If visiting the French Quarter means you have experienced New Orleans, you may as well say that by looking at a picture of Mount Everest, you have climbed it.
Contrary to popular belief, New Orleans is not a den of iniquity, but rather a family, food and faith-filled place that I would never have understood until I moved to the south. “The Big Easy” brought not only the rush of culture, but the excitement of discovering myself in a setting vastly different from my little town in the Seattle suburbs.
Before moving to New Orleans, I often heard comments about the crazy night life and college bars. While this may be true, there is so much more to experience in this city than a night at The Boot.
One thing I never understood before I came to New Orleans is Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras can actually be a very family-oriented holiday, celebrating the last time to indulge before the start of Lent. Krewes drive floats through the city, throwing beads and toys to anyone who is screaming. Mardi Gras Indians dance and sing in the streets in elaborate costumes that they make throughout the year. This tradition is only a piece of the vast culture to experience in New Orleans.
Something else that comes with the territory is Southern hospitality. Here, a house isn’t a home without the people who live to the right and to the left, and this is what a true community is. Growing up in Seattle, I met my neighbors only because they called animal control on our dogs.
When I moved here, I realized why the front porch was created. It is not uncommon to drive down the road and pass a group of people having a crawfish boil. Engaging with your neighbors and passers-by is a common thing, whereas every place I have lived, the backyard is a bubble where everyone is secluded.
I have often heard comments about the “poverty” in New Orleans, with everyone bumming off the government. Personally, I never have thought to plan for the next disaster, nor expected my home, possessions, my neighbors’ possessions, and those of the entire region to be completely destroyed and washed away.
Look at the story of Mack McClendon of the Lower Ninth Ward. With the Road Home money he received to rebuild his house, he instead built a community center in the Lower Ninth in order to rebuild his community before his own home. If you get out into the real city, you will see that people matter more than possessions.
The stigma that shadows New Orleans has hidden what the city is truly about. When looking at the culture that radiates through the people, hearing the music that beats passion into the streets, and eating food that is made with even more soul than butter, I question what makes anyone desire a life in the cookie-cutter houses in what we know as American Suburbia.
Alexandra Dacy is a theater/mass commnication freshman and a Maroon contributing writer.
She can be reached at
In My Opinion is a weekly column open to any Loyola student. Those interested can contact
