia Giarmoleo, an EPA spokesperson, said the monitors did not detect elevated metals, but would not provide a copy of the data without a federal records request.
The Los Angeles Fire Department’s hazardous material team also tested for ammonia, which is used in refrigeration, and hydrogen fluoride, a toxic chemical that could be released by burning lithium-ion batteries and solar panels.
Fire officials previously said they measured low levels of hydrogen fluoride on the second day of the fire. But the department would not answer questions about its air monitoring. It also told a reporter to submit a public records request.
It remains unclear whether any agency has tested for hydrogen cyanide or isocyanates, highly toxic gases that could be released from burning chemical-laden insulating foam inside the building.
“The real issue is what monitoring has not been done to protect the fence-line community from the air toxics,” said Jane Williams, executive director of California Communities Against Toxics.
Without the EPA or LAFD data, what is known of the smoke’s toxicity rests on the air district’s mobile monitoring.
Jerrett, the UCLA researcher, said that is not ideal for understanding the kind of plume released by the Boyle Heights fire, which rapidly changed direction with the wind.
“This can in some instances lead to levels that look low, but they are resulting from a mismatch between the location of the vehicle and the plume,” he said.
The Boyle Heights blaze, similar to the Eaton and Palisades fires, has revealed the region’s air monitoring can’t always tell people what they’ve been exposed to in a disaster.
“We do need a better monitoring system in place,” he said.
Local officials are now shifting their focus to the rancid odors from millions of pounds of rotting food in the ruined wing of the warehouse. Decomposing food can release hydrogen sulfide, a toxic gas synonymous with landfills and garbage. Lineage hired contractors who are measuring this noxious gas and other pollution. Their data indicate they have not detected hydrogen sulfide.
As Lineage workers haul the rotting food to local landfills, they are using deodorizing mist and have discussed using shrink wrapping to suppress the stench and minimize issues for nearby homes.
At this point, the odors are believed to be an inconvenience rather than a public health threat, according to Quick, the county medical advisor. She said running air purifiers may help to reduce odors indoors.
“It’s very important for folks to understand that the odors themselves do not indicate any dangerous levels of toxins, mold, bacteria, and so forth,” Quick said. “But the odors are a public nuisance.”
The air district is still encouraging residents to report odors to its online complaint system or by calling (800) 288-7664.
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