Blogger No More

I am no longer (as you who periodically check this blog have surely already guessed) adding to this blog. I have a new little girl and am cutting computer time out of my life to remain in the present with my family.

I will not take the blog down and you may contact me though comments if you have any questions regarding any posts.


Thank you for reading since the storm.

Nik

Black and Gold...and PINK in the Streets Sunday

It seems that I am the writer of fun these days, such a nice change...

The Camel Toe Lady Steppers and The Pussyfooter swill be hitting the streets in two separate second line-type of gigs Sunday, warming up for the Super Bowl. It looks like both troupes will be adding the Black and Gold to their costumes, of course.

The Camel Toe Lady Steppers will begin their gallivanting at Louisiana and Annunciation to will finish up at Washington and Camp, from 11am-noon.

The Pussyfooters will be lining up in front of the King Pin for noon and will be, as they are annually, a part of the Lyons Club march. The band and krewe will be marching along from the King Pin to Grits via Ms. Mae's over on Napoleon, hitting a few joints along the way like the Milan Lounge.

Crash the parties!

Also look for the Pussyfooters in the SUPER BOWL PARADE!

America's Team: The New Orleans Saints

by Billy Sothern, on today's Open Salon

Two weeks ago, the New Orleans Saints played the Minnesota Vikings for the National Football Conference Championship. My wife and I couldn’t watch the game alone – we didn’t want to bear the burden of defeat or experience the thrill of victory alone. Near kickoff, we drove the city’s streets just before the game started and they were eerily void of people just as I remembered them when I returned to the city days after Hurricane Katrina struck. We arrived at the uptown home of some friends, just blocks from quarterback Drew Brees’s home, and nervously ate the food and drink of this town. Our host had made a pot of gumbo, using a chicken he had fried and a dark roux. I separated yolks from egg whites, poured in gin, heavy cream, simple syrup, and orange flower water into my cocktail shaker and shook like crazy for a full minute to confect a round of Ramos gin fizzes, a drink invented in New Orleans more than a century ago. Despite our efforts, things looked grim in the fourth quarter. With the score tied and very little time on the clock, the Vikings had the ball, were in field goal range, and could take the game with a decent field goal kick. But we sipped our fizzes for good luck and a flag was thrown against the Vikings for something called “twelve men in a huddle,” an unlikely mishap for the polished team, driving the Vikings back beyond field goal range, which forced overtime, where the Saints won possession on the coin toss and took the game with a field goal.

We ran out onto the streets and our cries of “Who Dat!” – the cry of the Saints fan - were answered back with who dats from neighbors engaged in their own celebrations. We drove home through streets rich and poor that were now filled with revelers spilling out of bars or screaming from their front porches. We honked at cars, families, and jovial street mobs to share our joy. When we got home, the honking, yelling, and fireworks (or were they gunshots?) were audible for hours. The New Orleans Saints had defied expectations and were going to the Super Bowl for the first time ever.

The winning field goal occurred in New Orleans’s emblematic Superdome, a giant concrete spaceship that landed in New Orleans' business district a few decades ago and which had been, up until Hurricane Katrina, principally indentified as the home field of the hapless Aints, as the Saints were known during their early history of defeat and disappointment. The city of New Orleans has, as observed recently in the New York Times, been in a simultaneous struggle since the team’s inception. It lost two hundred thousand residents during the team’s first four decades, huge areas of the city were surrendered to blight and crime, the city lost almost all of its big businesses, and racial divides cleaved the city’s residents and divided the mostly black city from its mostly white suburbs. And this was all before Hurricane Katrina when the Superdome became the site of one of America’s biggest failures when desperate, mostly black citizens, abandoned in a city which had succumbed to catastrophic flooding, due more to poorly maintained and engineered levees and infrastructure than to the storm’s might, gathered for the world to see. Rumors of murders and rapes among the masses in the Superdome circulated quickly. By the time FEMA and the National Guard arrived and evacuated the entire city, the Superdome was no longer a sports field, it was a memorial to America’s persistent failure to address racial inequality, human misery and civic collapse.

I have beat this drum for almost five years since the storm, trying to tell anyone who will listen that the things that they saw after Hurricane Katrina, the things that disgusted and disappointed them, were not created by but were exposed by the storm and that similar ugliness existed not far from their homes, in forgotten cities from Richmond, California to Camden, New Jersey, and everywhere in between. And I still insist that New Orleans’ recovery is a bellwether for American Democracy and, as New Orleans goes – good or bad – so goes the country. All of this is why it is difficult for me to say that a winning field goal kick in a football game has changed things at all. But it has. The kick brought the citizens of this city and region together in a way that the common experience of displacement and loss following Hurricane Katrina had failed to do.

Whether you are listening to the black talk radio station, WBOK, where hosts are apoplectic about the possibility of the election of a white mayor, as seems likely, or WWL radio, whose white flight listeners seem to never tire of calling in to disparage the city, everyone comes together about The Saints. The Times Picayune, where the politics of the “white vote” and the “black vote” have been written about a lot recently, ran the headline, “New Orleans Saints fans build color-blind bonds in Who Dat Nation,” with the lede,

In a place where music and food can break down racial barriers but true dialogue between the groups is rare, nearly universal joy over the Saints' newfound success has created a new common language and solidified a shared identity.

The entire region coalesced this week in mass, populist, anti-corporate mania when the NFL tried to claim that “Who Dat” was the intellectual property and registered trademark of the NFL and threatened several New Orleans retailers who sold Who Dat merchandise. After receiving nothing but bad press and condemnation, summed up by a smart blogger’s exclamation, in perfect French, “Hey NFL, Bleaux Me,” the NFL backed down and local t-shirt shops sold out of anything with the word “Who Dat” on it.

Hurricane Katrina exposed our deepest divides and the “recovery,” such as it is, has in many ways only heightened the balkanization of this town and region. Things are not “better” here. The murder rate remains out of control, the city’s coffers are empty, the levees remain questionable, the wetlands that buffer the city from hurricanes are deteriorating, and the viability of many of the city’s neighborhoods is very much in doubt. But The Saints have, at least momentarily, brought us together and given people a sense of common purpose.

After the game, on Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, or whenever the postgame celebration or sad hangover of loss ends, we all know that the city and region will still be laden down with problems and animosities. But on Sunday, the streets of New Orleans will empty again and people will huddle around televisions in the company of fellow Saints fans, people of all stripes including old school Who Dats and recent convert New Dats, like my wife and me. Our team, like our city and its people, are the underdogs in the game. So we will eat gumbo and hope. And if we are lucky, if we get another good coin toss after all of the bad ones for so many years, we will drive home again watching strangers hug in the streets, seeing everyone joyous and together, without regard for the usual divides, and the city can shake off some small part of what it struggles with and what has so fractured it. As with all the tragedy here, if some measure of unity and recovery can happen in New Orleans, it’s possible anywhere in this country

So forget the Cowboys, these Aints turned Saints are America’s team. Root for them and root for yourselves.

New Orleans Night out for Haiti: Give, Eat and Drink All in One Go!

Local artist Miranda Lake and the folks from Dick and Jenny's got together to recruit restaurants to take part in a one night only benefit for Haiti. The idea is that you and yours eat out at any of the restaurants involved and that restaurant will donate a portion of your hard-earned money to an organization that will help Haiti. Each restaurant chose a different organization to give funds to, so check out the list below and find your pet org.

All you have to do is go out and get some grub or a few drinks at one of the participating restaurants tomorrow night,

TUESDAY FEBRUAURY 2, 2010

Participating bars and restaurants and targeted organizations:

Dick & Jenny's
http://dickandjennys.com/
504-894-9880
Charity of Choice: Doctors Without Borders http://doctorswithoutborders.org/

J'anita's @ The Avenue Pub
(504) 237-0335

Kyoto Japanese Restaurant & Sushi Bar
http://kyotonola.com/
504-891-3644

Theo's Neighborhood Pizza
http://www.theospizza.com/
504-894-8554
Charity of Choice: Doctors Without Borders
http://doctorswithoutborders.org/

Nonna Mia Cafe & Pizzeria
http://nonnamia.net/
504-948-1717
Charity of Choice: Doctors Without Borders
http://doctorswithoutborders.org/

The Delachaise
http://thedelachaise.com/
504-895-0858
Charity of Choice: Yéle Haiti
http://yele.org/

The Creole Creamery
http://www.creolecreamery.com/
504-894-8680

La Thai Uptown
http://lathaiuptown.com/
504-899-8886

Martinique Bistro
http://www.martiniquebistro.com/
504-892-8495

The Columns Hotel
http://www.thecolumns.com/
504-899-9308
Charity of Choice: Doctors Without Borders
http://doctorswithoutborders.org/
American Red Cross
http://www.redcross.org/

Billy's on Salon.com Today.

From Salon.com, link in title below

Why can't the NYT and WP agree on Haiti?

How the media's conflicting coverage of race, class and the earthquake evokes memories of Hurricane Katrina

By Billy Sothern

This post originally appeared on Billy Sothern's Open Salon blog.

Those of us who lived in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina are all too familiar with reading stories in the press, written by people unfamiliar with this town, its politics, geographies and citizens who descended just for the big story, that misunderstood either the details of our complicated city or what it and our neighbors endured here.

As we saw in New Orleans, much of what people got wrong was driven by their preconceptions about the city, with some quickly accepting as truth false rumors of unthinkable violence by the poor people abandoned in the city and others failing to realize that the flood destroyed upper-middle-class white and black neighborhoods, along with middle-class white and black neighborhoods, before stranding the city's poorest (flooded and unflooded) residents, who became the most visible face of a much more complicated disaster. (People from other places still sometimes express surprise about this when I explain that a rich, white neighborhood was one of the first to flood.)

So it is unsurprising to see the American media struggle to get the story straight in Haiti, a city that many of the journalists now there were likely completely unfamiliar with a week ago.

I hadn't quite grasped this reality until I saw competing headlines, one in the New York Times on Sunday and another in the Washington Post on Monday, telling stories about the impact of the storm on the rich in Port-au-Prince that seem completely at odds with one another.

The New York Times, on the cover of Sunday's paper, carried the headline, "Earthquake Ignores Class Divisions of a Poor Land." The story is summed up in the following paragraphs:

Earthquakes do not respect social customs. They do not coddle the rich. They know nothing about the invisible lines that in Haiti keep the poor masses packed together in crowded slums and the well-to-do high up in the breezy hills of places like Pétionville.

And so it was with the devastating temblor that tore through Port-au-Prince, the Haitian capital, last week, toppling houses large and small, and trapping and traumatizing residents no matter where they stood on Haiti’s complicated social scale.

The story in yesterday's Washington Post carried the headline "Haiti's Elite Spared Much of the Devastation" and tells a far different story:

Although Tuesday's 7.0-magnitude earthquake destroyed many buildings in Port-au-Prince, it mostly spared homes and businesses up the mountain in the cool, green suburb of Petionville, home to former presidents and senators.

A palace built atop a mountain by the man who runs one of Haiti's biggest lottery games is still standing. New-car dealers, the big importers, the families that control the port -- they all drove through town with their drivers and security men this past weekend. Only a few homes here were destroyed.

I have never been to Haiti, no less Port-au-Prince or Petionville, but I don't see how both stories can be accurate. But, especially for those of us who have seen a complicated and nuanced place reduced to generalities by someone without sufficient grasp of the place to begin with, it should be a reminder that, from this distance and in the midst of a crisis, it is hard to get any real read of the texture of a place as complex as Haiti.

I suppose it should also come as no surprise that both these stories about Petionville, and so much of the press about New Orleans, seem especially off-base about issues of class and, in New Orleans, the intersection of class and race. While such divisions are, of course, very often visible on the surface of a city, the dynamics are always much more complicated. Take New Orleans, which commentators suggested was segregated between black areas and white areas when in fact the historic city was integrated by design and remains much more racially diverse in its neighborhoods than most American cities, a fact that does little to change that it is also stunningly racially polarized.

While I admire some of the reporting I have seen from Haiti and feel like I am getting a picture of what is happening there (while having to hold back tears at the horror of some of the things that I am seeing), it is worth remembering that there will be things, like the "Babies Getting Raped in the Superdome" story after Hurricane Katrina, that may not hold up under the clear light of day, which will hopefully come soon for Port-au-Prince and Haiti.

Billy Sothern is a criminal defense attorney and writer in New Orleans. He is the author of "Down in New Orleans: Reflections from a Drowned City."

Ways to Give this Season and Have a Blast While Doing It! Part Two: The Camel Toe Lady Steppers Toe Down

This is the second article in a series about lady groups in Nola doing good things for good people while having an excellent time doing so.

This one's about The Camel Toe Lady Steppers, better known as another fantastic group of females that marches in the Muses parade. Their major fundraiser, called the "Toe-Down" donates a percentage of the proceeds to The Roots of Music, which is an after school academic tutoring and music program founded by Rebirth's Derrick Tabb.*

Click on poster or scroll all the way down for information

I interviewed Cynthia Garza, a founder of the CTLS who was gracious enough to take the time to answer some questions during a very busy time of year for the group. There is a LOT of information in this article, including an explanation of the infamous dance-off that goes down between the CTLS and Pussyfooters and a tribute to Miss Antoinette K Doe so read on!

When and why did the CTLS form?

Back in 2003 a group of us thought it would be fun to dress up for Halloween like the majorettes who parade with the marching bands during Mardi Gras. We had big dreams of making costumes that year but ran out of time so we ordered these awful gold lamé boy shorts and crop tops off a danceteam and majorette website…a website meant for high school girls. When we tried them on…well, let's just say the snugness of the shorts inspired the group’s name.

We made huge fluffy yarn tassels for our marching boots, put on some cheap tiaras, and carried batons, which only a few of us knew how to twirl. I had the most dance experience (and I was drum major of my high school marching band way back when so I also had experience with the whistle) so I choreographed two routines for us. We recruited some friends to put together a drum line, and they followed us all night around the Marigny and the French Quarter. There were 8 of us that night. After a few hours of marching and drinking, our Camel Toe cheer was born and our group name solidified, "Hey! Ho! We got Camel Toe!” It was a crazy night. We had hundreds of folks following us up and down Frenchmen and Decatur.

Months later, Casey (our head boss lady) got a call from Muses asking how much we would charge to perform in Muses, and her response was, “Uh,sure, uh, can I get your number and call you back?” We were ecstatic.

What are your colors?

Our colors are hot pink, black and silver, although the original gold lamé was a bigger hit apparently. Our first year marching in Muses was 2004, and we wore jumpsuits in our new colors. Later, on Mardi Gras day, a group of transvestites came up to us during Saint Anne and said, “Girls, you made a big mistake with these costumes. The gold lamé was SO much better. And what were you THINKING choosing black as an accent color for a night parade?” Those bitches totally shamed us, and they were so right. So the next year, we upped the pink and got rid of the a lot of the black.

What have your themes been and what is it this year?

2010 – Urban Carnival (inspired by Ebony Bones, Lady Gaga, and a general carnivalesque aesthetic)

2009 – Camel Toe Cabaret (Bob Fosse)

2008 – Dream Toes (Dreamgirls, Motown)

2007 – Bollywood

2006 – Retro Swim (the year after Katrina – we did an out of water synchronized swim routine in hot pink Esther Williams swimsuits and flowery swim caps)

2005 – 1940s Gangster/Bonnie and Clyde

2004 – Debut year in Muses – no real theme exce

Who all is a CTLS and what are the membership requirements?

Our ages range from women in their mid-twenties to late thirties. Most of us are around 35 or 36. Occupations represented by our members are: professor, burlesque dancer, community activist, jewelry designer, hairdresser, grad student, doctor, lawyer, teacher, interior designer, aerialist, horticulturist, bartender, actor, and arts educator. A lot of us are also moms.

We live in Midcity, Broadmoor, the Bywater, St. Roch, the Marigny, the Riverbend, the 12^th Ward, the 7^th Ward, the Irish Channel, the LGD, Lakeview, and Central City.

As far as how someone can become a Toe, because we are grassroots in our approach to creating our performances (meaning that we encourage input and creativity from ALL members), we aren’t a very big group (compared to other marching groups in the city). We also look for women who are committed to the carnivalesque, to creativity, and to a certain lifestyle that prioritizes social action through performance. So our new members have integrated themselves into the group organically – mostly through friends – and not through a formal audition process or anything. We fear that if the group gets too big, it will change this dynamic. In the future, though, we would definitely like to add new members and, at that point, it will be about a person’s willingness to give her all in a performance and throughout the months of preparations. Also, we’ve had women interested in membership, and when they realize that they’d have to be at rehearsal EVERY Sunday, volunteering on one of the committees, attending sewing circles, etc., they kinda renege on their interest. It’s a lot of work.

We have five boss ladies that represent the different committees that make up our organization: choreography/dance, costumes, fundraising/PR, accounting, and general organization, and this group meets at the end of summer to start planning. Then we have a general meeting in October at Ernie K. Does’ Mother in Law Lounge to vote on a new costume and theme every year. The dance committee then choreographs two new routines for the theme and in the appropriate dance style, and we organize a workshop in that style to start to get the girls into character and moving in the right way. The costume committee organizes sewing and crafting circles to make the costumes.

In what situations did you march/dance/make appearances then and do now?

Our main event is Muses so we start preparing for that usually at the end of August. We don’t do any other performances (except for our fundraiser) during Carnival Season. Outside of that, we’ve performed for the New Orleans Bingo Show, Liquidrone, DJ Soul Sister, the Dirty Coast Fashion Show, Voodoo Fest, the New Orleans Ballet Association Ball, and the Muses fundraiser.

It appears that you have a separate, smaller group of gals who dance for events. Is this the case?

Of our 40 members who parade in Muses, we have about 15-20 who have some past performance experience. So we have a group of rotating dancers that do stage numbers outside the parade. This is also an outlet for the choreographies I have constantly running through my head. They’re a little more intricate than the parade routines, and they’re meant for the stage (as opposed to the street). Two years ago, we did a skanky goth cheerleading routine to the song “Pussy” by Miami rapper Jackie-O and made huge signs that spelled PUSSY. Last year, we performed a militant Bollywood routine to MIA’s “Boyz”. It was 1/3 Bollywood, 1/3 Public enemy, and 1/3 Afro Cuban fierceness. I know that sounds crazy. I can’t explain how I combine all these aesthetics. They just blend together in my head




This year, we have a marvelously stupid funny routine planned, but you’ll have to go to the fundraiser to see it. I’ll just say this. We think that Marie Antoinette was kinda ghetto fabulous, and if she were alive today, she might wear grills and gold chains.

What is your fundraiser like?

We used to have our fundraiser at Ernie K. Doe’s Mother-in-Law Lounge, but we outgrew it. So for the past three years, we’ve had it at One Eyed Jack’s. Every year, the proceeds are used to pay for our brass band in Muses, and the rest goes to Roots of Music.

We have a variety of acts, but we begin the night with a performance from the Roots of Music Marching Crusaders. They’re middle school aged, but they’re playing at a high school level. Derrick Tabb is doing amazing work. We were all standing in awe, some of us in tears, last year when they performed. Then we rotate acts like Fleur de Tease Burlesque (Trixie Minx, the creative director, is also a Camel Toe), an aerialist group, and a brass band and/or another type of band (this year it’s the Happy Talk Band). We also invite other groups to make an appearance. For three years, it’s been Miss Antoinette and the Baby Dolls, but since she passed away, there’ll be a memorial for her with an appearance from the Dolls.

There’s also a live auction. We have a member of CTLS whose father was an auctioneer, and she’s pretty skilled at it. Other items are raffled through pre-sold raffle tickets. There’s usually an MC. Last year it was Chris Lane, and this year it’ll be Ronnie Numbers from the Bingo Show. And then the main event is the Camel Toe stage performance.

I just joined The Pussyfooters last year and was told that there is a dance off between the CTLS and The Pussyfooters- I was scared to death at the prospect of performing in such a thing, but it never happened last year. What's up with that?

This only happened once, and I don't know the truth about where it got started. On my end, I got a call from Casey, our boss lady, saying that one of her yoga students, who is a Pussyfooter, said that they were going to challenge us to a dance-off on the neutral ground before the parade. Some girls loved the idea and started talking smack. I almost had an asthma attack. So last year, I called Amber Rosean (a Pussyfoter), and this is how the conversation went down:

Me – Hi, Amber. My name is Cynthia. I’m the choreographer of the Camel Toes. I went to the Blush Ball last week and harassed one of your dancers into give me your number.

Amber – Uh, ok.

Me – So are we doing the dance-off again this year? It’s perfectly fine with me if we don’t.

Amber – Honestly, some girls thought it was not a good idea, and we’re thinking of not doing it.

Me – How did that thing start anyway?

Amber – No idea.

And that was that. Larisa (last year's Pussyfooter dance leader) and I agreed later to call it a “dance party” and try again, and I kinda think it’s good to get our nerves out before the parade for a “safe” group. So in that sense, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. But, in the end, both groups were way too drunk to pull it together before the parade in 2009 so I think both Larisa and I conveniently forgot about it. It was hilariously funny the year we did it, though, because the drunk ass Bearded Oysters were egging both groups on. I remember after the Pussyfooters danced, and our brass band was preparing to play, the Oysters were screaming, “Are you gonna take that SHIT, Camel Toes?!” From a performative standpoint, the whole thing was like a drunken messy Big Easy version of us playing out our childhood West Side Story fantasies. Come to think of it, I might lobby to bring the “dance party” back.

Cynthia has Something to Say About Miss Antoinette

Our Camel Toe queen in 2009 and 2010 was Antoinette K Doe. She died days after parading in Muses (on Mardi Gras day) and was buried in the ball gown she wore the night of Muses. Before she dies, I had been talking to her about organizing a female marching group party. Just for fun or as a fundraiser for a chosen organization. She wanted to have it at K Doe’s, but I told her we’d need a space for hundreds. She wanted to bring together the Baby Dolls with all the new groups. I know we’re all busy, but I can’t NOT make Antoinette’s vision come to fruition. When carnival season’s over, I want to pow wow with the Pussyfooters, the Sisters of Salome, Fleur de Tease, and the Bearded Oysters.

Other Camel Toe Chants

My shorts are high and my lips are long, listen while I sing my Camel Toe Song.

Ca-mel Toe...Cam..Camel...Toe...

I got a lip to the left and a lip to the right, my Camel Toe is super tight!

*Raffle Packages this year (can be pre-bought at the door)

1. WE ARE FAMILY PACKAGE – 12 week session of swim lessons from Love Swimming, Kona Mountain Coffee gift basket, pet boarding and bath at Zeus' Place, gift certificate to Louisiana Pizza Kitchen, and passes for the Audubon Zoo.

2. LADIES WHO LUNCH PACKAGE -- gift certificate for Café Amelie, gift card from the House of Lounge, Alexa Pulitzer stationary, Rocket Science Beauty Bar gift basket, Ladie Bird hat from Jamie Gandy of Fifi Mahoney's, and a spa treatment from Lux

3. SPA-LICIOUS! -- 1 hour Jin Shn Jyutsu session with Adele Leas, consultation with nutritionist Danielle Paciera, an orchid from Harold's, yoga classes at Wild Lotus, gift certificate to Satsuma's Cafe, and spa treatment from Spa Isbell.

4. SPORTS FANATIC -- Gift certificate from Cochon Restaurant, 2 club seats to a Hornets game, a Hornets jersey, gift certificate from the Bridge Lounge, and a Dirty Coast Saints fanatic calendar

Raffle tickets are $5 for one or $20 for 5. The auction packages are even more amazing!! There’s an Art Lovers package and a “Be a Tourist in Your Own Town” Package (with a two-night stay in the Roosevelt Hotel, dinner at Mila, and ballet tickets).

REMEMBER:

Sixth Annual Camel Toe Lady Steppers Toe-Down Fundraiser
$12 advance tickets, $15 at the door

Where:
One Eyed Jacks
615 Toulouse

When:
Friday, January 22 at 9pm

Ways to Give this Season and Have a Blast While Doing It! Part One: The Pussyfooters Blush Ball

This is the first in a series of posts about women's groups that march during Mardi Gras season. Many groups that march during Mardi Gras raise money during special events to help different organizations in the city of New Orleans and these events take place between now and Mardi Gras, hence the timing of the series. This first segment will be about The Pussyfooters -the history of the group and more importantly their annual fundraiser, The Blush Ball, which takes place in order to raise money to benefit The Metropolitan Center for Women and Children while throwing one hell of a party to do so!

Last year, I was invited to join a group of women who call themselves The Pussyfooters. I knew them as a fantastic group of confident dancing gals who marched in Muses but quickly learned that they are much more. The ladies (all of whom are above the age of thirty, a prerequisite for joining) dress in pink, sherbet orange and white and take to the streets to march or dance freestyle during a number of events throughout the year. There are close to eighty women in the group now, though you will see the greatest number of members march during Muses as some live in other places now or split time between different cities.

In front of the judges' booth, Muses 2009

Small groups of ladies pop up at events all over the city from August until Muses. Last year the Pussyfooters made appearances at the Midsummer Mardi Gras, The Halloween Parade, The Lazarus Halloween Ball, Prospect Everyone, The Blush Ball, and The Lyons Club just to name a few events! We do not always wear the official costume of the year, but often dress "free style" where the only dress requirement is to wear Pussyfooter colors. It is during these events where you will see individual characters shine through.

At Prospect Everyone, 2008, above and
dancing in "loose formation" at The Lyons Club March, below

THE BLUSH BALL

This year's Blush Ball will feature entertainment by DJ Soul Sister and Big Sam's Funky Nation for dancing, Pussyfooter's performing and debuting this year's official costume, Mardi Gras Indians, the 610 Stompers, raffles, edibles and a cash bar!

When:
Friday, January 15, 2010
8pm til Midnight

Where:
The Old Mardi Gras World
233 Newton Street, Algiers Point

$20.00 tickets purchased ahead, $25.00 at the door

email Nikki Page @ almanzo@gmail.com to purchase ahead


THE HISTORY & PURPOSE OF THE PUSSYFOOTERS

I interviewed one of the founding members of the group, Camille Baldassar to get some answers about how the group started and what we stand for. First and foremost, it is said that

PUSSYFOOTERS ARE ON THIS EARTH TO RAISE THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF ALL WOMEN EVERYWHERE. SISTERS FROM THE MOTHERSHIP WORK TO SUPPORT AND EMPOWER WOMEN GLOBALLY AND LOCALLY. WE HONOR OUR IMPERFECTIONS AND DANCE OUT OF LOVE AND NON-JUDGEMENT. WE ARE- EACH AND EVERYONE OF US-SHINY DIAMONDS.


Who are The Pussyfooters?

Majorettes from the Mothership sent here to help the party people get their groove on.

Can you talk about your inspiration for founding the Pussyfooters?
I was watching one of my first Mardi Gras parades and fell in love with the gals who dance in the high school troupes. I was about 37 years old and thought, "I want to do that!" I began asking around, and with the help of a few core women we called a meeting, held practices, contacted Muses, made costumes and the Pussyfooters were born.

Why the name Pussyfooters?

Someone just thought it up in the early stages of brainstorming, and as soon as we heard it we knew it was the right one. We love the double entendre twist. One of the definitions of Pussyfoot means to sneak behind the scenes-do things your own way. There's a little subversive nature to who we are as well.

How did the grow to be so large? There are close to eighty members now!

People love what we do as much as we do. We are proud to be one of the, now, many women's parade groups that fit naturally into the NOLA groove.

Note: Each woman is invited to join and is sponsored by another established Pussyfooter. Only one woman may be sponsored by a member, and membership does not expand every year.

How did the handlers come about?

The first year we knew enough to invite our male friends to march with us and help out. The first parade they just jumped in and helped with crowd control, the music system, and kept us hydrated. We couldn't do this without them.

What does the group do to help empower women?

What we see is that Pussyfooting (organizing together, costuming, and performance) creates individual and group growth, self-confidence, and self respect via performance. We are all amateur dancers, yet still get out there and strut our joy for everyone.

Since our first year we have done fundraising for Women for Women International. Additionally we have supported: Lindy's Place, The Holy Cross Neighborhood Organization and Metro Women's center.

What is the vision for the future of the group?

We hope to expand our service mission, and are in the process of applying for Non-profit status. We are working to nurture more depth in our values of Love, non-judgement, respect, and service within our own organizational culture.

The Logo

Newborn Induced Hiatus

Taking a break from the blog as I adjust to the introduction of a newborn variable to my lifestyle.

I think I will be back as soon as I get five straight hours of sleep at night...

Banned Books Week 2009

The ACLU/ American Civil Liberties Union has organized an event to kick off Banned Books Week 2009 to be held at The Bridge Lounge this Sunday afternoon. Stop by to see a panel of local writers read from works that have been banned.

My husband, Billy Sothern, is scheduled to read at 1:40 pm from Charles Baudelaire's previously banned works. Other writers scheduled to read include Lolis Eric Elie, Thomas Beller, Patty Friedmann, Gerod Stevens, Roberts Batson, Fred Kasten (WWNO announcer), James Gill, Louis Maistros, Tom Piazza, Poppy Z. Brite, Paula Morris, Ken Foster and Anne Gisleson

From the ACLU Louisiana website:

2009 Banned Books Week Kick-Off Event

Sunday, September 27th, 2009 from 1 PM to 4 PM

Bridge Lounge
1201 Magazine Street
New Orleans, LA

FREE and OPEN to the public :: Menu and Cash Bar will be available

What I've Been Doing These Last Ten Months

I have been growing this baby!

Her name is Rose "Rosie" Mae Sothern and she smells good.

I am REALLY tired, so I will be posting Billy's blog post about her arrival. It's funny though, because though he beat me to it, I was going to write something around the very same Chuck Perkins piece...guess that's why we are married...

From Imperfectly Vertical, Billy Sothern

Family: Rose Mae Sothern

Last week, Nikki and I drove around New Orleans listening to Glen David Andrews' new album, Walking Through Heaven's Gate, trying to get Nikki some distraction from the discomfort of the ninth month of her pregnancy. The last track on the album, Family, struck both of us and gave us some sense of what was approaching for us. It's a spoken word piece with New Orleans poet, Chuck Perkins.

Perkins describes the birth of his child:

It was watching my wife
After eleven hours of labor,
Whose eyes and face
No longer possessed the words
To describe her pain,
So she pushed.
It was twenty years of anticipating
What my child would be
And who she would be
And when I saw the tip of her head,
Before the slap,
Before the cry,
Before I saw her eyes even,
It was like I was about to meet a long lost friend
Whom I had never met.

Early this morning, after an epic, unmedicated labor, Nikki gave birth to Rose Mae Sothern here in New Orleans. I am in awe of Nikki and the little baby girl that came into the world this morning. New Orleans artists have a gift for describing the indescribable, but as much as I like Perkins' description of child birth, he doesn't fully capture the feeling of seeing your wife give birth to your child. I am not sure anyone could.

Katrina Memory

One Book One New Orleans Big Event!

Yet another event supporting a local author:

Sara Roahen's latest book, Gumbo Tales is this years One Book One New Orleans selection and she will be at the Milton H. Latter Library signing books tomorrow, August 26. In honor of the theme of the book, there will be GUMBO TASTINGS!

From the One Book One New Orleans website:

The event will feature a free gumbo tasting tour of these fabulous New Orleans restaurants: Dooky Chase, Mr. B’s, Redfish Grill, Bourbon House, Acme Oyster House , and Felix’s, with bread from Leidenheimer, wine from [yellowtail], beer from NOLA Brewery, and a one-of-a-kind cake from Sucre!

Octavia Books will be donating restaurant and chef cookbooks to be raffled off to attendees and will have our 2009 reading selection for sale, Gumbo Tales: Finding My Place at the New Orleans Table by Sara Roahen.

Sara Roahen will be there to sign Gumbo Tales, and Octavia Books will donate 20% of all sales at the event to One Book One New Orleans, so pick up your signed copy at the event!

Event: Chapter 1: Gumbo Tasting Kickoff!
Date: Wednesday, August 26th
Time: 5:30 pm to 7:30 pm
Place: Milton H. Latter Memorial Library,
5120 St. Charles Ave., New Orleans 70115

Reviews for Gumbo Tales

Ethan Brown's "Shake the Devil Off" to be released Sept 1, 2009; Author to be on Political Panel at Rising Tide Conference

In his latest work, Shake the Devil Off, local author Ethan Brown investigates the circumstances behind the post-Katrina murder that shocked New Orleans.

Ethan explains his book as follows:

Shake the Devil Off chronicles the life of Zackery Bowen, an Iraq war veteran who murdered his girlfriend and then killed himself in New Orleans in 2006. (The project is) an exploration into what led a soldier to commit a horrific crime. There's an epidemic of suicides--and even homicides--in the Army now and my book is an effort to try and figure out what's driving this mental health crisis, the worst in the Army's history.

Praise:

"Heartbreaking."—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"Drawing the parallel between Katrina's aftermath and Bowen's unraveling psyche, Brown creates a riveting portrait of a gruesome crime while detailing the heart of a city in distress. A grim murder-suicide story delivered with skill and verve."—Kirkus

"Ethan Brown examines a notorious murder case, rescues it from the talons of tabloid journalists, and comes up with something much more than a true crime book. Shake the Devil Off is a gripping suspense story, an indictment of the military’s treatment of our soldiers in and out of war, and a celebration of the resilience and worth of a great American city."—George Pelecanos, New York Times bestselling author of The Turnaround and Hell to Pay

"Ethan Brown establishes himself as a prodigious reporter and masterful storyteller in Shake the Devil Off, a chilling portrait of a broken hero failed by the system."—Evan Wright, author of the New York Times bestseller Generation Kill

"A ‘coming home’ story that rivals any written about veterans of the war in Iraq, and a true crime account that raises the bar for the genre. Measured, thoroughly reported, and written with true empathy."—Nate Blakeslee, author of Tulia

"Looking more deeply at that from which the rest of us turned in horror, Ethan Brown has transformed an ugly and disturbing shard of the post-Katrina anguish. In this book, that which was lurid and sensational becomes, chapter by chapter, something genuinely sad and reflective, something that now has true meaning for New Orleans and for all of us."—David Simon, author of Homicide and The Corner

Author Appearances and Book Signing Events

8/22/09
Ethan Brown to participate in Political Panel at Rising Tide Conference
1-1:50 pm
Zeitgeist Mutli-Disciplinary Arts Center
1724 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd
New Orleans, LA 70113
(504) 525-2767
Author will sign a limited number of early release books available at The Octavia Books table after the panel.

9/2/09, 6pm
Octavia Books
513 Octavia St
New Orleans, LA 70115-2055
(504) 899-7323

9/12/09, 3:30pm
Maple Street Bookshop
7523 Maple St
New Orleans, LA 70118-5098
(504) 866-4916

10/17/09, 10 am
Louisiana Book Festival
Barnes & Noble Book Selling and Signing Tent
at Spanish Town Road and North 4th Street
Baton Rouge, LA

Read more about Ethan Brown

Louisiana Artist Loren Schwerd Shows at AMMO

1317 Charbonnet St.
Human hair, mixed media
19" x 23" x 3.5"
2007

Loren Schwerd weaves mourning portraits out of hair. Her interpretation of the traditional craft serves well to illustrate the sense of loss left in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. A fitting tribute for the upcoming anniversary of the disaster, her work will be shown at AMMO beginning Saturday, August 15 and ending September 16.

"Mourning Portrait, is a series of memorials to the communities of New Orleans that were devastated by the flooding which followed Hurricane Katrina. These commemorative objects are made from human hair extensions of the type commonly used by African-American women that I found outside the St. Claude Beauty Supply. The portraits draw on the eighteenth and nineteenth-century tradition of hairwork, in which family members or artisans would fashion the hair of the deceased into intricate jewelry and other objects as symbols of death and rebirth. Working from my own photographs I weave the hair into portraits of the vacant houses of the Ninth Ward neighborhood. By documenting private homes, I venerate the city's losses, both individual and collective."

-Loren Schwerd


See more work from her Mourning Portrait series here.

Opening is from 6-9 pm, Saturday August 15, 2009
AMMO
938 Royal Street
New Orleans, LA 70116
(504) 301-2584

Ms. Schwerd was featured on the cover of the Nov/Dec 2008 issue of FiberARTS magazine

Just When You Think It's Just You, the Husband and The Hot Dog

I was staring out of my husband's office window into our yard today and this little duo saunters across my yard from under our house...I was very surprised.



These pictures remind me that I really need to wash my windows (through one of which I took these photos), though the haze is kind of romantic.

Miranda Lake: Reclamation: 360˚

New Orleans artist Miranda Lake's latest work can be viewed at the Jonathan Ferrara gallery beginning on White Linen Night, August 1, 2009.


Preview of her work for the show

Billy Sothern Has a Blog

My husband, a writer and lawyer, has taken the plunge into the blogoworld. His is called Imperfectly Verticle and you should give it a gander.

Update: Dave Eggers Comes to Town

I previously posted that Dave Eggers will be at The Garden District Bookshop Thursday at 6p to talk about his new book, Zeitoun. Turns out he will also be at Octavia Books that day at 2pm.

Dave will also be at Octavia Books at 2pm Thursday to talk about his book, Zeitoun.

Octavia Books
513 Octavia St
New Orleans, LA 70115-2055
(504) 899-7323

For more info about the book and author, read on.

Dave Eggers Comes to Nola to Talk About His Latest Book, Zeitoun

Dave Eggers is in town and he is speaking about his new book, Zeitoun, on Thursday. You should go.

The Book.

When Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, Abdulrahman Zeitoun, a prosperous Syrian-American and father of four, chose to stay through the storm to protect his house and contracting business. In the days after, he traveled the flooded streets in a secondhand canoe, passing on supplies and helping those he could. But, on September 6, 2005, Zeitoun abruptly disappeared. Dave Eggers's riveting nonfiction book, three years in the making, explores Zeitoun's roots in Syria, his marriage to Kathy − an American who converted to Islam − and their children, and the surreal atmosphere (in New Orleans and the United States generally) in which what happened to Abdulrahman Zeitoun became possible. Like What Is the What, Zeitoun was written in close collaboration with its subjects and involved vast research − in this case, in the U.S., Spain, and Syria.

- Description taken from McSweeney's

Where:
Garden District Bookshop
2727 Prytania St
New Orleans, LA 70130-5968
(504) 895-2266

When:
Thursday, July 16, 2009 6:00 PM

Check out the following description of, praise for and excerpt from the book below, taken from McSweeney's. Then check out this interview on The Rumpus.

The Author.

- - - -

Dave Eggers grew up near Chicago, attended the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign, and is the author of five books. His first, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, a memoir, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. It was followed by You Shall Know Our Velocity!, a novel, and by How We Are Hungry, a collection of short stories. His latest book, What Is the What, was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. In 1998, Eggers founded McSweeney's, an independent publishing house now located in San Francisco. It publishes books, a quarterly literary journal, The Believer (a monthly magazine of essays and interviews), Wholphin (a short-film DVD quarterly), and a daily humor website. In 2002, Eggers opened 826 Valencia, a writing and tutoring lab for young people in San Francisco's Mission District. There, he continues to teach writing to high-school students, and runs a summer publishing camp. 826 Valencia now has satellite chapters in Brooklyn, Ann Arbor, Los Angeles, Seattle, Boston, and Chicago. A staunch advocate of teachers, Eggers instituted a monthly grant for exceptional Bay Area teachers, and in 2005 he co-wrote Teachers Have It Easy: The Big Sacrifices and Small Salaries of America's Teachers. His interest in oral history led to his 2004 co-founding of Voice of Witness, a nonprofit series of books that use oral history to illuminate human-rights crises around the world. He recently co-wrote, with Spike Jonze, the film adaptation of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, and with his wife, the novelist Vendela Vida, the screenplay for the film Away We Go, which was directed by Sam Mendes. With Valentino Deng, Eggers is the co-founder of the Valentino Achak Deng Foundation, which is improving educational opportunities for Sudanese children in Sudan and the United States.

- - - -

Praise.

- - - -

"This is a beautiful book. Zeitoun is a poignant, haunting, ethereal story about New Orleans in peril. Eggers has bottled up the feeling of post-Katrina despair better than anyone else. This is a simple story with a lingering radiance."
− Douglas Brinkley, author of The Great Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, and the Mississippi Gulf Coast

"Zeitoun is an American epic. The post-Katrina trials of Abdulrahman Zeitoun would have baffled even Kafka's Joseph K. Though Zeitoun's story could have been a source of cynicism or despair, Dave Eggers's clear and elegant prose manages to deftly capture many of the signature shortcomings of American life while holding onto the innate optimism and endless drive to more closely match our ideals that Zeitoun and his adopted land share. Juggling these contradictions, Eggers captures the puzzle of America."
− Billy Sothern, author of Down in New Orleans

"Zeitoun is a gripping and amazing story that highlights so much about the tragedy of Katrina, post-9/11 life for Arabs and Muslims, and the beautiful nature of American multi-cultural society."
− Yousef Munayyer, policy analyst, American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee

"Zeitoun is an instant American classic carved from fierce eloquence and a haunting moral sensibility. By wrestling with the demons of xenophobia and racial profiling that converged in the swirling vortex of Hurricane Katrina and post-9/11 America, Eggers lets loose the angels of wisdom and courage that hover over the lives of the beleaguered, but miraculously unbroken, Abdulrahman and Kathy Zeitoun. This is a major work full of fire and wit by one of our most important writers."
− Michael Eric Dyson, author of Come Hell or High Water

AN EXCERPT
FROM ZEITOUN.

Zeitoun woke with the sun and crawled out of his tent. The day was bright, and as far as he could see in any direction the city was underwater. Though every resident of New Orleans imagines great floods, knows that such a thing is possible in a city surrounded by water and ill-conceived levees, the sight, in the light of day, was beyond anything he had imagined. He could only think of Judgment Day, of Noah and forty days of rain. And yet it was so quiet, so still. Nothing moved. He sat on the roof and scanned the horizon, looking for any person, any animal or machine moving. Nothing.

As he did his morning prayers, a helicopter broke the silence, shooting across the treetops and heading downtown.

Zeitoun looked down from the roof to find the water at the same level as the night before. He felt some relief in knowing that it would likely remain there, or even drop a foot once it reached an equilibrium with Lake Pontchartrain.

Zeitoun sat beside his tent, eating cereal he had salvaged from the kitchen. Even with the water no longer rising, he knew he could do nothing at home. He had saved what he could save, and there was nothing else to do here until the water receded.

When he had eaten, he felt restless, trapped. The water was too deep to wade into, its contents too suspect to swim through. But there was the canoe. He saw it, floating above the yard, tethered to the house. Amid the devastation of the city, standing on the roof of his drowned home, Zeitoun felt something like inspiration. He imagined floating, alone, through the streets of his city. In a way, this was a new world, uncharted. He could be an explorer. He could see things first.

He climbed down the side of the house and lowered himself into the canoe. He untied the rope and set out.

He paddled down Dart Street, the water flat and clear. And strangely, almost immediately, Zeitoun felt at peace. The damage to the neighborhood was extraordinary, but there was an odd calm in his heart. So much had been lost, but there was a stillness to the city that was almost hypnotic.

He coasted away from his home, passing over bicycles and cars, their antennae scraping the bottom of his canoe. Every vehicle, old and new, was gone, unsalvageable. The numbers filled his head: there were a hundred thousand cars lost in the flood. Maybe more. What would happen to them? Who would take them once the waters receded? In what hole could they all be buried?

Almost everyone he knew had left for a day or two, expecting little damage. He passed by their homes, so many of which he'd painted and even helped build, calculating how much was lost inside. It made him sick, the anguish this would cause. No one, he knew, had prepared for this, adequately or at all.

He thought of the animals. The squirrels, the mice, rats, frogs, possums, lizards. All gone. Millions of animals drowned. Only birds would survive this sort of apocalypse. Birds, some snakes, any beast that could find higher ground ahead of the rising tide. He looked for fish. If he was floating atop water shared with the lake, surely fish had been swept into the city. And, on cue, he saw a murky form darting between submerged tree branches.

He was conflicted about what he was seeing, a refracted version of his city, one where homes and trees were bisected and mirrored in this oddly calm body of water. The novelty of the new world brought forth the adventurer in him − he wanted to see it all, the whole city, what had become of it. But the builder in him thought of the damage, how long it would take to rebuild. Years, maybe a decade. He wondered if the world at large could already see what he was seeing, a disaster mythical in scale and severity.

In his neighborhood, miles from the closest levee, the water had risen slowly enough that he knew it was unlikely that anyone had died in the flood. But with a shudder he thought of those closer to the breaches. He didn't know where the levees had failed, but he knew anyone living nearby would have been quickly overwhelmed.

He turned on Vincennes Place and headed south. Someone called his name. He looked up to see a client of his, Frank Noland, a fit and robust man of about sixty, leaning out from a second-story window. Zeitoun had done work on his house a few years ago. The Zeitouns would see Frank and his wife occasionally in the neighborhood, and they always exchanged warm greetings.

Zeitoun waved and paddled over.

"You got a cigarette?" Frank asked, looking down.

Zeitoun shook his head no, and coasted closer to the window where Frank had appeared. It was a strange sensation, paddling over the man's yard; the usual barrier that would prevent one from guiding a vehicle up to the house was gone. He could glide directly from the street, diagonally across the lawn, and appear just a few feet below a second-story window. Zeitoun was just getting accustomed to the new physics of this world.

Frank was shirtless, wearing only a pair of tennis shorts. His wife was behind him, and they had a guest in the house, another woman of similar age. Both women were dressed in T-shirts and shorts, suffering in the heat. It was early in the day, but the humidity was already oppressive.

"You think you could take me to where I can buy some smokes?" Frank asked. Zeitoun told him that he didn't think any store would be open and selling cigarettes this day.

Frank sighed. "See what happened to my
motorcycle?" He pointed to the porch next door.

Zeitoun remembered Frank talking about this motorcycle − an antique bike that he had bought, restored, and lavished attention on. Now it was under six feet of water. As the water had risen the day before, Frank had moved it from the driveway up to the porch and then to his next-door neighbor's porch, which was higher. But now it was gone. They could still see the faint, blurred likeness of the machine, like a relic from a previous civilization.

He and Frank talked for a few minutes about the storm, the flood, how Frank had expected it but then hadn't expected it at all.

"Any chance you can take me to check on my truck?" Frank asked. Zeitoun agreed, but told Frank that he'd have to continue on a while longer. Zeitoun was planning to check on one of his rental properties, about two miles away.

Frank agreed to come along for the ride, and climbed down from the window and into the canoe. Zeitoun gave him the extra paddle and they were off.

"Brand new truck," Frank said. He had parked it on Fontainebleau, thinking that because the road was a foot or so higher than Vincennes, the truck would be spared. They made their way up six blocks to where Frank had parked the truck, and then Zeitoun heard Frank's quick intake of breath. The truck was under five feet of water and had migrated half a block. Like his motorcycle, it was gone, a thing of the past.

"You want to get anything out of it?" Zeitoun asked.

Frank shook his head. "I don't want to look at it. Let's go."

A few doors down, Zeitoun and Frank came upon a house with a large white cloth billowing from the second-floor window.

When they got closer, they saw a couple, a husband and wife in their seventies, leaning out of the window.

"You surrender?" Frank asked.

The man smiled.

"You want to get out?" Zeitoun asked.

"Yes, we do," the man said. They couldn't safely fit anyone else in the canoe, so Zeitoun and Frank promised to send someone back to the house as soon as they got to Claiborne. They assumed there would be activity there, that if anywhere would have a police or military presence, it would be Claiborne, the main thoroughfare nearby.

"We'll be right back," Zeitoun said.

As they were paddling away from the couple's house, they heard a faint female voice. It was a kind of moan, weak and tremulous.

"You hear that?" Zeitoun asked.

Frank nodded. "It's coming from that direction."

They paddled toward the sound and heard the voice again.

"Help."

It was coming from a one-story house on Nashville. They coasted toward the front door and heard the voice again: "Help me."

Zeitoun dropped his paddle and jumped into the water. He held his breath and swam to the porch. The steps came quicker than he thought. He jammed his knee against the masonry and let out a gasp. When he stood, the water was up to his neck.

"You okay?" Frank asked. Zeitoun nodded and made his way up the steps.

"Hello?" the voice said, now hopeful.

He tried the front door. It was stuck. Zeitoun kicked the door. It wouldn't move. He kicked again. No movement. With the water now to his chest, he ran his body against the door. He did it again. And again. Finally it gave.

Inside he found a woman hovering above him. She was in her seventies, a large woman, over two hundred pounds. Her patterned dress was spread out on the surface of the water like a great floating flower. Her legs dangled below. She was holding on to a bookshelf.

"Help me," she said.

Examples from the show

A few self portraits by my students.

one of the walls of work

3rd Grade

8th Grade

3rd grade

3rd grade

3rd grade

1rst grade

1rst grade

1rst grade

2nd grade

1rst grade

kindergarten

kindergarten

8th grade

8th grade

8th grade

5th grade

4th grade