The Soul of New Orleans

I believe I can
I believe I will
I believe I know my dreams are real
I believe I stand
I believe I'll dance
I believe I'll grow real soon and
That is what I do believe
-Yolanda Adams, “I Believe”

New Orleans has always laid claim to a larger-than-life reputation; for years, it was renowned for its playful defiance of corporate America’s work-driven energy, as best exemplified by the world famous Mardi Gras, an “adult’s playground”. In the past two years, however, the name “New Orleans” most often invokes images of a city in possession of a different, overwhelming presence: desperate residents perched on their rooftops, awaiting rescue; thousands of helpless people crowding the now infamous Superdome in hopes of food or water; spray-painted X’s on home after home, declaring entire neighborhoods uninhabitable. As I prepared for my arrival in Nola, as the locals reference their home, my expectations embodied an odd mixture of the two, of a battered city with a lively party scene. While both components of this prediction are readily apparent to the visitor, what is most striking, and most deserving of a reputation, is the subtle phenomenon of the New Orleans resident.
In an effort to witness this phenomenon firsthand, we elected to visit the annual SoulFest in Audobon Zoo, advertised as a celebration of New Orleans’ rich African-American heritage, and of the cultural tradition that is Soul: food, music, and attitude. While enjoying the music of Yolanda Adams, a modern-gospel musician, a sudden downpour sent many running for the tents. Dripping wet, I looked around the tent to realize I was facing a huge, freshly-painted mural. Noticing my stare, someone handed me a brush and urged me to add whatever I wanted: this was a compilation of New Orleans natives’ ideas and thoughts. And so, with Yolanda Adams singing in the background, I began to take a look into the true spirit of New Orleans, as embodied in their collective artwork. The piece featured what seemed like a million fleur-de-lis, the official symbol of New Orleans, in every color, shape, and size. As I picked up my brush, I was conscious of the company of the other contributors: a combination of old and young, New Orleans natives and recently arrived volunteers, of every race and ethnicity. Mid-stroke, the powerful voice of Yolanda Adams drifted into the tent, at the same time as crowds drifted out of the tents, braving the somewhat diminished rain. Despite the disastrous impact rain has had on their community in the past, the festival revelers sent up thanks for the storm, as it provided respite from the heat. In a celebration of their culture and city, the crowds converged on the dance floor to the sounds of “I Believe”; audibly, the city was reaffirming that which makes it so very special: I believe I can. I believe I will. I believe I know my dreams are real.
My somewhat surreal experience at SoulFest embodied that which I had struggled to define throughout my first week in New Orleans. The city, while undoubtedly deserving of its fame for both disaster and delight, is most remarkable for the outstanding spirit of its residents. Never before have I witnessed so much determination and energy converged in one place; the people are filled with a burning pride in their home, and a strength of faith that permits them to continue to believe in the renaissance of New Orleans. In the face of seemingly unconquerable adversity, the residents have found a way to hold onto their rich past, while moving purposefully toward the future. The soul of the city embodies the clichéd “force to be reckoned with”, a force remarkably capable of defeating the forces of the natural world and the trials of the modern world, a force that I find myself believing in more and more with each experience in captivating Nola.

Jenny Heffernan