It’s hard to believe that Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans over 6 years ago. I remember hunching over my pregnant belly and glued to the live coverage on my work computer. It was surreal to see the streets I had walked on and the shops I visited submerged underwater. To hear that New Orleans Aquarium I had visited on numerous school field trips lost all their animals due to the power outage.
Growing up in Baton Rouge, we frequently visited New Orleans, especially the Vietnamese community. That’s where, as a little kid, I visited my first pho cafe and ordered the Xe Lua bowl-the biggest one on the menu. We purchased Vietnamese groceries that were not yet available in Baton Rouge, which had a smaller Vietnamese community.
My mom also purchased Vietnamese movies and Viet pop music cassettes and later, CDs. I think it was the highlight of the trip for her. On the hour and a half drive home, we listened to Vietnamese American pop singers belt out medleys of American songs.
I religiously followed the stories of Hurricane Katrina for a few months afterwards. My parents complained how Baton Rouge was changing because of all the Katrina transplants. Like most of us, life moved on and I forgot about struggles of Katrina’s survivors.
Until I saw the Emmy nominated documentary A Village Called Versailles. Most Asians are taught to stay quiet and not to stir up trouble. We’re the model minority. The Vietnamese community in a part of New Orleans called Versailles rallied together after Katrina to keep then New Orleans Mayor Nagin from building a landfill near their home.
That is so amazing to me. Most of my mom’s family immigrated to Louisiana in the 70s. They worked their asses off to provide for their family. Devout Catholics, they attended the local Vietnamese language mass every Sunday. They were never involved in politics or any civic work. They didn’t want any unnecessary attention. My dad didn’t even become a naturalized citizen until I was in middle school.
The documentary brought up something else that never occurred to me. When the water started rising in New Orleans East, the Versailles community, like many other residents, evacuated to the SuperDome. Conditions at the SuperDome were horrible, dangerous even. Being in this situation brought back memories of refugee camps for some immigrants. After 30 years, after rebuilding their life, their community, it was like they were back to square one.
I can not imagine what it was like for my parents to live in a refugee camp. They hardly ever talked about their experiences. It’s harder for me to imagine how these Vietnamese immigrants must felt to be once again in an over crowded place with only the clothes on their back.
Every American needs to see A Village Called Versailles. Hurricane Katrina was a natural disaster, but it has also brought to light the racism and socioeconomic discrimination of the south.
I personally paid Amazon to rent this movie, however, I’m going to purchase a DVD of it for myself and my parents. Photo courtesy of A Village Called Versailles