What a beautiful essay and love letter to New Orleans! I loved reading it, and the ending with the blanket metaphor is powerful.
I like reading other migrants' views on home, and yours made me realize mine is quite the opposite. I grew up in Romania, a Communist country in the 80s, and all I was taught was to leave as soon as possible. To leave for a chance at a better life, leaving as an escape. I don't feel the roots as strongly as you describe. Actually, I feel rootless. I have lived in beautiful places from Miami to Barcelona, Spain, but I always feel like I'm renting the space where I make temporary homes, I'm renting the geography. It's lovely to read a different perspective of the migrant's journey.
Thanks for your comment! I could have added to my essay, the conversation of leaving or staying in New Orleans is always ongoing, the idea of you want to make it you need to leave, but there’s a collective fear of leaving and losing roots and culture.
Yes, I can understand this duality perfectly. Each place, home or away, has valuable things to offer, either roots, culture - old and new - or going beyond your limits. I guess it's about that capacity to hold two opposing ideas (and places) at the same time, and navigate both. ;-)
As a lifelong Houstonian I've always been fascinated by the culture and people of New Orleans. One of my best friends growing up was part of the Orleanian diaspora that was forced out after Hurricane Katrina. I've visited many times, there's this distinct romance about the city and it's people that I really cannot get enough of. Thanks for sharing your story!
Thanks for your comment. Ah yes there is lots of romance there but the stories behind it aren't so pretty. If you haven't already I'd recommend reading Desire and Disaster in New Orleans by Lynnell Thomas.
This is so powerful. Thank you for these words. I feel you pushing at the edges of what is comfortable to see and I relate deeply. I am diving into similar oceans.
Earlier this year I visited my husband's family, who live in the same village they have for generations. It was the first time I had taken my 3 year old daughter. It triggered such a grief in me, that she has this thread on her father's side that is (in one sense) uncomplicated and she can follow it back for generations and visit this place that her genes recognise and I have never done that. At least I have not visited the land of origin of my maternal line. Half of my genes come from South Asia. Is it home if I've never been there? If it's not home, what is it? It lives in me and cannot be erased...
Such a gorgeous piece, sister. "This is my sixth year away from home. (I counted on my fingers to be sure, then I counted again.) I’m beginning to reckon with the ways I cling to culture and identity, and how that might be holding me back. Did I say reckon with? Okay, at least acknowledge." -Love this. When I tell people I lived in Oakland for 17 years it seems not true. Moving away from home means so much on identity. Thanks for sharing this part of you with us.
Ooh this was a delicious read. I wish I could say I have a connection to a place going back that far. If anything I feel disconnected from my ancestry for many reasons (Islam being a big one of them). But I do feel like an adopted daughter of Andalusia (there is Andalusia and Portugal in my DNA, apparently, but waaay back). Now I’ve been here nearly half of my life. Lately I’ve started to wonder if you spend longer in a place that’s different to the one you came from, which has made more of you? I guess a lot of that is just in the meaning we make of place and how we consider ourselves from it. Thankyou as always for an illuminating and candid read!
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! Islam does complicate ancestral connections. Considering the circumstances for my enslaved ancestors, I hope they would be accepting simply because I’m evidence of their survival. What you said about a place other than your place of birth making you really hits at my refusals to accept where I am currently as home. I have to remind myself that nothing will change where my roots are and it’s also important to “bloom where you’re planted” as the saying goes.
I loved this! My North Carolina roots aren't nearly as deep and culturally rich as New Orleans, but I could relate in some ways. Thank you (as always) for sharing such an authentic, vulnerable piece. Your writing is always so captivating! You are truly gifted sis!
This is so relatable, Ambata! My own twist on it is that I don't come from a historic place in terms of where I've grown up and what I consider home (Ottawa, Canada) but I do in terms of heritage (Egypt). As I read your descriptions of New Orleans and your relationship with it, I found myself contending with how I feel about Egypt and the land my family came from, the land that holds my history and my roots. It's a feeling that's a bit removed for me, rather than direct, because my parents are the ones who left. Still, I could *touch* the same complicated connections you referred to.
They certainly do! I think they feel a lot like you do. there's always the pull but they don't want to go back either. I can't imagine, honestly. I love Ottawa for living so much! I've only recently considered that I could live somewhere else without that thought filling me with deep existential dread.
What a beautiful essay and love letter to New Orleans! I loved reading it, and the ending with the blanket metaphor is powerful.
I like reading other migrants' views on home, and yours made me realize mine is quite the opposite. I grew up in Romania, a Communist country in the 80s, and all I was taught was to leave as soon as possible. To leave for a chance at a better life, leaving as an escape. I don't feel the roots as strongly as you describe. Actually, I feel rootless. I have lived in beautiful places from Miami to Barcelona, Spain, but I always feel like I'm renting the space where I make temporary homes, I'm renting the geography. It's lovely to read a different perspective of the migrant's journey.
Thanks for your comment! I could have added to my essay, the conversation of leaving or staying in New Orleans is always ongoing, the idea of you want to make it you need to leave, but there’s a collective fear of leaving and losing roots and culture.
Yes, I can understand this duality perfectly. Each place, home or away, has valuable things to offer, either roots, culture - old and new - or going beyond your limits. I guess it's about that capacity to hold two opposing ideas (and places) at the same time, and navigate both. ;-)
As a lifelong Houstonian I've always been fascinated by the culture and people of New Orleans. One of my best friends growing up was part of the Orleanian diaspora that was forced out after Hurricane Katrina. I've visited many times, there's this distinct romance about the city and it's people that I really cannot get enough of. Thanks for sharing your story!
Thanks for your comment. Ah yes there is lots of romance there but the stories behind it aren't so pretty. If you haven't already I'd recommend reading Desire and Disaster in New Orleans by Lynnell Thomas.
Wow that book sounds great. Thank you so much for the recommendation. I’ve added it to the reading list.
This is so powerful. Thank you for these words. I feel you pushing at the edges of what is comfortable to see and I relate deeply. I am diving into similar oceans.
Earlier this year I visited my husband's family, who live in the same village they have for generations. It was the first time I had taken my 3 year old daughter. It triggered such a grief in me, that she has this thread on her father's side that is (in one sense) uncomplicated and she can follow it back for generations and visit this place that her genes recognise and I have never done that. At least I have not visited the land of origin of my maternal line. Half of my genes come from South Asia. Is it home if I've never been there? If it's not home, what is it? It lives in me and cannot be erased...
Thank you for your comment. Place and home are often not as simple as we would like them to be.
Such a gorgeous piece, sister. "This is my sixth year away from home. (I counted on my fingers to be sure, then I counted again.) I’m beginning to reckon with the ways I cling to culture and identity, and how that might be holding me back. Did I say reckon with? Okay, at least acknowledge." -Love this. When I tell people I lived in Oakland for 17 years it seems not true. Moving away from home means so much on identity. Thanks for sharing this part of you with us.
Ooh this was a delicious read. I wish I could say I have a connection to a place going back that far. If anything I feel disconnected from my ancestry for many reasons (Islam being a big one of them). But I do feel like an adopted daughter of Andalusia (there is Andalusia and Portugal in my DNA, apparently, but waaay back). Now I’ve been here nearly half of my life. Lately I’ve started to wonder if you spend longer in a place that’s different to the one you came from, which has made more of you? I guess a lot of that is just in the meaning we make of place and how we consider ourselves from it. Thankyou as always for an illuminating and candid read!
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! Islam does complicate ancestral connections. Considering the circumstances for my enslaved ancestors, I hope they would be accepting simply because I’m evidence of their survival. What you said about a place other than your place of birth making you really hits at my refusals to accept where I am currently as home. I have to remind myself that nothing will change where my roots are and it’s also important to “bloom where you’re planted” as the saying goes.
I loved this! My North Carolina roots aren't nearly as deep and culturally rich as New Orleans, but I could relate in some ways. Thank you (as always) for sharing such an authentic, vulnerable piece. Your writing is always so captivating! You are truly gifted sis!
Alhamdulillah thank you!
This is so relatable, Ambata! My own twist on it is that I don't come from a historic place in terms of where I've grown up and what I consider home (Ottawa, Canada) but I do in terms of heritage (Egypt). As I read your descriptions of New Orleans and your relationship with it, I found myself contending with how I feel about Egypt and the land my family came from, the land that holds my history and my roots. It's a feeling that's a bit removed for me, rather than direct, because my parents are the ones who left. Still, I could *touch* the same complicated connections you referred to.
Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts! I bet your parents have stories, and Egypt has quite a history.
They certainly do! I think they feel a lot like you do. there's always the pull but they don't want to go back either. I can't imagine, honestly. I love Ottawa for living so much! I've only recently considered that I could live somewhere else without that thought filling me with deep existential dread.
Loving where you live is the thing for me!
Hahaa 100% same