Narrative Resistance

Insurgents on the Bayou

Hurricane Katrina, Counterterrorism, and Literary Dissent on America's Gulf Coast


On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina careened into New Orleans. Levees breached across the city, leading to a deluge that submerged Orleans Parish in up to twenty feet of water. In the aftermath, twentieth-century discourses of Black criminality depicted the predominantly Black hurricane survivors as “looters” and thieves. At the same time, the rhetoric of counterterrorism further described survivors as “insurgents” and terrorists. Powerful figures across both the political spectrum and various levels of government contributed to the criminalization of hurricane survivors. For instance, the New Orleans Time Picayune decried the “parade of looters” apparently ransacking the city (1). David Addington, counsel to Vice President Dick Cheney, “began invoking the specter of ‘insurgents,’” as a means by which to utilize the Insurrection Act, and Louisiana Governor Kathleen Blanco declared that the state’s National Guard had “just returned from Iraq and will shoot to kill” (2).

This digital accompaniment to the dissertation, "Insurgents on the Bayou: Hurricane Katrina, Counterterrorism, and Literary Dissent on America's Gulf Coast," draws on literary analysis, historical inquiry, and the critical digital humanities to investigate the intersection of American racism, disaster response, and counterterror securitization in post-Katrina New Orleans. The dissertation conducts close readings of post-Katrina literature and film in an examination of the narrative strategies used to resist counterterror rhetoric, policies, and ideologies. This digital project delves more deeply into specific rhetoric and practices exposed by the post-Katrina texts. By integrating multiple spatial analyses into one visualization, this project seeks to elucidate the types of surveillance, the disproportionate emphasis on protecting white-coded areas of the city, and the pervasive use of post-9/11 counterterror/counterinsurgent tactics deployed as a means to secure the physical, economic, and ideological infrastructures of whiteness ostensibly threatened by the humanitarian crisis. While this mapping project cannot in anyway undo the harm counterterror practices wrought on New Orleans’s communities, it is my hope that by revealing the intersections of race and counterterrorism in post-Katrina New Orleans we can begin to turn the tide against practices of disaster response that have grown and continue to be increasingly militarized.

**Portions of this project were published as "Tactics of Battle, Strategies of State: Hurricane Katrina and the Counterterror Exception" in Liberal Disorder: Emergency Politics, Populist Uprisings and Digital Dictatorships (New York: Routledge, 2020).**

The Overlays | Project Data | Methodology | Discussion | Conclusion | Citations | Map Sources

Map Information

NOAA Flood Depth Estimate, Sep 3 Layer: Blue indicates the deepest water level (10+ feet), while red signifies the shallowest water (0-1 feet). Locally, water depth reached as high as twenty feet. Image url.

Race Demographics Layer: Credit to Eric Fisher. Red indicates White residents, blue indicates Black residents. Data drawn from the 2000 Census. Creative Commons license: BY-SA. Image url.

Hurricane Track Layer: Colors indicate hurricane strength. Green: Category 1, Yellow: Category 2, Orange: Category 3, Red: Category 4, Purple: Category Five. Collected from Esri's ArcGIS Online Collection.


Project Data

The data used to create these maps is drawn from a variety of sources. The base layer of New Orleans city streets was drawn from Esri's database of basemaps. The collection of points indicating the locations of major incident, levee breaches, and security posts was compiled from literary texts, scholarly accounts of the disaster, and oral histories. Douglas Brinkley’s The Great Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, and the Mississippi Gulf Coast (2006), Jeremy Scahill’s Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army (2007), and Dave Eggers’s biography Zeitoun (2009) all provided information on the locations of para/military and law enforcement security points. I additionally consulted the New Orleans Times-Picayune and oral history collections such as Voices Rising and Voices Rising II: Stories from the Katrina Narrative Project for information on security outposts and temporary bases of operations.

Additionally, feature layers depicting Hurricane Katrina's track, aerial imagery of post-storm New Orleans, and estimated flood depth were downloaded from datasets and images available from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and Esri. The overlay of Hurricane Katrina's track and intensity was downloaded from the Esri's ArcGIS Online Collection. Satellite imagery of New Orleans was obtained from the website "Hurricane Katrina Response Imagery," hosted by NOAA's National Geodetic Survey, while a JPG of the estimated flood depth was retrieved from an archived page from NOAA's news website.


Using the Leaflet JavaScript-based map creator and HTML coding, this project combines multiple spatial overlays to cross-reference flood depth, race and class demographics, securitization measures, and locations of major incident (e.g., the Superdome and Convention Center). Individual points in each of the "Sites of Major Incident," "Levee Breaches," and "Security Checkpoints" layers were cataloged from the literary texts, scholarly accounts, and oral history collections cited above.

A Python script sorted the large number of satellite images provided in downloads from NOAA's Hurricane Katrina Response Imagery page in order to find only those that pertained to downtown New Orleans and the nearby neighborhoods. The images were then loaded into QGIS, where they were merged into a single GeoTiff file using the raster merge function.


1927 Mississippi River flood.

1927 Mississippi River Flood along an unidentified stretch of the lower Mississippi. Credit: Department of Defense, Department of the Army, Office of the Chief of Engineers, St. Louis District. Image url.

In “Scenes from a Documentary History of Mississippi” (2005) Natasha Trethewey describes a historical photograph of the 1927 Mississippi River flood. In the picture, Black evacuees stand on a barge near the edge of the “swollen” Mississippi (3). Flooding has driven them from their homes and forced them to seek shelter on the other side of the river. However, National Guardsmen stand on the bank and “block the path to high ground” (4). With “rifles tight in their fists,” they order the survivors “to sing their passage onto land” (5). Trethewey’s poem calls attention to the ways in which racial stereotypes and performance have been tied to one’s very survival. In the midst of one of the worst natural disasters in American history, National Guardsmen demanded minstrel antics and racial deference before granting Black evacuees admittance to a dry patch of land.

Today Trethewey’s poem seems eerily prescient. Published just months before Hurricane Katrina, the poem describes a situation that played out at bridges and others points of exit across New Orleans as survivors sought relief in unflooded, largely white Jefferson Parish. On September 1, 2005, police halted evacuees on the Crescent City Connection and ordered them to turn back at gunpoint. While the National Guardsmen of Trethewey’s poem overlaid minstrel stereotypes onto the displaced persons of the 1927 flood, police from the city of Gretna and from Jefferson and Orleans parishes superimposed “thug” and “looter” tropes onto Katrina evacuees. Sarah Dean, a white evacuee in a group of mostly Black survivors, recounted, “We started walking up the highway…and got up toward the bridge, and when we were within shouting distance of the bridge all of a sudden there was a line of, you know, guns across the bridge” (6). Joseph Melancon, a Black resident of New Orleans’s Third Ward, concurs: “This was Jefferson Parish police lined up with shotguns would not let us cross that bridge, made us go back” (7). According to a subsequent lawsuit, Gretna and Jefferson Parish “law enforcement officers used racial slurs, fired warning shots over [evacuees’] heads, pressed loaded guns against their bodies and placed them in headlocks and chokeholds” (8).

Earlier that day, thieves had ransacked and burned Gretna’s Oakwood Center Mall. City officials suspected New Orleans evacuees from the Convention Center and Superdome had lit the blaze but produced no evidence to substantiate their claims. Seeking to stem the flow of evacuees from New Orleans proper into the surrounding suburbs, Gretna’s Mayor Ronnie Harris and Police Chief Arthur Lawson, Jr. claimed that the “city was in a lockdown, as part of a mandatory evacuation order” (9). This policy extended across Jefferson Parish, the municipality in which Gretna was located. According to Michael Seelig, a resident of the New Orleans Uptown neighborhood, “the president of Jefferson Parish [Andrew Broussard]…declared Jefferson Parish ‘Jeffersonia’ and blatantly said on the radio that they were not going to allow anybody from Orleans Parish to cross the parish line to get out” (10). Similarly, the New Orleans Times-Picayune reported that Broussard had initiated “Operation Lockdown using Louisiana State Police and military police to seal off Jefferson’s borders” (11). Even Governor Blanco ordered the National Guard to prevent people from leaving the city (12). Eventually these municipal and state decisions resulted in bloodshed. On September 4, New Orleans police opened fire on a group of unarmed evacuees crossing the Danziger Bridge, killing two people and maiming two others (13).

In the immediate aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the unrestrained movement of Black and brown peoples through New Orleans’s white-coded spaces and centers of capital presented 'images of besieged whiteness' fueling calls for heavy securitization." Hurricane Katrina threw white and black spatial divides, and their attendant social ordering, into crisis. Flooding drove Black survivors from low-lying “black” areas toward dry land claimed by white businesses and homeowners. Government and media commentators criminalized Black folks’ movement through the white-coded spaces of the Lower Garden District, the French Quarter, and the Central Business District, among others, by describing Black survivors as “looters” and “thieves.” Conversely, evacuees in the temporarily designated black space of the Superdome largely garnered sympathy as victims or “refugees” because they were safely contained under the watchful eye of the National Guard.

Beyond discourses of criminality, government officials and law enforcement utilized the rhetoric of warfare and military action to describe the post-storm devastation. Colonel Joe Spraggins, director of the Harrison County Emergency Management Agency, described Gulfport, Mississippi as "Nagasaki," while Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour compared the coast to Hiroshima (14). Associations between the Gulf Coast and war zones were not limited to historical wars. On September 2, President Bush explained, "It’s as if the entire Gulf Coast were obliterated by the worst weapon you could imagine"(15). In the context of the post-9/11 period, Bush refers not only to the atomic bomb of the Cold War, but also to the weapons of mass destruction the United States expected to find in Iraq. Ron Vaney, the director of Bay St. Louis’s Public Works department, went further, alluding to the opening salvos of the war in Iraq when he referred to the destruction in Bay St. Louis as "shock and awe" (16).

Humvee convoy driving through floodwater.

Convoy of military vehicles drive by Marines from the 4th Ant-Terrorism Battalion. Credit: released by the United States Marine Corps. Image url.

Like Nagasaki, Hiroshima, and Baghdad, New Orleans too experienced the force of militarized pacification as government officials equated Black survivors with insurgents and sought means through which to federalize the disaster for full military operations. According to Nicholas Mirzoeff, a (now deleted) Army Times article from September 2, 2005 bluntly stated that “the National Guard would be combating ‘an insurgency in the city [of New Orleans]’” (17) David Addington, counsel to Vice President Dick Cheney, “began invoking the specter of ‘insurgents,’ whose existence would permit the president to send in military force under the Insurrection Act” (18). By framing Black survivors as insurgents, the state effectively expelled New Orleanians from the body politic. Designation as “insurgents” classified Black survivors as no longer citizens of the United States, and, in the context of the War on Terror, with similar status as “unlawful combatants” on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Iraq. These survivors were left vulnerable to and indeed experienced the infringement of rights, unlawful detention, and military occupation.

The discursive construction of survivors as criminals and insurgents directly influenced post-storm policy and operations. On September 2, FEMA director Michael Brown insisted that agency delays had been resulted because staff had been forced to work “under conditions of urban warfare” (19). That same day, Louisiana Governor Kathleen Blanco announced the deployment of the state’s National Guard to New Orleans, emphasizing that “they [had] just returned from Iraq and will shoot to kill” (20). Similarly, Brigadier General Gary Jones, commander of Louisiana’s Joint Task Force, stated, “‘This place is going to look like little Somalia…We’re going to go out and take this city back. This will be a combat operation to get this city under control’” (21) Both Governor Blanco and Brigadier General Jones’s statements directly connect the post-Katrina situation with the hostile exercise of state power overseas. While the existence of a shoot-to-kill order has since been disputed, at the time the rhetoric served to further render Black survivors as a disruptive and threatening insurgent force that needed to be quelled via the repressive arm of the counterterror state.

Over two hundred private military companies, including Blackwater USA, deployed contractors to the Gulf Coast after Katrina to not only assist in moving supplies but also secure wealthy districts, key resources, and critical infrastructure. One hundred and fifty Blackwater contractors arrived in New Orleans within thirty-six hours of the levee failures (22). Their quick response placed them in the city on September 1, preceded only by the Louisiana sector of the U.S. Coast Guard and the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, both of whom had begun search and rescue operations as soon as the storm passed. The style of response between these three first responders differed remarkably. Whereas the Coast Guard and Department of Wildlife and Fisheries armed themselves with helicopters and boats, Blackwater contractors entered the city in full military fashion, with desert fatigues, flak jackets, M-16 assault rifles, M-4 machines guns, and tactical shotguns (23). Some had just come from Iraq, where Blackwater had acquired a reputation for brutality and was amassing a record of engaging in unprovoked firefights against unarmed civilians. Blackwater President Gary Jackson explains the discrepancy as a matter of intelligence. According to Jackson, “reports coming out of New Orleans indicated the place was in anarchy, with armed looters roaming the city and outlaws preying on the populace” (24). The discourse positioning New Orleans as a warzone proved to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Blackwater responded by “‘send[ing] guys in there for real,’” that is, bristling with weapons and primed for confrontation (25).

While Blackwater and other private military companies scooped up "looters," "insurgents," and even "suspected terrorists" off the streets, the Louisiana Department of Corrections commandeered New Orleans's Union Passenger Terminal for an open-air, Guantánamo Bay-style prison to hold them. Louisiana State Penitentiary (also called Angola) warden Burl Cain obtained the building materials and marshaled a convict labor force to erect the detention center with swift efficiency. Although eighty percent of the city lay underwater and aid could not reach the nearby Superdome for ostensibly the same reason, Cain’s laborers secured the downtown terminal and assembled Camp Greyhound within two days of the storm. A staff of Angola prison guards and National Guardsmen manned it. (26) As Dave Eggers writes, "the facility “had been built since the storm” meant that “while the construction was taking place, on September 2, 3, and 4, thousands of residents were being plucked from rooftops, were being discovered alive and dead in attics"(27). As Eggers points out, such speedy assembly would have required the Louisiana Department of Corrections to begin planning construction and requisitioning materials within a day of the storm. Despite the unfolding humanitarian crisis just blocks away at the Superdome and Convention Center, security proved to be the focus of the post-hurricane response. Under a mixture of Angola prison guards and National Guardsmen, Camp Greyhound expedited post-storm efforts to reassert control over the largely Black population of hurricane survivors not already sequestered in the Superdome. Between August 30 and September 8 alone, “more than two hundred arrests were made. Most of those, 178, were for looting; 26 for possession of stolen vehicles; 20 for resisting arrest; 14 for theft; and 9 for attempted murder. A few were arrested on misdemeanors such as disturbing the peace” (28). Many of these charges appear to have been fabricated or exaggerated.

NOAA Flood Depth Estimates, September 3, 2005. Shallowest water is indicated by red (0-1 feet) while deepest water is indicated by blues and greens (10-20 feet). Credit to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association. Image url.

Even as police and National Guardsmen ferried detainees to Camp Greyhound, storm survivors languished in the fetid conditions of the Superdome just half a mile away. After waiting almost a week for assistance, survivors at New Orleans's Superdome witnessed the Friday, September 2 arrival of eight Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Trucks (HEMTTs) stocked with supplies. Although the lead Humvee cuts a precarious path through the water, the ten-ton HEMTTs slice easily through the flood to deliver much-needed food and water to the stranded evacuees (29). The footage of the long-awaited supply convoy suggests a systemic problem in the post-storm securitization of New Orleans: the elevation of national security, critical infrastructure protection, and counterterror militarization over the needs of hurricane survivors appears have been, at least in some, cases conscious and deliberate.

By Wednesday, August 31, floodwaters had crested, leaving what NOAA estimates to have been zero to one foot of water on the river-side of the Superdome and three to four feet of water on the opposite side (30). Contamination of food and water supplies could not have been an issue, as helicopters had been dropping cases of bottled water onto pavement or into floodwater for residents across the city (31). Additionally, and particularly telling, the Hyatt Regency opened onto a street with streets that, though covered by one to two inches of water, would have been easily navigable for the HEMTTs to ferry survivors the few blocks to dry land, where buses could have picked them up. At the time of Hurricane Katrina, the Hyatt Regency New Orleans was connected to the Superdome by an elevated concrete bridge. While streets on the north and northwest side of the Superdome were indeed submerged in water, by zooming in on the high-resolution image provided by NOAA's geodetic survey, one finds that the grassy median remains exposed and, just south of the hotel, the street remains passable and dry. Despite the accessibility to the hotel and, by extension, the survivors in the Superdome, evacuations did not begin until Friday, September 2--the day supplies finally began to arrive. When the National Guard did start evacuations, they followed the same path just described.

Close-up of the Mercedes Benz Superdome (left), Hyatt Regency New Orleans (center), and Loyola Avenue (right). The two buildings were connected by a wide concrete bridge at the time of Hurricane Katrina. Image url.

Given that flood waters had crested two days before the HEMTT convoy arrived, the state weighed other factors when deciding on the timing of evacuations. Fred Johnson, an activist and resident of the Tremé neighborhood, explains that Hyatt security was concerned that “the guys who were in [the Superdome] doing what they weren’t supposed to do would fan out into the hotel, and it could be a problem” (32). When evacuation finally got underway, the National Guard formed a “physical line, like a chute” from the Superdome, through the Hyatt Regency to Loyola Avenue in order to prevent looting and destruction of property within the hotel (33). Despite the state’s renewed commitment to humanitarian aid and evacuations after mid-week, well-being of hurricane survivors could not—would not—be prioritized over the protecting white property and centers of capital.



In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, counterterror/counterinsurgent discourses of “shock and awe” devastation and Black “insurgents” framed the Katrina disaster as a national security emergency and encouraged a swift and brutal response by various levels of law enforcement, the military, and private military contractors. At one time, we may have taken comfort in the idea that post-Katrina New Orleans indeed seemed exceptional in its level of destruction and degree of human suffering. However, the extraordinary use of paramilitary actors and counterterror detention against domestic populations normalized both tactics outside of terrorism-related national security, thus setting precedent for future application during national emergencies and even domestic political protest.

The deployment of private security forces seems to have become a staple of hurricane response. As during Hurricane Katrina, local governments in Puerto Rico, the U.S. federal government, and private individuals hired PSCs to protect hotels, communications networks, relief workers, and fresh water supplies in the wake of Hurricane Maria in September 2017 (34). It is perhaps no surprise that Blackwater, now under the name Academi, quickly received “offers from the local and federal government and by the Red Cross to come to Puerto Rico” (35). Academi and other U.S. companies, including TigerSwan, Ranger America, and the Whitestone Group, signed contracts with the Puerto Rican government, businesses, and private individuals (36). These U.S. companies mainly secured the communications and hotel sectors in San Juan, along with the exclusive Ciudadela complex, an exclusive community of residential, retail, and green spaces in San Juan’s Santurce district (38). When asked if his agency had authorized the hiring of PSCs, Puerto Rico’s FEMA director Alejandro De La Campa could only respond, “I really don’t know the answer” (39).

The use of counterterror measures to protect white hegemony, particularly as it manifests in economic wealth and political power, has become a pervasive and, for the foreseeable future, permanent part of American life. However, Ronak Kapadia argues that “felicitous cracks have appeared in the surface of the forever war’s architecture that can be exploited by forms of fugitivity, refusal, and rebellion ‘that were impossible yesterday and might be impossible tomorrow’” (40).



(1) Walt Philbin, “Widespread Looting Hits Abandoned Businesses,” Times-Picayune (New Orleans, LA), Aug. 30, 2005.

(2) Paul Kramer, “Desert, Storm,” Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, September 7, 2016,; Nicholas Mirzoeff, “The Right to Look.” Critical Inquiry 37, no. 3 (2011): 494,

(3) Natasha Trethewey, “Scenes from a Documentary History of Mississippi,” in Native Guard: Poems (Boston: Mariner Books, 2007), 23.

(4) Ibid.

(5) Ibid.

(6) When the Levees Broke, directed by Spike Lee (2006; New York: HBO Studios, 2006), DVD.

(7) Ibid.

(8) Paul Rioux, “Crescent City Connection Blockade Lawsuit in Federal Court Comes to an End,” Times Picayune (New Orleans, LA), Dec. 28, 2010.

(9) Douglas Brinkley, The Great Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, and the Mississippi Gulf Coast, (New York: Harper Perennial, 2007), 472.

(10) Lee, When the Levees Broke

(11) “The Broussard Recovery Plan,” Times-Picayune, (New Orleans, LA), Aug. 30, 2005.

(12) Brinkley, The Great Deluge.

(13) John Burnett, “What Happened on New Orleans’ Danziger Bridge?” NPR, September 13, 2006,

(14) Brinkley, The Great Deluge, 173.

(15) Lee, Levees.

(16) Brinkley, The Great Deluge, 160.

(17) Mirzoeff, “The Right to Look.”

(18) Kramer, “Desert, Storm.”

(19) “Military Due to Move in to New Orleans,” CNN online, September 2, 2005,

(20) Mirzoeff, “The Right to Look,” 494.

(21) Ibid.

(22) Jeremy Scahill, Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army (New York: MJF Books, 2007), 57; Dina Temple-Raston, “Blackwater Eyes Domestic Contracts in U.S.,” NPR, September 28, 2007,

(23) Scahill, Blackwater, 389-90.

(24) Bill Sizemore and Joanne Kimberlin. “Blackwater Part 5: On American Soil,” The Virginian-Pilot (Norfolk, VA), Jul. 27, 2006,

(25) Ibid.

(26) James Fox, “In it Up to Their Necks,” New Statesman 140, no. 5048, (2011): 47,,ip,url,shib&db=f5h&AN=59835292&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

(27) Dave Eggers, Zeitoun (New York: Vintage Books, 2009), (28) Brandon Garrett and Tania Tetlow, “Criminal Justice Collapse: The Constitution after Hurricane Katrina,” Duke Law Journal 56, no. 1 (2006): 145,

(29) Lee, Levees.

(30) Brinkley, The Great Deluge, 632; “Hurricane Katrina Flooding Estimated Depth and Extent, 03 September 2005,” JPG, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, This conclusion was determined by geo-referencing NOAA’s JPG image with a street view map provided by Open Street Map. Geo-referencing is a process by which to integrate a map without coordinates or projections into one with a known coordinate or projection system. To integrate the maps, latitude and longitude coordinates of given landmarks must be ascertained from a source such as Google Earth and then input into the “link table” function of GIS software such as ArcGIS Pro or QGIS. Creating this table matches the latitude and longitude coordinates from one map with the latitude and longitude coordinates of the second map. Geo-referencing the NOAA flood depth map with the street view map of New Orleans allowed me to compare water depths around the Superdome and Hyatt Regency Hotel to determine approximate levels of inundation.

(31) Eggers, Zeitoun, 127; (32) Lee, Levees.

(33) Ibid.

(37) Joel Cintrón Arbasetti, “Masked and Armed with Rifles: Military Security firms Roam Streets of San Juan,” Centro de Periodismo Investigativo [Center of Investigative Journalism], October 10, 2017,

(35) Ibid.

(36) Ibid.

(37) Ibid; Agustín Criollo and Rosario Fajardo, “A New Dawn for Ciudadela,” Caribbean Business online, September 2, 2017,

(39) Cintron Arbasetti, “Masked and Armed with Rifles.”

(40) Ronak K. Kapadia, Insurgent Aesthetics: Security and the Queer Life of the Forever War (Durham: Duke University Press, 2019), 9.


Map Sources

Roberta Berthelot, "The Army Response to Hurricane Katrina," Army Times, September 10, 2010.

Douglas Brinkley, The Great Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, and the Mississippi Gulf Coast (New York: Harper Perennial, 2007).

Dave Eggers, Zeitoun (New York: Vintage Books, 2009).

“Hurricane Katrina Flooding Estimated Depth and Extent, 03 September 2005,” JPG, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,

"Hurricane Katrina Response Imagery," NOAA National Geodetic Survey, accessed May 24, 2020.

Jeremy Scahill, "Blackwater Down," The Nation, September 21, 2005.

---. Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army (New York: MJF Books, 2007).

Voices Rising: Stories from the Katrina Narrative Project, edited by Rebeca Antoine (New Orleans: University of New Orleans Publishing, 2008).

Voices Rising: Stories from the Katrina Narrative Project, edited by Rebeca Antoine (New Orleans: University of New Orleans Publishing, 2010).