An Ode to Louisiana
November 5th, 2025
Photo: Flynn Bridget
Writer: Sophia Singh
Editor: Talia Kohn
When I was little, three Magnolia trees guarded our house. I would watch them bloom into beautiful white flowers, and smell the sweet floral air lingering around them. The petals would fall as I lay on a blanket on the ground – our closest version of snow. When I go back home and spot one on a walk, I always stop for a moment, just to remember where I came from.
Since leaving Louisiana to come to the University of Michigan for college, I’ve heard more than a few strange comments in regards to where I’m from. I’ve talked about this in great depth with my two best friends from home, who are at Northwestern and USC, and learned they have encountered the same things. The classic statements we’ve heard are: “Oh! I’ve never met anyone from Louisiana!”, usually followed by “Well . . . you don’t seem like you’d be from Louisiana,” and when we tell them we are not from New Orleans, it often goes “So then what swamp did you come out of?” Well, I am not Shrek, so I can’t speak for the swamps; but, it’s clear most people know of Louisiana only through stereotypes and half-baked ideas about “the South.” Hearing things like that has made me defensive over my home state, and eager to show people what Louisiana is really like.
So what does it really mean to be from Louisiana?
It means automatically loving seafood. My boyfriend pokes fun at my love of all things shrimp, but I can’t help it. Catfish, crawfish, tilapia, hushpuppies, Gumbo (all the kinds), just about anything will be fried and seasoned to perfection. Louisiana is known for its amazing food, thanks to the Creole people, and for good reason. You can taste the heart and soul passed down for generations in just about any meal you get. It’s what I miss most when I’m gone: the comfort, the spice, the unmistakable taste of home.
It’s standing on the curb during Mardi Gras, your 5-year-old hands stretched to the sky. You’re hoping for the biggest, flashiest beads to come flying your way. If your classroom were really well behaved, you’d get two slices of King Cake that afternoon. Years later, you drive to your high school passing trees draped in shimmering beads, their colors flashing against the bare February branches. Living here means cheering on LSU, whether or not you’ve ever set foot on campus, and especially supporting them anytime we play Alabama.
It’s learning to live through sweltering summers that bring humidity like no other. (The UV is around 11 most days in July, and the humidity hits a point of above 85%). Walking outside feels like you are drinking the air instead of breathing it. It’s knowing that August signals the start of hurricane season. Up north, we only get the leftovers like hail and winds strong enough to rip trees from the ground. But farther south along the coast, all you have are the levees, a raised foundation, and prayer to keep you safe.
It’s understanding that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. There is a marred history and a continually harsh present. Being who I am, I’ve had the misfortune of experiencing some of the worst Louisiana has to offer. I choose to take it in stride, and recognize all the diversity and culture that continues to persist despite the odds given – as do I. I believe it's developing the grit to move on, to prosper, and to love thy neighbor that makes a true Louisianian.
Being born and raised in Louisiana shines through every part of my soul and bones, and I will always smell the Magnolias, no matter where I go.
