I spend a lot of time riding up and down Fallsway. It’s like St. Charles in New Orleans–I know every bump and crack and bus stop and crosswalk likely to be overrun by cars unwilling to stop before pulling through to make their rights on red. The blocks change quickly here, and I always wonder how the tourists who booked their hotels in “Harbor East” feel when they see they are sharing their neighborhood with a literal prison industrial complex, a police garage, the biggest post office ever, and a number of homeless services centers; something tells me that part isn’t making it into the ads. Cities never represent themselves in any complexity, because that doesn’t pay. Continue reading
It’s time for the American Studies Association annual conference, and this year, it’s in Baltimore. That means I get to loll around my house and then just hop on the bike and roll down the hill to the Hilton instead of paying a zillion bucks a night to sleep there. That’s what I did this afternoon, and I hung out in those boring rooms with their uncomfortable chairs and their air walls that seem to transfer sound rather than actually make another room. Those rooms have hosted so many different conferences and meetings and endless chatter, and today’s was about the many layers of racial difference and ethnicity, nation states and colonialism, hybridity and difference. It was good, there was listening, and I saw familiar faces that reminded me that I am known. It was nice. Then I rode back up the hill to home, picked up S. from the train station, fed us some dinner, and walked to the old churchat 2640 St. Paul for a panel of really, really smart people who talked in this old church about racism in the 21st century. It was so good, and Andy Smith said something I really needed to hear: there’s a difference between a politics of recognition and a politics of self-determination. I snapped this picture and thought about how many different ways the same spaces can be used. So many means, so many ends.
I woke up this morning to gray skies and the promise of rain for the rest of the weekend, so I hopped up, sucked down a breakfast smoothie (thanks, E., for the gifts!), and took the bike over to Collington Square Park to meet Odette Ramos, candidate for City Council from the 12th district for a bike tour of the district. Continue reading
I’m feeling quite out of sorts with all the moving and things this week, but today, after a brief stop at the old place to clean out a cabinet and collect my security deposit, I am done. For now. What I need is a little normalcy, so I took myself out on the bike to meet friends for some work at the coffee shoppe and then to the Cabildo for a little Louisiana history. Continue reading
After a long day at the office writing rec letters and thank you letters and request letters, I drove (!) home and got my bike and headed back to campus for a rally in support of Tulane’s Sodexo employees’ efforts to organize a union. I stood there with my bike and took this picture of a work speaking in front of McAlister Auditorium. She has worked at Tulane for 40 years. Since 1970. For longer than I’ve been alive. She makes less that $10 an hour after all that time. Continue reading
Yep, another beautiful spring-y day in New Orleans! School is back in session after spring break, and I was feeling remarkably chipper to be back on the commute. Thing is, folks, I love my job. I decided to take Rhoda up to school, slowly pedaling with a little music in my ears, trying to prepare myself for a rough class session. Continue reading
The Surly has been out of commission for awhile, through no fault of its own, but all is well now, and I was excited to put on my bike shoes, roll up my pants leg, and clip in to ride down to City Hall for the city council meeting this morning. Continue reading
I was riding up Chestnut on my way to work and saw this Louisiana for Change/Barack Obama bus. Yes, the election is coming near, and the town is flush with lawn signs, lapel pins, and stickers. Continue reading