Choctaw for the "place of many tongues," Bulbancha is the original Indigenous name for the city of New Orleans, Louisiana.
The time to place Indigenous peoples at the forefront of our liberation has long since been overdue. As Potawatomi geographer and Mississippi Dialogues artist Margaret Wickens Pearce notes, "Place names remind us of our obligations to each other and our relatives. Place names specify Indigenous rights and responsibilities on land and water. Place names are our ancestors’ speech. When we say them and visit those places, we activate and ruminate on their guidance. Place names are our identities.”
So yes, we must say, "Bulbancha."
Decolonization begins with that which we love most and hold dearest to our hearts, starting right here and right now. That most definitely includes our cities.
Home to the Biloxi, Choctaw, Houma, Natchez, Chitimacha, Ishak, and Tunica Indigenous nations (to name a few), Bulbancha was an expansive trading port for people from all walks of life. But as the French and similar settler-colonialist powers began to infiltrate the city we now know as New Orleans, Indigenous history became almost entirely lost.
We forget that the spices in our gumbo and our crawfish boils are Native. We forget that the French Market was once a pre-colonial trading depot, filled with salt, wood, buffalo meat and skins, quills, baskets, pottery, plants, and medicinal goods. We forget that Congo Square was once a Native dancing ground too. We forget that Rampart Street was once an actual rampart with Natives sleeping just outside its walls. We forget that Creoles are not just European and African, but Native American to boot.
We ultimately do our city a disservice when we continue to place settler-colonialist powers above all else and discount the vivid oral histories of this land. We are so quick to attribute the colorful traits of our city to the French and Spanish but what of the Indigenous peoples? What of the Africans? What of all the immigrants we have so quickly forgotten as well? We owe it to one another, and most importantly to the Natives, to decolonize our city, each and every single day.
Bulbancha today. Bulbancha tomorrow. Bulbancha forever.
So yes, we must say, "Bulbancha."
Decolonization begins with that which we love most and hold dearest to our hearts, starting right here and right now. That most definitely includes our cities.
Home to the Biloxi, Choctaw, Houma, Natchez, Chitimacha, Ishak, and Tunica Indigenous nations (to name a few), Bulbancha was an expansive trading port for people from all walks of life. But as the French and similar settler-colonialist powers began to infiltrate the city we now know as New Orleans, Indigenous history became almost entirely lost.
We forget that the spices in our gumbo and our crawfish boils are Native. We forget that the French Market was once a pre-colonial trading depot, filled with salt, wood, buffalo meat and skins, quills, baskets, pottery, plants, and medicinal goods. We forget that Congo Square was once a Native dancing ground too. We forget that Rampart Street was once an actual rampart with Natives sleeping just outside its walls. We forget that Creoles are not just European and African, but Native American to boot.
We ultimately do our city a disservice when we continue to place settler-colonialist powers above all else and discount the vivid oral histories of this land. We are so quick to attribute the colorful traits of our city to the French and Spanish but what of the Indigenous peoples? What of the Africans? What of all the immigrants we have so quickly forgotten as well? We owe it to one another, and most importantly to the Natives, to decolonize our city, each and every single day.
Bulbancha today. Bulbancha tomorrow. Bulbancha forever.
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