Katrina Reflections 4 Years Out

At field hearings of the Congressional Subcommittee on Housing and Community Opportunity in New Orleans last week, Congressman Emanuel Cleaver II (D-MO) contrasted the polite behavior of the audience with the recent inflammatory behavior of participants in town hall sessions across the country regarding health care reform. Congressman Cleaver stated that this difference was curious to him, because as he saw it, Gulf Coast residents have so much to legitimately be angry about. But local advocates and residents can easily explain away the difference—we are exhausted.

Saturday will mark the four-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s landfall on the Gulf Coast back in 2005. It is a little daunting to try to write a post that incorporates the meaning imbued in this anniversary, and I’ve been pondering about what to write for several weeks now. In doing so, I have been confronted with how differently I felt about the date in years past than I do this year.

In the days leading up to August 29, 2005, I was incredibly anxious, but on the 29th, I enjoyed what turned out to be a false sense of relief because the levees in the City of New Orleans did not fail until a day later. In the days leading up to August 29, 2006, the one-year anniversary of the storm, I remember feeling largely numb. But at some point that morning, as I was driving around the city, officials rang bells to signify the point at which the levees broke. I lost it emotionally in my car, unable to stop thinking about the people who had literally drowned in the floodwaters. Most neighborhoods in the city still smelled like they were rotting at that point. I can’t really remember the second anniversary, and last year, I only paid the anniversary cursory attention because we were all evacuating for Hurricane Gustav. This was a particularly stressful time, as New Orleans still does not have adequate flood protection from hurricanes.

This year though, I am stricken by the undertones of exhaustion in the city. The trauma that Katrina and reconstruction have imparted on Gulf Coast residents is hard to ignore. The simple fact that we consistently demarcate our lives with phrases like “pre-Katrina,” “post-Katrina,” “before the storm,” and “after the storm” is evidence of this. The Washington Post recently did an excellent series about the mental health crisis in New Orleans, chock full of quotes and stories that are sure to break your heart and enrage you. Here in the city, constant, subtle reminders of ongoing trauma abound. A friend recently recounted that he passed a group of children playing outside. One of the children suggested they “play Katrina.” Even our sky-high crime rates are indicative of this four-year old trauma: many of our crime victims and criminals were young teenagers when the city flooded. There is, after all, a very clear message sent about how we as a society value your life when you sit on a roof for five days waiting to be rescued in the richest nation in the world.

Though I lived in New Orleans before Katrina, I moved away shortly before the storm hit, so I did not experience the trauma of evacuation or the loss of my physical possessions. But as a judge recently said, “everyone suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, whether their house flooded or not." It is the strength of those around me who did lose everything- jobs, houses, stability, Home, and loved ones in many instances- that allows me to live a joyful life in New Orleans still. But I am worried for these people. Unlike on the first anniversary of Katrina, I am now convinced that there is a point at which even the strongest people are too weary to go on.

Four years out, a lot has changed in New Orleans. The city smells swampy these days, not like it is rotting anymore. There is regular trash pick-up in most neighborhoods, many people have been able to return home, and many new people have felt compelled to move to the area for the first time. The Obama administration has taken some important positions and provided much needed resources to speed recovery. But there is much work to be done, people are tired, and there are indicators that, particularly in the face of the larger economic recession, Gulf Coast recovery is falling off of the national radar.

I don’t have enough space to write about all of the actionable items I might recommend. But I ask that on August 29, we all take some time to recognize the ongoing suffering of Gulf Coast residents and those who are still displaced in the Diaspora. And then I would ask for you to undertake an act of solidarity with us. Survivors of Katrina have taught me that solidarity manifests itself in many forms, ranging from radical hospitality to grassroots fundraising to writing your Congressional representatives to remind them that we still exist and that we still need help. A four-year anniversary may seem awkward and unremarkable, but given the obstacles that New Orleanians have faced over the past four years, it should be lauded as a major accomplishment to have made it this far on the road to just reconstruction.

[Photo credit: Skeletonkrewe]