There’s a strange pattern in this city. Every time someone dares to speak up about the corruption, the crumbling infrastructure, or the displacement of longtime residents, there’s always a chorus waiting to shut it down: “If you don’t like it, leave.”
But here’s the truth: Criticism isn’t hate. It’s care. And no, we’re not going anywhere.
New Orleans is still a great city to live in.
It’s still full of joy, soul, resilience, and a community spirit that refuses to die—even when the odds are stacked against us. We have second lines in the streets, neighbors who’ll feed you before they ask your name, and a cultural richness the rest of the country tries to imitate but can never recreate. That doesn’t change because the rent’s too damn high or the Sewerage & Water Board can’t get its act together.
But what does change is who can afford to stay here—and what version of the city they get to live in.
The Issues We Face Aren’t Unique—But the Stakes Are
Yes, cities across the country are facing housing crises, corporate takeovers, and cost-of-living hikes. It’s not just a New Orleans problem. But here, the stakes feel heavier. We’re not just watching our neighborhoods shift—we’re watching the soul of the city get repackaged and sold back to us.
You can’t walk through the Bywater or parts of Tremé without seeing it. Homes that once held generations of families are now short-term rentals. Developers are buying up land in New Orleans East with promises of “revitalization,” when locals know it usually means displacement. And all the while, local government either turns a blind eye or signs the deal.
The city that gave the world jazz, gumbo, bounce, and Black masking Indians is being stripped down to a tourist fantasy—and the people who made that magic happen are being priced out.
Criticism Is Not Cynicism. It’s Survival.
We don’t write about these issues because we want to tear New Orleans down. We write about them because we love this place too much to stay quiet while it’s being gutted in slow motion.
Holding power accountable isn’t negativity—it’s necessary. Shining a light on corruption, inequity, and injustice is how we keep those in charge from selling off the city piece by piece. If anything, silence is the real betrayal.
Pretending everything’s fine won’t stop homes from sinking, rents from rising, or public schools from failing. What will make a difference is refusing to normalize it. Naming the problem. Demanding better. Because this isn’t just about policy—it’s about people. It’s about culture. It’s about whether your grandkids will be able to live on the same block where your grandparents once danced on the porch.
We Can’t Afford to Be Apolitical
Too many people in power benefit when we treat these issues like background noise. But when your Entergy bill spikes, when insurance rates double, when your corner store gets replaced by a chain smoothie bar—it’s political. It’s all connected. And if you don’t speak up, someone else will—probably from a corporate boardroom.
That’s why we highlight the inequities. Not to shame the city, but to protect what makes it sacred. The culture, the people, the stories, the soul. Because once those are gone, there’s no bringing them back.
There’s Still Time—But Not If We Stay Silent
This isn’t a eulogy. It’s a warning—and a call to action.
There’s still so much worth saving in New Orleans. You see it in every neighborhood cookout, every block party, every second line and Sunday service. But we have to fight for it. We have to stop pretending that pointing out problems is the same as giving up.
We don’t publish criticism because we’re angry. We do it because we’re not done fighting. We want a city that works for the people who live here—not just for the people passing through. We want a New Orleans where culture is honored, not commodified. Where families aren’t pushed out so investors can cash in. Where we can actually afford to grow old in the place we call home.
So yes, New Orleans is still a great city. That’s exactly why we have to hold it accountable.
