KEEP IN MIND, It Could Have Been Zombies

Jack jordan- doctor’s visit

According to a study done by the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, published on Monday, March 23, Louisiana has the highest growth rate of confirmed coronavirus cases anywhere else in the world. The study linked here. [a1] In Louisiana, Orleans Parish is ground zero. We’re reporting the highest number of positive cases and deaths from complications of coronavirus. We’re facing a new reality. Our healthcare facilities aren’t properly equipped, medical staff is overwhelmed, and our government is playing politics (go figure) while people are dying. Our country is on the verge of an economic collapse.   

The COVID-19 pandemic is a major historical event. It’s like living in an apocalypse.  Except, I never thought the end of the world would include distance learning while working from home, struggling with the depression associated with social distancing and guilt over lack of productivity.

I thought it would be zombies.

Instead, we’re dealing with people hoarding hand sanitizer, hustling toilet paper and paper towels outside of grocery stores.  

This entire situation is surreal. It’s making me feel slightly off-balance. My days are filled with researching information to provide online education materials for the McKenna museums, reading African science-fiction novels on my Kindle in between conference calls, and helping my Godson with schoolwork. None of which are happening on any type of schedule. Even in this, I’ve been lucky. I’m still able to work without much difficulty, I still have a place to live and everyone in my house is healthy, unlike thousands of others. This pandemic has made us vulnerable. It has exposed the underlying problems and disparities in our healthcare (lack of medical supplies, personnel, virus exposure, cost of testing and treatment), educational system (lack of technology, internet access, social services), and economic systems (stock market collapse).  Most of these problems are linked to money. 

Regardless, amid this, I encourage all of us to stay positive. We've survived epidemics before; we'll survive again. Continue to practice social distancing and exercise caution. We need to flatten the curve. Use the resources available to you to stay abreast of the most up-to-date information. Watch the press conferences held by your state and local officials. Keep In Mind, this may be the only time the government is advising us to stay home and watch television. This situation could be worse. It could be Zombies. 

KEEP IN MIND, BLACK PEOPLE EXIST BEYOND RACISM

On November 8 –9, 2019 the 1811 Slave rebellion reenactment took place; I learned about it in 2016. The idea of reenacting an unsuccessful slave revolt didn’t/doesn’t enlighten my spirit. To be fair, I’m not a fan of reenactments in general. I was adamant that I wasn’t going to participate; the idea of the project was unsettling to me. Who benefits from a slave rebellion reenactment? And how do they benefit? Is the benefit, tangible or intangible? 

On the evening of January 8, 1811, after about a year of planning, enslaved individuals from the Andry Plantation (36 miles from New Orleans on the east bank of the Mississippi River) started what would be the largest slave revolt in American history. They lost. The Territory of Orleans (Louisiana) never became a Black Republic. The rebellion was brutally suppressed. Why would anyone want to reenact that? Why would I? 

Dread Scott billed his reenactment as re-imagining history. The great “what if?” What if there was a place in America that eliminated racism/white supremacy? What if these Black people won their liberation? To be sure, in the hush harbors (meetings held to recruit reenactors/volunteers) that I participated in-words like empowerment, resilience, strength, and freedom were continuously thrown around. My co-workers were enraptured and I was enlisted (coerced) to participate. It was an experience, one that I haven’t truly digested. What is it about the words empower and resilience that makes Black people “fall in love” with any old bullshit? For example, when politicians pander to the Black community claiming that they will provide access to quality education, medical care, etcetera just to be elected. In this case a New York-based artist is inspired by the fearlessness of oppressed Black people in Louisiana and using it as a springboard to make a movie casting us (the descendants of these warriors) as actors. Recently, I was asked what I wanted for my descents and how I want them to live? I was asked this question in the context of my participation in the slave rebellion reenactment and I immediately answered that I want free Black children. Children who don’t feel the need to validate their humanity and equate their existence to trauma. 

For those who participated in the reenactment, who were empowered and fulfilled or if it informed you about acts of resistance in your own backyard–I am happy for you. That wasn’t my experience. What I need now is beyond the imagination of what was envisioned for that weekend. I need the actualization of the 500 enslaved individuals who envisioned their freedom. However; moving forward, I know that can only be done if I build that world myself. I don’t need to reaffirm that my ancestors were resilient and brilliant. I know that already. 

If you’re interested in art that expresses more than our trauma, I encourage you to research afro-futurism, read Octavia Butler; if your local check out the work of Kristina Kay Robinson, who built an entire world on Black liberation with her Republica: Temple of Color and Sound. Keep In Mind, art doesn’t always imitate life, and Black people exist beyond the spectrum of racism and white supremacy.  

We Have Always Told Our Stories

There’s a heightened craving for authentic experiences within the cultural community; mainstream museums are capitalizing on the narratives of Black people, giving the appearance of being inclusive in this new era.  They have worked to ensure (at least for the time being) that their collections, exhibitions, and public programming encapsulate this renewed interest. Black culture has taken center stage. These mainstream institutions have sought to amplify our voices and experiences. They have begun and (hopefully) will continue adding our voices into the broader ethos of American culture; however, why are these mainstream (mostly white) institutions given the opportunity to widely share Black stories?

When we say, “New Orleans history is Black history,” we (more specifically, me) mean it. New Orleans is considered one of the most Africanized cities in this country. Black people have a sense of who they are in this city. Our culture is ever present, our markers are indelible. It has been argued that this city makes its money from Black culture or Black exploitation (our tourism market is one of our greatest sources of income). A museum is an institution devoted to the procurement, care, studies, and display of objects of lasting interest or value. The first city-sanctioned Black art and history museum was established in 1996; it has been closed for almost a decade. Currently, we have nine Black  museums in New Orleans: Backstreet Cultural Museum, Donald Harrison Sr. Museum, House of Dance and Feathers, Lower Ninth Ward Living Museum, Katrina National Memorial Museum, The McKenna Museums (Le Musee de f.p.c. and The George and Leah McKenna Museum of African American Art), Treme’s Petite Jazz Museum, and Voodoo Spiritual Temple. These institutions are privately owned and operated by African Americans who found it necessary to insert our voice into the larger cultural conversation. We are at the forefront of telling our history. Our isolation from the status quo has given us the significant advantage to keeping it real. We get to speak our unedited truth with no strings attached. Black institutions and minority operated institutions are the authenticity that the mainstream has been seeking; however, we continue to be overlooked and undervalued. While these obstacles exist within our small Black institutions, we continue to strive forward and share our narrative with a loud voice. We continue to develop strategies, community partnerships, co-opts, and coalitions to pull resources together.  All yielding various success rates.

Recently, in New Orleans and the world, we have reached an impasse. Generally, we have finally recognized the importance of our own spaces while submitting ourselves into the world at large. We have allowed ourselves to be placed at the center of conversations without being the leaders of them. We have allowed a city that has commodified us to render us helpless in defense of our culture by underfunding city agencies put in place to be our voice. Black sacred spaces have always existed.  They have been telling our narratives, they have rejoiced in small triumphs with no support from the mainstream community and little help from our own community. How many of us have visited, become members, or advocated for our institutions?  How many of us know that we even exist? We are glad for our inclusion into the mainstream story; however, is it “our narrative?” No, because it has been edited, rewritten, and given to us in a way that we cannot understand.  So, “Yes” we should be welcomed into those public spaces, but is it truly designed for us?

We do not need validation from anybody except our own. Keep In Mind that we have always told our stories, both individually and collectively. If we want to maintain the ownership of our experiences, we must support our artists, storytellers, businesses, newspapers, cultural institutions, and schools. We must advocate for ourselves on a local, state, and national level. We are who we've been waiting for, and it’s time to recognize that.

New Orleans History is Black History

August 29, 2018 marks thirteen years since Hurricane Katrina. Katrina divided New Orleans into a pre and post-world. It’s hard to comprehend for anyone who doesn’t understand the dramatics of that change or for someone who may not know what New Orleans was and is to the continuum of Black history and freedom in this country. For those of us who are aware, we’ve reached a constant state of semi-outrage of the things we believed we could not change. New Orleans history is Black history. 

Black New Orleanians are trendsetters who have built and maintained this city economically, socially, and culturally. New Orleans is the home of America’s oldest Black neighborhood - Faubourg Treme. Our leaders in the Civil Rights Movement had the first successful transportation boycott - Star Car Boycott, 1867. We sued the Orleans Parish School Board in 1877, Bertonneau vs. OPSB. We started the first Black daily newspaper - La Tribune de la Nouvelle Orleans in 1864. The first anthology of Black poetry Les Cenelles, written in New Orleans in 1845. The second oldest Black nunnery was housed here - The Sisters of the Holy Family, and in the 1900s the Black community established its own public schools; Valena C. Jones Normal School and McDonogh #35 High school.  We are unique to the American story, but now it feels as if we are merging into the hegemonic structures of this society.  We are facing gentrification not just in our communities, but in our culture.

Cultural hegemony is the dominance of one social group over another. Hurricane Katrina made us vulnerable to that cultural dominance; it stripped us of our schools and our communities and left us in a state of anxiety. Our culture became a commodity,  without us in it. It has left us screaming “Make Treme Black Again,” quoted by Local New Orleans and, “Everything you Love about New Orleans is because of Black People,” quoted by native artist, Phlegm These statements are reminders of our cultural displacement and that we have been left out of mainstream conversations about who we are. These sentiments are coupled with a growing trend to be the gatekeepers of our narrative, strengthen our communities, control our educational systems, and be present in the political sphere. 

Today, Black people don’t need a seat at the table, we have decided to build our own table.  Black New Orleanians are setting trends once again.  We are awake; developing our own sacred spaces.  Building a modern-day Congo Square; which was then and is now a meeting place, a market place, and a spiritual place.  This culture has a history of resilience and resistance.  It is us who dredged    the swamp.  New Orleans is the result of Black people and only with us will it remain.  Our universe may have shifted, however; Keep In Mind that New Orleans would be nothing without Black people. 

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About the Author

Kim Coleman is the Curatorial Manager, Education Specialist, and historian In New Orleans.  A native New Orleanian, she combines her love of history and art to develop authentic New Orleans historical and contemporary narratives in the boutique style tour experience. Her research focus’ on the development of race politics in Southeast Louisiana and the continued disenfranchisement of Black New Orleans in the 21st century.  She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from Dillard University in History and Master of Arts degree from Southern University at New Orleans in Museum Studies.