What Have We Wrought in Our Oceans?

I recently read an article in the September 2010 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine, written by editor-in-chief Susan Casey, about the devastation caused by the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. The scale of the disaster feels almost impossible to comprehend — more like a super-gush than a leak, something too large for the mind to fully grasp.

A seaplane pilot, who wished to remain anonymous, gave Casey an aerial tour of the affected area. He had been warned not to bring journalists over the spill by BP, but he was so disturbed by what he had seen that he agreed to fly her over the region so the public could better understand what was happening. Even this flight required clearance from both the Coast Guard and BP. Casey later reported that, just weeks after her visit, the U.S. made it a criminal offense for journalists to come within 65 feet of any cleanup site. At the time, the Deepwater Horizon rig was releasing oil at a rate equal to the Exxon Valdez spill every four days.

According to the article, BP used large quantities of chemical dispersants, including Corexit 9527 and Corexit 9500, to break up the oil in the Gulf’s waters. These dispersants push the oil deeper below the surface, making the damage less visible but not less real. Scientists confirmed that massive underwater plumes of oil were forming beneath the surface, out of sight.

Reports cited in the article raised serious concerns about the safety of these chemicals. Marian Wang, writing for ProPublica and Mother Jones, noted that Corexit 9527 had previously been linked to red blood cell damage, respiratory problems, and liver and kidney issues among workers involved in the Exxon Valdez cleanup. Environmental reporting also indicated that the manufacturer, Nalco, was not required to fully disclose the ingredients of the dispersants being released into the ocean.

What struck me most was learning that the United Kingdom had banned the use of Corexit in its own waters, while it remained on the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s approved dispersant list. Other dispersants on the EPA list were reported to be less toxic and more effective, yet large amounts of Corexit were still used in the Gulf, sprayed from planes and injected directly into the water. Reading this, it is hard not to wonder how decisions like these are made, and whose interests they ultimately serve.

The Gulf of Mexico is not an abstract place. It is part of the food chain that sustains us. It is home to sperm whales, dolphins, bluefin tuna, sea turtles, shrimp, snapper, pelicans, migrating birds, and countless other species. Many of these were already endangered. Seeing images of oil-covered birds and dead sea turtles raises questions that are difficult to answer: What happens when chemicals and oil are pumped into such a vast ecosystem? How far will the damage spread? How will it affect the food we eat, the water we drink, and the health of future generations?

These questions feel even more personal to me after my husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer. At that time, we began looking more closely at everyday chemical exposures — BPA in food packaging, plastics, and even cash-register receipts. Research has linked BPA to hormone disruption, changes in prostate tissue in animals, increased breast cancer risk with early exposure, and abnormal cell growth. It made me realize how many substances we come into contact with every day without really knowing the long-term effects.

As someone who tries to live as naturally as possible, I sometimes wonder how much difference individual choices really make. Buying organic food, using glass instead of plastic, recycling, composting — these feel important, but small compared to the scale of industrial pollution. I also find myself asking how corporate leaders can continue to allow the production of chemicals that are known to be harmful, and how systems become so large that responsibility seems to disappear.

When I look at the images of seabirds, turtles, dolphins, and whales struggling in polluted water, I cannot ignore my own role in the larger picture. I drive thousands of miles each year. My home has depended on oil for heat. Like most people, I am part of the same system that creates the problem.

For now, the only things I know to do are small but real. I donate to environmental causes in the Gulf. I research alternative energy options for my home. I look into more efficient cars for the future. I try to reduce waste, reuse what I can, recycle, and compost. It does not feel like enough, but it feels like a place to start.

Updated note (2025):

Years after writing this, we were finally able to make one of the changes I had hoped for. In 2025, we upgraded our home heating system to a heat pump. The change was expensive, but it reduced our oil use to about one-tenth of what we previously burned to heat our house.

It feels good to know that some of the small intentions I wrote about back then slowly became real choices over time.

And I am still open to more ideas.