Somewhere around I-10 Butte LaRose, the static on FM 101.1 breaks and the zydeco begins to roll. During the last 20-mile stretch to Lafayette I always let those flat Cajun accents on KBON sing me home.
The French language has faced much strife in Louisiana during the past century — even as recent as this summer. Though it lives on after near extinction, it has still been prioritized by many of our leaders.
In the earlier decades of the 20th century, our muddy French was persecuted and frowned upon by politicians and legislators. South Louisiana wasn’t as much a part of the white-bread America that it should have been.
But who was so straight-cut American then, anyway? Isn’t this the melting pot? Isn’t Louisiana just the bottom of the pot, the part of the stew with the most flavor?
South Louisiana is hardly even Southern, much less white-bread American. With our bloody-mary-and-beignet breakfasts and semi-weekly carousing, we’re French — unlike our biscuit-eating English neighbors.
As a push to integrate southern Louisiana natives into a more American culture, legislators formed some incredibly unethical legislation suppressing the French language from being used or taught in schools. Children would be punished by paddle for speaking the French that makes us so unique.
One can imagine times were tough for any Cajun — the federal government imposing prohibition and the state government cutting his tongue.
Though I don’t see it wrong to have required English in our schools — after all, we had been American for more than 100 years — I do find that a compromise would have been a more correct and valuable remedy.
Only a “couyon” would recommend a complete segregation of the people from the language.
The lasting effect has been that the language skipped generations. Parents did not want their children to be considered low-rate and the language merely became a gossip mechanism for grandparents. In turn, we have missed out on a priceless asset to our culture.
Coincidentally, history is repeating itself.
The state suppressed French beginning in 1915. In 2012, Gov. Bobby Jindal cut proposed funds of $100,000, or 40 percent of the allotted budget, for the government-mandated Council for the Development of French in Louisiana, commonly recognized as CODOFIL.
In comparison, Jindal’s cut was not as callous as the laws in 1915. But it’s backwards to think that other francophone countries will continue to spend money in Louisiana for the cause when our state found it plausible to cut funds dedicated to the core of the $8.3 billion annual tourism revenue — our French heritage.
Nevertheless, as history always repeats itself, Louisianians do make good lemonade with its lemons and turn happenings like this into a cause-worthy “fête.”
A fundraiser in Lafayette, Lâche Pas, or “Don’t Let Go,” was held a few Sundays ago to nourish CODOFIL’s budget cut.
John Frigault, who works with Lafayette’s CODOFIL office, was amazed at the turnout and confident the donations may exceed the cuts made this summer.
“For every door that closes there is one, two, maybe three or four that open — we may have to thank the governor in some ways for this,” Frigault said.
Former Executive Director of CODOFIL David Cheramie, is certain that Louisiana is far beyond the era in which speaking French is still forbidden.
“It’s no longer ‘bas clas’, but more a sign of being educated,” Cheramie said.
Though I understand little and speak even less, our French is something I have true pride in, and we should be incredibly grateful for the people who continue to advocate for French in Louisiana.
Louisiana pride is alive and it’s a bandwagon you want to be on, cher.
