Consequences of a dream deferred, fear, and incompetence

A Dream Deferred
By Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over-- l
ike a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

How could it be that our city has exploded, or perhaps, crumbled. New Orleans was always a city of dreamers, the image of iron scrollwork and bananna trees peeking from courtyards all so romantic. The heavily segregated neighborhoods, the racial undercurrents and tensions provided a bit of quaint danger for tourists. The residents of the city knew of something else, something deeper, something dangerous. They knew of resentment, of aggression, of injustice.
Did race matter in the slow response to Katrina? Yes and no. The local response was not deliberately slow out of racism. But it was deliberately slow out of fear. Some judge this to be racist, others consider it pragmatic. The larger federal response was slow out of incompetence, and obliviousness. When a system is set up based on “who you know” rather than qualifications and experience, the system reacts based on personal appeal, not need. It seems the folks at the convention center in New Orleans didn’t know the right people. Thank god for the news reporters or they would be there still. Is that racism? Perhaps not directly, but it is still a flagrant violation of the principles of individual worth, respect, and meritocracy on which this country were built. The people have a right to be outraged.