This year marks the twentieth anniversary of my family’s migration. We arrived in the United States on March 8, 2005. It was the coldest day of our lives. Even the sight of snow from the airport terminal left me numb. Fortunately, my father had arranged for a friend to pick us up. But when we arrived at our new home and stepped out of the car, we had to fight our way through the snow. We were completely unprepared for the weather, wearing only summer shoes. In our homeland, it never got cold enough to need sneakers or boots, so buying them had never crossed our minds. The sweaters we wore did little to protect us. The cold wind cut through us like knives. You would think entering a warm home would bring relief, but the transition was so sudden that my ears, hands, and feet burned intensely. I cannot help but compare the weather on March 8, 2005, to that of March 8, 2025. It was nearly twenty degrees warmer in 2025. I wonder how different my first experience would have been if we had arrived in 2025 instead.
I am not in denial about the bigger issue of climate change. Throughout my teenage years, my relatives in Bangladesh often posted pictures of flooding. I have experienced floods twice—once when I was too young to remember, and again a year before we moved to the United States. By then, the climate had already shifted so much that floods had become normal.
In Bangladesh, the summer heat would subside by the end of September. With this in mind, I visited in late September 2023, expecting some relief. However, the humidity was unbearable- over 80% relative humidity, with the temperature feeling between 100 and 115°F. I could not travel or enjoy anything. My only hope was to make it through each day. This was not normal; it was climate change.
The constant stream of photos documenting devastating flooding from relatives in Bangladesh, combined with my own experience, pushed me to research climate change more seriously. Soon, I began having nightmares about my home sinking like Atlantis. As someone fascinated by the story of the Titanic, I imagined a future where I could only see my childhood home by scuba diving. What can we do individually to slow this process?
Last summer was one of the hottest on record in New Jersey, and this summer is expected to be just as hot. Rather than staying home during heat waves, I encourage you to visit the library. It is one of the designated cooling spaces in our community, offering shared air conditioning—which, while it does contribute to emissions, is more sustainable when used communally, rather than individually.
This past April, our library held its 19th edition of the Princeton Environmental Film Festival (PEFF). Though the festival has passed, library cardholders can check out films (Blu-ray & DVD) from previous festivals from our collection by searching with the keyword “PEFF” in the library’s catalog. Many of the films may also be streamed via Kanopy. The library also has a solid collection of books on climate change in the history section on the second floor. To get started browsing, view one of our many booklists: Climate Action for Teens; Earth Day; PEFF 2025 Top 10 Books for Adults; or PEFF 2025 Top Books for Youth. Talking about this issue with others leads to awareness, and awareness can lead to action as it has for many artists, leaders, and scholars in our local area.
