An Absence of Devastation--and Outrage

In surveying national media coverage of post-Katrina issues, what one comes away with is a very disconnected, superficial understanding of the ongoing crisis. Media outlets are peppered with a few reports here and there of announcements and policy updates from federal agencies like FEMA (“FEMA Stops Selling Disaster Trailers,” The Associated Press) or HUD (“Hurricane Aid is Extended for Some,” The New York Times). You might see an occasional tirade about the ongoing inefficiency of FEMA or the Army Corps of Engineers (“The Threatening Storm,” TIME), responsible for rebuilding the coastal infrastructure to protect residents from future hurricanes. But there is little that accurately reflects the impact of widely agreed upon federal, state and local government neglect (this is by no means a radical assessment) on peoples’ daily lives—primarily low-income people and people of color. Nor is there sufficient coverage that examines public and private negligence in relationship to ongoing discrimination and lingering, pernicious inequalities based on race, class and gender.

Today, the headline of an AP article read: “New Orleans’ population continues to rise”. Only towards the very end did it reveal that those who are moving back are primarily returning to areas that incurred minimal damage during the storms. In contrast, it reports, in July, only 917 residents were living in the (primarily low-income, African American) Lower 9th Ward – 7 percent of its 2000 population. But in reading the article’s headline alone, or even the first several paragraphs, one could be led to believe that maybe, things were on their way back to “normal” in the city. The demographer on whose statistics the article is based is quoted as saying, “Everything is kind of happening in a natural progression.” “Natural” sounds an awful lot like “normal”.

Again, few articles—though a recent New York Times series, “Patchwork City”, provided a welcomed, substantive contrast—lead with the daily, life-threatening crises still lived by thousands throughout the Gulf Coast.

As such, there is little in the media to galvanize national public outrage. With surface-level, sporadic, and acronym-laden coverage, how are people throughout the country to know there is an ongoing human-rights crisis in the Gulf Coast? Let alone that grassroots leaders—many of them low-income women and women of color—are constructing solutions that address the immediate and long-term needs of their families and communities, and establish protocol that should immediately be incorporated into a bipartisan national agenda?

Surveying the news alone is demoralizing—and not because of the devastation reported in its pages, a worry that may be influencing editors’ decisions to avoid consistent, probing coverage of the disaster’s lasting impact. No, it’s the absence of devastation. And the voices of those most affected by the storms. In looking for articles on-line today, with Vicki’s (of the Mississippi Immigrant Rights Alliance) personal account of government neglect and horrendously inadequate FEMA housing heavy on my mind (see Elizabeth Hines’ post below), I searched for my own outrage mirrored in the news, for Vicki’s story, and thousands of others like hers, mirrored in the headlines. I don’t have to tell you that search was in vain…

But to end on a positive note: Ms. Foundation Katrina Women’s Response Fund grantees, Ms. Foundation staff, and the media-justice trainers of the People's Production House are here to do our best to change this. The radio-training participants—powerful, community-based women and youth activists—will do what they’ve been doing the last two years and more: take the microphone by the hand and insist that their voices be heard!

"Come to me and I will give you rest."

That's a quote from the Book of Matthew--and one that's emblazoned on a set of sturdy blue teacups perched on the kitchen table of Vicky Cintra's boxy FEMA trailer. Vicky works for MIRA (Mississippi Immigrants Rights Alliance) and we're here in her home to talk with her about the housing situation Gulfport, and how low-income residents have been all but erased from the picture of "recovery" that the local government is painting.

On our way into Vicky's trailer, Anchanese Levison of MWCHR--who will be interviewing Vicky as part of her radio documentary project--points out that on either side of the mobile home park where Vicky lives, there is construction: on one side, they are building high-end condos; on the other, a new parking lot for the airport, which is only a stone's throw away. The land left in the middle, where Vicky's trailer and a few dozen like it (many of them FEMA owned) sit, is all that's left of the wetlands that used to play a vital role in the ecology of this particular area. As a result, flooding in the trailer park is a constant threat. “It rains just a little bit one day and we have huge puddles for a week," Vicky herself offered up later on.. "The water has no place to go.”

But water and its ravages are something Vicky has had to get used to since Hurricane Katrina hit. The storm itself flooded her former home with 8 feet of water; after evacuating to Miami, Vicky moved back to the region in the fall of 2005 to begin work with MIRA and in December of that year took up occupancy, along with her husband, in the trailer in which we're now all sitting.

And in some ways, that is when the real trouble began. "After the first rainstorm in December of 2005 there was more water inside the trailer than outside, "Vicky says. "Water was just pouring in kitchen window. The whole trailer was totally flooded. Then the black mold developed."

That was more than 18 months ago. Despite the fact that Vicky has called FEMA religiously over the course of the intervening period, it was just weeks ago that they finally showed up to "fix" the leak in the kitchen window that caused all the damage. And as we are sitting there, we get the chance to witness firsthand the quality of FEMA's work: as clouds burst overhead, a slow but steady trickle of water begins to seep through the window casing, gradually flooding Vicky's countertop with rainwater.

“I used to think a four letter word that started with “F” was something else," Vicky says. "But not since Katrina.”

And still, in many ways, Vicky is among the lucky in this region. She has a place to live; she's been able to come back home. So many others like her, she points out, have been given neither opportunity. To demonstrate for us how fully low-income folks and people of color have been left out of the planning process, Vicky pulls out a 2005 publication from Governor Barbour's Commission on Recovery, Rebuilding and Renewal. "I was at this meeting," Vicky, who is Latina, tells us, pointing to pictures in the publication of a largely white gathering. "And I promise you, I was the blackest person in the room. So I stood up and asked", 'Where are the black people? Where is the Vietnamese community? Why aren't all the people who are going to be displaced by all these casinos and condos you're building here at this meeting, too?" No one, she says, could give her an answer.

“I don’t see an emphasis on bringing low-income folks back," she tells us with conviction. "I just don’t see it.” Not that that's stopped her from fighting to make sure their voices are heard. As a staff member at MIRA she is working every day, in coalition with MWCHR and other organizations, to make sure that the needs of immigrant and low-income communities get their place at the table, too. And as much as anything, she wants people outside of the Gulf Coast to understand how desperate the situation remains, to this day, for the survivors of Katrina.

“The thing that hurts me the most is to hear that people outside of this area think that everything is back to normal," Vicky remarks, clearly emotional. "It’s what the mainstream media promotes, and what people in power who want to cover things up promote. But people need to know that things down here remain horrible. Working conditions are horrible. And living conditions are horrible at best.

“I want to appeal to the hearts of people to remember that ... [we] are human beings. And [we] have just as much a right to live in decent, safe conditions as anyone else.”

Matthew couldn't have said it better himself.

The Political Landscape: Rhetoric vs. Reality

Not surprisingly, there is little to be found in a survey of the national media landscape that speaks to the reality experienced by millions of people affected by Hurricanes Katrina and Rita on the Gulf Coast. Elevating the voices and perspectives of women and their communities is no small challenge—even the most surface-level news about the disaster’s aftermath has a hard time making headlines.

Meanwhile, legislative debates in Washington and the primary elections in Mississippi underscore the huge rift between national and state political rhetoric and the lived reality on the Gulf Coast:

Currently, President Bush is balking at a federal “water bill” that includes (minimal) funding to help restore the Gulf Coast and bolster infrastructure to protect the region from future hurricanes. Just last week, Chris Kromm, Executive Director of the Institute for Southern Studies, wrote:

“…One can only imagine the rage that is greeting this week's news that President Bush plans to veto a $21 billion bill for flood control and coastal restoration, passed 381-40 this week with broad bipartisan support in the U.S. House. The bill's programs are national but of special importance in southern Louisiana, where it would fund a 72-mile levee and floodwall system and put $1.9 billion -- a fraction of what's needed -- towards coastal restoration.” (See: “Bush to New Orleans: Good luck”)

If Bush can’t get behind one of the least-politicized aspects of Gulf Coast reconstruction (there was little dissent in the House), how will he ever come around to promoting equitable housing, labor, and health-care policies—among others—that would bring Gulf Coast residents closer to a just and sustainable recovery?

Meanwhile, Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour (Republican) is running for reelection against the likely Democratic primary winner, John Arthur Eaves, Jr. Barbour is a huge ally of the Bush Administration and former chairman of the Republican National Committee who, because of his political ties, was able to garner a disproportionate amount of federal money compared to Louisiana in the wake of Katrina (even though Mississippi sustained less damage). But as grantees of the Katrina Women’s Response Fund will tell you, Barbour’s “success” story didn’t translate into success on the ground. Mississippi grantees, many of them participating in this week’s radio training, tell a much different story of an exhaustive lack of affordable housing, health care, child care, employment, and the list goes on…

For a bit of background on the disparity between what Barbour secured for Mississippi and its impact (or lack there of) on people’s lives, read, “A harder look at Haley Barbour’s post-Katrina miracle,” by Chris Kromm and Sue Sturgis, again of the Institute for Southern Studies.

Clearly, there is such a huge gap between the political machinations taking place at the federal and state levels, and what Ms. Foundation grantees are contending with on the ground. But our grantees—grassroots women activists—remind us that they are not standing by while federal and state policymakers ignore them. They are making change—policy change and social change—in their communities, and cities, happen. The stories they will share on the airwaves are a testament to this—to their burgeoning collective power, and the livable, equitable reality they are working to create.

Day 2...and the Elections.

It's Day 2 of our training here in Gulfport, and as it happens, it's also election day here in Mississippi. Today's the day that state senators and reps, not to mention candidates for governor, face off in the primaries.

Driving down old Route 49, where many varieties of the traditional shotgun house dot the roadside, you see hints that this election means something to folks: not one, but two, lawn posters dotting every other lawn; giant billboards announcing candidates of "change" rising high above the railroad tracks that separate the commercial strip from the residential areas. It wasn't by design, necessarily, that we ended up here on this date--but that we did is somewhat of a delicious turn of fate. It brings into even greater relief the importance of the work these grantees are doing--and the immensity of the challenges they face as they try to effect change in their home state.

The organizations who have joined us this week offer a great look at some of the work going on in the region that you might never hear about if you just read the national coverage. For example:

• Karissa McClane and Lywanda White are here representing Moore Community House of Biloxi, which assists low-income residents secure quality child care and family services, and nurtures local economic development.They're currently working on a women and construction project, which will train women and youth to enter the construction field; their media project will involve talking to women who are interested in construction about their training and what they hope to accomplish with their new skills.

• Our host for these meetings has been Jason Mackenzie of the North Gulfport Community Land Trust, an organization that is dedicated to providing permanently affordable homeownership to residents in North Gulfport, MS. Since Katrina they've been helping people wade through the mess of insurance bureaucracy, and their media project will focus on land and development issues around the Gulf.

• Sharon Hanshaw and Cass Woods of Coastal Women for Change are here to work on compiling an oral history; they hope to interview seniors on the history of Biloxi, and how life used to be before the storm--both to provide background information to volunteers who have come to the region, and to offer an opportunity for the community itself to take pride in its deep and exceptional history. Coastal Women for Change was founded in the aftermath of Katrina to secure and revitalize affected neighborhoods, and provide them with timely information as the recovery process continues.

• The Mississippi Workers Center for Human Rights is a worker advocacy organization that provides organizing support, legal representation and training for low-wage, non-union workers in the state of Mississippi. They are currently running a "Housing is a Human Right" Campaign to try to ensure that all Mississipians have access to adequate housing in the wake of Katrina. Staffer Anchanese Levison is here to put together a report on how housing policies are failing survivors of the storm.

• Will McElhinny of the Mississippi Center for Justice has joined us as well. MCJ was formed to advance racial and economic justice, and has been working in the aftermath of the storm to encourage attorneys to donate their services to the region pro bono. During this training, Will plans to interview a number of lawyers and paralegals who have come down to help since the storms, and compile a report that will run on their website to help encourage other attorneys to lend their skills.

That's a look at who's here, working to expand the media landscape. Shortly you'll be hearing more from my Ms. Foundation colleague, Mia White, who's been working on Katrina since the storms hit and who can give a bit more nuanced context to what the work going on here means, etc.

“Just tell the story as it is.”

Ever wonder what "media justice" looks like? Right now, down in Gulfport, MS, a small group of organizers and activists is turning that sometimes abstract concept into a powerful reality.

We--the grantee partners and a few staff members of the Ms. Foundation for Women--have come together in the offices of the North Gulfport Community Land Trust here in Mississippi to learn the art of radio documentary in anticipation of the 2nd anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and beyond. The goal? To elevate the voices of our grantees--those women and men who are working on the ground, every day, and who know better than anyone else what is at stake in the continuing recovery of the Gulf Coast region--and to give them the tools they need to bring the story of the storms and their aftermath back to a place of prominence on the national media landscape.

As Mitch Jeserich of the People's Production House explains it,

"The idea is not that we come here to tell the grantee stories--which is how mainstream media is run these days, and it’s a model that continues to fail people. The idea is that we put the microphones in the hands of people experiencing the problem, so that they are telling their own stories and getting them out on the media landscape. The goal is that you all--and the people in your communities--will be the ones to tell the story."

Through five days of intensive training, our grantees will acquire the specific skills they need to take an idea from concept to polished piece: they will learn to storyboard, to interview and edit--and best of all, their finished reports from the field will air on Pacifica stations around the country, just in time to remind people that the effects of the storms are still being felt daily by millions of Gulf Coast residents.

It's a remarkable endeavor, putting these tools in the hands of the people who are living and breathing the devastation of Katrina, still. And luckily for us we're being guided in the process by a similarly remarkable group of experts: the team from the People's Production House--led by Deepa Fernandes and Kat Aaron (both of WBAI's "Wakeup Call" radio program) and staffed by Sacajawea Hall, the aforementioned Mitch Jeserich and Abdulai Bah. In just these first few hours of training, they have given all of us a great tutorial in the art of story telling, how to use a mini-disc recorder, and the basics of interviewing. (In fact, as I write this, the grantees are conducting the first interviews: with each other!)

As part of our time down here, I (Elizabeth Hines, a staffer at the Ms. Foundation) will be filing reports as frequently as possible about what we're learning, what we're accomplishing, and hope to give you a brief look at what's really happening down here on the Gulf Coast--showing you the multiple realities that the national media leaves out of the picture far too often. And my partner back in NYC, Irene Schneeweis, will also be offering us some context based on the coverage that is showing up in the national media.

So do stay tuned... Our grantees are doing truly amazing work, and our hope is that this blog, and the documentaries that come out of this training, will offer you an opportunity to witness that power in something closer to real time. I have no doubt you'll be amazed, and moved to action, by what's to come.