Pandemic in New Orleans: The Krewe of House Floats, and how it might inspire solutions to healthcare workforce burnout.
The New Orleans Mardi Gras, bless its heart, was undoubtedly a superspreader event in early 2020. Before the emergency departments were panicked, before there was a run on paper goods and certainly before we knew that Mardi Gras 2021 would be canceled, 1.4 million visitors descended on the city I call home. We welcomed them and their debauchery, of course. We had block parties, we drank and danced in the street, we watched miles of parades and costumes, catching plastic treasures and sometimes handmade art hoping to catch a glimpse of the feathered and beaded Mardi Gras Indians until we were so tired, or perhaps so inebriated, that we sauntered home and slept on the couch, dreaming in purple, green and gold. And we did it for a week straight. That was my glorious life during Mardi Gras 2020, and all the ones that came before it.
Then the pandemic battered New Orleans. There were too many sick, too few supplies. The population was already high risk. It was the same story retold all over America. And in the blink of an eye, it was nearly January 2021 with no flambeau lighting the end of the dark tunnel – Mardi Gras was canceled. This was a painful blow. Even after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, when many homes were roofed by blue tarps and spray-painted with FEMA’s ominous “Xs”, the people gathered to roll with names such as “The Krewe of M.R.E.” and “Tarpe Diem”, with costumes fashioned from mesh hampers and caution tape, bearing the sign “Walking Disaster”. Yes, we always found a way. I learned the only other time New Orleans missed its season of frivolity was from 1942-1945—WWII. Something was viscerally painful about this fact.
So what happened? Did New Orleans sit idly and let the joyless days pass by, eating king cake silent and alone in their kitchens? Absolutely not. Megan Boudreaux reminisced. Last year, she handed out origami paper flowers with her child. As 2021 approached, she casually tweeted that she might make some more and decorate her house for Mardi Gras 2021. It was just a spark, but suddenly a movement exploded. She founded the official Krewe of House Floats (KoHF), and locals rushed to be involved. People shared design ideas and crafting tips through Facebook groups, and there were several specialty throws molded just for this event—all done for no real reason but fun. The Krewe was not exclusive; everyone was invited to join.
“I know a lot of folks are sad and disappointed that Mardi Gras cannot be normal this year, but I am hoping that Krewe of House Floats can be a way for folks to channel their creative energy, make something positive out of a bad situation, and have something to look forward to in 2021.
This is really about coming up with creative ways to celebrate carnival that keep everyone safe until we can get through to the other side of this pandemic.”
There were fundraisers to pay local artists to create large installations and free “art supply pantries” for those who lacked a budget to decorate. All told, more than 3,000 homes participated in New Orleans alone and the days were filled with costumed, but masked, New Orleanians reveling 6-feet apart through the neighborhoods.
From the sidelines, with my own crafting skills seriously lacking, I watched with curiosity. I wondered how did this work? Why was this so enticing and so well received? What was being touched in the people of New Orleans that made them pour hours into creating papier-mâché characters and gigantic bead necklaces for their porches? Weren’t people burnt out from nearly a year of COVID precautions, plus the unfortunate news that this would undoubtedly be the coldest Mardi Gras on record?
I attributed it to sensory deprivation. New Orleans is a city of jazz, crawfish boils and many other forms of togetherness. The collective city was very lonely. KoHF gave us the opportunity for an aesthetic reset—a phrase sometimes used in Organizational Aesthetics (OA). Consider, in this context, aesthetics to be the way in which an event engages the senses. OA is therefore the ways in which a system is perceived through all the human senses. These subconscious and conscious experiences produce a range of positive and negative emotions that become inherently intertwined with the conscious perceptions. Thus, an aesthetic reset is a moment or experience which allows a person to suspend their current thought processes and reframe their thinking.
Despite the pandemic and its negative consequences, Megan Boudreaux recognized the need for positive emotions and visualized a future of elaborately decorated Mardi Gras homes. She used art-based creativity to generate curiosity, resulting in an aesthetic reset for the community. Her enthusiasm even turned into to social innovation as her Krewe of House Floats now has a $100,000 campaign that focuses on pandemic-related unemployment, and food and housing insecurity. She garnered human desire to experience joy, unlocking the capacities for positive change and thriving in the people of New Orleans.
Organizational Aesthetics is a tool that can be purposefully leveraged. In healthcare, for example, we consider the way in which a patient experiences the entire hospital system. From the parking lot to office décor to the online portals, we try to gauge the patient journey. Through surveys we attempt to uncover which features make them stressed versus calm, which interactions feel compassionate and genuine, and what can make their appointment a little more enjoyable. These are important measures, but there is another neglected “user” in healthcare—the workforce. From training to the end of their caregiving profession, providers and other healthcare workers are shaped by the system. They spend significantly more time in hospitals and clinics than most patients. Shouldn’t we also consider their thoughts, feelings, and emotions at work? By using OA as a model, perhaps we can design solutions that focus on returning joy, les bon temps*, to the workforce in medicine.
*“The good times”, from the classic Cajun-French Mardi Gras saying, laissez les bons temps rouler (let the good times roll).