Traversing through four years at Brown has been an experience of both tumult and bliss. When I landed in the kingdom of seniority, however, I honestly believed that the freneticism of my younger Brunonian days had passed. I spent my final year devoting my time and energy to issues that needed the capable, calm, composed mind of a chief-elder. One such project was to coordinate a trip for Brown students to aid in the rebuilding of New Orleans. While I was confident about my senior-self prior to the trip, leading the rebuilding and working in an area of such disaster cast doubt on everything that I had originally thought was a comfortable component of "me."
My experience in New Orleans was, in the simplest and perhaps most comprehensive of terms, hard. From an organizational vantage point, I don't think that I could have fathomed the complexities that ended up arising. This was largely due to fact that relief trips, because of the nature of disaster, are inherently disorganized. Moreover, I found that by immersing ourselves in an area of loss and devastation, our group experienced, on a micro-level, some of the same social problems as those directly affected by the hurricane, specifically regarding race and gender.
These issues became most apparent in our "gutting" of houses. I've never seen or smelled anything fouler than what existed in the houses that were flooded by the hurricane. Our group of 20 shoveled, sledgehammered, swept and crowbarred through the rankest of objects that had been sitting in polluted water for seven months. We worked in the heat of the southern spring alongside roaches, rats the size of cats and countless other atrocious animals and insects.
As a result of the intense physical labor involved in gutting houses, the workdays became gendered. Breaking down a house with tools seemed to bring out our primitive instincts and we occasionally competed to see who could work the fastest and hardest. Those who were less physically capable were subject to greater scrutiny, creating conflict in areas of already high-tension. In this space, I felt the many challenges of being a woman leader. I believed that I had to compensate for my physical weaknesses by taking on a persona that was far more commanding and militant than my norm - a shift I didn't find comfortable.
In this bedlam, however, I found real moments of clarity when I spoke with people who lived in the city. The conversations I had with the owners of the houses, our bus driver, the owners of our hostel and various others imbued me with a great sense of hope, strength and beauty. In the face of extreme loss, the life and humor that existed in these people astounded me. They gathered together in an effort to rebuild their "magnificent" city. The art that they created from the aftermath of the hurricane, be it poetry, music, theatre or paintings, was a powerful means of social mobilization and unification. These people were incredible, and provided me with the strength to successfully push through the hardships I faced during this trip.
I underwent so many moments of sincere self-doubt and weakness in leading this trip. I played witness to real tragedy and met its survivors. Perhaps because this experience was so uncomfortable, I emerged with a stronger voice than before and a fiercer will to pursue this kind of work in the future. This, in effect, made my trip invaluable.
