In 2005, Louisianans taking refuge in the Superdome became a defining image of Hurricane Katrina’s devastation. Twenty years later, to “prepare” for the most-watched Super Bowl in history, Louisiana’s governor had over 100 unhoused people bused to an industrial warehouse miles away. And it wasn’t a refuge at all.
Unprepared for January’s blizzard, they were left to freeze in the warehouse, which had no heat or plumbing. Many had to abandon their possessions, and cops threatened to arrest them if they tried to leave. One man known as “Pops” fled with others anyway. “Sounds like profiling to me,” he said, referring to the threat of arrest. He added that the warehouse reminded him of his time behind bars.
Maintaining this warehouse for three months will cost taxpayers $17.5 million—the same amount it would take to house 80% of New Orleans’ unhoused population in their own one-bedroom apartments for a year. Years ago, Katrina pushed even more Black New Orleanians, deprioritized by the state, into poverty. Meanwhile, business and political leaders manufactured a wealthy rebrand for the city. Developers like Donald Trump and his partners advertised luxury units, boasting “the number one address for elegant living.”
Trump’s affinity for deportation aligns logically with New Orleans’ “cleanup” of unhoused people. A foreign president’s offer to “house” U.S. prisoners sparks similar concern. Deportation can go by many names.
Let’s question the vision those in power have for the United States. And who, citizen or not, will be marked as an outsider — and scapegoated, criminalized, and displaced.