by Caleb Wassell
On December 18th, I visited the Louisiana state capitol building in Baton Rouge for the first time. The visit was equal parts nauseating and unsettling.
There are about a million steps that lead up to the face of a jutting tower. Carved into the stone walls of the Capitol building are tributes to Louisiana’s most depraved genocidal maniacs and defenders of white supremacy: DeSoto, Claiborne, Bienville, Iberville, Jackson, and E D White. Inside it’s all marble and shiny wood with gold handrails and giant chandeliers. In these gold encrusted chambers, politicians have been quietly defunding the people for decades.
Incarcerated people are the only ones doing any real work in the building. “CORRECTIONS” is boldly marked across the shoulders of the workers’ gray jumpsuits. They’re forced to serve food and clean up after politicians and corporate lobbyists who meet over lunch to scheme against the people of Louisiana.
I learned that you are safer from COVID exposure in your average Walmart than on the floor of the state capitol, as there is no mask mandate. A Black lawmaker wearing a mask and face shield told us as much after the session adjourned. She lost her husband to the disease this year. Another representative that was with her told us that her district suffers “repercussions” when she raises objections or asks too many questions.
The language of the day’s proceedings is boring and legalistic. It’s hard to track what’s really going on through all the jargon. This is by design. I watched millions of dollars of our money get moved around in minutes. Incredibly, public comment was not allowed until the end of session, after the agenda items were already voted on. Online there was an email address to submit comments for those who can’t make the meeting in person. These comments were never read or mentioned. At the seat of our state’s “democratic” government, the people’s voice can barely be heard.