gulf coast

I feel like rioting. This week: I get up, get dressed, begins the day's projects of introducing myself at classes, mastering the city bus system so I won't have to drive my car anymore, going to work, signing kids up for afterschool filmmaking classes, signing up to volunteer at film festivals and to edit film journals--you know, my dream life. I come home exhausted at night and look at the day's news on the internet. And I sink into despair.

This past week in New Orleans has been like watching the September 11th attacks happen in slow motion--oh how terrible a plane crashed into one of the towers--oh NO another one that means this was no accident--wait, what do you mean they're falling?--how many people are going to die? And then the images hit and you are suddenly living in a country you no longer recognize as your own, and the horror is surreal. Except that took place in a matter of minutes, and this, hurricane is coming, city is evacuating, hurricane hits not as bad as feared, next morning levee breaks, city floods, and people begin dying before our eyes--all of this happened over days. At every step there were things that could have mitigated the disaster. Why weren't buses sent in to the city on Sunday to evacuate people who didn't have cars? Why weren't buses sent in to the city on Sunday to evacuate people who didn't have cars?

Race, poverty, environmental degradation, diverting first responders across seas to fight a devastating, ill-conceived war--we can all do all that math. But then, when the storm that everybody knew was coming hit, to just, leave people--and then what the fuck are we doing bringing them to the Astrodome? A football stadium is a sensible place to take cover for a few hours during a hurricane. It is NOT a fucking refugee camp. It's not a place you can house people in. Not in a country with so many houses.