I’ve spent most of my professional life for the past five years since Hurricane Katrina thinking about home. What home means; what it means to lose a home; and how it feels to be home. I’ve realized that home means so much more than just the physical attributes of a house or an apartment: it means the community that surrounds the building, and the community – and family – that infuses the physical with feelings of belonging, of safety, and of peace.
Recently the professional became personal when I attended a community meeting about new homes in my neighborhood. At issue is the proposed rehabilitation of a blighted building into new apartment homes for low-income individuals, some of whom are currently homeless.
The community meeting was held at a social service agency in a room with framed signs to remind visitors to be patient with each other. Posted at eye level for standing adults, the seated audience appeared unaware of the cautions: Remember where you came from. You can’t keep it unless you give it away. What goes around comes around. Responsible love and concern.
Unfortunately, the comments from the audience could not have been more discordant with the signs. One meeting attendee compared the proposed building to an atomic bomb, fearing its impact on the neighborhood. The African-American project manager for the non-profit housing developer was told by another member of the audience, “we don’t want more people like you living here.” Other members told the public official at the meeting that the neighborhood doesn’t want disabled people; one of the last public comments of the evening was, “these people belong in an institution.”
Are we trying to build neighborhoods where only some people get to live on wide avenues close to public transportation? I work every day with the assumption that many of us in New Orleans understand what it is like to be homeless, separated from the place we love, from our communities, without a place to call home. Almost five years after Katrina, the population of homeless individuals has doubled since before the storm, and low-wage workers – especially those hit by the newest catastrophe in the Gulf – struggle to find safe, stable homes at affordable rents.
One of the hosts of the community meeting, a participant in a job skills and food service training program, had cooked and served the meal to the assembled crowd. She stood at the back of the room in her chef’s jacket and said, “this is really hard for me to hear.”
What is scariest for me is that as we talk about how to rebuild our home, our great city, our great American city – who is showing up for the conversation? What does civic participation mean? With what kind of home will we end up if the only people who show up are the loudest, least welcoming people?
I showed up at the community meeting that night and I spoke up in favor of inclusion because I want my neighborhood to be one where everyone is welcome, regardless of race, income, or disability. But this conversation about how to rebuild our city doesn’t stop at the streets that mark the neighborhood boundary: it occurs in City Hall, in Baton Rouge, and in Washington. Will you speak up for our neighbors? Show up and speak up for the future of this city: a beautiful, diverse City where all residents find a place to call home.
Liza Cowan is a program officer for the Community Revitalization Fund at the Greater New Orleans Foundation.
Stressful times often cause us retreat in one of two directions – either to a place empathy or to a place of fear. While it is not surprising that many people have fear in their hearts and minds, I think it is surprising at how vocal many people have become in expressing what a few years ago would have been classified as openly discriminatory opinions. Not only expressing them, but wanting them codified into laws or regulations. Perhaps it has been the series of events that have shaken the faith of many (starting with the attacks on September 11, through Katrina and now with shattered economies and BP) that seems never-ending and have caused empathy fatigue, but here they are nonetheless.
My fiancee and I are currently in the process of job and house shopping in New Orleans in part because when I lived here briefly in the late 80′s it seemed to be so diverse. I have often communicated to my diversity-challenged friends that I consider the kind of variety New Orleans possesses important to happiness because I do not want to live in a place where everyone looks like me. I don’t wish to raise children in a place where their first emotion in seeing someone different is fear. So, it saddens me to hear a story such as this. I wish to leave Texas to escape neighborhoods of gated xenophobes whose focus is only on the glamor of a label or the size of a car.
My hope however, is that with open and frequent public discourse, we can just “all get along.” I am nearing completion of a Masters Degree in Dispute Resolution and Conflict Management and through my course of studies, I know there are ways to diffuse conflict, hold meaningful conversations and make bridges between entrenched positions. Even with diverse stakeholders.
Congrats on your neighborhood holding the community meeting and good for you for taking the time to digest and communicate the results. Being an active participant has become important over the last several years and will continue to be so. Always remember when having a discussion with someone that is strongly in opposition to your position, try to uncover the concern that hides behind the fear. People often talk in emotional terms and you can never sway or debate emotion, only facts. Explore through the emotions to uncover the facts that concern them and then you can have a productive conversation!
Best Wishes,
Michael
Thank you for having the courage to speak up, Liza!
I could not agree more! Inclusion for all is the only way to rebuild this city. People should remember that New Orleans is and always has been a true melting pot. The GUMBO that is New Orleans must have all of its ingredients folks!
Liza, this is beautifully written and full of courage. We’ve all got to stand up for the right of all people — but especially vulnerable people who cannot effectively advocate for themselves — to have the housing they need in all of our neighborhoods.
Liza, I would love to have more information. What neighborhood? What are the demographics now? Why are the people in the neighborhood so upset? Is there a history of putting these developments in this neighborhood? Are there similar developments in the heart of the Garden District?
Tell us more. This is way too important a topic for us as a community, and we need to engage everyone…not just this neighborhood. Thank you so very much for this submission.
These stories are being repeated all across the Coast. So glad you were there to highlight some sad truths and add your perspective on what makes home HOME for New Orleanians
I think I know what despair you must have felt there. I had a very similar experience a few years ago. If you want to read about it, it’s at http://noitsjustme.blogspot.com/2006/11/we-are-our-own-worst-enemy.html
It’s sad that we have yet to even move beyond shouting at each other.
Well said!! We should all understand that diversity is the strongest element we have to offer as a community. It encourages creative approaches and empathy, both of which are critical in a strong, developing, and thriving community. Without it, we’d be dull, lifeless drones just going through the motions of everyday life.
Terrific post! It is so sad that neighbors are fighting to keep low-income and disabled fellow New Orleanians out of their backyards. Hopefully the City will do the right thing and support moving forward on this important project.