Several days before Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, Ryan Brock packed up a few changes of clothes and drove to Houston, thinking he would be gone for just a few days. When he returned with his family two weeks later to assess the damage, he found neighborhoods transformed and his former home “gray and covered in mud.”
“That’s when it really hit me. The whole town — and our lives — had changed,” said Brock, a former college basketball star who now leads community programs at the Sojourner Truth Center at Faubourg Lafitte, running an after-school program and summer camp as an upward mobility fellow at Enterprise.
Twenty years later, Brock says he gives the city a “six out of 10” on recovery and rebuilding after Katrina, and he still hopes for a city that “supports every resident and not just visitors.” We spoke with Brock recently about his experience to understand the impact and significance of Hurricane Katrina, 20 years later.
When Hurricane Katrina hit I was 18 and had just started my freshman year at the University of New Orleans on a Division I basketball scholarship. I’d just moved into my campus apartment for the fall semester. The university is in the Gentilly area, right on the lakefront just beyond the levee, so it was hit hard by the storm. Once Katrina came, all the athletic teams — men’s and women’s basketball and volleyball — were relocated to Tyler, Texas. That’s where I stayed until January, when the campus reopened.
Before the storm I grew up in New Orleans East. Just before the storm, I had moved into my on-campus apartment at UNO. Like a lot of people, we didn’t expect it to be catastrophic. My girlfriend and I had been together for years, and we left New Orleans a few days before the storm hit, mostly just to beat the traffic. We weren’t expecting to be gone long. We packed a few clothes, thinking we’d return in a couple days.
My parents and my brothers evacuated to Atlanta a couple of days before the storm and my parents later relocated to San Diego a few weeks after the storm. My grandmother was in New Orleans, but she went to Tylertown, Mississippi, where she had extended family.
After the hurricane I went to Houston and stayed with my girlfriend’s family. Once we realized how bad the damage was, UNO started setting up plans for classes and athletics. I stayed in Houston for about a month while the university enrolled us in online classes, and then they relocated the athletic teams to Tyler, Texas.
Watching from Houston It was surreal. Watching it from Houston, it looked like something out of a movie. But it didn’t fully hit me until I went back. Maybe two weeks later, my parents flew to Houston, and we drove to New Orleans to see the damage. Everything was gray and covered in mold. The water damage was everywhere.
Venturing Back When we drove back, the house I grew up in had around eight feet of water. The whole neighborhood in New Orleans East was affected — everyone’s home had taken on water. My mom had packed away a lot of keepsakes in the attic before evacuating, and thanks to that, we were able to salvage some of our belongings. But the house had been robbed — my shoes, which I’d collected for years, had been stolen or picked through. That was hard to see.
The Return I came home to New Orleans in January 2006. UNO got one of the dorms back up and running for athletes to return. My mom didn’t move back until around August, after a major renovation of our house. During the fall, she had been living in California with her sister because she had a nursing license there and was able to work immediately.
We’ve always been a close-knit family and that’s what drew me back. My cousins, everyone I grew up with — we wanted our families and future kids to grow up together. That sense of togetherness and community made coming back feel necessary. It was never a question for us whether we’d return. The moment we could, we did.
Impact on my career Hurricane Katrina was a pivotal moment in shaping my commitment to community development and service. Even though I was in college, I witnessed firsthand the critical gaps in resources and support that many residents face, particularly in underserved neighborhoods. During my time playing professionally overseas, I knew I wanted to transition into something that would have a bigger impact on the community. My parents grew up five minutes from Sojourner Truth so being able to provide programs and services to that community is a blessing.
Twenty Years Later It’s heavy. Even now, when I drive past parts of New Orleans East, it still feels like Katrina just happened. There are still vacant lots where shopping centers used to be, abandoned buildings that were never rebuilt. We had so many memories tied to those places—the arcade, the dollar movie theater, and the Six Flags amusement park. It feels like not enough has been done. Too much focus went to downtown while neighborhoods like mine were left behind. It’s frustrating and sad.
The future of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast I hope the city invests in more than just downtown tourism. We need funding and leadership that prioritizes youth programs, senior services, and safe public spaces. There are still so many closed recreational pools and neglected neighborhoods. I want to see leaders who care about the full community, not just the image of New Orleans. My hope is for a city that supports every resident, not just visitors.
What Home Means Home is love. It’s a safe space where you’re treated with kindness and care. It’s where you feel secure and supported. I try to give that feeling to the kids I work with at the Sojourner Truth Center. We build programming that gives them a space where they feel seen and safe, where they can laugh, learn, and just be kids. For me, home isn’t just about a physical place—it’s about the energy, the people, and the love you create within it.
