.jpg)
70% of the Filipino typhoon survivors taking Shell to court as part of the Odette case are women - including Trixy Elle, a fish vendor from Batasan Island. This International Women's Day, here's Trixy's story.
By Trixy Elle
People often get my name wrong. It’s Elle—like “El-yeah.” At the airport, at the store, in the interviews which have become more frequent ever since we announced the case against Shell. I correct them with a smile. But there are bigger things to worry about; I’m fighting for climate justice and accountability.
I live in Batasan. We are a small Island, a small number of people always battered by climate change. We’ve seen almost every face of the climate crisis: rising water, stronger storms, warmer seas, and unbearable heat when the rains don’t come. We rely on the cycles of rain for drinking water. We depend on the sea for food. When these systems change, everything in our daily life is disrupted.
After Odette, our recovery was slow. If you ask me today, maybe we’re only 70% back—and just because of loans. I was tagged “totally damaged”—and it wasn’t an exaggeration. There was nothing left, not an item of clothing. I borrowed from microfinance groups—first for our livelihood and again for housing. To this day I’m in debt, for the first time in my life. My husband was a seaman. We started a small business. We were stable. Now, we begin again from zero—and the interest doesn’t stop growing, where storms are concerned.
People ask why I am speaking out. The truth is simple: I woke up to what’s happening. And if I’m awake, I should be a voice for our community. I believe climate justice is a kind of inheritance—something I can pass on to my children and future grandchildren. It’s a hopeful vision that even if you feel small, you can still do something, as long as you speak. We don't need to be a scientist to know that the climate is changing: we see it, and we feel it.
We have prepared a legal case against a huge company. Yes, it’s big. Yes, I was scared at first. But I think of my children and their tomorrow. That’s where the courage comes from. Doing what is right is not about being fearless; it’s about choosing what matters more than fear.
Why does winning matter? Because accountability matters. If we win, there can be payment for damages—boats, homes, tools we saved up for over years. But more than things, it would mean the effort is not wasted. That standing up to powerful companies was not for nothing. And even if we don’t win right away, we will have done something. We will have told our children: we stood our ground.
People say the Philippines contributes so little to global pollution. Still, we absorb the worst of the impacts. That is the unfairness we live with. The ones who profit from pollution should be the ones held to account. That’s what climate justice looks like from our shoreline: those who caused the harm help pay to repair it—and change their business so others don’t suffer the same.
.jpg)
I don’t pretend this is easy. I carry a notebook of dues and deadlines. I check the sky more than I check my phone. When a squall rolls in, I think about plywood, nails, roofs, and school uniforms. But I also think about what’s possible when people tell the truth about what’s happening to us, and when those with power finally listen.
So if you’re asking again: Why climate justice? Why accountability? Because our lives are at stake. Because debt should not be our disaster plan. Because the sea should bring life, not fear. Because the future belongs to our children—and they deserve more than survival.
My name is Trixy Elle, from Batasan Island. I used to think my name sounded “foreign.” Now I know it sounds like home—a place worth defending, a story worth telling, and a voice that will not be quiet.