The slow death of New Orleans.
I moved to New Orleans in hopes to harness something inside.
I fought tooth and nail to be here, to live in the city that birthed Jazz, where the bars don’t close and the music is as hot as the food.
I knew what I was getting into, to truly love something; you have to love it for its flaws.
New Orleans is, a flawed city.
Yet, those of us who love it will defend it when its face is buried in the social dog **** that we’re allowing.
We cannot turn our heads any longer, crime is crippling this city and every day people are finding more and more reasons to pack their things and find a new place to celebrate life. A safer place, in a city that can barely contain somewhere between 300K and 400K (depending on who you ask) we beat the national crime average by 12%, that is a sobering number. The New Orleans murder rate is higher than the rest of the country but everyone will still proudly admit that it’s down!
This is NOT a good thing.
Last night a woman was shot and killed during an armed robbery, she lost her life over money. This instance was not in the slums, but in the bread and butter of the city: the French quarter. The place where the money is made and tourists flock to.
Three kids held her up on the way to her car, three kids who have no value on life and more than likely spent her blood money without the blink of an eye.
This is another notch in the belt of a dying city.
Leadership is a joke and no one will take responsibility of the actions of the citizens.
What can we do?
If the one place that buoy’s the local economy is under fire, then everything is lost.
It’s a sad reality to know that certain neighborhoods have to pay for private security forces to patrol as a measure to keep their residents safe.
Again, not a good thing.
Rallies don’t work, prayer doesn’t work, and the police certainly don’t work.
It’s not as simple as some might point the finger and say it’s all black people.
It’s a matter that bad people who are constantly given multiple chances to continue heinous behavior only grow worse and the company they keep only sees this and acts accordingly.
I have lived in a section of the city that had drug dealers on my stoop, people screaming at all hours.
I have heard descriptive accounts of where drugs are hidden and who wants to kill whom.
Now, I live in a “nice” part of the city. Do I buy it? Not really, I’m just waiting for the shoe to drop. Something is bound to happen in our happy little neighborhood.
It’s the New Orleans brand: nothing is perfect.
I am at a loss for what we’re expected to do outside moving away, going to live someplace where crime doesn’t stare you in the eye and places it’s finger directly in your face and you’re supposed to make a choice; deal or leave.
The people need to stand up for each other, to do something to make this place livable again. When you’re having a good night here, it’s the stuff of legend but when you have that one bad night…you could end up in a pine box.
I implore people aside from myself to do something, say something, start a movement.
Because we cannot accept this any further.
To sweep life under the rug only makes the pile larger and vile.
These are only words on a screen but they are real issues that need to be addressed and unless the city wants everyone armed and ready to end the next attacker by way of vigilante justice, something must be done and NOW.
I don’t have the answers and I wish I wasn’t writing this but this is our reality.
I am enclosing my email address; let’s start a revolution together.
I don’t know what we can do, but let’s at least talk, have a drink and see if we can think of SOMETHING that can help.
Anything at this point is a blessing.
This is life in New Orleans, murder happens.
Kidcarre@gmail.com