I'm in Love

I am in love. With love, comes certain expectations, and sometimes those expectations are met, and sometimes they are completely shattered. And then there are days that my loved one surprises me wildly, making me feel giddy, and also comforts me, soothing me, making me forget all the days our love was tested and questioned.

No, I am not in love with a person. Nor am I in love with an idea, or in love with love, or the idea of being in love. I am in love with a place, a city I now call home: New Orleans.

As I sit here, in a local café near my site on my lunch break, sipping, (or gulping down, rather), a delicious chai latte, I am comforted and warmed. Warmed by the genuine smile the cashier offers me as I order my drink.

I’ve seen her many times before…I should learn her name.

Warmed by the overstuffed couches and seats. Warmed by being called “Miss” and offered Southern hospitality.  Warmed by the many “y’alls.” Warmed even, by the storm clouds gathering outside in the breezy 70 something degree heat while I sit inside with air conditioning, wearing my sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo, “AmeriCorps.” I wear it with pride. I wear it because I am happy to serve the people here, and help rebuild.

I also love going home. Wanting to go to your own house, and wanting to surround yourself with the people in it is a wonderful feeling. For those who do not know, I moved into a new place with someone I know from Massachusetts. We were both in a social justice theatre troupe together at UMass, and we get along incredibly well. We are both on a mission to be as healthy and environmentally friendly as we can be. We have started a garden, a compost, and we’re trying to make everything , food and cleaning products, from scratch, using organic/fresh ingredients. ‘Tis a good match indeed. Self-sufficiency, here I come!

I have also gotten into yoga, meditating, sweating profusely in 100 degree rooms as I allow my spine to stretch and stretch. Deaf chats and coffee. Running around Audubon Park and on the banks of the growing Mississippi River, inhaling the scent of mud and faint memories of the sea. Biking more because I can no longer afford gas. Beignets and café au laits. Red beans and rice, gumbo, and poboys. Vietnamese poboys, especially. I nearly cried the first time I tried one, tears of gastronomical happiness. Pounds and pounds of crawfish. Local produce everywhere, thanks to fruits and vegetables loving warmth. Little hole in the wall places. Laughing over how every gas station here advertises that they sell THE best fried chicken, fried shrimp, and poboys. Loving the insanity that is New Orleans. Cooking, eating, living, moving. Celebrating things of no consequence to me, celebrating for the sake of celebrating, parades galore.

New Orleans is the perfect rendition of life. It is full of juxtapositions, which make it real and raw.  It is rising out of the flood. It is rising out of its watery past and embracing its watery future. New Orleans composes melodies that are simultaneously ugly and beautiful. There is jazz and blues in smoky, foggy bars where the instrumental notes strain their way through the throngs, and there is also jazz and blues on the streets pushing through the traffic, pushing through gathering crowds, crying, screaming. There is dream song, despair song, love song, hate song, hope song, apathetic song, spirited song, angry song, sentimental song. New Orleans is sad and joyous. It is living, breathing, choking, and dying all at once. There are dying gasps and moans of creation. It is simultaneously urban decay, urban renewal, and urban rebirth. It is clawing out from under layers of dirt and trash, and there is real beauty, if you look for it, emerging from the floods of water, sweat, blood, and tears. There is healing. There is pain. There are fresh and old scars; some of the old scars appear new because they take so long to heal, and some of the new scars appear old because experience heals them quickly. And the true beauty comes from the people within and the rich culture, unlike anywhere else in this country.

It is a little city. A little city with a big heart. A city where I bump into people I wish I hadn’t seen a second time, or hoped to ever see again. It can be awkward. But it can also be wonderful. It is a place where I find friends in the most unexpected places.

It is a city filled with love and pride for its own sake. I have never seen people so devoted to their sense of place. There are so many who are born here, live here, are chased by floods, come running back, live here more, and die here. And so will their children. And their children’s children.

There is magic to New Orleans. Not voo doo magic. That is dead, only a tourist’s pursuit. But real life magic.

And now the heavens have opened up. I can hear and see the rain crashing into the window pane, in a furious rush to get from sky to land.

New Orleans!

However, yesterday, New Orleans was in a bad mood and didn’t treat me well. I was so incredibly angry by something I do not often approach up north. Down here, racism, sexism, homophobia, audism, and plain ignorance are blatant and in your face. There is no subtlety, there is no mask. It is real. It is real in the north too, all too real, but all the “isms” try to be clever. They try to pretend they do not exist. They are polite and fake. The “isms” talk behind your back. Here, there is no shame. There is no hiding. Or maybe it WAS more prevalent and I merely wasn’t listening before. In the South, I hear it clanging loudly. Being Deaf doesn’t impede me from hearing intolerance. I get disappointed. I get frustrated. I get angry. I nearly cried from rage. I had to leave work early, drive home, and decompress. You do not even need to know the details. The story is the same. The story is always the same. Just different words. And the story of intolerance has been repeated since the beginning of history through billions of mouths and actions. I need to grow thicker skin, I know. As long as I surround myself by like-minded people, I will be okay. I do not understand though, how people who have faced oppression can then oppress other minority groups. As someone who identifies with various groups, I would never, ever wish my feelings of oppression upon another human being.

I have learned I cannot change someone’s way of thinking if they are not open to it. There is nothing I can say. I can say my words again and again, but it is like talking to a wall. I can use the strongest arguments and the best logic, but it will all be a waste of breath. It has been deeply ingrained in some people, and I have to accept that others are different. That does not mean they are right, but it means we have to coexist peacefully. They will only learn about their own ignorance if they are willing to listen with an open heart. I say heart because I know from experience you do not need to listen with your ears. Just your heart and your mind.

Despite all of its faults, I still dearly love New Orleans. That’s true love. Sometimes I’m incredibly disappointed, but other times I am so enveloped in pure joy. With that being said, I am staying here for another year. I need to foster my young love with New Orleans. It is a tiny sapling and needs a chance to grow. It is a very new relationship. I have stepped off of the harbor and am diving into the sea that is New Orleans. I find that I have been growing and changing. And the person I am turning into is someone I like and appreciate. That is a sign of a healthy relationship. Goodness knows, it’s high time I’ve known love like this. It’s mutually beneficial. And when I'm done with my GED teaching here, I will start a theatre internship, finally pursuing my passion, doing what I love, which is so, so important.

And today was better. I wanted to hug a student. She cannot read well, and she barely knows her times table, but my God, she is so determined to try. She cried tears of happiness when we told her we could help her. She smiles every time I tell her she has gotten an answer correct. I can see her inhale the air, and instead of her lungs filling up with oxygen, her body fills up completely with immense pride. She glows with happiness. I wish I could bottle up her feelings and share it with the rest of the world. It’s contagious.

“God Bless New Orleans.”—seen on a billboard everyday on my way to work