Vol. 001: Aditi Mayer & Bonnie Wright

Aditi Mayer and Bonnie Wright on ancestral wisdom, finding purpose, climate responsibility, and how to stay grounded while showing up for the community.

Aditi Mayer: I feel like the last time I saw you, your son was just a few weeks old.

Bonnie Wright: Oh my god, yeah. He'll be two in September, which is wild.

Aditi Mayer: He’ll be two?! That's so exciting.

Bonnie Wright: I know. And I’m excited to have this convo together.

Aditi Mayer: We've met a few times, but I feel like we've never had a proper deep-dive.

Bonnie Wright: Obviously we’re both storytellers in our own way, and there are so many different ways to tell stories, but we're in a time where the cross-sections of mediums are really being questioned. These old-school systems of filmmaking that I've experienced are kind of getting outdated, you know? So, how do we rediscover a format that works for the storyteller and the audience that isn't all about short form or getting people's attention? I'd love to know how you decide which stories to tell and where to direct your lens.

Aditi Mayer: That's a really good question because, to your point, I’m someone who is on the cusp of being a Millennial and Gen Z, and I feel like our generation had a certain attachment to legacy forms of publications or things that we saw as credible. What we're realizing now is, even when I look at my own media consumption, am I really watching long form things or is it short form? I think for me, it always comes from a place of personal inquiry. When I got started with sustainable fashion, I was in my first year of journalism school and I learned about a factory collapse that had happened in Bangladesh, and I realized that I didn't have to go overseas to understand this idea, it didn’t have to be this distant abstraction. I was born and raised in LA and decided to start reporting on issues of labor exploitation in DTLA’s garment district. I came from a place of inquiry and journalism as my form of storytelling but, in that process, I developed relationships with the folks on the ground and an amazing organization called The Garment Worker Center. So, for me, the pipeline has always been a place of inquiry, storytelling through whatever medium, and then organizing once you have those relationships on the ground. 

Bonnie Wright: What I'm finding more in my storytelling, and what I'm drawn to do, is that until we present “the good” and show a model of what that actually is that we're hoping to strive towards, it's hard for people to believe it exists. Often, with fiction, it's hard to do that. It’s very much an end-of-the-world type of narrative that shows us kind of folding into doom, but people are starting to tell stories of “what if we get this right” and “what if we do all these things we're saying to do”, and I feel like younger audiences who have grown up in a time where climate change is real and it's happening, those generations deserve to see something good because most of the time they're probably thinking we're terrible human beings. So, that's something to me that I'm very interested in - providing younger audiences with the story they deserve.

Aditi Mayer: There's one question of what the world needs but there's also that personal piece of you, the storyteller, challenging your own individual self to engage in that work of what is the alternative. I think that's something our souls need as activists, not just “this is the issue at hand” but also, “this is how we're building towards something else”. And that brings me to your new series, Go Gently. I was curious whether there's a specific moment or story from the series that changed how you see your own role in the climate movement?

Bonnie Wright: The series follows me and my co-host, Pattie Gonia, a very well-known drag queen in the environmental space and beyond, and the two of us go on a road trip from Los Angeles to Portland, meeting different people who are really doing the work in their local communities around issues that they are uniquely facing. And the main storyline is kind of falling in love with human beings and nature all over again and understanding that we can actually be the solution if we, you know, get to it. The process truly reminded me that everything really does start at home and if we can, in times of being overwhelmed, focus on a local issue that our community is facing, get to know our neighbors, realize we each have different skills and interests and perspectives, there's so much power in that. 

Aditi Mayer: I love that.

Bonnie Wright: Recently, in the wake of the wildfires here in Los Angeles and being very much in the thick of that where I live, it was such a reminder that although an awful situation had happened, it was incredible to witness the community come together and be like, "oh wow, actually, we are great." So, on days when I'm absolutely overwhelmed with the global reality of things, I’ll say “okay, what could I do in my little area this week?”, that’s what the show is really about, and I hope that when people watch it they think perhaps they can find something similar in their neighborhood and discover these things are out there. Most of the time we don't have to reinvent the wheel or start an organization ourselves, we can join things that already exist and are in motion.

Aditi Mayer: I can't agree more with your point about the wildfires. I feel like that was such a heavy time, but the silver lining was bearing witness to how quickly the city mobilized, how deeply neighbor relationships strengthened in the wake of that. I don't think the city is the same after the fact, just from the energy of what it means to be in community. It’s a testament to what to do when climate change is literally at your doorstep, which is a big part of the conversation that sometimes gets lost amid the facts and the timelines.

Bonnie Wright: And sometimes, in a good way maybe, you lose your personal story in those situations because it's not really about you. It's about all of you. So, it doesn't really matter how you were directly affected in that week. You kind of put that aside and you just show up for everyone. It's a very leveling experience.

Aditi Mayer: 100%. At the end of the day, the world views of my neighbors don't really matter when we have to come together in the face of a blackout or a fire, right? 

Bonnie Wright: Yeah. So, what was the backstory that led you to start your latest project, The Artisan Archive?

Aditi Mayer: In 2021 I spent a year in India as a Nat Geo fellow, looking at fashion through the lens of farmers and artisans throughout the country. Coming from India, wherever you go in the country, there are craft forms that in many ways are an intimate reflection of that landscape, whether it's the fibers they're using that are  native ecologies to that region, or the way it's being dyed by local flowers. In that process, I was looking at the beauty of that, but also how that hangs in the balance amid climate change, industrialization, and the loss of these localized knowledge systems, specifically with fashion and craft. There was one specific story that I think was the real impetus for me to really start thinking about all these things... I was in an area in Punjab, and Punjab is the state where my family is from, and it's a region that is considered the bread basket of India. All of my own family were farmers, everyone there is in the agrarian sector, and they were talking about how much has changed and how farmers have been forced to get rid of farming their native ecologies and focus on cash crops that are not native, causing a whole slew of issues. In this region, there used to be this beautiful short staple cotton that's naturally brown, and while I'm talking to this older farmer, he goes into his shed, comes back out with a bag, dumps it out on the cot, and says "forty years ago, I saved this cotton when things started to change and having this conversation with you reminded me that I had saved these seeds with the hope that future generations might need it.” What a beautiful act of preservation and remembrance, you know? I was there with a local woman who worked for a sustainable advocacy organization that also focused on saving seeds. Her jaw was on the ground when she realized that he had all of this cotton and that became the motivation for a larger project.

Bonnie Wright: Wow. That sounds incredible and so cool that one conversation reminded him that he had those seeds because, you know, one wrong move and he could have thrown that out and it was forgotten. I think there are these incredible moments in the wake of hearing these stories of the kind of industrialization of systems and farming and the loss of that. You do hear these glimmers of these stories and these threads coming back and you're like, “yes!”. Same as how some languages get lost and suddenly someone manages to pass it on.

Aditi Mayer: This goes back to what I was saying earlier – I come as a storyteller or journalist and then I end up getting involved and another project is born out of it where we identify those seeds through seed-banks and try to germinate them. We were able to essentially get the seed over time, it took about two years, and give that to a network of local farmers that wanted to return to those ecologies and then eventually had a volume of cotton. Then, we realized cotton never really existed in isolation. It was a part of a whole ecology where women mostly would spin and weave that cotton, but even that whole craft system kind of ceases to exist now. It's mostly a few grandmas that still have their spinning wheels. So, the next step was starting a weaving school which essentially became the flagship project of The Artisan Archive. And now we're kind of introducing that story to the world. But it’s a larger storytelling platform initiative, hopefully a book one day soon, that's looking at craft ecologies around the world. Punjab is one of many stories of knowledge systems that are a reflection of a worldview of sustainability, and I want to tell that story around the world because I think it's at risk for erasure no matter where you go. 

Bonnie Wright: It's kind of wild to think how fragile so many of these stories are. I always think about the times when oral storytelling was the only method of communication and how now, whenever I’m telling stories to my son or singing him songs, I say “gosh, which ones do I actually remember and what do I have to look to a book for?” and it's definitely reconnected me with a lot of stories from my childhood, which is cool. And I was thinking about the members of the tribe that we met filming Go Gently, and how we went on these incredible canoes of theirs, and they were telling us how that kind of carving was almost completely lost, but then there were a couple of young people that showed an expression of interest and learned under this guy who was still doing the carving,  and now they’ve set up their own canoe tourism company that other people can come and ride on and that way they're able to fund the continuation of that craft and keep it alive.

Aditi Mayer: I love what you said about sharing those stories with your son because I've been thinking about motherhood through this lens of how much it's also mothering oneself in many ways, and there's a tie-in with sustainability here which is about cultural memory and looking to the past. For me, it always becomes this question of “how can the past be in conversation with the present in order to inform the future”. And, in many ways, I feel like motherhood is following a similar framework. With that in mind, what would you say has been the most rewarding part of this chapter in your life so far?

Bonnie Wright: I would say, as you start a new generation being a mother, you naturally look to your ancestors and their ways of parenting, and how that has changed over the decades, and how you can reconcile with things that maybe you agree with or don't agree with. I guess this phase of life feels a bit like working on a project in its own tiny way, you nurture them for so long and then you let them out into the world. That vulnerability in storytelling has prepared me for motherhood in the sense that you need to allow the story, or your child, to be their own self and to take flight once you've done what you can. With stories, you have to give it freedom to be comprehended and digested by people in their own way. And the same goes for being a mother; your child is going to go and make friends and go to school, and people might have a completely different relationship or understanding of my son than I have, and that's amazing. 

Aditi Mayer: And what about the most difficult?

Bonnie Wright: Getting everything done. As an ideas person, I might get an itch for something and have to ask myself, am I the storyteller for this story or is that just an interesting idea? Or is that a great story, but does it actually need to be told or can it just be thought and talked about? I naturally think that when I'm feeling overwhelmed. I'm like, “okay, that is a great idea, but maybe not for this lifetime or maybe I'm not the right person for it”. I've had a project I've been working on for ages that's literally gone through every medium - first it was a script, then it was an audio play and now it's a book, and at one point I was writing it for one age group and now I'm maybe thinking about writing it for a different age group, so it's still the same story but it’s finding its place. And I think it’s good to not be so set on one thing and give it space, if that makes sense. My biggest challenge right now is just getting everything done in the hours one has in a day.

Aditi Mayer: This is real. Yeah. You brought up something so true which is, we started with this question of mediums and it's coming back again - do you shoot it in 9x16 for IG reels or is it 16x9 for traditional media? Is it a book? 

Bonnie Wright: And what you’re actually good at. I think we're in a time where it's mostly “who do you know?” and “who can you connect me with?” But that currency, yes it's great, but is it more… “ what skills do you actually have to apply to the greater good?” Being able to say, “you know what, I've slipped into this organizing role but I'm actually not very good at it. I'm going to work with someone else.” and I think that's where collaboration comes into play. I've gone through so many different mediums of storytelling, some of them very collaborative and some of them incredibly solo, you know, being in a film of a larger scale, you've got potentially hundreds of people that you're seeing, and then you flip to writing your own script or writing your own book and it's very solitary. And that's the joy of activism today, truly leaning on each other and being in community instead of this self-serving savior idea, especially as a white person. I think people can now understand someone else has had a different life than them, but we can still coexist and thrive together.

Aditi Mayer: Yeah, I love that we're making so many full circles with this.

Bonnie Wright: You said a good thing earlier too, about how we can put certain things on a pedestal, like really great journalism that's published by someone that we really respect, but how often do we actually watch and read them ourselves? 

Aditi Mayer: I think it's a balance. Yes, there is more accessibility with putting things on social media. The question there is, when I’m consuming social media, am I better educated? Potentially, but how much am I actually remembering? Is it actually translating on how I show up or is it more mindless? For me, as someone who also exists between mediums, this year I've made it a point to write more for publications. Having that journalism background, I miss being in an environment where I am peer-reviewed, where it's deeply researched, where it's not just reacting to what's happening in the news, but actually responding and absorbing. Writing has been a really great outlet but, sometimes, when there's so much going on in the world, I feel like I could internalize this feeling of, “am I responding fast enough?”, so it’s both a very therapeutic medium and a grueling medium. I like writing, but I also hate it. It’s difficult in the best way, right? Because you really have to sit with your thoughts and be coherent, you know what I mean?

Bonnie Wright: How do you navigate that yo-yoing reality of hope, frustration, love, rage towards the world, through your activism and storytelling? 

Aditi Mayer: Sometimes, especially in the youth activism space, there is this expectation of young people to always be this beacon of hope for the future, which is valid, but I think there is such a space for grief and rage within this thing because those are emotions that actually allow us to unlock action and purpose in our own ways. We shouldn't get stuck there but allowing yourself to feel that is actually really useful. And then, separately, I think just learning about more spiritual traditions, especially spiritual traditions in India, where there are goddesses that exemplify feminine rage. So, it's finding that balance of feeling those emotions, but alchemizing or channelizing those to translate into action. 

Bonnie Wright: You just brought up spiritual traditions. Do you feel like your spirituality and culture co-exist within you as a storyteller? 

Aditi Mayer: I love that question. I grew up with a grandfather who was a farmer his whole life, and when he came to live with us in his older age, every fruit we would eat we'd save the seeds and go to the backyard to plant them. He transformed a very barren backyard in SoCal into this beautiful orchard. My grandmother was an artisan in her own right, teaching women embroidery, beading, tailoring in her own village. That level of reverence and care with craft was always present in my life, and I think my journey of sustainability has been a return to my lineage, ancestry, and culture. All of those things have been major themes in my life. As for spirituality, in Punjab, I grew up with the presence of sikhism and traditions that are deeply rooted in social justice and service. It's a very young religion, but I think there's so much that I've learned in terms of what it means to be in service to others. So, what I hope for The Artisan Archive is it becomes an offering that also allows the individual to see how their upbringing and their culture can be a blueprint for sustainability. As you’ve said, it's not about reinventing the wheel, it's a return to many ways.

Bonnie Wright: I agree with you. It’s important to remember ways of the past that honestly aren't too far behind. When I think about the way that my grandparents had reverence for the items they had, and tended, and cared, and mended, that really isn't too far away that we've actually forgotten that. 

Aditi Mayer: The generation thing lives rent free in my brain. When we think about how much our grandmas have bore witness to, in terms of change in their life, it’s crazy.

Bonnie Wright: Totally. And I think as you move, like I've moved to different cities and countries, it's always interesting having a new relationship with the land. When I was in my early twenties, I used to think, "the grass is always greener" and “if I just go there, all my problems will leave”, you know? And then you'd go to the next place and you're like, “okay, I'm still the same and myself has followed me here”.

Aditi Mayer: As someone who's lived between geographies, it's almost like we shed different versions of ourselves, right? So within that process, do you feel like you’ve found your calling?

Bonnie Wright: Geographically? I think there are different places for different phases in your life. I lived in New York for two years, and it was in my early 20s where I was a couple years out of college and was just like, “what am I doing?”, and I needed this vigorous wakeup call that New York does to you, the kind that chews you up and throws you around, and it was kind of perfect for the awakening that I needed in that moment. But then it got to the point where I realized my nervous system wasn't the best there forever, so you choose a place because in that moment it serves or it aligns with what you're trying to do, who you're trying to be, what you're trying to question. It’s a constant unfolding of purpose, I guess, and at the end of the day, my purpose is actually very, very small. If I can make things that my closest friends and family enjoy, then that can just be enough. 

Aditi Mayer: You just made me think of a really meta question. Do you think our society's obsession with purpose kind of makes us overindex the role that we should be playing? 

Bonnie Wright: I think it's hard when you come from an artist or storyteller perspective and we've grown up in this era where these people become overnight phenomenons and successes, but is there any lasting reality to that artistry? When I think of the artists and storytellers that I fell in love with as a young person, there were people who didn't even get recognized until after they'd passed away. So, I do think with purpose you have to also think about the passing of time.

Aditi Mayer: For sure. When you think about the media, it's often pedestalling certain folks, but when you think about climate justice, it's about emphasizing the idea that everyone needs to step into that role. 

Bonnie Wright: There's only so much people can do. How do you take care of your creativity, your body, your mind in these moments? 

Aditi Mayer: I feel like I've gotten a lot better because I truly haven't put the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know it is a team game. It goes back to what we were saying earlier, about how individual action is important, but I don't think I've overindexed the impact of that in the larger equation. Understanding my own capacity and long-term sustainability as an individual, as an activist, as a storyteller, whatever you want to call it, is a really important delta in that marathon game. How about you?

Bonnie Wright: Yeah, kind of same. When I get overwhelmed or anxious, I feel like it's mainly the overwhelm that's collectively felt, rather than like, “oh my gosh I'm not doing enough”, you know what I mean? Instead, I redirect my energy. It’s like when you're writing and you're staring at a blank page and nothing is coming out. So, you shift focus and you get to reading today, you absorb an input rather than output. But I honestly think that's also come with age. I was very different in my twenties than I am in my thirties, and the capacity that I have is just different and that's okay.

Aditi Mayer: I’m gonna wrap it up with a line from Adrienne Maree Brown, who I love, that says, “building one mile deep rather than one mile wide”. 

*Original image courtesy of Martin King