The climate crisis casts a long shadow over the lives of college students today. Beyond the visible effects of wildfires, floods and rising sea levels, young people are grappling with an emotional burden that is often unrecognized — disenfranchised grief. This term, introduced by Kenneth Doka, refers to grief that isn’t socially acknowledged or validated, making it difficult to express or resolve. Opportunities to learn outdoors — such as field-based science courses or outdoor studies programs — can help students harness awe to turn grief into hope and inspire social action.
The climate crisis and disenfranchised grief
Disenfranchised grief is uniquely painful in that it lacks the closure and social validation found in more conventional losses. Students today aren’t just mourning the loss of a single person or event — we are mourning vanishing glaciers, disappearing wildlife, polluted oceans and ecosystems collapsing under the strain of climate change. This grief is compounded by watching world leaders fail to take adequate action, leaving many feeling powerless and angry.
This environmental grief intertwines with other sources of stress that we as students already face such as academic pressure, financial instability and social isolation. Climate-related anxiety further compounds these burdens, contributing to what psychologists Thomas Doherty and Susan Clayton have termed “eco-anxiety” — a chronic fear of environmental catastrophe. While some of us channel our emotions into activism, many feel paralyzed by the enormity of the crisis. Students can find it difficult to express their sadness and fear because environmental grief is rarely recognized as a legitimate mental health concern.
Awe as a pathway to healing
Amid this mental health crisis, the emotion of awe — defined by researcher Dacher Keltner as a profound feeling of wonder in response to something vast, beautiful, or beyond one’s understanding — can play a critical role in helping us students process our grief. Research shows that experiencing awe can shift one’s perspective, diminishing self-centered worries and fostering a sense of connection to something greater. This emotional shift is especially powerful in environmental engagement, as awe can transform feelings of hopelessness into reverence for the natural world, rekindling a sense of purpose.
In non-traditional classroom settings, students are offered immersive experiences that can inspire awe. Programs like those at the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau allow students to learn not just about the environment but within it — hiking through old-growth forests, observing humpback whales, or conducting glacial research firsthand. Standing beneath the Northern Lights or watching a glacier calve into the sea, we are reminded that the natural world is still full of beauty and resilience even in the face of environmental precarity.
As a student in the University of Alaska system, I have been encouraged to ask meaningful questions that can make a difference in an unpredictable world. My experiences as an amateur rock climber sparked a curiosity about the profound impact nature had on both my physical and mental health. This journey led me to the University of Alaska Outdoor Leadership Conference in Fairbanks last spring, where I had the opportunity to present for the first time on the powerful emotion of awe and its potential as a gateway to better mental health, particularly when fostered through nature. This presentation laid the foundation for my current independent study, exploring the connection between awe and outdoor learning. Awe has provided me with a sense of purpose, helping me move beyond stagnation and delve deeper into understanding embodied cognition.
The role of outdoor learning in driving social change
Outdoor studies programs and field-based science courses don’t just offer opportunities for emotional transformation — they also serve as platforms for collective action. In Juneau, where the environment is both a classroom and a teacher, students develop a sense of ecological belonging through hands-on projects. We might participate in salmon habitat restoration, survey bird populations, or work on climate adaptation strategies for local communities, which leads students to understand that our actions can make a difference even in the face of enormous challenges.
This sense of agency is critical in combating the paralysis that often accompanies climate grief. When we see the tangible results of our efforts — whether it’s cleaner shorelines or restored ecosystems — we gain confidence in our ability to effect change. Fieldwork also fosters collaboration, helping students build a supportive community of peers and mentors who share our values and concerns. Knowing we are part of a larger movement toward environmental sustainability can alleviate feelings of isolation and strengthen our resolve to keep fighting for the planet.
Finding hope through action and connection
Ultimately, the climate crisis will continue to be a source of grief for many students, though we have the opportunity to experience awe, cultivate ecological belonging, and take meaningful action living here in Juneau. By engaging with the environment, we can transform our grief from a source of despair into motivation. Every hike through a forest, every field survey, and every act of restoration becomes a step toward healing — not just for the planet but for ourselves. In this way, awe offers a pathway out of disenfranchised grief. Through connection, action, and the emotional power of awe, we can move beyond grief and discover a new kind of hope: one rooted in the belief that the future, though uncertain, is still worth fighting for.
• Maeve Wolf is a researcher in the Department of Natural Sciences at the University of Alaska Southeast. Sustainable Alaska is a monthly feature by the UAS Sustainability Committee. The views expressed here do not necessarily represent the views of UAS.
