I don’t know if it’s from the view on high that my editor’s perch allows, but sometimes from here it looks like there’s a lot of finger-wagging going on out there, a lot of hurt feelings, a lot of feuds. A lot of frowny faces. A lot of shit talk. Can I suggest everyone take a breath? It’s a rampant, constant, eternal thing, scene drama. Doesn’t matter what scene—could be music or theater, food culture or uh, even the media. No matter how you define your own clan, some things are universal, like someone’s toes getting stepped on, or finding disappointment in your peers, or offending one another. Sometimes we actually screw each other over and truly bad behavior goes down—and that should be checked. But ask yourself: does that last scenario actually happen as much as you think it does? Was it your toe got smooshed or your face caved in? Do we owe each other a little forgiveness from time to time for the small bruises? (And yes, I myself have inflicted a few.)
Point is: this is New Orleans, for Gaia H. Christ’s sake. We take it easy down here; we enjoy each other’s company. Our permissive culture exists because we set our tolerance high for extreme behavior, attitudes and expression. That’s what makes this place different from most of the U.S. Our community is deep and it equals another abused word: family. I always say this town is a terminal disease, and so is family. I think it’s easy to respect one another once we realize no one is going anywhere. So look at your drama: how much do you carry, how much do you create? Is it worth it? Will it all look pretty silly one day? Will we all be able to laugh about it?
Don’t get me wrong: I think it’s truly great that everyone has such strong feelings about what they’re involved in. It just means you care. I hope you find that kind of celebration and reverence here in this month’s pages, from the great work Community Kitchen is doing, honoring the Free Southern Theater’s long legacy of activist art or just petting Shovels and Ropes’ dog. New Orleans is, at its best, a great big mosh pit—or line dance—or block party. We might step on each other’s toes now and again, but that’s just bad dancing, which is better than no dancing at all.
