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Frontline campaigners from the Gulf Coast marched in New York City on June 27, 2024 to oppose the insurance industry's bolstering of fossil fuels.
Before being put in handcuffs, 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.
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.

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.
This country and this world are at a monumental crossroads. US voters have an opportunity to beat back the forces of fascism and confront the billionaires who are rigging the economy, our media system, and our democracy, making it increasingly impossible for ordinary people to get by. We’re not just talking about the election. We’re talking about what must be done once these fascist elements are vanquished from power. We need a bolder set of solutions than what either major party has so far been willing to offer and a working-class movement ready to fight like hell for it. Trump didn't emerge from nowhere. The conditions that fueled MAGA authoritarianism were created by decades of radical neoliberal economic policies and a corrupt political system dominated by corporate interests. They slashed taxes on the super-rich, promising that the benefits would trickle down. They said giveaways to the corporate titans would make life more affordable for the rest of us. It was all bullshit. And when a bitter, betrayed populace searches for someone to blame, right-wing demagogues have little trouble finding scapegoats. People know when they're being lied to, but you won't hear any of this from the corporate media. Only independent journalism—powered and funded by people who believe in building a better world—can deliver truly trustworthy daily news. If you share our vision, please contribute whatever you can to sustain our work. |
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.

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.
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.

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.