This is Part III of a series written by activist Mayaba Liebenthal and sponsored by The Opportunity Agenda. You can read Parts I and II here.
Today Diana and I took a break from the bus tour, so far it has been back-to-back community meetings and tours and listening sessions. We decided to take a day and have more in depth conversations with some of the women and families we met in Gulfport yesterday.
We first stopped to meet Freddie and Bobbie Nelson. We took the road along the shore, turned right, and their home was two houses in; their house is one street and three bushes away from the gulf. This home exudes hope, new sheet rock, and some new appliances, signs of regularity that are refreshing. They are fortunate to not have had to elevate their home; someone decided that they only had 49% damage. Bobbie walks with a cane, and so with the "49%" decision she is spared from having to go down and up nine feet of stairs every time she leaves the house.
The whole family has come together to rebuild, saving money by making repairs, by tiling the floor themselves, for example. We could only speak to Bobbie because Freddie threw his back out the day before. As with most families around these parts, they are close. While there, daughter Samantha, her children and son Jarvis (who relocated to Florida due to the storm) told me their storm stories. More stories of flood, fear, and scarcity, Samantha recalled seeing women with babies in their arms trying to carry bags of ice from emergency relief trucks. They weren't given any buckets and were expected to walk miles in the sweltering heat. She can't remember if they even had ice by the time they got back to where they were staying.
Attack on Public Housing
We rolled into the LC Jones development around one o'clock, to meet with Karen Madison and her two teenage daughters, Taretta and Shanelle. Diana, a native New Yorker, was surprised to see that the developments are not gigantic buildings, but multiple bungalow brick homes with slanted roofs. At 1st glance, it appears that there is absolutely nothing wrong with these units.
A closer inspection confirms that there really is absolutely nothing wrong with these units. The excuse of the storm doesn't even apply here. Karen explained that they are being told that the developments can no longer sustain themselves, so the property must be sold. When residents requested information about the buyers, they were told the property had not been sold. Yet, they are giving residents a three-month deadline to clear out. Following trends of other federal agencies, HUD has not yet scheduled Karen's appointment to decide her future voucher eligibility.
For a community that has already lost many neighbors due to the loss of employment and housing after the storm, this displacement would lead to even further isolation. Shanelle, 13 years old, told us that school is different now-- a lot of her friends have left. 15 year old Taretta is a boxer and walks to the local recreational center to practice. If they are forced to leave, there may not be a place for her to practice anywhere near where they live.
Steady in the waters.
When we met with Mary Spinks Thigpen, she had just received information that one of her cousins just had a stroke. Though her daughter is in the hospital, and she herself has had to go to the hospital for carbon monoxide poisoning from her FEMA camper, she is still calm, peaceful, and welcoming. Mary is a reverend and community organizer, her camper is filled with her elaborate chassis, stylish hats, fabrics, and papers. She used to sew; she designed and made her own daughter's wedding dress.
Mary showed us around the house she will soon have to demolish because she can't afford to elevate. Her home is damaged, yes, but fixable. With the sheetrock removed, the wood frame is exposed. It is in good condition. She wouldn't have to go through the same extensive efforts of mold abatement that many New Orleans houses do. That is because when the floodwaters receded, she was able to return to her home quickly.
As she showed us pictures from her daughters wedding album, we asked if she had salvaged them from the wreckage. Apparently they are items she took with her when she fled. She tells us that, for survivors, any item can be important -- when you have lost so much the smallest thing can be worth saving. A teacup, a book, a piece of paper, anything can carry memory when all else is lost. She hopes that people who come here to volunteer and sift through the debris will understand that.
Leslie starts each listening circle with a question: How are we feeling?
Since New Orleans is my home and this daily entry is, in a way, my listening circle, I'll tell you how I feel. Other than stressed, I feel that it's strange to miss a place that you still live in. This past year has changed the city that I love. The conditions here have pushed many people past the brink of exhaustion. Depression and suicide are on the rise.
Part of the function of this tour is to create moments of peace for women, taking a moment for self care. One of the things that I find interesting is that, even if this is a women's listening tour, we aren't discussing "women's issues" in an overt manner. The basic conditions of life are so very challenging, women can't even get to those types of topics. Housing is central. Returning to a "whole" community with schools and old neighbors is core to restoring everyday life, and having these conditions return are key.
You can read Part IV of Mayaba's travles at Trouble the Water