Exceptionally Black New Orleans
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Exceptionally Black New Orleans: Public Policy, Memory, and Ritual in “The City that Care Forgot” By Jennifer Bagneris Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Vanderbilt University In partial fulfillment of the requirements For the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in English August 10th, 2018 Nashville, Tennessee Approved: Hortense J. Spillers, Ph.D. Colin Dayan, Ph.D. Ifeoma C. K. Nwankwo, Ph.D. Lisa Flanagan, Ph.D. Table of Contents Table of Figures.......................................................................................................................... iii Introduction Do you know what it means to love New Orleans? Notes of a Native Daughter on the Problematic South.......................................................................................................................1 Chapter I. The Rise of Cultural Tourism in NOLA: Lyle Saxon, Literary New Orleans, and the Ethnographic Gaze.................................................................................................................... 29 II. The Color of Catastrophe and the Political Efficacy of Black Art Post Katrina............94 III. Wisdom of the Elders in New Orleans: Cultural Continuity Amid Personal Remembrance for an Aging Generation of Post Katrina Residents.....................................156 Afterward Southern Literature, Black Southerners, and the “New”/Global South..............................187 References...................................................................................................................................199 ii Table of Figures Figures Page 1. DELTA Air Lines Advertisement...........................................................................................56 2. Mid-Continent Airlines Advertisement.................................................................................57 3. Southern Railway System Advertisement.............................................................................58 4. Portland Cement Association Advertisement.......................................................................59 5. Mural featured at Studio Be by Brandon “BMike” Odums................................................73 6. Exhibit Be.................................................................................................................................77 7. Ephemeral.Eternal, Studio Be in New Orleans.....................................................................78 8. Hallway Featuring Fannie Lou Hammer, Langston Hughes, Cornell West, etc...............79 9. Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Eric Garner and Oscar Grant...........................................79 10. Coretta Scott King, Love.......................................................................................................80 11. Martin Luther King, Jr., Supreme.......................................................................................80 12. I Am My Ancestors Wildest Dreams....................................................................................81 13. They Tried to Bury Us. They Didn’t Know We Were Seeds.............................................81 14. You Are Still Here..................................................................................................................84 15. Eye of the Storm, Rooftops Submerged...............................................................................84 16. Living Room with Purple Water Line.................................................................................85 17. Slave Ship and/or Rescue Boat.............................................................................................86 18. Debris, The Fire Next Time...................................................................................................87 iii Introduction Do you know what it means to love New Orleans? Notes of a Native Daughter on the Problematic South “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans when that’s where you left your heart? Do you know something more? I miss the one I care for, more than I miss New Orleans.” - Song written by Eddie DeLange and Louis Alter, sung by Billie Holiday and Louise Armstrong in the movie New Orleans “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans and miss it each night and day?” the now famous, and extensively recorded, jazz melody begins. It’s the question running through the entirety of a song that initially attempts to contextualize this longing with a smattering of New Orleans centric imagery and cultural references such as oleanders in June, moss covered vines, the lazy Mississippi, Creole tunes, and Mardi Gras memories. However, with the song’s final lines (see epilogue) the place in question becomes supplemented entirely for the people or persons left behind, a noticeable shift which implies that the human element, much more so than the idea/construction of the place in question (i.e. its aesthetics, its physical location, and its cultural specificity), is what truly makes New Orleans a place worth missing or being. At various moments in my own life, which has been underscored, thus far, by two opposing relational perspectives to the city itself, I’d have responded quite differently to the query posed by Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday, recycled and replayed over time. Throughout my teens and early adulthood, missing a place I’d never left and, therefore, could no longer see or appreciate beyond the deeply engrained customs and routines contributing to a consistent monotony was outside the realm of possibility. My then desire for “exotic” life experiences were so substantial and growing, that all I could think of was leaving the city behind. As I remember it, New Orleans represented a narrow life trajectory; one I couldn’t see myself 1 being content to follow through to its conclusion. Presently, after a ten-year absence (accentuated by the unexpected shock and trauma of Hurricane Katrina’s devastation/aftermath in 2005) my relationship to New Orleans has shifted and given the ceaseless pull I feel back to the place I grew up, my questions—much like the questions posed by the song—have evolved and taken on new life. More recently, I’ve wrestled with the decision to return to live and, thus, commit to a place that continues to feel too small, too dangerous, and too deplete of opportunity for me to truly take the plunge. Lyrically, “Do you know what it means…,” parallels my own longing, which is and isn’t defined by several distinctive features of living in the Crescent city, such as its regularly festive atmosphere, unlimited access to some of the country’s best food and music, and its defiantly un-American spirit which has produced an eclectic character unlike any other North American city I’ve yet to experience. And yet, it’s the producers of said culture and spirit that typically get overlooked in narratives of praise and devotion showered on this exceptional place. And for me, it comes down to the people, as it should, within ongoing conversations and examinations of the cultural contributions and significance of the city. Therefore, if my input to the ongoing discourse on New Orleans accomplishes anything, I hope it works to re-center the residents/cultural producers of New Orleans as the rightful recipients of whatever love or admiration we choose to extend to this place, as well as a critical consideration of what “love” in action looks like because, truthfully, it’s the people who have captured our hearts and imaginations. And it’s to the people of this city that this work is dedicated. Not to be misunderstood, my dissertation titled Exceptionally Black New Orleans: Public Policy, Memory, and Ritual in “The City that Care Forgot,” should not be read as my “unconditional” love letter to New Orleans or as a shameless attempt to promote or “rep” my 2 city. New Orleans can be a difficult place to live and an even harder place to love. The love I’m interested in discussing and practicing throughout my dissertation requires the very demanding work of “truth telling” via social and institutional criticism, literary and cultural analysis, and self-critique/reflexivity in order to sustain itself or be of use to anyone. I’ve learned too often that Love without intention, risk, or requirements from self or others results in a hollow devotion to something we are incapable of truly understanding. In his introductory pages to Notes of a Native Son (1955) James Baldwin famously writes, “I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.”1 This became a widely known stance that Baldwin espoused from the critical distance of an expatriate, electing to eventually return and engage in the Civil Rights struggle unfolding in the United States towards the end of the 50s, while continuing to spend significant portions of his life abroad. I reference Baldwin here because, like him, I am prepared to insist on my right to criticize a place I claim to love, all the while anticipating that my brand of love will not be appreciated by those who’d prefer for certain critiques to remain unspoken. However, many forms of critical citizenship involve shunning notions of patriotism or nativism that over rely on narratives of exceptionalism, superiority, benevolence, or loyalty for the sake of loyalty. Additionally, my Black feminist roots have taught me that writing should be the precursor to action, and in the case of New Orleans much can be said about this city, for better or worse, without ever investing time