Summer of Heat photos courtesy of Luigi Morris
by Rob Wald
Citibank CEO Jane Fraser likes to talk about how she’s a working mother and understands the concerns parents have for their children’s future. But her actions as the head of the bank that leads the world in funding fossil fuel expansion suggest the opposite. An estimated 20,000 children worldwide are displaced from their homes every day due to climate change. And in the face of this humanitarian tragedy, Citibank continues to fund new fossil fuel projects.
So on July 27, I joined hundreds of other Summer of Heat activists, many with their children, for a rally at Citibank headquarters in New York. We marched to Fraser’s apartment building, where we erected a shrine to the displaced children by piling dolls, stuffed animals, children’s shoes, and other items on and around a table on the sidewalk. We sang and chanted and stood behind the shrine in a solemn display of solidarity with displaced children.
Before long, I was arrested with 58 other people and brought to a special police station for mass arrests. Processing was very slow. I stood outside with my arresting officer (AO) for about two hours, waiting to be led inside the jail, where my zip ties were cut (a huge relief) and I was searched and led into a holding cell with my comrades.
While I was waiting outside with my AO, who was a huge man with tattooed forearms as thick as a tree branch, we struck up a conversation. We talked about our hopes and dreams and I learned that he came from a long line of New York City sanitation workers and cops, and that his Italian ancestors were farmers. He had two kids, and his wife dreamed of opening an animal rescue center.
When I learned his wife was from Puerto Rico, our conversation steered toward the climate crisis and how island nations around the world are already facing an existential crisis. I told him that my son has Type 1 diabetes and that last summer — the hottest humans had ever experienced (until this summer) — a number of pharmaceutical plants shut down due to extreme heat. Insulin supplies weren’t affected that time, I told my AO, but I realized that a disruption to insulin supplies could be how my son dies from climate change.
I explained that that was why I was engaging in nonviolent civil disobedience, even though my son is an adult and can take care of himself. He looked me in the eye and told me he understood, and that it wouldn’t matter if I were 85 and my son was 60, I would never stop being a parent. He said he would do ANYTHING to ensure the safety of his children, that he didn’t blame me for doing what I, as a parent, had to do. We continued chatting, about sports, the problems with capitalism, our broken healthcare system, the need for change. Shortly before he led me into the station for processing, I said, “You know, when you stop being a policeman, you might consider joining our movement.”
He replied, “Don’t be surprised if you see me out here with you one day.” I wanted to give him a hug, but, zip ties . . . I’ll never forget that conversation. My experience taught me that we can grow our movement one conversation at a time. Even when those conversations are with burly New York City cops.