Oil Spill Takes a Toll on All, but Gulf Minorities Feel Marginalized Again

Although the BP oil spill may finally be stopped for good, there is no gush of relief and jubilation in southeast Louisiana. Months if not years of expensive and arduous cleanup remain to be done, and no one knows when, if ever, the commercial-fishing economy will return to pre-spill levels.

The entire populace -- every racial, cultural, ethnic, neighborhood and socio-economic group -- has been seriously affected. In response, every group with a sense of self-identity has rallied to its own defense. But variances in political connections, education, money, organizational skills and media savvy have led to widely differing levels of attention, coverage and perceived credibility. As a result, some communities with a historic sense of alienation are feeling marginalized yet again.

The very existence of an African-American commercial fishing community, for instance, has seemingly surprised some local and national media outlets. As Byron Encalade, the African-American president of the Louisiana Oystermen's Association, put it, "Until [U.S. Reps.] Maxine Waters and Sheila Jackson Lee came down recently to check out the spill situation first-hand, hardly anyone knew that African-American and Native American oystermen and fishermen even lived in Plaquemines Parish." (Encalade has also testified about the spill before the House Judiciary Committee.) "The black community has been here for generations," he said, "and my ancestry is also part Native American, just like practically everybody else here. Those native people aren't highly visible anymore, but they didn't just vanish. They were absorbed.

"My family, in particular, has been in the fishing business here going way back to when everyone spoke French," Encalade continued. "Those people didn't learn English till they started school." Perhaps it is this linguistic consciousness, in part, that prompts Encalade's organization to advocate, too, on behalf of Vietnamese, Laotian and Cambodian fishermen. Many in such Asian communities speak little, if any, English.

The Asian community, fishermen included, is also ably represented by Father Vien Nguyen. Formerly the priest at Mary Queen of Vietnam, a Catholic church in the Versailles section of the far-flung neighborhood called New Orleans East, Nguyen now works in the central office of the Archdiocese of New Orleans. He also serves as chairman of the Mary Queen of Vietnam Community Development Corp. In this latter role Nguyen has shown extreme grit and skill as a community organizer. One of Nguyen's many successes was spearheading a campaign of demonstrations that stymied construction of a huge landfill in Versailles.

His many current projects include the Viet Village Urban Farm. The MQVNCDC office -- in a commercial strip on Alcee Fortier Boulevard, where every sign is in Vietnamese -- is a constant beehive of activity. The MQVNCDC has also joined with the South Bay Alliance of Alabama and the Mississippi Coalition for Vietnamese-American Fisherfolk and Families to support those affected by the spill. (Nguyen estimates that the Vietnamese community in metro New Orleans numbers 20,000, with another 20,000 in rural South Louisiana. Some 70 percent of these people are Catholic, he added.)

Meanwhile, Byron Encalade's main mission of late (in a sentiment echoed by Nguyen) is keeping a vigilant eye on BP. Encalade wants to make sure that the company will not back out of its promises to pay restitution -- either overtly or by hamstringing people with endless and ever-changing paperwork.

"We all went through hell here with the Road Home" -- a state-run Katrina relief program that was notorious for maddening bureaucracy -- Encalade said with a countenance both world-weary and angry. "We can't go through that again." Frustrated that he has "already been to the BP claims office 15 times," the burly boatman added: "I refuse to go any more. It's ridiculous. What more do I need to show, besides that I have a license, and tax records to prove what I grossed? I tried to explain to BP that with the seafood industry, one hat's not going to fit everyone." There are fin fishermen, oystermen and shrimpers, Encalade pointed out. Some own their own oyster beds. Some own their boats. Others are simply employees. "And some companies like mine" -- Encalade Trucking, in the small town of Pointe a la Hache -- "are in boats (I lost three in Katrina) oyster beds and transportation."

"There are guys like me," he went on, "who have invested over $100,000 in boats, and I was just starting to earn that money back. It's supposed to be tax deductible because it's an investment back in your business. So to be compensated by BP in a way that doesn't give consideration for all the funds spent on reinvestment, that's wrong.

"I am trying to do things that are decisive and positive, to keep down the mental anguish that people are suffering. But it seems that's just the direction where BP is taking this." BP's plan, he said, is "to discourage and frustrate people so that they'll just back away. But BP has to understand that, even when they're upset, these people on the bayous are very resilient."

Striking a similar chord, while sitting next to an out-of-work fisherman named Thiet Tran, Father Vien used a religious metaphor: "We in the Vietnamese community been crucified on many Good Fridays. But, always, Easter has come."

Encalade is particularly concerned about the African-American community, because "with so many generational injustices, some black people become mental victims. They tend to draw back with an attitude of 'what's the use of trying; we'll just get the same old thing again.' But this fight is not just about African-Americans. If that door opens for me, everyone else will be able to come through it, too. Many others, including plenty of white people, are suffering these injustices, too." Encalade went on to describe Plaquemines Parish as "a classic American melting pot, a true gumbo," proudly noting his military service in the Wolf Hound Regiment of the 25^th Infantry.

Alongside his disdain for BP, Encalade also had some harsh words for opponents of the oil-drilling moratorium. "It's not that damn simple," he said emphatically of the argument that jobs will be lost. "What sense does it make to lift the moratorium and then get it straight? No! If a truck I own falls into violation and becomes a safety hazard, I have to fix it before I can put it back on the highway! And the department of transportation doesn't play, either; they pull you over and put you the scales." Encalade asserted that the same approach must apply to the oil industry. "Fix the damn problem, then you can go back and drill! The oil companies are trying to hold us hostage again. We still don't know how much damage this spill caused.

"People say that if you support the moratorium then you are disloyal to Louisiana. Well, when is Louisiana going to be loyal to its own? And why should the poorest people always pay the consequences for the wealthiest?"