In 2005, Hurricane Katrina became one of the deadliest storms on record to hit the United States, causing an estimated $161 billion in damage and taking approximately 1,833 casualties with it as it obliterated the Greater New Orleans region and the surrounding Gulf Coast areas. In the weeks and months that followed, thousands of citizens were forcibly displaced while suffering the effects of government leaders and the lack of urgency in their national disaster response efforts. As the self-proclaimed “greatest nation in the world”, the response to Hurricane Katrina, or lack thereof, will forever go down as one of America’s greatest failures. 19 years later, many native New Orleanians are still displaced as they were unwillingly uprooted and permanently relocated to major cities such as Houston and Atlanta in search of better opportunities, and stability, but, many underlying triggers still exist amongst disaster survivors and the way they (we) process climate-related trauma.
I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, and survived many hurricanes. I grew up in a big, but close, southern family where the cousins were raised like siblings, and we would all hunker down and throw sleepovers when the grown-ups heard there was a major storm coming. Evacuating was for suckers, that was until “The Big One” came. One year before Katrina, Hurricane Ivan was expected to hit the city of New Orleans head-on, and a mandatory evacuation was ordered. For the first time ever, my family and I packed up and left, hitting the road with a caravan of 5-6 cars, because did I mention we were close? So we move as a unit. Our first evacuation experience took us 8 hours to get to Baton Rouge (which is usually a 45-minute drive) and a whole 24 hours to get to Houston. Ivan made a turn at the last minute hitting Pensacola, Florida head-on and destroying everything in its path. While New Orleans was left miraculously unscathed, I remember telling my mom, verbatim, “Watch, the next time something is coming, no one is going to want to leave.” And that’s exactly what happened. One year later, Hurricane Katrina was well on its way to making landfall on the coast of Louisiana, and another mandatory evacuation was ordered. However, this time when we left (at 1 am Sunday morning) it took us a normal 6-7 hours to get to Houston. Almost no traffic. Which, made the ride smoother, but I found it lowkey alarming and kind of eerie. As most of us expected to return in a couple of days, the packing was minimal and quick. But little did we know, when we pulled out of the driveway to our childhood homes late that Saturday night, it would be the last time.
Being that my family and I weren’t stuck directly in the flood, since we evacuated a little over 24 hours before the levees broke, you don’t realize the triggers that still exist until they manifest themselves in the way you respond to current trauma and disaster. While researching the long-term psychological effects that come with the survival of natural disasters, I came across RISK, the Resilience in Survivors of Katrina project which focuses on low-income parents who were residing in New Orleans prior to and during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Before the major storm, the study measured participants’ economic status, social ties, and mental and physical health. Even though Hurricane Katrina temporarily interrupted the research in August 2005, it offered a very unique chance to examine how a disaster affects the lives of those who are most vulnerable and their families, with a focus on the three studies done post-Katrina. The other strengths of RISK, such as its focus on vulnerable populations, inclusion of displaced participants, and rich pre-disaster data specifically focused on Hurricane Katrina, are not shared by any other published studies, even though some noteworthy studies have tracked other disaster survivors for over ten years post-catastrophe. According to RISK, the findings indicate that exposure to catastrophic events is a major predictor of poor mental health for over a decade after said disaster and that there is still a significant percentage of survivors in need of ongoing support for their recovery.
With the recent storms in Texas, I have been personally reminded of my own PTSD that stems from being directly affected by one of the deadliest natural disasters on modern record, and I’m talking about PTSD and triggers that I didn’t even know existed. As I was having a panic attack in the restroom of a Heights restaurant during the Houston tornado a couple of weeks ago, living through it was scary enough, but not being able to contact my family in one of the hardest hits parts of town unleashed a wave of emotions that I thought I had suppressed years ago. In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, families were separated for weeks, sometimes months, with little to no communication as cell phone towers were damaged and power was out extensively along the Gulf Coast. We didn’t know who was where, or who was ok, and who wasn’t. This was before platforms like Facebook and Twitter existed where users could “check-in” or “mark themselves safe” from disasters. To still be experiencing the lingering effects of such subtle triggers almost 20 years later is a clear distinction of how survivors of catastrophic events have had the trajectory completely changed regarding how we process climate-related trauma.
The panic attacks don’t just manifest themselves while responding to trauma but also in preparing for it. Recent news reports have shown a significant increase in water temperatures this summer, with almost double as many “hot spots” in the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic Ocean than usual. Many meteorologists are expecting this hurricane season to be one of the worst since 2005, which was the year that Hurricane Katrina devasted the Gulf Coast. Headlines like this can easily signal panic in disaster survivors as they try to create a plan for possible evacuation or decide to ride it out. Not to mention the financial stresses that are added to low-income families in lower-lying neighborhoods who have to create disaster savings accounts or have bills fall behind just so they can book a hotel or transport to higher ground to ride out the storm. Not to mention the amount of unexpected funds that have to be spent on food, gas, etc. just to maintain personal safety. In many cases, evacuation can be a privilege. Not to mention how the lack of urgency in response to communities of color after major disasters has added to the emotional triggers that accompany preparing for major storms, especially when you know that you are not a priority to the authorities.
Now is the time to sit down with your loved ones and develop a blueprint and a gameplan specifically designed to the needs of your family in case of an emergency. Climate change is real, and communities of color and many urban neighborhoods are often the most vulnerable, and the most disregarded in times of chaos and catastrophe. So as we embark on what may be one of the most active hurricane seasons in many years, make sure you stay alert, aware, informed, and prepared. Because trust and believe, Mother Nature is a bad bitch and she is not the one, or the two, to play with.
