This summer, I spent 6 weeks in Marseille working with Wings of the Ocean, an environmental NGO tackling marine plastic pollution. Alongside two teammates, I researched SUPs (single-use plastics) cups in Marseille, explored French and European policy, observed local businesses, and developed a policy briefing that Wings of the Ocean can use in their advocacy work.
Before arriving, I imagined discovering some groundbreaking idea that would change everything; maybe the next revolutionary plastic alternative, or the perfect policy to dramatically reduce marine litter. My goal was to create something meaningful, something that truly made an impact.
Instead, Marseille taught me something far more valuable: I don't have to solve climate change in six weeks.
For the first few weeks, I was constantly frustrated. We spent hours researching legislation, comparing European waste management systems, speaking to organisations and observing businesses across the city, yet I couldn't shake the feeling we weren't doing enough. Every beach clean and swim in the sea reinforced that feeling. Standing on the Mediterranean coastline filling bags with plastic, it was impossible not to notice how much rubbish remained. I kept asking whether writing a policy briefing could possibly make a difference.
Eventually, I realised the problem wasn't our project, it was my expectations. Somewhere along the way, I'd convinced myself that my worth depended on making a visible impact. If I wasn't fixing the climate crisis entirely, then what was I even contributing?
Looking back now, I can see how unrealistic that mindset was. I definitely was experiencing a bit of main character syndrome there. Marine plastic pollution is the result of decades of policy decisions, consumer behaviour, economics and infrastructure. It was never going to be solved by three students in six weeks.
A conversation with the Wings of the Ocean team shifted my perspective completely. They reminded us that environmental work isn't about one brilliant idea, it's about thousands of people making small, sustained contributions over many years, even when it all seems pointless. One sentence stayed with me: "If I try to help everyone, I help no one."
Rather than trying to solve marine pollution single-handedly over the weekend, I focused on producing one piece of work that could genuinely help. Our report became a resource Wings of the Ocean can use in future advocacy, and something future Laidlaw students can build on. I learned that meaningful systems change isn't one breakthrough moment but rather continuous thoughtful contributions that others keep building on.
That lesson transformed how I thought about leadership. Initially I believed leaders had to have all the answers and take on the tasks no one else wanted. As the only woman in my group, I felt pressure to appear confident and completely in control at all times: confidence that, looking back, was largely performative. I wasn't trying to convince others I deserved to be there; I was trying to convince myself. I think this partly came from growing up in Ireland, where everyone knows everyone and deals massively with tall poppy syndrome. I learned to assume people were always watching and judging my decisions, which made it hard to take risks or make mistakes.
Living in Marseille challenged that mindset. The city was diverse, full of people from different backgrounds sharing the same spaces, and I realised most people were far less concerned with what I was doing than I'd imagined. Rather than feeling scrutinised, I felt anonymous in the best possible way,leaving me free to ask questions and step outside my comfort zone. That freedom gave me a confidence far more genuine than the confidence I'd been performing.
Because I felt I had to prove myself, I gravitated toward organising everything. Over time I realised that wasn't leadership; it was anxiety disguised as leadership. Real leadership meant trusting my teammates, listening more than speaking, and accepting uncertainty as part of collaborative work. I stopped measuring success by what I personally achieved and started measuring it by whether the team was moving forward together.
Marseille also challenged my assumptions in ways I didn't expect. I'd always believed I understood the importance of listening before judging, but there's a difference between understanding something intellectually and living it. I arrived assuming environmental protection would naturally be everyone's priority. Speaking with local businesses quickly showed how simplistic that was ,as many relied on disposable cups not from indifference, but because of seasonal tourism, rising costs and busy service periods shaped by realities I hadn't experienced. This experience furthered my understanding of cultural humility where I recognised that my own perspective was incomplete. It also reshaped how I thought about environmental leadership as I learned that recommendations have to balance ambition with affordability, practicality and community acceptance.
One of the greatest experiences had nothing to do with recycling single use plastics, it was the friends I made. I was homesick, overwhelmed by the language barrier and unsure whether I knew what I was doing at all. Yet over those 6 weeks I met some incredible people who brought out parts of myself I didn't know existed. They encouraged me to be more adventurous and more willing to embrace uncertainty. Between climbing treacherous cliff faces to get to the Calanques to swim, sampling the mysterious Donkey Kong beer (it was really bad), skipping home from an outdoor DJ set to the soundtrack of Sneakernight, or the countless rounds of new card games I learned (and lost), the friendships I made could only have happened in these 6 weeks and I hope I stay friends with them for many years to come. In the immortal words of Vanessa Hudgens, "We gon' keep goin' and goin' and goin', yeah"
By the end, I wasn't necessarily more confident than when I arrived, but I was far more comfortable with uncertainty. I arrived believing leadership meant carrying the world's biggest problems alone, and left believing in choosing progress over perfection as well as continuing even when the impact isn't immediately visible. Climate change wasn't solved during my 6 weeks in Marseille (I’ll get to it next week alongside gender equality and global poverty) but my understanding of leadership, community and even myself was transformed. I think that was the most meaningful outcome that I could have achieved.
Au revoir Marseille! You taught me many things but you will never teach me to enjoy pastis.