They say New Orleans is a city rich in culture. That it feeds the soul, and moves to its own rhythm. But what no one says loudly enough is how expensive that rhythm has become, and who’s left paying for it.
In 2025, the economic picture in New Orleans is no longer just about gentrification or tourist takeovers. It’s about systemic pressures closing in on working-class residents, Black and brown communities, and anyone who doesn’t have a trust fund or a real estate portfolio. From rising utility bills and housing costs to regressive tax hikes and cuts to public health care, the cost of staying in New Orleans has quietly escalated into a daily crisis—one made worse by policies that favor the wealthy and punish the rest.
The numbers speak for themselves. The average one-bedroom apartment in New Orleans is now $1,308 according to Apartments.com, with Zumper listing it at $1,445. Studio apartments aren’t much cheaper, averaging over $1,100 a month. For residents already stretching paychecks to the limit, these rates aren’t just uncomfortable. They’re unsustainable.
And then there are the utilities. Entergy Louisiana has added new fees in 2024 and 2025—one to pay for a new power plant, one for storm hardening, and others for grid improvements. Altogether, these have raised bills by roughly $10 a month, while outages persist and infrastructure remains fragile. Just over a week ago, tens of thousands of New Orleans residents experienced outages due to a blackout that persisted for several hours, and many were not even notified of the blackout. This happened when temperatures were in the 90s. Incidents like this cause New Orleanians to question whether the additional fee assessments on their Entergy bills are actually going toward infrastructure upgrades. Or is this just another excuse to squeeze additional profits while our residents continue to get poorer?
Meanwhile, Sewerage and Water Board smart meter installations in 2024 have led to an average 10% increase in water bills—about $12 more per month. Many residents now receive bills well over $100. And in April 2025, S&WB faced scrutiny over a water quality violation involving excessive turbidity levels with microbial bacteria, initially telling residents not to worry before admitting some people could be at risk.
Gas prices aren’t offering relief either. In June 2025, AAA reports the state average at $2.719 per gallon, with New Orleans slightly higher at $2.736. For a city with unreliable public transit and food deserts that require car travel, it’s another drain on household budgets.
While everyday expenses rise, Louisiana drivers and homeowners are also getting slammed by soaring insurance costs. A full-coverage car insurance policy in the state now runs about $3,718 per year—that’s roughly 75 percent higher than the national average, according to Forbes. In New Orleans, premiums can be even higher, depending on your neighborhood, driving record, and vehicle age. Insurance companies cite rising accident rates and lawsuit costs, but working families are the ones paying the price, monthly, without fail.
Homeowners aren’t spared either. NerdWallet reports the average annual home insurance premium in Louisiana is $2,220, but in New Orleans, some families are paying closer to $2,955. MoneyGeek puts the statewide average even higher—$4,031 per year—placing the state among the least affordable for homeowners insurance in the nation. Insurance.com and a recent report by Fox8 back that up, ranking Louisiana among the top 10 most expensive states for coverage, with rates averaging $3,510 to $3,594 annually. This is only the average. Annual homeowners insurance premiums for New Orleans residents for a home valued at around $500,000 have oftentimes surpassed $10,000, causing those with mortgages to see over a thousand dollars increase in their monthly mortgage payments.
It’s yet another layer of financial pressure on residents already struggling with high rents, inflated utility bills, and a tax system that punishes the poor for simply trying to live.
Worse still, the state’s tax system continues to shift its weight onto the people least able to bear it. In early 2025, Louisiana raised the statewide sales tax to 5%, pushing total sales tax rates to over 10% in some parishes. Because lower-income households spend a greater share of income on taxable goods, the result is a regressive system that penalizes the poor to fill budget gaps.
And while prices climb, wages remain stuck. Louisiana’s minimum wage continues to sit at $7.25, unchanged since 2009, despite bills introduced in multiple legislative sessions to raise it.
Healthcare cuts only deepen the spiral. Proposed Medicaid reductions could impact approximately 785,000 people in the state, particularly low-income parents, children, and the elderly. These cuts come alongside a decline in federal support for opioid treatment centers—just as overdose deaths remain among the highest in the country.
Louisiana continues to reel from one of the nation’s deadliest drug overdose crises. According to CDC provisional data, the state recorded 2,376 overdose deaths in 2022, with an age-adjusted overdose death rate of 54.5 per 100,000 residents—among the highest in the U.S. For 2023, provisional counts are now available through the CDC’s Vital Statistics Rapid Release, which you can access via their 12-month-ending provisional overdose data dashboard. These fatalities are overwhelmingly opioid-related and impact low-income communities the hardest, as access to care continues to be stripped away.
In the midst of all this, the state has chosen to criminalize kratom—a natural plant many people use to manage opioid withdrawal. Despite widespread testimony and scientific research showing lower addiction risk than opioids, Louisiana legislators, including most Democrats, moved to pass SB 154 banning the substance.
Even housing policy mirrors this imbalance. Residents trying to rent out a spare room through Airbnb are subjected to strict permit rules and harsh enforcement. Corporate short-term rental firms, on the other hand, continue to operate across dozens of properties with little oversight.
This is the reality in New Orleans today: one system for the wealthy, another for the rest. While generational wealth compounds through low taxes, passive income, and asset appreciation, poor and working-class families are forced to spend more just to survive. And because Black and brown residents make up a disproportionate share of the city’s working class, they are hit the hardest by economic pressures, criminalization, and by policy decisions cloaked as “neutral.”
White-collar crime continues to go unprosecuted, while corporate exploitation is rebranded as “investment.” And those trying to survive are fined, surveilled, evicted, and ignored.
The cost of living in New Orleans isn’t just measured in dollars. It’s measured in weariness, in kids without doctors, in mothers choosing between Entergy bills and food; and, it’s measured in residents leaving the city, not because they want to, but because they no longer can afford to stay.
This is a structural failure we must continue exposing—because without a middle class, there’s no one left to consume or invest in the very products and services the wealthy rely on to stay rich.
