Sometimes it's rough

Tuesday afternoon I got an e-mail from my editor at Free Speech Radio News asking if I could cover the Gulf Region Human Rights Consultation that was taking place here in New Orleans. That evening, a reception and media briefing was scheduled, and the following day the consultation was to be held at Xavier University.

I was psyched to have some paying work to do and to connect with people working for social justice in the region. Unfortunately, after the introductory remarks on Tuesday, I was asked to leave. I was told that it was because I was a journalist and some people were not comfortable with being observed. Another journalist was there, a guy who is well-known in New Orleans and is a prominent lefty writer. He wasn't asked to leave, and when I asked whether he would be, I was told that he was "part of the group."

I left. Furious.

The next morning, as soon as I arrived at Xavier University, I found the woman who had asked me to leave, and I told her how upset I was. I stated that, as a newcomer to New Orleans, I could understand that some people may not feel comfortable with my presence. However, I pointed out, the event had been billed as a reception, with no time limit given for media presence. Additionally, I had been singled out as a member of the media, which seemed inconsistent to me.

Another one of the organizers was standing by as I had this conversation. She was clearly surprised that this had happened, and she said that she had written the press release herself. The woman who had asked me to leave walked away at a certain point, but her co-organizer said that I had done the right thing by raising the issue.

Just now I sent an e-mail to the organizers of the conference asking that they have a discussion of their media policy because the press can't support the work for the enforcement of human rights if we aren't given access.

This may not make me any new friends here in New Orleans, but I guess I'll live.

I have to say that the two other event organizers to whom I spoke yesterday morning also were surprised by what had happened. In the afernoon, I talked with a woman from Gulf Coast Women for Change, Sharon. She had been at the event on Tuesday and, before I left, I had told her that I wanted to talk to her the following day. We had a long talk, and she was very supportive. So, overall, I feel more at peace.

That's the news from down here.

From one low-lying, flood-prone city to another

I spent the last couple weeks of December with my Dad in Mestre, which is technically part of Venice, Italy. As I boarded my plane, the symmetry of leaving one city in danger of disappearing under water for another one in the same situation wasn´t lost on me.
Although I lived in Italy for 7 years in my 20s, I was struck by how many people were looking at me on the street. There are a few possible explanations for this: 1) my stunning good looks, 2) my lime-colored jacket, which stood out amongst all the conservative navy blue, gray and black coats, or 3) my typically American fashion which combines sneakers with everything, regardless of how poorly matched. It also occurred to me that I could just no longer be used to the kind of eye contact and checking out that goes on in a Latin country.
Venice had its most significant snow fall in probably 20 years while I was there, so I got to experience a winter wonderland, even if it wasn´t the typical setting for that. Now that I´m back here in New Orleans, we are getting the coldest weather the area has had for 14 years, and I´m thinking about all the hats, mittens and long underwear that I foolishly left in storage in New York. Oh well.
January 6th was the Epiphany, or, as people here call it, 12th night. The first Mardi Gras parade was held by the Krewe St. Joan of Arc. It was fun with people carrying candles in a parade and a couple of women dressed in medieval garb on horseback. The woman in the photo on the left is wearing a hat that says: heretic, relapsed, apostate, idolater.
Let´s just say that I can see how people could get hooked on this place.