Mental Health Support for Katrina Evacuees

(continued from newsletter)

A little more than three months after the world witnessed Hurricane Katrina devastate several gulf region cities and dislocate nearly 1.5 million people, it is still difficult to account for these citizens and/or their locations. Thousands of families were affected. Children were separated from parents and families were scattered across several states. It remains difficult to get accurate statistics on the number of evacuees in the various regions of the country. New Jersey estimates that approximately 5,000 individuals from the gulf region came into the state within the first month after the storm and most of them live with family and friends.

Although some people have returned to their home states, most remain in New Jersey. Many stay with relatives and friends; many also have been living in hotels subsidized by FEMA and Red Cross funds. The Metro Red Cross (serving Essex, Passaic and West Hudson counties) has served the largest numbers of Hurricane Katrina-affected families of the state’s Red Cross chapters and has identified housing as the top priority of families. FEMA funding for temporary placement in hotels was extended through mid-February.  Red Cross workers and United Way case managers have been scrambling to find housing for these residents in a state where housing is very difficult to secure. Many of these families settled into the northern region of the state in Bergen, Essex, Hudson, Morris, and Passaic counties; and, in these metropolitan areas, housing is even more expensive and scarce. The lack of housing has resulted in an additional crisis for many of these families, exacerbating their sense of instability and vulnerability.

Individuals and families who relocated to New Jersey because of Hurricane Katrina are struggling with a multitude of issues, including redefining a sense of identity. Most of the families strongly objected to the initial term used to describe their plight – “refugees.” An angry matriarch of a large family expressed: “I am a United States citizen who has lost my home and the life that I knew, but I am not a refugee from a foreign country. I belong to this country.” The term “evacuee” or “survivor” has been adopted by many of the families as a term that more accurately reflects their experience. Yet, there are some individuals who, although finding the word somewhat offensive, feel that the term "refugee" may indeed describe their plight. As one woman in her 60’s reflected: “I lived in New Orleans my whole life, except for when I was a little girl and was here (in Newark) until I was about two-years-old. . . New Orleans was my soul home. I'm back here now because this is where I have some family, and it’s the only place I felt I could come to. But I feel like I'm in another country sometimes. . . the food, the weather, the way people talk . . . it's almost like people are talkin' another language . . . and I didn't really want to come here, but what choice do I have?" Others describe a very different experience, as echoed in the words of one young woman in her twenties: “Personally, I am glad to be out of that town – after what I went through [referring to her experience in the Convention Center] I can tell you I ain't never goin' back. . . . I'm starting my life over, right here and right now.”

It's winter in New Jersey, and some families who relocated here are having their first experience with colder temperatures.  This is just one of many adjustments these families are making. These nearly 5,000 individuals are struggling to reestablish their lives in what feels to many like a foreign country, with different food, different language, different climate, and a different pace of life. Although most of the families evacuating from the New Orleans region are African American, they caution against making generalizations. As one woman articulated, “white people tend to think that African Americans are all alike, and so we can just slide right into life here in cities like Newark, Paterson or East Orange . . .that's not the case . . .being African American in New Orleans is a different cultural experience than being African American in Newark. Our churches are different, for example. Some of our rituals are different. You can't just lump people all into a basket by color."

As families struggle to redefine their identity in a new surrounding, having a home becomes increasingly important. In recognition of the high cost of housing in the state, faith-based groups have developed host family programs to meet this need. As an example, Notre Dame of Mt. Carmel in Cedar Knolls has trained approximately 20 families to serve as host families for up to a year. To date, few families from the gulf region have elected to take up residence with these host families. Many of the gulf region families are very appreciative, but express a strong need to have a home of their own. One father stated, “I feel like I couldn't protect my family when the storm hit . . . .then, when we went to the Super Dome, I felt like in some ways I couldn't protect them from everything that was happening there . . .so the least I can do is give them a home now . . .I appreciate the folks here wanting to let us stay in their homes, I really do, but it just isn't the same . . . I can't do that to my family. We have to have a home of our own, no matter what it costs me." In a continued spirit of generosity, Notre Dame of Mt. Carmel is reconfiguring their program into one that provides family mentoring to ease the adjustment of the gulf region families and remains available for families needing residence as well.

Finally, it is critical to remember that these families are struggling to create a new life after losing so much in a very public and violent context. Hurricane Katrina was a vicious force, and its destruction and devastation remains overwhelming. Many families lost loved ones in the storm, and some even witnessed the death of their family members, struggling to save them. Themes of survivors" guilt are not uncommon to hear among these families. Many families were in either the Convention Center or the Super Dome for several days before coming to New Jersey, and report horrific scenes of violence and exploitation. Perhaps even more damaging is that they report feeling left unprotected in these desperate circumstances. As one young woman painfully described it, “it's like we were left to just fight it out amongst ourselves, like a bunch of animals thrown into some kind of a pit . . .they just left us there, and there was nobody to sort of uphold any kind of law and order . . .everybody, and I mean everybody, was out for whatever they could get. . . .I never saw anything like that before.” This quote illustrates how some of the individuals have experienced or witnessed significant interpersonal violence, a factor that may significantly complicate their recovery process. Individuals and families who have relocated to New Jersey need the best that we can offer.

The New Jersey Division of Mental Health Services has been operating a FEMA-funded Immediate Services program, Project Rebound to provide for the emotional needs of these individuals. Providing compassionate crisis counseling is of great benefit to these families and their need to tell their stories, to be heard and understood and develop connections here that can sustain them. These families need to grieve their losses and they need recognition for their resiliency. Project Rebound seeks to meet those needs and provide comfort and compassion as these families rebuild their lives.

Part II of this article will appear in a later issue of the New Jersey Crisis Counselor, and will highlight individual stories of loss and the recovery process, as well as more information about services offered by Project Rebound.