DANIEL MCCLOUD

The lyrics to this song, as explained by Don McLean, are an allegorical description of America’s end of innocence, from the song’s details of the tragic plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, to the social unrest of the era surrounding the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement. The song, written in 1971, also references a levee, an embankment designed to prevent water overflow. In this song, the lyrics ‘Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry’ are a metaphor that symbolizes loss, as the expected event associated with the purpose of the levee, in this case, is absent, evidenced by the lack of water. Fast forward 34 years, and the lyrics to this song can be examined again, as some would argue that America lost what remained of its innocence, and the levees were not so dry.

August 2025 will be the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, which made landfall in southeast Louisiana on Aug. 23, 2005. While the storm is widely known for the more than $160 billion in damages and the loss and displacement of more than 1,800 lives, it is also remembered as another moment in time that shed light on the racial divide in this country, particularly as it relates to the rescue efforts of the city and federal government and the perception of the victims throughout the ordeal.

Many wondered, and rightfully so, why the relief efforts seemed slow and dysfunctional. At the height of this dysfunction, President George W. Bush is quoted as telling then-FEMA

Director Michael Brown, “Brownie, you’re doing a heck of a job.” This statement was made despite the poor efforts to bring aid to the people of New Orleans, the surrounding areas, and the roughly 25,000 people sheltering at the Superdome.

However, perhaps the most controversial aspect of the disaster response was the fact that the media and others were referring to the individuals affected by the catastrophic flooding as ‘refugees’ and not victims or displaced persons. This narrative was appalling, given that Article 1 of the 1951 Refugee Convention defines a refugee as someone who “owing to well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of (their) nationality and is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail (themself) of the protection of that country; or who, not having a nationality and being outside the country of (their) former habitual residence, is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to return to it.”

From a common-sense and logical perspective, the victims of Hurricane Katrina did not meet any aspect of these criteria. And some may argue that from a historical perspective of the African American experience in this country, the first part of this definition might apply. However, the Katrina victims lived in the city of New Orleans, the state of Louisiana, and within the borders of the United States. By calling these individuals refugees, the national media was reporting that they were people without a country. Ironically, at that time, many of the victims of Katrina probably felt that way based on the response. And indeed, many of the predominantly Black victims may have felt this way before the devastating effects of the hurricane. However, I must believe that in this instance of unfathomable death and destruction, many hoped and prayed that this time it would be different. But it wasn’t.

Hurricane Katrina was unprecedented in its devastation. And the events that followed were equally unprecedented in demonstrating the lack of empathy and understanding for individuals, who — at their most vulnerable — were treated so poorly. One hoped that this would be a one-off and that lessons would be learned, allowing for a quicker, more compassionate, and humane response. After all, isn’t that the American way?

Fast-forward to 2014 and the water crisis in Flint, Mich., and we see that no lessons were learned. Or the lesson is that for marginalized communities, this is the reality. A lack of empathy, understanding, and responsiveness is par for the course for people who, for many years, have probably not trusted their elected officials.

In New Orleans, Flint, and countless other cities and towns, these are moments of betrayal. The images and stories of human suffering and despair are indelibly burned into our collective minds and consciousness. One can only wonder that as these U.S. citizens waited for the help, which for many never came or came way too late,

I wonder if the thought ran through their minds that, “This’ll be the day that I die.”