Writing and thinking about this tricentennial year and been trying, all year to put my finger on the things—i’m thinking one of the consequences of gentrification is a fugue leading to a permanent sort of “confusion”. I don’t think my opinion is exactly popular, but I’d say New Orleans and “the culture” is suffering right now from profound case of brand confusion. The displacement and dislocation of gentrification makes for strange bedfellows. It supports and accepts the juxtaposition of previously incompatible people ideas, institutions. It makes a caricature of culture in real time.-
- It’s mid-July already and as the gulf heats up, so do my Katrina feelings. I was a senior in college when that storm hit. I think about how so many of us could have gone anywhere in the world after that. And a lot of us did. Me and many of my friends started lives in other places. “Better” lives.
- And then we came home. Because really there was no other place we wanted to be. We were sacrificing some things we were too young to even know were on the table with that decision—
- 2006-2009 was hazy world of dreams. There was mostly no one here, but despite that, on a random fun ass night, it felt like things might be alright after all.
- 2010 a couple bitch ass niggas pumped so many bullets into the car Magnolia Shorty sat in that it left the walls of my house (several blocks away) shaking.
- 2010-2015 was about fighting. For whatever it was we could hold. It was about taking account of and attempting to reconstruct the social and cultural institutions destroyed by displacement of the 100,000 of us that never made it back.
- 2015-2018 was rapid fire. If you blinked then you missed how quick they flipped a city and rewrote history.
- And so now, I be looking in the mirror. Like Kristina, It’s hurricane season…Stay or leave?