VIOLET, LA. it’s sunday, usually a day of lighter work for most volunteers. at h.o.p.e., the volunteer center where i live and sleep, we moved the distribution tent and all of the clothing and food contained within it to the other side of the parking lot. fema workers have been bulldozing the empty dirt lot behind the church, maybe two acres of land, and making way for trailers to be installed. there are temporary trailer parks all over the place. from violet, louisiana (st. bernards parish), where the h.o.p.e. community center is located, to the western side of new orleans, i’ve seen forty foot white trailer homes. some are parked with fifty others in an abandoned supermarket parking lot; some are parked on the tiny patch of yard in front of a city house in between the street and the sidewalk. they are all perched up on cinderblocks and have white pvc drainpipes running out for waste water. some have electricity, some don’t. i’ve heard stories of trailers sitting out in the midwest, someone in government preventing them from getting here because of some bureaucratic dispute. but we all saw the two-mile long train sitting in the train yard full of gleaming white trailers just a few days ago. it’s gone now, and i’m guessing those residents on the waiting list are getting their trailers. some will remain empty until the homeowners return, some will get filled right away as the residents have been waiting months to get back into their neighborhoods.

communities are becoming lively again, slowly but surely. i’ve heard the white neighborhoods are doing pretty well, and you see white visitors driving around the ninth ward flashing photos of dead houses, probably looking for a spray painted number under the X other than zero. (when search crews looked for bodies back in september, they painted on each house the number of dead found under an X, along with other codes like “TFW” which means Toxic Flood Water.) the black community is struggling and coping with the constant stream of new reports of bodies unveiled by the morgue. i’ve heard an unconfirmed rumor that there are 1500 young black men with bullet holes in their heads. no one is answering questions, but there are still many african americans missing. funerals are a constant reminder of the unequal burden this disaster took on the black community. i’ve heard first-hand stories of black residents that were stranded on their roofs, calling for help to a white official (feds, police) in a boat, but getting responded to with a gun pointed in their faces or told to fuck off. the most preposterous story i heard of government aid efforts was a wooden barrel dropped down by helicopter to residents in the 7th ward. when the residents acquired the barrel and opened it, naturally expecting food or water, there was nothing inside but expired (by two years) hard candy. that’s government aid? well, it was enough for the media who flashed photographs of the barrel dropping and published images of the government “helping” those in need.

in new orleans, most of the volunteers within relief organizations are white. i am one of them. many of the lead organizers in common ground collective are white males, although there are many females in leading roles. i am not offering up criticism, and my observations are very limited due to my short time here so far. it is interesting though to think about the capabilities of white volunteers heading down here to work. many of the volunteers are basically living here full time, staying indefinitely and giving up their time and energy to do relief work. it’s is obviously a white privilege to be able to come down here and give your life to this cause. except for a few, the only black volunteers i’ve met are people who lived here before the storm. i, like so many similar folks, have been sucked in my the beautiful harmony of radical collective living. we work together, we eat together, we sleep together. our needs are met and we feel good about the work we do. new volunteers are given a workshop on racism in new orleans. there are skill shares and workshops and dinner parties. there is music and there are hugs from old friends and smiles from strangers. but within this radical utopia, i feel the temporary nature of it all. the burger kings and taco bells are marked “CES DEMO,” but the strip malls will rise again and the usual false demand will be created to fuel the economy. i worry that organizations like common ground collective and h.o.p.e. will not have a lasting effect, but will simply be just a memory in the residents’ minds. we still live within white supremacy and a faux democracy. am i helping or just moving within the stream?

the work i do makes me feel purposeful. i even get the thought of moving here permanently, if my indefinite stay moves in that direction. but probably not. the ability to travel and meet new experiences is too tempting. this is another one of them. and i know i am becoming a better person because of this, i just want to help create a place where everyone has that chance, not just the radical white folks.