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Hurricane Katrina: What She Came To Teach African Americans
By Iya Ta'Shia Asanti

This editorial, first and foremost extends my deepest sympathy to all those who lost a loved one or suffered major loss during this predominantly African-American holocaust called Hurricane Katrina. I must acknowledge the heroic efforts of emergency relief agencies such as the Red Cross, as well as the thousands of Americans, our international allies, and our local heroes of all races who have given donations and service to the victims of this terrible disaster.

Based on their response, there are some Americans, politicians and emergency disaster agencies that weren't as devastated as we by witnessing our public starvation, sudden homelessness, brutal rapes and the thousands of unnecessary deaths of babies, elders, women, and men. I will never, ever forget the daily horrors I watched, read and listened to from Aug. 29 on the large-scale loss of homes, the deaths of beloved pets, the loss of lifetimes of belongings. Hurricane Katrina took me to my knees where I began to pray. At first I simply prayed for help to arrive and people's lives to be spared. As I petitioned God, it came to me that there were lessons to be learned here. My despair transformed into hope. Hope that from this terrible tragedy, from this tremendous wound that we have been forced to endure, each of us will gain a clear vision of the important lessons that Hurricane Katrina came to teach us.

While African Americans are a people who, for the most part, are in touch with racial disparities in the United States, in general we were not prepared for the lack of assistance we encountered during the early days of post-Hurricane Katrina. Many of us truly expected those entrusted with our security, safety, and well-being to place the sustaining of these earned rights above all else when and if the need arose. But the undeniable truth is this: from AIDS to heart disease, breast cancer to diabetes, gang violence to death in Iraq, people of color in America have long since been at the top of the list for racial extinction. Hurricane Katrina, just like AIDS in Africa, didn't change that fact one bit.

While the trauma of witnessing people who look like you, live like you, breathe and move like you, die right before your eyes is extremely painful, the degree of our disappointment in our government's response is inherently connected to our denial of the degree that racism still exists in this country. Hurricane Katrina placed America's racism right before our eyes, forced us to look at and analyze it on deep, deep levels.

As pictures of the devastation from Hurricane Katrina continue to circulate around the world we are allowed to glimpse a small fragment of the horrors our sisters and brothers in New Orleans endured. Some have compared these images to that of the enslaved Africans hundreds of years ago, when they were tossed off the side of slave ships for devouring by trailing sharks. Others, when they heard and read stories of the rapes that occurred during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, flashed back to the sexual assaults committed against enslaved African women.

While Hurricane Katrina offers many painful reminders of what African Americans have been subjected to as a result of racial inequality, I have come to the conclusion that it is more important to reflect upon the lessons Hurricane Katrina came to teach us than to remain trapped in our anger. We must focus instead on what we have learned and the strategies we must implement to prevent a repeat occurrence. If the picture wasn't made clear during the cleansing rain of Hurricane Katrina, may this editorial fill in every invisible color now - the future of African Americans is in their own hands.

During Hurricane Katrina I ventured out to purchase food and water after hours upon hours of watching CNN footage. From a state of deep sadness and grief, I moved into sheer disbelief. When I entered the grocery store, I saw folks laughing, joking, and humming to the sound of supermarket music. They were not all white folks either. Some were people of color. This is not to invalidate the amazing efforts that millions of people have made to support the victims of Hurricane Katrina. It is, however, to shed light on the millions who weren't moved to do anything. At that precise moment I got it. I got the message that Hurricane Katrina sent to the world about the value this nation places on people who are not a part of what our government calls the elite class. And by elite class, I don't just mean wealthy people.

As I walked through the store, I quickly noticed that there were no signs expressing sympathy for the loss of hundreds of predominantly Black lives. Most people appeared to be going about their day’s activities as if people right here in America, a few thousand miles away, weren’t dying in alarming numbers. But again, I focused on the lesson. I channeled my energy into trying to do something with what I was learning through this experience.

My anger drove me to help funnel funds to various groups of survivors, to write to companies that had amassed major wealth as a result of Black consumer dollars, and ask them to support the recovery efforts by giving back. Among the companies I wrote to were Microsoft Corporation whom I asked to donate wireless computers to assist families in contacting their loved ones and aid them in accessing resources to rebuild their lives.

As the events in days to come became more horrific, I turned to my trusty pen as I always have when emotions become unbearable. I wrote to the National Guard and then to the Red Cross. I contacted the public relations departments at these agencies and asked them point blank why -with the millions of dollars that were being donated on a daily basis - were hurricane victims still starving in New Orleans. Surprisingly, as busy as they were, a day later, a member of the staff from the Red Cross personally wrote me back. The Red Cross informed me that Homeland Security and the United States military had refused to let them into the 9th Ward district of New Orleans to distribute food and emergency supplies.

And I asked myself then as I ask you today -how far have we truly come? What are we to learn from this? When Black billionaires are turned away from designer couture boutiques and African Americans can die on national TV and the world doesn't stop - how far have we truly come?

I ask again and I will continue to ask until I know that we have gotten it. What is the lesson here? After the water is drained from that fair city, will we return to our sleeping state? Will we continue to showcase our bling-bling, continue to compete for jobs and an elusive place in society that can be ripped from us in the blink of a hurricane’s eye? Do we now understand the critical need for us create a space where we can work to end the violence in our communities and unify ourselves? How many more holocausts and genocidal massacres have to happen to people of African descent before we get the message that our survival is dependent upon us? From the Maafa to Rwanda, Tuskegee to Wall Street and now Hurricane Katrina, Black life continues to be historically snuffed out. Are we learning anything?

Many placed blame on the economic status of the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Yes, there were many poor people who died or suffered major loss during Hurricane Katrina. But there were middle class African Americans sleeping on the street right next to those on public assistance, as well as a few White American tourists. And as they died, as they starved to death, our government didn’t survey the victims of Hurricane Katrina to find out whether they were rich or poor, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Muslim, Santeria or Ifa. No one cared if we were married to a white man or white woman. No one asked us what church we belonged to, if we were gay or straight. The writing is on the wall. We saw it on TV from the comfort of our flood-free living rooms. Black life is dispensable. We must learn to work together and let the world know that we will not suffer in silence. After all, this country was built on the backs of, and by the free labor of, our ancestors. As the great poet and activist Audre Lorde used to say, "Our silence will not protect us. So it is better to speak, remembering, we were never meant to survive."

Hurricane Katrina Lesson Plan for People of Color

--People of color and conscience must create, finance, and implement an independent plan to sustain themselves in the wake of a national disaster.

--People of color and conscience must formulate and launch a strategic and well-thought out plan to economically empower, heal, and unite our community on a global level. This is what the Elder Bill Cosby has been preaching about. We must stop waiting for someone to do it for us.

--People of color and conscience must create safety plans for their individual families, i.e. emergency food that can be transported and sustained without power, enough medicines on hand to last for a few weeks if necessary, emergency clothing and emergency shelter items handy (tent, sleeping bags etc), two-way and portable radios, several bottles of unopened water in a safe, quickly accessible place, mapping out safe refuge spaces ahead of time.

--People of color and conscience must participant in an exhaustive study of our history prior to slavery. If we are to move forward, we must completely understand and embrace our past. This is what our elders call Sankofa.

Editor’s note: Iya Ta’Shia Asanti is an award-winning journalist, civil rights activist, Yoruba priestess, and longtime contributing editor to the Urban Spectrum. For more about Iya Ta’Shia’s work visit her web site at www.sacreddoor.com.