Invisible

On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina, one of the strongest storms to hit the United States, slammed into the Gulf Coast packing 165-mph winds. The storm forced the evacuation of hundreds of thousands of residents of the southern states of Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi. It also claimed more than 1,600 lives. Many of the Black population believe this was the wrath of God. Scientists believe the world’s weather patterns are changing due to the affect of global warming. No matter the reason, a chain reaction of human death and destruction was the result.

A man sat on a wall of concrete blocks with an unwavering stare. A handsome young Black man, who might have been a king had he been in another land. Jaws tight, dark eyes pierced the camera lens. He looked as though he dressed in a hurry in a worn and ragged sleeveless T that used to be white. His jean shorts that were no doubt were once fashionable along with a pair of waterlogged Timberland boots. He did not smile for the camera and his hands did not hold the royal specter, but he held a sign written in large black letters, “No One Cares.” This picture hung on my office wall. This is the same wall that has been home to photographs of my own family and friends and a focal point of frequent conversations for many of my co-workers.

A week went by and no one in the office said a word regarding the color photo on my wall or about the hurricane in the south. I wondered, why. What did these people do after work? Didn’t they watch the evening news with pictures much like the one on my wall that saturated the evening news? Or did they turn their heads and ignore the pain of those in Katrina’s wake, finding security in their privilege lifestyles? It wasn’t easy being the only Black person in the office on a normal day. During the weeks of Katrina it was harder. No one mentioned this disaster. No one mentioned the collection of food, clothing or money to help those Americans in need. No one spoke stories of cousins living in the south or some long-forgotten trip to the Mardi Gras. On a normal day they would tease me about my friend who lives in the south and ask if I planned to move there any time soon. No one asked about him after Katrina.

I was surprised. A week before Hurricane Katrina hit, they were pacing the office floors in disbelief when a bomb killed several people in Israel. They were physically shaken and I sensed the anger and hate in their faces when they demanded that someone needs to stop the shedding of innocent Jewish blood in Israel.

I asked myself, did they give so much to the people of Israel that they didn’t have enough left for the victims of Hurricane Katrina? Day after day, week after week, no one mentioned the large picture. There voices were loud and intrusive when they made light comments on the braided style of my hair; or my ‘colorful’ jewelry; or the books on my desk, (something they read in a long forgotten history class). None acknowledged the photograph. It was invisible.

I remember a time walking down Forbes Avenue and four white people were walking abreast towards me, in the privilege way they do. They didn’t make any motion to move left or right in order for me to pass. I was invisible to them. Instead of moving, I walked right into the group with no apology, but they didn’t utter a word, only rushed away to avoid a confrontation.

The same people who cry openly when bombs explode killing strangers half way around the world cannot find compassion for the people suffering from the ocean opening and swallowing them right here in America. The young king carried a sign and I am asking the question does he know that he is invisible?

Five years after the hurricane it was reported that the city looks the same as the day the hurricane hit; with no hospitals, safety forces, or grocery stores in the poverty stricken Wards of New Orleans; and there are still, people missing. In 2011 the city’s entertainment culture may be a feature when speaking of the city rising out of the ashes; but the reality hits hard for the residents who are faced with a failing education system, low wages, crime, lack of affordable housing and health care. The poor are still invisible. One reporter stated that the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is a testament to the indifference, incompetence and brutality of the American ruling elite.

These essay was read as part of Carlow's University's student panel "Women Living on the Fringe." At the PCEA Conference held in Erie, PA in March of 2011
Pennsylvania College English Assocation