Hurricane Francine zig-zagged through southern Louisiana on Sept. 11, leaving widespread power outages and flooding behind. Some parts of the state experienced winds of 100 mph and 10 inches of rain.
As thousands of Gulf Coast residents were under mandatory evacuation orders, those remaining, particularly in the state’s largest city, New Orleans, were left riding out the worst effects in the dark.
Some residents required deep-water rescues as more than 441,000 people went without electricity.
In the New Orleans metro area, the power issues compounded more threats as electric pumps used to suck out water from the streets went offline and sewer lift stations weakened, increasing the risk of raw sewage flowing back into homes.
As pockets of the majority-Black city remained powerless two days after the storm, eight “Community Lighthouse” operations served as shelter and a place where people could congregate, share meals, and charge their small devices. The lighthouses, which are all churches, can keep their lights on because they rely on solar panels and battery packs. The initiative was born out of the impact of Hurricane Ida in 2021, one of the strongest storms to hit Louisiana in history.
Residents at the lighthouse in Broadmoor, a New Orleans neighborhood that was leveled by Hurricane Katrina, told Capital B that Francine presented extra issues because many people still haven’t recovered from Ida.
The worst impacts may be felt this weekend as households go without air conditioning and temperatures lurch toward 95 degrees with humidity.
Louisiana residents are trying not to feel the fatigue.
Combined, this is the fifth hurricane to release high-powered winds and buckets of rain on Lake Charles and New Orleans, both predominantly Black cities, since the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. Three severe tornado systems, two arctic snaps, one tropical storm, and a major flood event have also swept through the city in the past four years.
Francine’s storm surge, which stretched from just east of Houston to south of New Orleans, is the sixth named storm of this year’s Atlantic hurricane season.
Hurricane Beryl, a Category 1 hurricane that hit Texas and Southeast Louisiana earlier this summer, led to more than 30 deaths, primarily due to power outages, which are a threat related to this storm. In addition, the intense winds, changing pressure, and unstable atmosphere within Francine created conditions for the rapid formation of tornadoes. Louisiana sees 70% more tornadoes today than in 1980.
But in Louisiana’s largest metro areas near the coast, Lake Charles and New Orleans, officials urged residents “not to panic, but be prepared.”
In both cities, lines stretched out the door at grocery stores and gas stations as early as Monday morning. Debra Ramirez, a Lake Charles resident, told Capital B she had to push her way through to get water at her local Sam’s Club around noon on Monday. By Tuesday evening, the shelves in corner stores, dollar stores, and grocery stores were sparse and hurricane essentials like candles and nonperishable snacks were hard to find.
“When you look at it, we all got to be so, so very careful in this area because we have gone through so much,” Ramirez said. “My driveway just dried up from being flooded last week, it never stops.” Her home is still damaged from two hurricanes that hit Lake Charles in 2020.
Read More: Louisiana’s Hurricane Victims Wonder if They’ll Ever Recover
This barrage of deadly weather events and climate change’s continued intensification has contributed to Lake Charles being among the fastest shrinking cities in the nation. Between 2019 and 2021, Lake Charles lost a higher share of its population than any other city. Today, more than 1 in 5 properties across the city sit empty, more than double the U.S. average.
But it’s not just Lake Charles. It’s a new era across Louisiana’s coastal region, where 75% of the state’s Black residents live. In Lake Charles and across the state, Black folks make up about two-thirds of lost residents since 2020, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.
These communities have been defined for generations by banding together to rebuild after severe weather. But, you can only rebuild so many times, residents explained to Capital B. Now, Black people have the ability to pack up and go.
“Before, we figured we could weather any storm. I don’t get that sense anymore,” explained Tasha Guidry, one of the many Lake Charles residents thrust into activism over the past several years.
“Even if you grew up and were raised here, you don’t have that feeling of wanting to hang around and weather it out. People get tired of running all the time, and now there is the option to leave and go someplace else.”
For the 19th and much of the 20th century, Black communities along the coast had little choice but to stay. It was cheaper to live there, and Jim Crow laws and racism hampered their housing options elsewhere in the South.
“We are a resilient community, but I think these storms killed the feeling like we just have to stick around for legacy’s sake,” Guidry said.
Even though Lake Charles’ home prices are drastically lower than the national average, it is cheaper to live elsewhere. The climate costs have added up.
Compared to property values, Louisiana’s home insurance rate is by far the nation’s most expensive, and there is difficulty getting properties insured. At least 20 insurance companies have left the state since 2020 due to high climate risk. Since 2020, Guidry has spent countless hours helping her neighbors through the cumbersome insurance claim process and federal state-run recovery programs. She was out of her own home for more than 2½ years after a 2021 flood event.
“I know for sure, if my house is damaged, I’m not going to come back this time,” she said. “I’m going to collect my insurance money and go someplace else.”
New Orleans’ residents echoed similar sentiments. In the city’s Ninth Ward, Roy Smith explained how he dedicated months to working on his home by himself to cut costs after Hurricane Ida severely damaged his house in 2021. But this time around, even though he’s now employed, he’s not sure how he’d be able to handle the construction timeline and costs if he sustained damage.
Ernestine Daggs, who turns 81 years old in two weeks, shared how the intense damage from Hurricane Katrina in 2005 forced her to take out loans and another mortgage right as she was set to pay off her home. She can’t let that happen again, she said, even though she acknowledged she has little control over the storm’s impact.
Still, it’s why people across the city could be seen doing deep prep work for the storm, covering windows, and preparing sandbags.
“I’ve been watching the news, and they say, ‘If it jives this way, if it jives that way,’ either way, somebody is going to fall, whether it’s Lake Charles, Lafayette, New Orleans, or Baton Rouge,” said Everett Johnson, a retired utility worker. “Somebody is gonna get it worse than somebody else, and that’s what comes with living in this state.”
Louisiana Gov. Jeff Landry has already deployed the state National Guard to the counties directly in the path of the storm, including nearly 400 high-water vehicles, 100 boats, and 50 helicopters for possible search-and-rescue operations.
The national implications of the storm will be felt in the coming days. About 25% of the nation’s offshore oil production in the Gulf of Mexico is shut down Tuesday as a result of Francine.