As my beautiful bayou home is ravaged by hurricanes, people of color become climate migrants

There is nothing quite like the smell of the bayou. I remember when I was a teenager how I would head to my “secret spot” across the levee to just lay and think. I remember the many barbecues and gatherings. I remember the soothing tranquility that vibrated from the bayou just as vibrant as my first-time having alligator — which tastes like chicken, by the way.

But what I also remember, is how many people’s lives were forever changed in August 2005 when Hurricane Katrina arrived on the shore of New Orleans and families no longer had a place to call home and joined the growing population of “climate migrants.”

I don’t think I will ever forget seeing live coverage of coffins floating in the flooded streets. That image just … does not go away. Or the image of thousands upon thousands of people piling into the Superdome for shelter because evacuation plans fell apart, people were stuck in their cars in traffic for hours trying to get away, or standing on top of their roofs waving and yelling for help. I remember a couple weeks later, a boy and a girl from New Orleans walking into my high school classroom in Monroe, Louisiana, and looking at them with sorrow, as they had lost everything.

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Three months later, and the world seemed to have forgotten it had even happened. But for a lot of Louisiana natives, life was now different. Seeing FEMA trailers spread across southern Louisiana was not uncommon. Folks were now dispersed across the nation, many relocated to Houston, and never looked back.

No home to return to

This was not just simply relocation, but the first time I was witnessing climate migration. There was nothing for them to return to. Houses were destroyed, family relics lost, businesses gone, injuries, death, and a culture scarred. For many of Americans we have only seen this similar devastation after a disaster, such as an earthquake or tsunami. Miles upon miles away from us, the migration of people due to disaster was never something we had to face; we simply gave just the one-time donation.

Jasmine Sanders kayaking on the bayou in Monroe, Louisiana, in September 2013.
Jasmine Sanders kayaking on the bayou in Monroe, Louisiana, in September 2013.

It is now 15 years later, and Hurricane Laura and, most recently, Hurricane Sally have ravaged the Gulf Coast. Have we learned anything from our mistakes? Were we prepared?

Louisiana is in the midst of washing away and recovering from Laura, evacuations are now simply a regular part of life and happening weekly. At least 12 people in Louisiana were killed because of Laura, and another four in Texas; and residents are still trying to assess the damage and flooding as a result of Sally. It's as if Laura spoke to Sally and said "You take out one end, and I'll get the other." Florida and Alabama are being pounded with floodwater and debris and hundreds of thousands are without power, while others are escaping their neighborhoods infested with dangerous, downed power lines.

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The Gulf Coast is just not getting a break and this intensity of unsurvivable storm surges seems to be the next normal.

In the years following Hurricane Katrina, FEMA worked with the Louisiana governor’s Office of Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness on mitigation projects designed to minimize or eliminate damage. They were put to the test as Tropical Storm Barry approached in 2019, I’m not sure if we will ever be totally prepared for unsurvivable storm surges.

Unsurvivable, unrelenting

As a Louisiana native, you are prepared for the devastation to the beautiful coastline due to a hurricane, but what you are not ready for is hearing the words “unsurvivable storm surge.” My home parish of Ouachita, situated in northeastern Louisiana, was the second most affected area from Hurricane Laura with more than 60,000 power outages. In addition to the sweltering southern heat and a COVID-19 pandemic, yet another hurricane or tropical storm is not what Louisiana needed.

Jasmine Sanders in Washington, D.C., in September 2019.
Jasmine Sanders in Washington, D.C., in September 2019.

Climate change is known in some circles as a “threat multiplier,” increasing steadily and resulting in the exacerbation of existing stressors. It is the threat we know about and are constantly learning more about each day, simply because the intensity of it is escalating.

Climate migration will have to be addressed. This is a global human issue that transcends politics. Around the world, we are seeing people having to flee their homes due to climate change. And right now, the world is not a welcoming place for these climate migrants. Communities of color are disproportionately impacted by climate change and the most affected by devastating loss. This is not happening in a foreign country where you cannot fathom it or ignore it. This is happening here. In your very own backyard.

Jasmine Sanders is a climate scientist, strategist, Louisiana native and the first black female executive director of Our Climate. Follow her on Instagram: @jasminecharice1031

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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Hurricanes Laura, Sally: Climate migrants are a real, growing problem