Earlier this month, I was arrested alongside four fellow Gulf South organizers because we chose to engage in a non-violent direct action inside Chubb’s towering building in New York City. I was not planning on breaking the law that day, but I’m glad I did and I want to explain why I’d do it again.
There are eight existing methane export terminals in the U.S., the second largest in the country is owned and operated by Cheniere near my hometown of Corpus Christi, Texas. Additionally, there are seven terminals under construction and 17 more terminals in the proposal phase in the U.S. Gulf Coast. Behind each of them is an insurance company. The pollution from the existing projects has already led to severe health issues and even deaths all while worsening climate change and extreme weather. The scorching heatwave that beat down on us during the protest was a stark reminder of that.
Insurers like Chubb have an integral role in securing a livable future. Everything oil and gas companies do needs insurance. Without insurance new projects would be all but impossible to build. We’ve repeatedly invited Chubb, AIG, and other insurers to our communities to show them the harm these projects are causing. We’ve shown them the documents—the explosions, shutdowns, and emission flarings—and have been met with silence, patronizing promises, or feet dragging.
Unified, determined, and honestly pissed off, over 200 of us marched down 6th Avenue to Chubb’s office. There I linked arms with fellow community members, two of whom were also from Corpus Christi and occupied the lobby. Originally, I was going to leave the group once the NYPD started to warn that they would begin arrests if we didn’t disperse. But as I sat there, I thought about the community that I love back home. I thought about the many heartbreaking conversations I’ve had with community members who are suffering the consequences of living so close to dozens of different poisonous facilities and having no direct avenue to holding the industry or those who insure it accountable.
I knew that this was my opportunity to use my body to demand justice on behalf of those who couldn’t be there with us in person. I was really scared, but I heard the chants outside coming from hundreds of my fellow Gulf South residents and I felt my good friends squeeze my hand tighter, letting me know that I wasn’t alone. I knew there was no other place on Earth that I’d rather be than in that lobby and that I would proudly give up a few hours of freedom if it meant contributing to bending the long arc of history toward justice.
Frontline activists, including the author (second from right) locking arms inside the Chubb headquarters during the direct action on June 26, 2024. (Photo Credit: Toben Dilworth/Rainforest Action Network)
As the arresting officer placed my hands behind my back and tightly zip-tied my hands together, I thought about the cruel irony inherent in arresting people who are working to protect our communities while those enabling the poisoning of our air and water are allowed to continue business as usual in their offices above us. It’s an apt encapsulation of the environmental and economic injustice we experience every day.
We traveled over 1,500 miles to New York to make sure these insurance executives understood the real-world consequences of their decisions. Our fight isn’t just about numbers; it’s about our lives, our homes, and our future. We won't stop disturbing their peace until they stop disturbing ours. Chubb, we’ll be back unless you stop insuring the destruction of our communities.
Frontline activists, including the author (second from right) locking arms inside the Chubb headquarters during the direct action on June 26, 2024. (Photo Credit: Toben Dilworth/Rainforest Action Network)