I left New Orleans ahead of Hurricane Ida. Five days later it met me in NYC.
As the old folks say, “weather didn’t used to be like this.”
My flight out of New Orleans was chill. When I talked to other passengers, we casually chatted about the impending storm and the Katrina anniversary. Most of the folks seated near me were on planned trips; I was headed to NYC to spend time with my sister, and was sitting next to a New Yorker heading home. Only one guy mentioned booking the flight to escape Ida.
Things were different by the time I landed at LaGuardia that night. Ida was going to land as a Category 4, and my thoughts immediately went to the house I’d dashed out of that morning (running late, as usual). I’d secured no windows, hadn't moved my car to high ground, hadn’t thrown out the frozen foods that would melt then rot when the power went out. Because when I left that morning, it wasn’t clear yet that the storm would be catastrophic. In fact, things intensified so quickly that the city didn’t even have time to put a mandatory evacuation in place. Folks sat on the road for 12 hours or more to get to locations in Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, and Texas that normally took three to five hours to reach.
I watched the news nonstop that weekend, hoping to see from afar what was happening back home. By midweek it was clear that the power would be out for a while and that there was already a run on basic supplies, so I started preparing to stay longer in New York. Meanwhile, Ida kept making her way up north. I remained focused on the reconstruction in Louisiana and didn’t pay her much attention.
Until it started to storm on Wednesday and my phone buzzed with flash flood alerts. At first, I thought I was mistakenly getting leftover messages from New Orleans. That night the rain was heavy and my sister’s basement flooded a little, but the news the next morning was shocking: over 40 people had died in the northeast/mid-Atlantic from floods and tornadoes spawned by Ida.
I was shook. How could a hurricane travel 1300 miles and cause even more loss of life in its last gasps?
The severity of the weather events last week has everyone talking about the reality of climate change. But the UN report from last month made it clear that there’s nothing we can do to stop deadly events like this from happening over the next 20-30 years. That ship has sailed. We now only have time to do two things: keep the distant future from being even worse and prepare for a hotter and more hostile today.
Saving ourselves over the long haul is depressingly reliant on political will and people’s tolerance for changing our way of life. Our planet is being held hostage by other human beings’ greed and selfishness. We’ve known about man-made climate change for decades, but didn’t do what we needed to do because of stubbornness, fear, and politics. That has to change.
In the meantime, I’m all too aware that we must help ourselves and our communities prepare for this new climate reality. This requires unprecedented climate education, even for those of us from areas that are more used to weather emergencies. Growing up on the Gulf Coast and living in Louisiana, I know when to put the car on high ground, which underpasses and roads flood, how much food and water you need for an extended power outage, etc. But here in NYC, I was lost when my phone started beeping relentlessly. What does a flash flood warning in a mega-city like this even mean? How can I accurately assess my risk?
But surviving the imminent new climate reality can’t just depend on education. It also can’t rely on community solidarity, the likes of which we’re seeing in Louisiana as neighbors continue to provide food, water, ice, and more in their communities. No, sustained survival has to be the work of governments and businesses, and I’m furious that despite the evidence raging all around us, these “leaders” still might not get the job done. This moving essay in Essence, “Stop Asking Us to Be Resilient: On Hurricane Ida, COVID-19, and Trauma in Louisiana,” talks about how much easier it is to keep celebrating people’s ability to survive while steadily upholding the world that’s trying to kill them.
“I want to remind people that yes, Louisiana is full of beautiful, resourceful people. But folks cannot continue to expect us to be resilient. Resilience is a short-term condition where one stretches themselves until problems can be resolved. The idea that resilience is a permanent state is a myth supported by white supremacy. Failing to address structural problems while labeling the people enduring such problems as resilient is gaslighting.”
I’d hoped I’d have a lot more to say on this by now, but I’m still processing it. I hope you all find some of the information below helpful as you process it all, too. One thing I’m pulling from these readings is that organizing and pressuring our leaders is no longer optional, but essential. And remember, as Ashley Shelton wrote, “Regardless of what anyone says, we cannot excuse the suffering of marginalized people as a matter of fate; it is a matter of political will.”
When Climate Change Comes to Your Doorstep (NY Times) - piece on climate migration, which is apparently a field of study that is suddenly wildly relevant
The Answer to Climate Change Is Organizing (New Yorker)
More than 230 journals warn 1.5°C of global warming could be 'catastrophic' for health (CNN)
How to fight climate change: Six actions that really matter (CNBC)
Where the Real Story Starts by Roxane Gay (The Audacity) "We can’t simply address one problem at a time as if each problem will wait its turn. Reproductive freedom and equal pay and climate justice and police violence and disability justice and the ever-widening class divide and public health and every other important issue are all interconnected."
Great reads
If you only read one link this week, Prof. Brittney Cooper on critical race theory should be it: Critical Race Theory Might Actually Save Us (The Cut). A close second is this essay: It's All Connected by Chris Latray.
I also loved this piece about learning the piano when you’re a “gifted” perfectionist. Me, my piano, and learning to be less than perfect (Vox). I feel attacked by lines such as, “I suffered from the classic gifted child cliché of simultaneously being a perfectionist and also expecting everything to come easily to me...”
Pure fun
Apparently, it’s not just me who longs to be missed after naps and other significant periods of time away from my phone:
Louisiana Is Ready For Hot Linemen September (NOLA.com) So, maybe I made the wrong call by skipping out of NOLA while the linemen are in town? (h/t Erin)
I Hate How Much I Love Kim Kardashian West's Skims (The Cut) This is so good—a confessional about the mental contortions and lies women tell to keep wearing Skims underwear while despising the Kardashians.
Aging Power Ranger fans like me will find this entire Twitter thread wildly uplifting:
Northshore pizza dough blob grows to enormous proportions, overtakes dumpster post-Ida (NOLA.com) Look at the pictures. This is wild. (h/t Sophia)
Why Does Coffee Sometimes Make Me Tired? (NY Times) I had been wondering, and lo and behold, an answer. It’s called “sleep pressure.”
Covid-19
Do vaccines work or nah?? Checkout Emily Oster’s great Substack post for anyone who is confused or getting mixed messages about effectiveness: Vaccine Efficacy by the Numbers
I’m a Black Doctor. My Mom Still Won’t Get Vaccinated (The Atlantic)
Open letter to Alabama school boards from 102 mental health providers on masks in schools (AL.com)
COVID-19 Vaccine Success Could Be Measured With One Number (The Atlantic)
COVID nearly killed Greg Cyprian. It hasn't kept him from thinking big (AL.com)
Sweetgreen CEO: Vaccines and Masks Will Not Save Us, But Salads Might (Vice) (h/t Tim)
Seeking background info on the ivermectin craze’s origins? People Are Eating Horse Paste To Fight COVID. These Doctors Are One Reason Why (HuffPo)
People being awful
Flight Attendants’ Hellish Summer: ‘I Don’t Even Feel Like a Human’ (NY Times)
Anne Friedman speaking real eloquently on shaming people in COVID and abortions: Whose Utopia Is This?
Texas' Abortion Law: Here are the Companies Speaking Out Against It (Business Insider)
See you next week, lovelies
Last week I stepped allll the way out of my comfort zone and went with my sister and brother-in-law to the US Open. This was certainly my biggest event since the pandemic started, and it tested my faith in the vaccine propping up my immune cells and the relative safety of the outdoors. But it was ultimately a fantastic experience, not least of all because I got to see the wonderful Naomi Osaka play.
Little did I know that I might have witnessed her last game this year—or longer. After her loss that night, Naomi spoke about the anxiety and sadness that has overtaken her enjoyment of her sport, leading her to take an extended break (What it was like to watch Naomi Osaka up close during her vexing 2021 US Open). I was saddened by the depth of her pain, while also grateful that she can step away and take care of herself despite what must be extraordinary pressure and judgment.
The past couple of years have been hard for almost all of us, and I’m surprised more people aren’t struggling to cope. Or maybe they are and just aren’t talking about it. I decided to stay with my sister in NYC because I needed more support after my surgery—not with my physical recovery, but with my mental and emotional wellness. I had to be honest that I was struggling on my own and made a move to get support. It has been incredibly worth it.
My hope for anyone struggling this week is to find support where you can and to ask for it without shame, fear, or hesitation. Let yourself be carried.
Stay safe
<3
Sam