Living on the fenceline
by Lo Jackson for South Summit 2023
From what I remember my childhood was perfect; although like any family we had our struggles my memories are of the good times outdoors with family and friends. One of those memories is of my best friend Trent and I on his grandparents boat jumping from the very top straight into the bayou. Swimming around without a care in the world, falling in love with the murky waters, while joking about the alligators not 20 feet away.
Floating our bodies in these Louisiana wetlands provided us the ultimate beauty in looking at the wide sprawling roots of the huge cypress trees, running our hands through the swamp grass, and catching all the frogs we could get our hands on. We fished, played sports, and were essentially outside every chance we got.
I consider myself a levee kid, that is, I walked or ran on those thin concrete walls with ease, my backdrop being the horizon of the city of New Orleans. I was always exploring the abandoned wharfs along the levee which bordered the Mississippi River, breaking into cut out fences and walking around the old buildings, marveling at all the spray painted walls and 18th century equipment.
For the fourth of July it was always a treat setting off our plenty of fireworks on side of the levee and watching the ones from far on the other side of the Mississippi in New Orleans. Being outside was my church. I practiced it everyday and worshiped the sun. My parents had to peel me off the pavement after laying on it for so long. It gave me solace being able to run around my small town and skateboard the homemade ramps my dad made for me and my friends. We knew when to go inside when the mosquito man made his rounds spraying on the block.
Arabi, in general, is known for widespread fertile farmland. My neighbor next door was a horse pasture with goats, chickens, and too many dogs to count. My parents grew up in St. Bernard, built their house themselves in 2001 and still keep up with the ivy growing on the front walls of their house every weekend. Outside their house you see the horizon of the oldest refinery in the parish: Domino Sugar. My home sits about three blocks away from this ominous dilapidated yet still functional building and I used to love to watch the sun set over its windows, many of them smashed in, creating a mesmerizing golden reflection.
I also always looked forward to the Christmas season when there would be a giant Christmas hat atop one of its stacks. I even looked forward to the sugar fest where we could get free bags of sugar and enjoy all the sweet vendors. The industry never seemed weird or negative, just a part of my home. Even to this day I find peace coming home from the city driving down St Bernard highway taking in the pastures, live oaks, and nature around me.
The refineries have always supported the parish. They sponsor all the fun festivals such as Crawfish Fest, The Tomato Festival, and even the Los Islenos- their logo always on some poster or vendor sign. Even New Orleans local Jazz Fest has Shell symbols on seemingly every stage poster. The schools and local government even gets donations from each refinery as a thank you of sorts for being neighbors.
It wasn’t until one night Trent and I were hanging out by the levee next to Domino’s refinery that I saw it in an entirely different light. It was around 2 am when we pulled up to our usual smoke spot and as we got out of the car there was a huge fireball that exploded above the refinery. It lit up the entire street and all we could do was run away and it was as if I was noticing the truth of the building in front of me for the first time. This 100 year old sugar plantation that I had admired for my entire childhood was actually an immediate danger capable of serious damage. It was frightening not knowing what was going to happen next and what shocked me most was the quiet after that loud explosion, as if representative of the silence that surrounds the dark side of industry in my entire community. I never knew what happened and to this day that imagery still haunts me with the fear of what would’ve happened if the explosion had been bigger.
Since then I’ve been hyper aware of the detrimental effects of industries on the home that I grew up in. I started to notice dust and sediment on my parents’ cars, and a terrible smell that surrounds Chalmette Refinery and wafts throughout the entire parish and even the city of New Orleans when the wind is right. I also realized that the rotten egg smell had always been around just such a constant that I had never connected it with the refineries. Even the workers safety signs out front of the entrances had a more impactful meaning to me after that day.
I was in college when this incident took place and was taking Garret Bradley’s Documentary Filmmaking class which sent me down the rabbit hole into making my film, Fenceline. I interviewed historians, longtime residents, and even my own family on their thoughts and fears about the plants. It’s still a work in progress, but my ultimate goal is to show all sides wherein my community can make their own cognitive choice: are these refineries viable for another 100 years?
Both Chalmette Refining and Domino Sugar have been around since the early 1900’s and have grown exponentially and the community’s dependence on them has grown as well. Their presence has become a part of our community. There are oil billboards everywhere promoting the positive they claim to provide the city, either through jobs or through tax revenue directly to local government, schools and even our aquarium. Not only do these industries provide jobs directly, they also provide patrons to many mom and pop shops whose main clientele are refinery workers. The local high school even has a trade program that trains graduates for 6 months and provides them with a job that pays seemingly well, creating a school to industry pipeline. The industry provides money to the town and the town provides a constant supply of workers.
Personally, my whole family lives in and loves The Parish and has no intention of moving away. I have cousins who work for Dominos sugar and rely on the industry to support their families. Even though my family and neighbors seem to benefit from these industries, I’ve learned that they affect personal health as well as the health of the land we love and rely on, we don’t call it the dirty south for nothing.
One immediate concern of mine is the effects of the runoff and the extended exposure of pollution on the seafood industry. One concerning incident was when I saw on the news that run-off into the Mississippi River turned parts of the river a neon green color creating toxic waste in the same water source we use for tap water. Fishing, crabbing and shrimping provide an income to many people in St. Bernard and seafood also is a cultural staple in the community, almost every gathering includes boiling one or more of our delicious local seafoods. I’m worried about how the quality of life will be affected if industry keeps increasing.
I’ve noticed the loss of greenland and pastures I used to love to admire, as industry continues to grow, agricultural workers who depend on cheap land are bought out in order to expand the industries. The potential promise of money and tax revenue wins out over the quality of life for the community. As people we are dependent on oil and gas, and I realize it’s unrealistic to cut out all production but I am hopeful that changes are possible that improve the situation, for employees, the environment, and the community as a whole.
These companies are extremely profitable and should be encouraged to be as efficient and safe as possible instead of solely focused on profit. The companies know the danger they present and actively cover it up, and so the community, unfortunately, may not shift its mindset until after a tragedy has personally affected them and their loved ones. Until tragedy hits, the refineries are just a normal part of life to many. However, I am not alone in my thinking and am encouraged by the many organizations looking to reduce new chemical production plants and spread awareness about their effects. Some notable organizations are Rise St. James and Louisiana Bucket Brigade, Gulf South for a Green New Deal, and 350 New Orleans, all inspiring grassroots movements working to improve Louisiana.
I love Arabi and even feel a homey feeling when I see the refineries in the backdrop of a beautiful Louisiana sunset. However, I want a future that supports the health and prosperity of all my neighbors and one which shares the abundance throughout the community. As a sister, aunt, and cousin I especially worry about the future children. Will my aunt’s 100 year old magnolia tree still be blooming every summer, will those levee walls still be intact, and how much air can they breathe in without smelling nasty, pungent smells?
Nowadays, what brings me peace is riding all the way “down the road,” stopping by the snowball stand getting a sweet treat and heading down to what’s known as the “end of the world,” in Delacroix where the wetlands begin and road ends to watch that beautiful sunset. My home brought me so much joy as a child and I hope it continues to provide that for many generations to come.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lo Jackson is a filmmaker from New Orleans, LA. She was born in St. Bernard Parish and graduated from Loyola University with a degree in English with concentration in film and digital media.
This piece was commissioned by the New Orleans Film Society for South Summit 2023. South Summit received critical support from JustFilms Ford Foundation, which is part of the Ford Foundation’s Creativity and Free Expression program and is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Arts Council New Orleans.
