(Updated since first publication in 2013)


In 1999, I was invited to a small informal gathering of moms in Princeton, New Jersey to meet with a fellow NJ mother, Donna Dees Thomases. A week after a shooting rampage at the North Valley JCC in Granada Hills, CA, Donna, a public relations professional, whose own young daughters attended her local JCC, was motivated to apply for a permit for a march on Washington for gun violence prevention. She was calling it, the Million Mom March. The California shooter was a white supremacist who walked into the lobby of the JCC and opened fire with a semiautomatic weapon, firing 70 shots into the complex. The gunfire wounded five people: three young children, a teenager, and an office worker. Shortly after, he murdered another adult. This shooting occurred four months after the massacre at Columbine High School, which left 12 students, one teacher, and the two murderers dead; plus 21 injured.

I was so motivated by Donna and so appalled by the statistics on gun violence and frustrated by our government’s inability to enforce commonsense gun safety legislation, that I became a local coordinator for the movement. Being immersed in the cause, I was keenly conscious of how guns not only permeate our physical culture, but the English language as well. With an interest in linguistics, I was keenly aware of what I’m calling for lack of a better wordgunspeak. There have been many times when I’ve had to stop myself in mid-sentence trying to avoid using particular arms-related words or idioms, but it’s so natural, it’s nearly unavoidable.

This list will no doubt trigger more thoughts on the subject: jump the gun, loose cannon, armed with the facts, going great guns, go off half-cocked, be on target, getting loaded, shotgun wedding, shoot your wad, fire with both cylinders, straight shooter, staring down the barrel of a gun, fire back, riding shotgun, gun shy, under the gun, shooting from the hip and the smoking gun.

The Million Mom March was a true grassroots movement, organized through word of mouth. After a nine-month gestation period, on Mother’s Day, May 14, 2000, approximately three quarters of a million people showed up on Washington’s National Mall to advocate for stricter gun laws (150,000 to 200,000 people across the country held local marches). One of the founding beliefs of the Million Mom March was that, “Gun violence is a public health crisis that harms not only the physical, but also the spiritual, social, and economic health of our families and communities.” Displayed on the mall that day was a “wall of death,” which included more than 4,001 names — all people who had been victims of gun violence. Today, approximately 33,880 people die from gun violence a year in America, which breaks down to roughly someone every 17 minutes. The number of guns in America is staggering.

In 2000, the year of the Million Mom March, the stats were that every day 12 children are killed by gunfire in the U.S.; one out of every 17 high school students had carried a gun in the past month; a gun kept in the home was four times more likely to be involved in an unintentional shooting than to be used in self-defense. Eighteen years later, statistics from the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, show that every day 46 children and teens are shot in murders, assaults, suicides and suicide attempts, unintentional shootings, and police intervention; seven children and teens die from gun violence a day. Overall, 315 people are shot a day; 93 of them die from gun violence. In a year on average that adds up to 17,012 children and teens and 114,994 Americans in general getting shot. These days it’s more difficult for students to bring guns to school, but when it comes to having a gun in the home, the numbers documenting the likelihood of those guns harming innocent people, are off the charts. And while some background checks have been instituted in the intervening years, because they aren’t comprehensive enough, they haven’t been bulletproof.

Through the Million Mom March, the power “of a few good moms” propelled the subject of gun safety into the spotlight and literally onto a national stage. President and Hilary Clinton were very supportive of the march and its mission. When the coordinators and our families met with them at the White House prior to the march, there was a great deal of hope in the air. Yet in all these years, it is incomprehensible that nothing significant has been done. We have been seeking commonsense consensus, but what we’ve gotten instead is senseless.

I am blown away by how our legislators have been complacent about every day people walking around with semi-automatic assault weapons and high-capacity magazines. I am up in arms that it has been a struggle to strengthen and expand background checks, which according to CNN, 97% of the American people support. We need to get involved in the many gun violence prevention groups, participate in the March for Our Lives, keep shooting off our mouths and stick to our guns, so they’ll give it their best shot and make legislative decisions to enforce sensible gun laws that represent the will of the majority of law-abiding citizens.

Let’s bite the bullet and get it done!

We Moms Must Keep Marching and Protesting—With Our Kids

Multi-ethnic crowd participating in an anti-racism protest

I was on my way to yet another protest march, when I noticed I was walking with a resolute, rhythmic gait and humming a familiar tune:

Cast off the shackles of yesterday!
Shoulder to shoulder into the fray!

Our daughters’ daughters will adore us
And they’ll sing in grateful chorus
“Well done, Sister Suffragette!”

Any fan of the 1964 film, “Mary Poppins,” will recognize this as the chorus to “Sister Suffragette,” the song Winifred Banks, Jane and Michael’s mum, enthusiastically sings on her return from a suffragette rally.

Click here to read the entire article on Kveller.

Pantsuits, A Part of HerStory



(Published originally on the Huffington Post.)

October 22 was National Pantsuit Day. Yeah, I missed it too. The funny thing is, I was literally #withHER at an event that day and surprisingly, Hillary made no mention of the occasion.

While all the talk of pantsuits may seem silly, just the other day I heard a story about a high school-aged girl who doesn’t want a president who wears pantsuits. Yet another sign of the lack of HERstorical knowledge many young people have about the struggle for women’s equality.

To understand Hillary is to understand the modern-day pantsuit. It’s practical, pragmatic, focused, fashionable and efficient. A woman in a pantsuit signals, “I mean business.” We need to embrace the symbolism of a pantsuit as a way to give women a leg up!

There’s nothing new about pantsuits on the Beltway. Senator Barbara Mikulski helped lead the pantsuit rebellion in 1993 at a time when women were required to wear dresses on the Senate floor. Women of a certain age, myself included, have faced similar battles.

There are many historical reasons why pants became part of more masculine dressing. European and Asian men initially dressed in gowns, robes, tunics and togas. They began wearing trousers around 3,000 years ago to make it easier for riding horses. Horses were critical to civilization as part of warfare, hunting and commerce in general. Even if women had been permitted to participate in these activities they would have had a difficult time doing so since their mobility was limited by cumbersome skirts with multi-layers of crinoline and petticoats. Pantsuits were first introduced in the 1920s, but began to trend in the fashion world in the 1960s and ‘70s with the feminist revolution.

Personally, while I’m a major advocate for women in pants and for Hillary, I’ve never been a fan of pantsuits. Where’s the creativity when there’s nothing to mix and match? But my real problem with pantsuits is more deep-seated and involves an incident that happened to my grandmother when I was a child. In 1973, she was going on a chartered tour to Israel and my mother convinced her that wearing pants would be more comfortable while sitting on a bus for hours and exploring ancient ruins. At 70 years old, my grandmother had never worn pants and therefore needed a lot of convincing. She finally agreed and purchased a navy blue pantsuit. On the group’s last day in Israel, they boarded the bus for Mea Shearim, the ultra-Orthodox section of Jerusalem. After stepping off the bus, the women and children began throwing small rocks at my grandmother and calling out that she was a “sinner.” The culprit? Her pantsuit. Ironically, my grandmother herself had grown up Orthodox. That’s why she had never worn pants in the first place!

To paraphrase the section of Deuteronomy in the Bible pertaining to this, it says a woman shouldn’t dress in man’s clothing. It doesn’t actually describe what that clothing is and as noted earlier, men were wearing clothes more akin to dresses at that time. The message, though, is clear: women aren’t supposed to be like men. And that’s the crux of why both Hillary and pantsuits are continually maligned. It’s interesting that when men wear suits, they’re simply called suits, but when women wear them, they’re referred to as (pant)suits. Could this be a result of a society that’s still hung up on women wearing pants?

Hillary Clinton made a major statement when she was the first, First Lady to wear pants in her official White House portrait. What a statement it will be when she takes the oath of office at HER inauguration rocking a pantsuit!

The Concert Across America to End Gun Violence


(Published originally on the Huffington Post.)

While House and Senate members were taking more than 50 days of summer vacation, 4,500 Americans were shot to death. We can’t afford the consequences of their inaction!


Music has always been key to helping to heal, create joy and bring communities together. If you agree that gun violence is a public health crisis in America, you can show your support for this issue on September 25 by attending one of the approximately 300 concert venues across the country, including 150 that are faith-based. Check them out:

And when the presidential candidates debate on September 26, we need to hear solid solutions to America’s gun violence epidemic. Tell the debate moderator, Lester Holt, that you want an extensive question on gun violence during the debate. Tweet: Hey @LesterHoltNBC ask how candidates will #EndGunViolence at the #debate on 9/26 so we can #VoteAcrossAmerica for solutions


Let the moderators hear from you regarding questions on this issue during the other debate dates, October 4, 9 and 19, as well.

Take a moment to view this video, an example of the power of music.

You can also take action to #RockItToStopIt by signing this petition.

#ConcertAcrossAmerica to #EndGunViolence

Just My Cup of Tea Tag Project

tea bag cnf

A Micro-Essay I submitted to Creative Nonfiction Magazine’s Twitter contest was selected and published in their November/December issue. The #tinytruth I wrote: She knew she was in a vulnerable state when the words of wisdom on her tea bag made her weep. was in reference to those little sayings found on tea bag tags. This got me thinking that while tweets are more aspirational than inspirational, they are similar to those terse tea bag tag messages – both to the point and under 140 characters.

When I was growing up, we drank Salada Tea. The wonderful thing about Salada was that the tea bags contained funny sayings and witticisms to entertain its drinkers. Salada’s “Tag Lines” were the brainchild of a 1960s madman. According to the advertising campaign, the idea was to give tea drinkers, “something to do while you dangle.”  The tea bags were “steeped” in inspiration and offered maxims for daily life. I’ve managed to hang on to one of those tea tags for over 30 years. Not sure what that says about me – that I held on to it for so long and why this particular message…In this cynical age, nothing is sacred except a guest towel. At any rate, it is prominently displayed on where else? A towel rack in my home.

A few years ago I discovered Yogi Tea. I have one cup of coffee every morning followed by a cup of tea that I savor throughout the day. The words on my Yogi tea bag tag start me off for the day. Lately, I’ve been sharing the daily messages with others because it’s felt like the world is in need of a little wisdom.

In this fast pace world, I’m grateful for a cup of tea, which forces me to slow down and contemplate. Or as pointed out in 50 Differences Between People Who Sip Tea And Those Who Chug Coffee, while coffee drinkers medicate, tea drinkers meditate.

Whatever your beverage of choice may be, have you gained or shared a little wisdom today?






The Evolution of Barbie

Barbie head                                                                                       

(Published originally on the Huffington Post.)

Even though I insisted on eco-friendly, child-labor-free toys for my daughters, I was excited to pass down my Barbie doll collection to them 23 years ago. As I eased Barbie’s skinny, little molded plastic appendages through sleeves, pant legs and neck holes, I was awash with that old familiar feeling. It was disconcerting, though, when we tried to dress a brand spanking new Barbie in a vintage red and silver glittery, strapless evening gown and it slipped right off. I later learned that in 1989 Barbie’s proportions were altered including a breast reduction. Barbie has been evolving all along, but until now it’s been incremental (#TheDollEvolves). Ken too has been altered over the years to have a bigger head and broader shoulders. The fact that Ken is on steroids seems to have flown under the radar. With these body changes, much of the Barbie and Ken wardrobes I saved from my childhood have been rendered useless.

It was impossible for me not to have an affinity for Barbie. After all, we shared the same name. Only my Nana could get away with calling me Barbie doll and later, when I was in high school, driving a Chevy Malibu earned me the moniker “Malibu Barbie” (even though my lifestyle was the antithesis of that 70s Barbie model). I was a hardcore Barbies player. I had one best friend who preferred playing with G. I. Joe. Her idea of playing Barbies was to have her go on life raft romps with Joe in the bathtub. But Barbie’s anatomically unrealistic shape, made it impossible for her to keep from toppling off of Joe’s regulation Army raft, resulting in a permanent bad hair day. My other best friend was much more amenable to more traditional Barbie scenarios. Our set-ups became so elaborate with furnishings and other paraphernalia, that after a few years, we shifted the game to her attic. That way we didn’t have to disassemble it every day. I pushed playing Barbies to the limit ─ beyond the point when anyone else was interested. As a child, I didn’t give any thought to Barbie’s impeccable make-up or her high heel ready feet and the term “body image” wasn’t in my vocabulary. To me, Barbie didn’t look any different than the other 1960s women I saw on TV and in magazine print ads. All I knew was that as a budding writer, Barbie was my vehicle for limitless story possibilities. In support of the new more diverse dolls, Mattel has said, “Girls everywhere now have infinitely more ways to play out their stories and spark their imaginations through Barbie.” Thankfully, this realm of childhood remains universal and timeless.

Since the focal point of the relationship with my friend was our Barbie game, when she lost interest, the friendship ended and that was also the end of my Barbie playing days. Junior high happened. High school happened. We remained neighbors only living a few doors away, but we never reconnected, not even for a moment. Eventually, we went off to college. In my sophomore year, my parents made the decision to sell our house, triggering childhood memories, particularly of my Barbie playing days. That’s when it suddenly occurred to me that with our friendship ending so abruptly, I had left my Barbies at her house. The thought of contacting her after all those years was akin to cold calling, but I was determined to get my Barbies back.

One afternoon during Spring break, I found myself walking that familiar beat I had walked a thousand times before and like an out of body experience, I entered her house, marched up the stairs, past her bedroom, into her brother’s room, and up to her attic. And there it was…our Barbie world, just as we had left it eight years earlier. Barbie was seated on the couch. My “flocked” hair Ken doll had his arm around her. Ken had lost an arm. (Vietnam is how I explained it.) For a romantic interlude, I would wrap his shirtsleeve around Barbie’s waist and tuck it into her outfit to hold it in place. Barbie was in her riding outfit─corduroy and fake suede pants and top, complete with boots and riding crop. From the time I was old enough to shop by myself at Kiddie City, I would purchase one outfit a week. I delighted in Barbie as Fashionista with her clothes changing from June Cleaver matronly dresses and slinky evening gowns to groovy pants ensembles.

For the next few hours, we sat on the floor. Little conversation was exchanged between us. We methodically sorted out the dolls. We each had a bubble cut Barbie (vintage, 1962). Mine blonde, hers brunette. I also had a bendable Barbie and a Talking Barbie. While I had Ken, she had Barbie’s best friend, Midge, and her boyfriend, Allan. I had two Skippers, a redhead and a later brunette version. We had also thrown a few Liddle Kiddles into the mix as younger sisters or sometimes as Barbie’s children. We moved on to the outfits next─hers, mine. Any crocheted or knitted outfits went to me automatically because my Great-Aunts Sophie and Roz had their own original 1959 Barbies on stands, which they used as models to make clothes for my dolls. After we were finished with the wardrobe, we sorted through the furnishings, then the cases. She had some elaborate furniture, handed down from a cousin including a sleeper sofa. That certainly spiced up our games.

Once the task was complete, we made our way downstairs to her front door, avoiding eye contact along the way. With my Barbie cases in hand, I walked down her path for the last time, through the white picket fence gate, and out of my childhood.

Nipping it in the Bud

orange tree

(Published originally on

Ah springtime…the chirping of birds, the buzzing of insects, the budding of trees. But wait a minute. It’s not spring. It’s winter in Brooklyn…it’s 72 degrees out…the tomatoes are still growing in my garden and the poor trees are confused. I’m a little confused myself. I’ve settled in to write an article about Tu BiSh’vat the Jewish holiday, which will be celebrated on January 24-25, 2016 and foretells the coming of springtime in Israel. As an experiential environmental educator, between leading eco activities and Tu BiSh’vat Seders, it’s always been my busy season. I’m used to being greeted with mixed reactions when talking about spring in the midst of icy cold winter weather.

Tu BiSh’vat, referred to as the New Year of the Trees or the Birthday of the Trees, has also been dubbed the Jewish Arbor Day or Jewish Earth Day. It’s a time when the frozen waters start to thaw; as the soil and trees are nourished, they begin to reproduce leaves and seeds. In the Jewish community Tu BiSh’vat is a time for us to embrace our responsibility as stewards of the planet and a natural time to appreciate and be awed by trees. Speaking of embracing, I’ve hugged a few trees in my day. With all that trees do for us, they deserve to be hugged.

While it was hard not to revel in wearing spring-like clothes in winter, we’ve learned over the past few years of erratic weather including 14 of the 15 hottest years on record, which have all occurred since 2000, that there’s a price to be paid. In this case, the budding of trees in December means that the plants and trees’ natural cycles have been thrown off resulting in a shortened flowering season and in some instances, some trees may not flower at all. Fruit trees for example, need to experience a substantial amount of chilling so they will bear fruit. The holiday of Tu BiSh’vat actually began as the cut-off date for collecting taxes on the crop of fruit trees. The Jewish people gave one tenth or a tithing of their harvest to support the sacred work of the temples and to help the poor and those in need. The Jewish principle of bal tashchit is a prohibition against cutting down or destroying trees even as a tactic of war, and specifically forbids the cutting down of fruit-bearing trees. Fruit (food) is a sacred gift and the law forbids needless and wasteful destruction. In our day, the increase of climate-driven extreme weather events such as excessive heat, drought and flooding related to human activity is putting our food sources at risk. Isn’t this a form of wanton destruction?

Trees are our natural partners in so many ways and critical to the sustainability of our planet. There can’t be a serious discussion about slowing down the devastation of climate change without considering the impact of trees, particularly on the heels of the 2015 United Nations Climate Change Conference in Paris. The second day of the conference focused on trees including carbon sequestration, reforestation, carbon sinks, agribusinesses, logging of old-growth forests and sustainable development of commodities that come from trees. To honor the commitments in the Paris agreement and limit the temperature rise to 2 degrees Celsius (3.6 degrees Fahrenheit) or possibly 1.5C, the world must not only stop destroying its forests, it must invest in tree regeneration to create a balance between the emissions of greenhouse gases and their removal.

While an agreement may have been reached in Paris, as we reflect on Tu BiSh’vat, we still need to be vigilant. We must hold industry and government accountable by supporting pro-environmental legislation. We need to hold ourselves accountable as well by preserving and conserving our natural resources and taking progressive personal and communal action to nip the causes of climate change in the bud.


Still Trying to Imagine

John Lennon

I’m thinking about John Lennon. I’m always thinking about John Lennon. But today especially.

Over the past few weeks, there’s been a confluence of the two major issues I’ve been involved in for 20+ years: climate change and gun violence. I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed by the state of both these issues, it’s been hard to get motivated to write about them. But today is the 35th anniversary of the day John Lennon was killed, so I’m motivated.

Today is also the third night of Chanukah. There’s a natural Chanukah -environment connection. It’s a holiday about oil dependence in the same unstable region of the world that we’ve always had oil issues. It’s also about light at this, the darkest time of the year, which makes it a natural time to think about energy conservation, environmental stewardship and moving away from our unsustainable use of fossil fuels. This year it has even more meaning with the UN Climate Conference in Paris in its 9th day. About 180 countries have submitted emissons reductions plans. The goal is to reach a legally binding agreement to keep global average temperatures from continuing to rise to disastrous levels. As we know, storms with increased intensity, droughts and other catastrophic weather occurrences are impacting our planet, particularly the most vulnerable who are already suffering. This isn’t something in the future. This is happening now.

Climate change is a factor in the surge of refugees and terrorism as well. In Syria, for example there has been a drought for the past six years. As crops failed, there were food shortages. Hundreds of thousands of families who depended on farms ​poured into Syria’s cities, adding to the refugees already fleeing from the chaos in Iraq. The government was incapable of doing anything, making way for militant groups to step in.

We know all too well that intolerance and instability leads to unrest and violence. Not just terrorist acts by outsiders, but homegrown acts of violence made easier by our weak gun laws, which leads me back to John Lennon. It seemed impossible at the time that anyone would want to gun down and murder John Lennon who asked us to Imagine a better world and to give peace a chance. Who would have guessed that 35 years later in America, over 108,000 people a year would be victims of gun violence?

A few weeks ago I went to Washington DC for the 2015 Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence National Summit Lobbying Day and to celebrate the 15th anniversary of the national Million Mom March, which I was a coordinator for in 2000. Following our day of lobbying, we felt exhilirated, not knowing what lie around the corner in a few weeks. On the way back to New York, I updated my blog piece, Triggers, to encourage people to get in touch with their legislators to encourage the expansion of background checks for gun purchases. We had high hopes. But even with these recent tragedies, we’re having trouble getting any traction on legislation for gun safety laws.

If John Lennon had lived, I’m sure he would be just as perplexed as any rational person should be that our country can’t agree on commonsense approaches to both the problem of climate change and gun violence.

Being outraged isn’t #ENOUGH, we need to take action by supporting and voting for legislators and policies that will make a difference.

We learn from the Chanukah story that the little guy can be victorious over the big guy. This Chanukah as we kindle the candles, let’s hope there’s light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.







Not Like This

Seeing so many millennials show up at protests this past week got me thinking about how a common lament of their generation has been that they haven’t had the deep issues of the 1960s to connect to. They (and their boomer parents) often see the activism of that time through rose tinted granny glasses. I spend a lot of time with 20 and 30-somethings. Not only because I’m the mother of two daughters in that demographic, but because of my work as an activist in the environmental movement. Protecting the environment is an issue that many millennials have gravitated to over the past fifteen years. They grew up with a well publicized push to Save the Rainforest, photos of precious polar bears floating away on melting ice sheets, and the virtues of the three ‘R’s. Not Reading, ‘Riting and ‘Rithmetic like it was for their parents, but Reduce, Reuse and Recycle. And even though the environmental movement was also inspired by the boomer generation with the first Earth Day, it has suffered from not being able to attach a human face to the issues and therefore it’s been slow to attract the same kind of passion and urgency of movements of the past. Millennials in the U.S. want their own Vietnam to protest against, their own Civil Rights and Women’s Liberation movements to march for. They want to care about something; a unified chant worthy cause à la: Give Peace a Chance.

Then along came the corrosive power of Wall Street and multinational corporations and banks, which led to the greatest recession we had seen in decades. This was followed by the reprehensible behavior of these industries going unpunished and the very personal concern for young people over college loans and high unemployment. There was a common enemy and the Occupy Movement was born. Millennials were motivated…for awhile. But some say the problem with Occupy was that it was more about the participants attracting attention, having their voices heard, than actually about getting results. My feeling is; what they were rallying against didn’t strike a painful enough chord. Not so with recent events, which leads me to think: be careful what you wish for.

None of us could have foreseen that decades later we’d be fighting many of the same fights. We’ve got wars galore—conflicts where there can be no winners, where peace eludes us. When it comes to injustice—women are still being discriminated against, particularly in the workplace. And from Ferguson to New York, and all points in between, while we’ve moved one step forward in addressing racial inequality, it feels like we’ve taken two steps back. Even the environmental movement is gaining more critical mass momentum as the rate of the devastating effects of climate change on humans is escalating.  The system is broken.  So young and older are once again taking to the streets to put democracy into action, to hold those in positions of power accountable, and try to affect change. But for all of us who have romanticized revolution, I think we can agree; we didn’t want it like this.

Putting a Face on Climate Change

Climate March small

(Published originally on

Fourteen years ago I was a local coordinator for the national Million Mom March for sensible gun legislation. At an environmental conference a few months later in Washington, DC, I addressed the group saying that what we needed was a march to protect our planet.

At the Million Mom March we invited families who had lost a loved one to gun violence up to the stage on the Washington Mall. One by one they shared their stories about a parent, a brother, a child who had been killed. Over time, we’ve come to understand that gun violence is an issue of public health. Similarly, I thought at an eco march, we could have individuals whose lives and health had been impacted by environmental degradation and assaults on their air, land and water, tell their stories—all in an effort to put a face on climate change.

Over the past twenty years I’ve been speaking and writing about environmental issues, in particular about the threat of climate change. In all that time it has always been a tough sell. If you see a homeless person, a hungry person or an infirm person, you know there’s a problem. But with climate change, if you can’t see the problem or make an immediate cause and effect connection, it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist. Al Gore spoke about humans’ complacency when it comes to global warming in his film, An Inconvenient Truth. He compared it to the cautionary tale of tossing a frog in a pot of boiling water. The frog doesn’t jump out right away because it’s a slow boil.

Over the years I’ve presented on panels with indigenous peoples from low-lying island nations where sea levels are rising, who have lost their livelihoods and/or have been displaced from their homes—climate refugees. I’ve addressed numerous groups and spoken about at-risk people, and I could tell from the audience’s faces that they couldn’t relate to them or to the faraway places they lived. Many of them couldn’t even relate when I talked about our local neighbors: children with asthma, adults with respiratory illnesses and families living in environmental blight. But all that has changed in the past few years. Many of us are now living in vulnerable communities; we’ve become climate refugees. To those who take refuge in NIMBY (Not in My Back Yard), beware; climate change is coming to a neighborhood near you!

Ironically, even though more frequent and severe storms, flooding, drought, disease, dangerously high temperatures and wildfires as a result of extreme weather events, are creating more homeless, hungry and infirm people, and leading to catastrophic loss of life, we still haven’t taken the kind of strong action needed to combat climate change. The climate change deniers, including many U.S. politicians still don’t see the dire need to address this issue. The U.S. continues to contribute disproportionately to the world’s carbon pollution. And by not taking responsibility, our unsustainable energy consumption and wasteful use of resources is contributing to global environmental injustice.

On Sunday, September 21, tens of thousands of people of all ages and from diverse communities including: public health, scientists, faith, veterans, farmers, immigrants, workers, indigenous peoples and our neighbors whose lives have been ravaged by hurricanes and superstorms, will gather together on the streets of New York City for the People’s Climate March.This will be two days before the UN Climate Summit 2014, which will convene world leaders in government, civil society, and the private sector to mobilize support for negotiating a global, legally binding treaty in 2015 to reduce greenhouse gas emissions in order to prevent the worst impacts of climate change and to provide poor and vulnerable populations with significant support to build climate-resilient communities. The march is our wake-up call that climate change is real and that it needs our immediate attention because we are at the tipping point. According to the majority of the world’s scientists, we have already exceeded the safe levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere and are therefore experiencing human-caused global warming right now.

There won’t be any speakers at the People’s Climate March the way there was at the Million Mom March in 2000. There won’t be any organized way for people to tell their stories as I had suggested fourteen years ago when I first began thinking about a march like this. But sadly, all these years later I realize that we don’t need to single anyone out, because if we were to put a face on climate change today, the face would be of you and me.


Just as important as showing up for the march on September 21 is what we are going to do on September 22 and beyond. Check out the events before and beyond the march. Calculate your carbon footprint. Take action to live more sustainably. Get engaged in the issues and vote for legislators who support a healthy, clean, sustainable environment!

To combat climate change, we need to create change.

Sign up and join us at the People’s Climate March!