New Orleans: Rebuilding...again and again

Three years ago, my coworkers and I were called in over the Christmas break for an emergency resettlement meeting at our national refugee office. For the first time, the topic was not how to help people displaced from some civil war in Africa or political upheaval in Asia, it was how to help our fellow Americans displaced from Hurricane Katrina. I wish I could tell you that my emotions ran as high as with any of other international crisis, but they did not. They ran higher. Like many of you, I struggled to understand how such a catastrophic event could occur within our own comfortable borders. And I don't mean mother nature's wrath. I am talking about the our government's abysmal response efforts at the time.

After working in the refugee field for years, I understand the range of challenges the United Nations face when trying to aid displaced populations in Thailand, Syria or Sudan. There are international laws to consider, rouge militias, and limited transportation avenues. But we were in America-the land with the most advanced military, abundant riches and leading humanitarian institutions. Surely, we could have saved people better than we did. For a short week, the government was seriously considering using the national refugee network to resettle displaced Katrina families across the United States. For a variety of reasons, it didn't end up happening, but for a moment, it seemed very possible and equally surreal for those of us in the field. In fact, my peers in Denver did end up working with families from New Orleans and they would share how ironic it was to watch former refugees provide case management services to America's displaced.

Driving into downtown New Orleans last week for a conference, I passed the AstroDome and images of the thousands of ninth ward residents huddled in the hot sun came flooding back much like the water that washed their homes away. I remembered the elderly in their wheelchairs and the children cradled in their parent's laps. I wondered how many survived and where most of the families are today. I also thought about the refugee families who had been resettled in New Orleans only weeks before the flood, who suddenly found themselves displaced a second time. I didn't know that the next day I would hear one such story from Representative Joseph Quang Cao.

Mr. Cao is a Congressman in the United States House of Representatives. He was also the keynote speaker at our national refugee conference. The short, nimble, quick-witted speaker shared his remarkable story of escaping his home country of Vietnam and resettling in America. He recounted being separated from his seven brothers and sisters and beginning his life in a basement apartment with his single uncle at the age of eight. He joked about favoring rice over pizza and how he worried when the snow would cover his apartment windows that he might not be able to escape. For anyone who ever questions the contributions refugees bring to America, they need only to look to Mr. Cao's successes. In the past twelve years, Mr. Cao acquired a degree in physics, studied theology, married, and received a law degree that eventually led him on his path to political activism. The self-proclaimed shortest member of congress's accomplishments tower over many native born Americans.

Near the end of Mr. Cao speech, he shared how both his law firm and house were destroyed during Hurricane flood. I looked my neighbor and we both just shook our heads in amazement. Why should someone have to go through so much in one life, I thought. Without a beat, Mr. Cao then noted how the Vietnamese community were some of the first New Orleans residents to return and rebuild their neighborhoods. He attributed this to their history of survival. As he said, "it is just what you do. You rebuild." To learn more about Mr. Cao: http://josephcao.house.gov/

Fargo, North Dakota: A conference and my first commissioned piece of art

The first time I saw Saw Win Tun, he walked past me while I sat in a comfortable wing back chair in the hotel lobby of the Holiday Inn in Fargo. Lutheran Social Services had graciously invited me to perform my play and to deliver workshops on addressing anti-immigrant bias on behalf of the Center for the Prevention of Hate Violence at their annual Building Bridges Conference. This is one of my favorite state refugee conferences partially because the stereotype that North Dakota residents are nice really is true. For example, I rarely have a hotel shuttle driver remember me from the first pick up, let alone remember that I am from Maine and tell me that he hopes my return trip gets me home earlier than the 3am time I had to wake up for to catch my flight out of Boston. Now that’s customer service!

Moreover, I love this conference because the organizers are always thoughtful in creating an agenda that mixes education, dialogue, and art. This year, the program featured educators, health care professionals, volunteers, refugee community leaders, and filmmakers. The State Refugee Coordinator introduced the conference by playing a you-tube clip of an inspiring rendition of the song “Stand by Me” produced by the organization Playing for Change (www.playingforchange.com). She joked how she had already watched the clip 21 times; personally, I have only reached eight but I am sure I will come close. I have already made my mother share it with my 3-year-old niece. In a country where television producers think it is tasteful for judges to strip on stage during American Idol finales, I am glad to know there are still performances that I want my niece to watch.

Back in the lobby, I am taking a moment to calm the nerves that naturally increase as my show time nears. As I joked with my tech team, I am proud of my piece but it isn’t everyday you share your life with 175 strangers. When Win walks past with his wife, I watch the pair continue all the way down the hall. I find peace in their comfort with one another. The two share bright smiles and the tips of their fingers touch playfully. Although I don’t know it then, I find out later the two are still barely newlyweds. They met in Thailand while Aryca worked overseas with displaced refugees. A refugee himself, Win’s talent as an artist forced him to flee his home country of Burma after participating in an art show that commemorated the pro-democracy student uprising on August 8th in 1988 against the military government (internationally known as the 8888 protest). The protests eventually led to Aung San Suu Kyi's election, Noble Peace Prize and continued house arrest. In 2008, Win resettled to Fargo while Aryca finished her contract in Thailand. They spent most of their first years as husband and wife apart. Thankfully, she has recently returned home and the two move to Minneapolis this weekend in search of work.

As we all know, moving is stressful, but sitting in the lobby, I didn’t know I would make their move even more complicated. You see, the night before, I had helped the organizers unload the paintings of the conference’s featured artist. I didn’t know when Win walked by it was his paintings that I had held in my hands. I did know that I hoped to meet the artist because I believed he could help me. Next week, our organization will launch our New Migration Project website. In the past week, I have been searching for an image for the front page that captures the intersection of the journey refugees make to America. Looking at Win’s art sprawled out on the eight-foot tables, I knew I had found the right artist.

Refugee integration is a fluid process whereby residents and newcomers blend their cultures together while refugees also blend their past with their new lives in America. Win’s use of watercolors combined with the lively sketches layered on top provided the perfect symbolism. While he hoped to sell some of his work at the conference, which he easily achieved as his portfolio is breathtaking, I can’t imagine he expected to have a work commissioned, especially one with a one week deadline. Fortunately for our organization, he agreed to add the project to the list of packing and goodbyes that are ahead of him this week. I will share the piece and website with you shortly. In the meantime, thank you Lutheran Social Services for another great conference and Shannon and Mahesh for your technical support during the show! It wouldn’t have been the same without you.

Largo, North East, and Burtonsville: Mini Maryland Tour

Last week, I went ‘on tour’ with Checkered Floors for the first time. There weren’t any tied-dyed tee-shirts or opening acts, but the rental PT cruiser did park like a bus. The tour began at Prince George’s Community College (PGCC) in Largo. I was performing for International Education Week, which is actually this week but because of finals, the school celebrated in advance. PGCC is one of my favorite colleges to visit. The campus is teeming with international students and the cafeteria boasts hundreds of flags from around the world. In fact, my production assistant was a man named Solomon from Sierra Leone, who performed his role perfectly despite having difficult equipment to manage (thanks Solomon and Marlene for making it possible!).


I am discovering as much as I enjoy the show, I enjoy the discussions with the audience afterwards even more. The conversations are always different and people are drawn to different themes in the piece. For example, at PGCC, people were particularly interested in the intersection between art and therapy. Local counselors brainstormed how they could incorporate performance work with their women’s groups on campus. I suggested they speak with my director because he and I have talked at length about how his workshops are as much a place for people to explore theatre as they are a place for people to process life.

After heading to southern Maryland, the second day drew me northeast. Literally, I performed at Cecil College in North East, Maryland. The Milburn Stone Theater is gorgeous and the staff and students are incredibly kind. Before the show, the director, an English Professor and some students and I went to dinner. The students are emerging playwrights and instead of discussing art therapy, we discussed playwriting. I worried I was disappointing the students because they kept asking how many shows I have written or what I plan to write next. I joked that I might just be a ‘one hit wonder.’ In the same way I wasn’t sure how to answer a student at PGCC when she asked if I was an actress, I am not sure I am comfortable with playwright yet either. Storyteller often feels more suitable. The students shared some of their scripts with me and I am anxious to read them when I return to Portland. I also look forward to reading Andrea Cumbo’s writing. An English professor at the college, Andrea wrote the most beautiful review of the show on her blog the following morning (www.andilit.com). You hope people will like the show, but for someone to take time to actually express it in words was unbelievable. (Thank you Andrea and Lee for inviting me!)

On Friday, the short tour ended at the Church of the Resurrection in Burtonsville, Maryland. It was a smaller audience, but an interesting mix of parishioners, friends, former colleagues and even a father and his young son. If I hadn’t been talking with a group of women at the end, I would have liked to thank the father for exposing his son to the topics in the show. I can’t imagine the conversation they had in the car on the ride home, but if they tackled even one subject together, the boy is better for it. Of course, this could not have been possible without the invitation from the church (Thank you Tammy and Jasmine!). There is a chance that I will return in the spring to perform it again for Sexual Assault month, which my friend Andy found funny. “You mean, the church is going to resurrect your show?”

I hope so because performing Checkered Floors is some of the most fun I have had in years.

p.s. It was also great to see friends, who practically feel like family now. I am so proud of how everyone is following their dreams, setting up 'shop,'finishing school, and so forth. I will see you all sooner than later, hopefully.