Everyone knows that Sheffield is one of the greenest cities in the country. I didn’t really understand just how green it was until I started living elsewhere. In concrete towns, treeless streets feel empty, neighbourhoods without parks and green spaces lack unity, and wildlife in urban areas is nowhere to be found. I didn’t know how good I had it, being born and bred in Sheffield, until the green started to fade.
For a few years, the outdoor city was my classroom. I left school at 11 to be home-educated and, within a year, was plunged into the struggle to preserve the greenery that defined the Sheffield I’d grown up in. The street tree saga is now a notorious chapter in Sheffield’s activist history, with news of the mass felling of mature trees reaching far and wide. When the trees started disappearing, it felt like the city was losing its essence. But, as every Sheffield native can attest, we don’t let anything go down without a fight.
I remember often driving around the city with my mum on an average day, suddenly changing course to trail a chipper or cherry picker heading for the next tree destined for the chop. I always felt like the trees were Sheffield residents just as much as I was – rooted firmly in the earth, and most of them had been here much longer than I had. They’re connected to their surroundings, intertwined with the roads and the communities that look after them.
I regularly walk along the street considered the site of the campaign’s final victory in 2018. Meersbrook Park Road – still recognised as one of the leafiest avenues in Sheffield – is a physical reminder of the campaign, imprinted with signs of resistance. One half-felled lime tree, known locally as ‘Stumpy’, retains the Y-shape it was cut back to before protestors put a stop to the work. Despite sharp cuts at the end of its limbs, new growth has since sprouted, and Stumpy remains a living memorial preserving the collective memory of the struggle that took place.
A tree might seem a daft thing to feel so strongly about, but the campaign stood for much more than just stopping the chop. It was a testament to the strength of community spirit and the power of collective action in reclaiming our streets and neighbourhoods. Though thousands of healthy trees were lost, many more were saved. Solidarity is woven into the fabric of Sheffield, and the fight to save our street trees will be remembered as a pivotal moment when peaceful protest won against all odds.
So many amazing initiatives came out of those tumultuous few years – from art groups connecting people to the trees in their neighbourhoods to live music and comedy events raising funds for the campaign. The struggle created a community of people unafraid to hold authority to account, and I’m proud to have been part of it.
It was undoubtedly an unusual education, but being exposed to such an important local campaign at that age made me an activist at heart. Trees are living memories, and their existence preserves the streets of Sheffield as sites of important historical change. Standing tall, they actively resist the memory of the campaign fading from Sheffield’s conscience – making sure none of us forget the strength of solidarity in this evergreen city.
