The New Orleans in Me

New Orleans. These two words are filled with so much history, drama, romance, trauma, and beauty that it is simply impossible not to be fascinated by it. I am in love with this city because I am part of it. New Orleans is in me. Look at me. Look at my skin. Look at my hair. If it were up to me, I would describe myself simply as New Orleans. My blood-line goes back to all different myths and stories of the deep creole heritage and African American culture.

Thanks to my grandparents and oral tradition, I know that I am a direct descendant of these infamous stories told about the history of this city. From white men falling in love with the black females helping around the house, to my  ancestors traveling to New Orleans from Haiti after the Haitian Revolution. I am so fascinated by this city’s history because it tells the same story as my history.

Every person I have come across is either my cousin, went to school with my parents, or has held me when I was “this big.”

I love this city because it has lit a spark in me. Each time I visit a museum or am in any neighborhood, I breathe in the history and recognize the uniqueness and diversity of the place I call home. When I think of New Orleans, I hear sweet jazz music, I envision people walking down St. Charles on Fat Tuesday, I taste freshly boiled crawfish, and I fall in love each and every time.

What is your story? What is the New Orleans in you?

 

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