North Louisiana

The main reason for my adding this place “North Louisiana” to 43places, apart from the one I stated prior, is more personal: I wish to chronicle my experiences—and those of my family—in places of my early years for the benefit of my elder brother’s and my younger sister’s children. My elder brother’s two children grew up in the Western states of Oregon and Washington. When I came out to my brother as Gay in 1997, he forbid any contact between me and my nephew (age 11 at the time) and my niece (age 5). Seven years later, when my nephew “came of age” and was then free to affiliate with me, he visited me in Los Angeles.

That was 3 years ago. As he and I have gotten reacquainted, I have been appalled at how little he was told about his father’s life in North Louisiana, how little he knew about his paternal lineage. (My brother had distanced himself not only geographically from the family, but emotionally, as well). Over the years, my nephew and niece had much more contact with their Cajun mother’s family on False River in New Roads in the southern part of the state.) Since the spring of this year, I have had some, but minimal, contact with niece J—. I can only imagine that she, also, has been denied stories about her father’s family, which, in my opinion, are also stories about herself, in that they form a context from which emerge all manner of familial “rules,” attitudes, judgements, behaviors, and emotional patterns. I wish them to have access to this body of lore. As for my sister’s son, the day may come when he, too, may find this valuable.

I first conceived of documenting these stories even before I learned about 43places. But I found myself waffling, not knowing how to get started, not knowing how to impose structure on the data. What I like about 43places is that the established hierarchy allows me to order my thoughts and, therefore, my narratives, attaching them to locations. I have associated most of my entries with places around North Louisiana. And since my maternal grandparents lived in the neighborhood of New Orleans known as Algiers during my childhood, some are placed there, too. I am calling this collection The JJJ Project. (How did all three of my siblings’ children end up with J’s as initials?) The collection includes both stories and descriptions of places. I offer them all as gifts to my cherished nephews and niece.

To date, the collection stands as follows:

Arcadia
Funeral Home, Courthouse, Louisiana’s Second Largest Magnolia grandiflora

Bienville Parish
Freetown, Jamestown, Raborn Salt Lick, Bonnie and Clyde Ambush Site

Louisiana
D’Arbonne National Wildlife Refuge, Cheniere, Red Rock Jamboree

Ruston
Walter Shields Davis Holly, Former Site

New Orleans
Knee Deep

I am not adding this as a specific geographic place with clearly-delineated boundaries (at what precise point does North become South?), rather as a conceptual, culturally-defined place with implications that within the geopolitical borders of the state, Louisiana hosts at least three broad, distinct proto-European cultures—the Anglo North, the Cajun South, and New Orleans—all three of which are enormously shaped and influenced by the various cultures of various groups of African-Americans. (Disclaimer: I am White. Part of my struggle when making references or allusions to race is to choose words that are simultaneously accurate and as free as possible from White-centrism. I guess my bias is apparent even to me just now, as I see that I lead with the “proto-European” qualifier, then tacked on an acknowledgement that there are also people of African descent around. What to do? I will happily entertain suggestions on how to edit the statement above in order that it be more accurate or less biased.)

(A second disclaimer: A layman in the area of cultural anthropology—or whatever discipline pays attention to the issues I am referring to—I am certainly not the best commentator. I grew up in North Louisiana. In my travels around the world, and especially within the United States, I have heaved many a sigh when I have identified myself as a Louisianian and have been made aware from outsiders’ comments and questions that they assume either that I’m Cajun or that I’m from New Orleans. It is vexing to me, also, that international-cosmopolitan-Creole New Orleans—where my half-Yankee mother grew up—gets over-identified with Cajun culture. In response to assumptions, I have often found myself making some smart-ass comment like, “No, I’m from the foothills of the Ozarks; where I’m from is basically an extension of Southern Arkansas and Deep East Texas.” My listener usually looks at me blankly. To understand my insider-to-one-lone-person joke, please see my entry on Driskill Mountain.)

I wish to add this “place” in order to foster a richer appreciation of Louisiana’s diversity.