Categories: Clichés, Identity

Last Wednesday before Kouri-Vini class in Lafayette, I received an email regarding a new snapshot on Créolité* (the quality of being Creole) on Lafayette’s TV-10. As I read through the email chain, I could not help but feel that this time would be different. I even responded to the chain, and offered assistance, and shared a link to my doctoral thesis. 

When I woke up the next day, and checked my email, I noticed that the segment had aired, and a confidante sent me the link. I clicked with great interest, but knowing the track record of journalists on this topic, I knew I could be disappointed. 

Website opens and I see the title Louisiana Creoles and Cajuns: What’s the Difference. Healthy side-eye at the screen. Then a large gulp of room temperature water. Click. Once complete, I thought: hmm. I can see where the producers may be going with this multi-segment piece. A good way to reel viewers and readers in is by asking that question, which has proven to generate heated discord online in recent years. TV10 knew just the punch, and it worked.¹I will not cite all, because it is so frequent, that it is impossible to track them all. But click here and read the comment sections, and you will see what I mean.

The segment left viewers without answers. I figured they probably did this to keep people coming back to subsequent segments. For once, I felt optimistic about the production, and prayed that they would get it right or close to right for once, like writer Lanie Lee Cook did in this article. I closed TV10’s website, and my brain shifted back to work. I’d come back to it as the new segments aired.

Not so fast, buddy! Folks lit up my inbox on Facebook. “Did you see what your people wrote about Creoles on TV10’s page?” “Did you know you made Gumbo with tomatoes?” “Lucky you for having New Orleans roots – the rest of us have no history culture or identity!” Bondjé Siñè, I whispered. Good Lord. I went to TV10’s Facebook fanpage, and read the comments. The typical tropes: “city vs country” “tomato vs rustic” “poor vs monied” “fresh caught vs imported food from France” “white vs black or mixed race” etc. I clicked on each poster who wrote these tropes. Over ninety percent are white- and Cajun-identified. A fair number of those who were Creole-identified  contested the tropes … to no avail. 

I already knew this, but somehow my perception was much sharper that day. The nascent Cajun identity of the 1970s-1980s, no longer depended on opposition to speaking English. Today, most Cajuns (who I distinguish from Cajunists – Cajun exceptionalists) will reminisce about old people speaking “French” (a misnomer as many speak Kouri-Vini rather than French), some will lament about being beaten in school for speaking “French.” But the tenor since 2010, is very different.

A new opponent emerged. The Louisiana Creole voice had been dormant, and an afterthought, for decades, actually about a century. But it is now being heard near and far – very loudly – by those who had been carrying the Creole voice all that time, in addition to a very unexpected element. Not by any fault of their own, many, many young folks, who had been Cajun-identified, some also Cajunists, until not very long ago, began metaphorically returning home to Creole Louisiana, and began to openly oppose and reject the Cajun narrative that had prevailed since the 1970s. There is now a growing body of academic work, as well as open access to old newspapers, civil and Catholic parochial records, even academic work, all available online – it only takes a few clicks to see where, when, and by whom the narrative emerged, and why Cajun exceptionalism is founded on utter historical, genealogical, and cultural nonsense. Plenty of these youngsters are pissed about being misled, and are openly biting back, and even self-identifying as Louisiana Creole. The Creole voice grew, became more diverse, and prepared to fight for what’s historically and culturally truthful.

The old Cajunist vanguard did not retreat. It only grew louder and now distinguishes them from Louisiana Creoles in 3 recurring ways: New Orleans/mobility versus elsewhere/poverty, tomatoes in Gumbo, and black or mixed race people. Having “Cajun” ancestors (they mean, Acadian, but irresponsibly conflate the two) pops up often, but many Cajuns have no Acadian ancestors whatsoever – so that realization is somewhat muting importance on Acadians a bit today. Of course many people of color descend from Acadians, though – the big elephant in the room – which Cajunists tend to struggle to explain. All of this is so pervasive that you can pretty much bet that Cajunists will write or say it. Plenty Cajuns do, too. Meanwhile, Creoles are saying: nonsense: we don’t put tomatoes in Gumbo (some of us smother okra with tomatoes but not all Gumbos have okra in it), we don’t all come from New Orleans, aren’t all upwardly mobile/learnéd, and don’t all have ancestors from Africa. Despite this confrontation, Cajunists continue to regurgitate these tropes. 

My question to you is, why do you think that is? How do you rationalize this irrationality?

 

– Christophe Landry

Créolité – yes, it is true: when you google this fancy-looking word, you’ll land on websites about a literary movement. However, I use Créolité to specifically and deliberately speak to the quality of being Creole … which includes the culture, space, genealogy, history and identity. The suffix “ité” (or “ity”) can be added to the back of any noun to speak to the quality of being whatever that is, too. Hence, Americanité, Cajunité, Francophonité, Francité, etc. Its use tends to be most common in academic and perhaps some journalistic circles. 

Image sources: Google. The three women are from the cast of Anne Rice’s made-for-tv series Feast of All Saints, from her novel based on a harrowing tale of miscegenation, class, Americanization and race in early 19th century New Orleans.