New Orleans is deeply authentic. New Orleanians cherish authenticity to the point that individualism is elevated to art. Outsiders often immediately feel this authenticity. I believe this feeling is a large reason why so many people instantly identify with New Orleans and feel it is home.
Nothing annoys me more than a poser. Someone who is trying to be something that they aren’t reeks of insecurity. Keeping up the façade is impossible, so it never feels real.
Always an important port city, New Orleanians have come from around the world for more than three hundred years. My family roots in New Orleans are about 175 years deep, but each of the men who married into the New Orleans line of my family came from elsewhere. My original Louisiana ancestors joined the Creoles from Ireland. My great grandfather came from Finland and never left. My grandfather came from Pennsylvania, a merchant marine, who never left. And my father came from New York and never left. I still have family in all of those places.
But my ancestors came to this city. They were not forced to settle here, but became some of the many transplants who decided that New Orleans was their home.
New Orleans doesn’t hide the bad, and bad shit has always been a prominent part of life here since the Europeans arrived. From storms to plagues to murders and duels, lots of death and and destruction has always surrounded those who choose their home in the swamp. The swamp is decay, the beautiful decay described inadequately by so many writers, including this one.
As you walk around the prominent tourist sites, you’ll find prominent plaques about the wonderful things that happened and the amazing people who lived here right alongside plaques noting horrific events in history. New Orleans doesn’t hide the bad. This authenticity is one reason why so many people have such a visceral connection to the Crescent City. The country flushes its pollution down the Mississippi, and so many people rejoin the trash to leave their cares behind.
This year I’ve been ruminating on a theory that New Orleans is the most American city. Still the most European, African, Caribbean, unique, interesting city but also the most American city. My theory stems from the fact that so much American culture comes from the mouth of the Mississippi River. Of course, I had to leave Louisiana to realize this.
While traveling the world almost 20 years ago, a common refrain of Europeans from “older” countries was that America had no culture. This baffled me. Europeans seem to equate culture with age. Their culture is apparently contained in the stones of buildings that have lasted several hundreds of years. Louisiana, New Orleans in particular, seethes with culture from the people. Creativity and flavor ooze and leak from those who mix here, the leftovers sopped up and regurgitated by the rest of the world. I started forming my theory that the culture of my home is the culture of my country, not some other foreign culture like I’ve so often repeated.
But why does the othering of New Orleans matter? Things like the devastation of Katrina are why it matters, where you see newscasters sharing with the world, “How could this happen in America?” Or an open fire hydrant flooding the street with no one paying attention to it. Two hundred year old buildings that fall down in the middle of the most preserved district. Or trees that critically injure tourists in Jackson Square. Or another year as the murder capital of the world. Losing power three times a week without rain or regularly having to boil your water before you can use it. Things you simply wouldn’t see in other great American cities but we accept regularly, are why it matters.
From the Revolt of 1768, cementing the historical place of New Orleans at the forefront of what it means to be American (before we even were American), New Orleans has been defining our culture and transporting our goods. Without trying to be anything else. Authentically. Allowing everyone else to follow our parade. I hope that my role as a tour guide helps more people repeat a new refrain about New Orleans. We’re not just a haunted party town, but a great American city to be proud of and to preserve.
