So you claim to know how we feel? Or you claim to know what you would have done?
Oh, I would’ve walked to Houston or Atlanta if I had to. What, y’all couldn’t swim? That wouldn’t have been me. I would’ve left on Saturday. Why would you live there anyway with all that water? I don’t feel any mercy for ya. It’s every man for himself.
I can only respond to these arrogant words with derisive laughter. Do these people, with their puffed up sense of pride really think they are different than us? Do they think they are more resourceful, less lazy…less unfortunate? Do you really think we’re that stupid? We are mostly poor and Black, ya know, so maybe they don’t think much of us. Do they think our city’s poverty was somehow earned or even deserved?
Tell the children of New Orleans that they suffer because their parents, who work two or three low-wage jobs, couldn’t pull themselves up by their bootstraps. They didn’t have that good old Protestant work ethic to defend their homes against the rushing tide of poisoned water. They didn’t have the courage to wade into the mulk that only compares to the slop given to the thirsty sinners of Hell.
Have you swam in the fetid waters of the Mississippi? Or felt the 99 degree heat (with a 105 heat index) of an unmerciful afternoon?
Have you ever been stuck in your attic with your young babies, watching the waters rise, and rise, and RISE, until they reach your feet, your knees, your waist, your neck?
Have you ever prayed to be spared but felt the dread of your immiment death?
We’re you among those who were left to suffer and die in the Convention Center? You better pray that God gives you the dignity of a funeral and a casket rather than a bodybag and a number. Or do you think those people intended to die the way they did?
What sane human being wants his corpse to be bloated from drowning?
What normal person wants that same corpse left to the elements, left to bake in the sun,
black and green like rotted meat as worms, rats and every other vermin gnaw away ’til they reach its bones?
I’m so sick. I’m so sick and tired of people thinking that we want nothing but handouts.
Soooooooooo sick and tired of people of thinking we only want to sit at home and collect FEMA checks.
Soooooooooooo very sick and tired of people thinking we ain’t nothing but a bunch of shiftless niggers and poor White crackers trying to take advantage of government handouts and the kindness of the American people.
And even if some of us are lazy (and I know some who are) does laziness warrant the punishment of drowning in the filth of polluted water?
Should people be left stranded in the Superdome, left to p*ss and bleed on themselves because they don’t display the priviliage…OOPS, I mean the work ethic you have strived so hard to maintain?
I’m so sick of people asking for mercy from The Merciful but they refuse to give it when asked.
And what about those of us who worked hard, paid our taxes and went to school like a good Negro should?
This New Orleanian typing out this rant has worked since she was 15 years old. I went to college, stayed away from crime and didn’t become the baby momma that everyone expects Black women to be. Why was I, my family and others penalized when we did all the so-called right things? We found the best shelter we could afford, packed skant belongings and prayed, and prayed and PRAYED.
Hey Bill O’Reilly, I ain’t the welfare queen you ranted about on your show!
I ain’t the Black woman who submitted to ganster culture and yet I was left to suffer with the loss of my home. And I sho’ ain’t one of those drug addicted thugs.
But I lost my home just as they did. My family is spread out between Texas and Georgia, just like everybody else. I suffered from depression just like they did. I had crying spells and feelings of desperation and despair, just like they did.
But alhamdulillah, I made it out. It could have been me, laying face down in my house on Wilton Drive. I could be living and sleeping in my gutted home with my mother and sister, or some toxic FEMA trailer, praying that someone doesn’t break in.
Praying that someone doesn’t rob or rape us.
It’s God’s mercy that got me out. Not some misguided feelings of self-reliance. Allah is Ar-Raqeeb and the arrogant better believe it or taste a calamity that will break their backs and hearts.
I pray to always remember those days. I hope to remember that short moment of homelessness, anger and not knowing where life would take me. I hope to keep this righteous rage inside me and to educate others on what really happened.
I pray to always remember the kindness and compassion of strangers who saw that I was in need. I pray to remember in my duas the people who sent me their words of hope, their clothing, their books and their money. I pray to always stay in a state of gratitude to Allah.
As for those who still blame us for the lack of progress…
As for those who think we are holding New Orleans back…
or that we need to pull up those proverbial bootstraps…
The day may come when you are desperate. All your resources may run dry. Your ATM card, your air conditioner, your food and clothing will be taken from you. You may entertain the notion of the crime in order to survive. The police, the fire department–shoot, the government, will be slow to respond. THEY MAY NOT RESPOND AT ALL. Iraq and Iran are more important, don’t you know?
It may be a terrorist attack. It may be an earthquake or brush fire. Or a hurricane.
You will cry to God and high heaven for help. You will ask yourself, “Where is my government? Where are the American people? Don’t they care?”
And I’ll be sitting, watching your pain in the pixels of my television screen.
I will try my best to supress the urge to say, “Humph. Lazy bastards. Fish yourselves out!”
