Climate Anxiety: The Inuit Struggle to Stay Cool in a Warming Arctic

When we talk about climate anxiety—that gnawing dread that the Earth is slowly ghosting humanity—it’s not just eco-conscious Gen Z folks spiraling on Instagram. For Indigenous communities, climate anxiety is more than a buzzword; it’s personal. And for the Inuit people of the Arctic, it’s deeply woven into daily life, identity, and survival. 

Welcome to the Circumpolar North, where the ice is thinner, the stakes are higher, and the mental health impacts are as real as a polar bear in your backyard. 

The Inuit and the Fracturing Ice (Literally and Metaphorically) 

For thousands of years, the Inuit have had the ultimate icy toolkit: navigating frozen landscapes, hunting seals, and passing down knowledge as naturally as the seasons (back when seasons made sense). But climate change is melting more than ice—it’s melting traditions. With Arctic temperatures rising at nearly three times the global average, the environment is going rogue. 

Thinning sea ice means hunting routes vanish. Permafrost thaws like day-old ice cream, taking buildings and roads down with it. And when the ground you stand on starts giving up, the psychological toll isn't far behind.  Elder Naulaq LeDrew of Nunatsiavut says it best: “The land is our memory. When it disappears, so do our stories.” 

In Rigolet, a small Inuit town, a community study found that three out of four residents felt anxious because of unpredictable ice. That’s not just nerves—it’s a full-blown mental health crisis. And let’s not forget: the Inuit are already dealing with historical trauma from colonization. Climate change didn’t start the fire—it’s just fanning the flames. 

From Seal Hunts to Solastalgia 

Now, imagine growing up where your grandparents hunted, fished, and read the skies like weather apps—and you can’t even walk on the ice safely anymore. 

Welcome to solastalgia: the grief of watching your home change beyond recognition. It’s not just poetic; it’s clinically recognized. 

Contaminated fish, shifting animal patterns, and food insecurity mean young Inuit don’t just fear climate change—they wonder who they are without their traditions. One Greenlandic teen put it bluntly: “I worry I’ll never learn to hunt like my grandfather. What does that make me?” That’s the sound of intergenerational identity hitting an iceberg. 

Photo by Author

Across the globe, 33% of Indigenous youth report climate-related despair, compared to 20% of their non-Indigenous peers. So yes, while everyone is freaking out a little, Indigenous youth are freaking out a lot more—and with good reason. 

Adapting with Wi-Fi and Wisdom 

But here’s where the story swerves from tragedy to tenacity. 

The Inuit aren’t just sitting around watching the ice melt—they’re innovating. In Nunatsiavut, communities developed Siku, an app that blends traditional ice knowledge with real-time data. It’s like Waze for the Arctic but with more seal-hunting tips and fewer passive-aggressive route recalculations. 

Youth seal hunts, language workshops, and cultural festivals are bringing pride and purpose back, one snowshoe at a time. And Indigenous climate leaders—like the fierce and brilliant Siila Watt-Cloutier—are reminding the world: “We are not canaries in the coal mine. We are the polar bears on the melting ice.”  Translation: this isn't just an Indigenous problem—it's a planetary one. 

Ice, Identity, and the Big Picture 

Here’s the thing: you can’t separate mental health from environmental health. Not in the Arctic, not in the Amazon, not even in your tiny apartment with three plants and a compost bin. 

The Inuit have shown that resilience isn’t about bouncing back—it’s about adapting forward. By blending ancestral knowledge with modern tools and calling for justice louder than a melting glacier calving into the sea, they’re showing the world how to face climate anxiety head-on. 

But if we’re serious about solutions, we’ve got to stop treating Indigenous wisdom like a cherry on top and start making it the main dish. 

So next time you're doomscrolling about rising sea levels, remember there are people already living that future—and they might just have the answers we need.