Stephanie Mingo stood by the sign saying "Resurrection City." It is across from the St. Bernard Housing Development where several dozen activists were building a New Orleans "Resurrection City" inspired by the one Martin Luther King initiated with the Poor People's March before he was killed. Ms. Mingo lived in the St. Bernard Public Housing Development for 40 plus years and is fighting for the right of residents to return. It is an uphill fight.
The tactics to discourage and block evacuees from returning began immediately after the storm. The plan for a "smaller foot print" that proposed turning flooded neighborhoods into green spaces and areas for flood drainage was the first move. It was followed by blocking trailers for renters with "not in my back yard" efforts. Public housing, much of which was not flooded, was locked up and not repaired. The Road Home Program had nothing in it to help renters. Recently, some City Council members tried passing an ordinance to prevent the building of Section 8 apartments in New Orleans East. The proposal created strong protest from the community and was withdrawn.
Ms. Mingo bristles at the prejudice and stereotypes directed at public housing residents. "They say we are criminals, don't work or pay rent. I have worked all my life. I was a food service technician for the Orleans Parish School System before Katrina hit. I have never paid less than $300 a month for rent in public housing. We are good people." She proudly shows her daughter's report card. "She has all A's and one B in strong academic subjects. We are not criminals. Crime can happen anywhere. This was our home and we want to come back." She is organizing and protesting because many residents can't come back to jobs because they can't find affordable housing and the city won't open public housing.
The politicians and executives of the New Orleans Housing Authority (HANO) have a different image of Ms. Mingo and her neighbors. Richard Baker, a State Representative, said that God did what the politicians couldn't do when the flood wiped out the projects. A city councilman said to evacuees, "Don't come home if you don't want to work," as if the majority of the people weren't working before Katrina. Ms. Mingo said Donald Babers, the director of the (HANO) said, he will survey public housing residents and only allow the 'best of best' to return. She asks. "What gives him the right to judge who deserves to come home?"
Activists putting up "Resurrection City," small houses outside the locked fence around the St. Bernard Public Housing Development in New Orleans.
PHOTO/TED QUANT
"Talk about judging people," Ms. Mingo continued, "it was the people that others might call thugs who were saving people. My mother was on the 3rd floor and couldn't get out. It was the so-called thugs who helped her down. When we were evacuated to Houston, my mother became so stressed and wanted to come home so bad, that she just up and died. Another elderly lady, Ms. Richardson, said, "Hang me in a tree but just let me come home." She died that night.
Even before Katrina, public housing was being dismantled. Jay Arena, another housing activist, said that in the years before Katrina, New Orlean's housing units fell from 14,000 to 7,000. Willie J. R. Flemming, a member of the Coalition to Protect Public Housing, came to the demonstration from Chicago. He and five other members came to show solidarity and support the struggle in New Orleans. He sees the struggle for housing in New Orleans as part of a national and even global struggle for the human rights. He said, "We have a duty to stand firm in communities against those calling for the destruction of public housing and to insure housing as a human right for all."
Ted Quant is a long-time activist from New Orleans. He, Bill Quigley (pictured on this page) and others are available to speak on Katrina and its aftermath. Call Speakers for a New America at 800-691-6888 or email info@speakersforanewamerica.com.
