Of Cajuns and Creoles: A Brief Historical Analysis

This essay is one of five in which I address current issues in Cajun and Creole studies. The other essays can be found here.

I wrote these works not only as a historian, but as someone who identifies as both a Cajun and a Creole. As I note below, “[M]any of my ancestors were Creoles of French heritage. My own family tree abounds with tell-tale Creole surnames: de la Morandière, Soileau, de la Pointe, Fuselier de la Claire, Brignac, Bordelon, de Livaudais, and others. . . . As such, I could, if I chose to do so (and sometimes I do), identify as Creole — doubly so because Cajuns themselves are to begin with a kind of Creole.”

I trust those with whom I express disagreement will accept this critique in the collegial spirit it is intended.

I thank Dr. Barry Jean Ancelet, Dr. Carl A. Brasseaux, Dr. David Cheramie, independent researcher Don Arceneaux, and former CODOFIL president Warren A. Perrin for proofing the below essay.

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I have observed a growing effort, particularly among south Louisiana's Creole population, to rein in use of the word Cajun to describe all things French in Louisiana. (I mean Creole in the broadest sense of the word: Creole devoid of racial connotations and thus applying equally to persons who are black, white, or multiracial. Creole meaning “Native to Louisiana” or a bit more narrowly “Native to south Louisiana, and of Roman Catholic and French- or Spanish-speaking heritage.”) 

"The matter almost demands a Venn diagram for clarity."

I concur with this effort: things that are not Cajun should not be called Cajun.

Implicit in the critique of Cajun as a blanket term for all south Louisiana culture is an assertion that Creole history and culture should be acknowledged more frequently and more substantively. This means, for example, that scholars should conduct more research into Creoles; that the tourism industry should highlight more Creole history and more Creole attractions; and that what is Creole should be identified as Creole, not as Cajun.

I support all these notions, for while I self-identify as Cajun, many of my ancestors were Creoles of French heritage. My own family tree abounds with tell-tale Creole surnames: de la Morandière, Soileau, de la Pointe, Fuselier de la Claire, Brignac, Bordelon, de Livaudais, and others. 

As such, I could, if I chose to do so (and sometimes I do), identify as Creole — doubly so because Cajuns themselves are to begin with a kind of Creole. After all, are they not, as I describe Creoles above, native to south Louisiana and of Roman Catholic and French-speaking heritage?

"It is interesting to note, for example, that in 2018 the University of Georgia Press issued a book titled Creole Italian: Sicilian Immigrants and the Shaping of New Orleans Food Culture."

I view Cajuns, however, as merely one type of Creole among several other types of Creoles. These types include black Creoles, white Creoles, multiracial Creoles, French Creoles, Spanish Creoles, German Creoles, and perhaps still other types of Creoles who occupy part of Louisiana’s complex cultural landscape. (It is interesting to note, for example, that in 2018 the University of Georgia Press issued a book titled Creole Italian: Sicilian Immigrants and the Shaping of New Orleans Food Culture.) And then there are other types of Creoles in other states, other nations, and even on other continents. (I once used the word Creole while lecturing in front of a group of Brazilian tourists in south Louisiana. They gasped in horror, telling me that in their country Creole is equivalent to America's most dreaded racial slur. They actually referred to the Portuguese version of Creole, which is crioulo. The reliable Wikitionary.org backs up their claim; see its entry for crioulo.)

In other words, Cajuns are to me a subset of Creoles, just as, say, Cherokees are a subset of Native Americans, Ashkenazim are a subset of Jews, and Mexicans are a subset of Latinos. But this does not mean Cajuns do not view themselves as distinct from other Creoles. They clearly do and arguably have done so since their origin as an ethnic group. Sociologist Jacques Henry of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, for example, has observed, “The definition of Cajun ethnicity has been on-going since the arrival of Acadian exiles in Louisiana. It has taken place amidst the economic, social and cultural changes that have happened since the eighteenth century.”(1)

The expulsion of the Cajuns' Acadian ancestors from Nova Scotia, 1755. Source: William Cullen Bryant, Sidney Howard Gay, Noah Brooks, Scribner’s Popular History of the United States, Vol. 3 (NY: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1896).

Cajuns have not been in Louisiana as long as other types of Creoles. However, the Cajuns’ common ancestors, the Acadians — forcibly expelled by the British military from what are now the Maritime Provinces of Canada — arrived in Louisiana beginning in 1764. By the late 1800s those exiles and their offspring had intermarried heavily with other south Louisiana ethnic groups (settlers of French, German, Spanish, even to some extent Anglo and Scots-Irish heritage) and become “Cajuns.” Thus, for example, R. L. Daniels wrote in 1879 of the word “Acadian — or rather its corruption ‘Cajun’ as they pronounce it.”(2) In 1893 Julian Ralph similarly observed that Acadians were "spoken of in their own country . . . as ‘Cajuns.’” And in 1898 a journalist aptly noted, “[A] large element of the French population of the state are . . . Acadians, or, as they call themselves and are generally called, ‘Cajuns’” [my italics].(3)

UL sociologist Henry thus concludes, “[B]y the turn of the [20th] century, Cajuns/cadiens are a group symbolically discrete. . . . [and] a breed apart.”(4) Cajun historian Carl Brasseaux echoes this view, stating, “[T]he Acadians [in Louisiana] were by 1803 on the threshold of a new and significant period of socioeconomic change, one that would transform them . . . into Louisiana Cajuns.”(5) He continues this theme elsewhere, averring that by the end of Reconstruction in 1877, “[A]scriptive [i.e., attributed] distinctions between Acadians and neighboring groups had become blurred, giving rise to the creation of a new people — the Cajuns.”(6)

If I myself sometimes gloss over the complex relationship of Cajuns to Creoles, it is because I find it less confusing for the uninitiated if I avoid explaining, “And, oh, by the way, Cajuns are Creoles.” (The matter almost demands a Venn diagram for clarity.) This may be one reason most Cajuns have generally chosen not to identify as both Cajuns and Creoles: besides the fact that most Cajuns simply do not think of themselves of Creoles, there is widespread confusion and debate about the very meaning of Creole, even among south Louisiana natives.

Elista Istre's excellent recent volume
about Creole history,
from the University of Louisiana Press, Lafayette, La.

Ultimately, there is only so much one can do — or ought to do, I would assert — about people choosing to self-identify as members of one ethnic group or another. According to U.S. census data, for example, there were in 2020 an estimated 100,000+ people across America who self-identified their ancestry as "Cajun."(7) If self-identification as "Cajun," or as a member of any ethnic group, is good enough for the U.S. Census Bureau, it is good enough for me. It is evidently good enough for most scholars, few if any of whom would presume to tell anyone what they should or should not call themselves in terms of ethnicity.

As a historian I believe my role is to observe, chronicle, and interpret, and to do so as objectively as possible. To involve oneself too closely, too personally with a living subject of study like an ethnic group — such as by seeking to change that group’s behavior — is to relinquish objectivity and to cross into the realm of activism. And while activism in itself can be a rewarding pursuit, I do not believe it mixes well with scholarship. Granted, complete objectivity is possible only in theory, but the very quest for objectivity can elevate the quality of research and analysis to a higher, more refined level. It can do so by guiding researchers around pitfalls like wishful thinking and what the historical profession calls filiopiety (or filiopietism), a fancy term for “ancestor worship.” Such weaknesses can result in misunderstanding or, worse, deification of those who came before us — at the expense of their humanity.

Notes

(1) Jacques Henry, “From Acadien to Cajun to Cadien: Ethnic Labelization and Construction of Identity,” Journal of American Ethnic History 17 (Summer, 1998): 56.

(2) Ibid., 34.

(3) “The ‘Cajuns’ of Louisiana,” Wood County Reporter (Grand Rapids, Wisc.) [reprinted from the Dallas (Tex.) News], 2 June 1898, 8.

(4) Henry, "Ethnic Labelization," 39.

(5) Carl A. Brasseaux, The Founding of New Acadia: The Beginnings of Acadian Life in Louisiana, 1765-1803 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1987), 198.

(6) ________, Acadian to Cajun: Transformation of a People, 1803-1877 (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1992), xi.

(7)“Cajun,” People Reporting Ancestry, 2020: American Community Survey 5-Year Estimates Detailed Tables (B04006), Total U.S. Population, data.census.gov/cedsci/table?q=United%20States&t=Ancestry&tid=ACSDT5Y2020.B04006, accessed 2 May 2021

Selected Readings on Creoles

This list makes no pretense of completeness. There are many other noteworthy sources about the subject.

Shane K. Bernard. “Creoles.” In Encyclopedia of Louisiana (https://64parishes.org), ed. David Johnson. Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities. Article published 8 December 2010, https://64parishes.org/entry/creoles.

________. “Creole.” In The New Encyclopedia of Southern Culture: Volume 6: Ethnicity. Chapel Hill, N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 2007.

Carl A. Brasseaux, Keith P. Fontenot, and Claude F. Oubre. Creoles of Color in the Bayou Country. Jackson, Miss.: University Press of Mississippi, 1994.

James H. Dormon, ed. Creoles of Color of the Gulf South. Knoxville, Tenn.: The University of Tennessee Press, 1996.

Elista Istre. Creoles of South Louisiana: Three Centuries Strong. Lafayette, La.: University of Louisiana Press, 2018.

Gary B. Mills. The Forgotten People: Cane River’s Creoles of Color. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1977.

Gwendolyn Midlo Hall. Africans in Colonial Louisiana: The Development of Afro-Creole Culture in the Eighteenth Century. Louisiana State University Press, 1992.

Sybil Kein, ed. Creole: The History and Legacy of Louisiana’s Free People of Color. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2000.

Joseph G. Tregle. “Creoles and Americans.” In Creole New Orleans: Race and Americanization, ed. Arnold R. Hirsch and Joseph Logsdon, 131-85. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992.

________. “On That Word ‘Creole’ Again: A Note.” Louisiana History, 23 (Spring 1982): 193-98.

Notes on the Birth of Cajun Ethnic Identity

This essay is one of five in which I address current issues in Cajun and Creole studies. The other essays can be found here.

I wrote these works not only as a historian, but as someone who identifies as both a Cajun and a Creole. As I note in one of these essays, “[M]any of my ancestors were Creoles of French heritage. My own family tree abounds with tell-tale Creole surnames: de la Morandière, Soileau, de la Pointe, Fuselier de la Claire, Brignac, Bordelon, de Livaudais, and others. . . . As such, I could, if I chose to do so (and sometimes I do), identify as Creole — doubly so because Cajuns themselves are to begin with a kind of Creole.”

I trust those with whom I express disagreement will accept this critique in the collegial spirit it is intended.

I thank Dr. Barry Jean Ancelet, Dr. David Cheramie, independent researcher Don Arceneaux, and former CODOFIL president Warren A. Perrin for proofreading the below essay.

❧

I have noticed claims that Cajun ethnic identity did not originate until the late twentieth century — more particularly, that it did not emerge until the mid- to late 1960s. It arose at that time, some assert, merely as a negative response to the Black civil rights movement. It has also been claimed the very word Cajun did not appear, at least not in print, until the mid-twentieth century (implying, oddly, the ethnic label came before the ethnic identity).

"Cajun children on Terrebonne Project," June 1940. 
(Marion Post Wolcott, Library of Congress)

These assertions, it seems to me, are unfounded. Perhaps they stem from confusing the birth of Cajun identity with the birth of Cajun pride. The Cajun pride movement did in fact begin in the 1960s — but that is not the same as the birth of Cajun ethnic identity. Or perhaps these misconceptions arise from conflating the birth of Cajun identity with two other late-twentieth-century events. One happened in 1980, when a U.S. federal court declared Cajuns to be a bona fide ethnic group protected by the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The second event occurred a few years later, when geneticists discovered a common Cajun genotype — scientific evidence that Cajuns are, by virtue of tell-tale DNA, a distinct ethnic group.(1)

Genetic and judicial considerations aside, Cajun ethnic identity, I maintain, existed well before the late twentieth century. An abundance of historical proof supports this perspective, so much so, in fact, it prompts the question: If Cajun identity and even the word Cajun did not exist until, as claimed, relatively recently, why then is it so easy to find earlier — indeed, much earlier — references to that word and the identity it signifies? And not merely a few, but numerous references?

The Troy (N.Y.) Record, 21 July 1943.

For example, if we survey evidence from the World War II era, we find Cajuns mentioned in a 1943 syndicated newspaper article titled "Cajun Chefs Help Prepare U.S. Army Mess in London." (Yes, London.) The piece featured Cajun mess-hall cooks with surnames like Marx, Gateaux, Borque (Bourque), Carrier, and Guidry (names generally considered Cajun in south Louisiana, whether of Acadian origin or not). "Most of these men," explained Sergeant Marx of Crowley, referring to his kitchen staff in wartime London, "are Cajun French . . . and hardly any of them could speak English when they enlisted." One cook, Private Freddie Guidry — referring to his own 6-foot-1-inch, 242-pound frame — quipped boastfully to the reporter, "Cajuns always do things in a big way."(2)

 

Interestingly, a few wartime images even show airplane "nose art" bearing the word Cajun. For example, the nickname Cajun Queen was painted on not one, but two B-29 bombers flown by a U.S. aircrew in the Pacific. Similarly, Cajun Coonass appeared on the fuselage of a C-47 transport plane in New Guinea. (Incidentally, that nickname is one of the earliest known uses of the controversial term coonass – see my previous blog article about this subject).(3)

 

The Cajun Queen B-29 bomber,
Pacific campaign, World War II.
(Author's Collection)

Jumping farther back in time to the late nineteenth century, we find numerous references to Cajun as an ethnic group and an ethnic label. For instance, an 1898 article in The Indianapolis Journal (originally printed in The Dallas News) not only used the word Cajun, but did so in reference to a people it considered distinct from Creoles. "[A] large element of the French population of the State [of Louisiana] are not creoles," averred the paper's unnamed journalist, "but Acadians, or, as they call themselves and are generally called, ‘Cajuns.’”(4)

 

A decade earlier an 1888 article in The (Monroe, La.) Ouachita Telegraph (which first appeared in the New Orleans Picayune) stated, "The word ‘Cajun’ is no more a term of reproach than the word ‘Hoosier’ applied to the natives of Indiana. It is associated with the idea of some rusticity and simplicity of manner and that is all. The writer has heard it playfully applied to a lovely Creole belle." Added the article, "The Acadian himself is a Creole." (As an aside, this corresponds to my own view of the Cajun-Creole relationship: as I state in another blog article, "Cajuns themselves are . . . a kind of Creole. . . .")(5)

The Ouachita Telegraph (Monroe, La.), 28 April 1888.

Similarly, an 1887 Abbeville (S.C.) Press and Banner article (originally running in The San Francisco Chronicle) observed, "The Americans, and even the Creoles, have corrupted the name Acadian into ‘Cajun,’ which term . . . these people resent strongly, yet, as ‘Cajuns,’ they are known all over the state. They are, in fact, Creoles, being the descendants of French parents born in a French colony, but they are an entirely distinct people from all other populations of Gallic descent in Louisiana."(6)

 

We can find Cajun used as an ethnic label still earlier in time — decades earlier, in fact. During the Civil War, for example, the term appeared in an 1862 issue of The Cincinnati Commercial (reprinted in The Delaware [Ohio] Gazette). Detained at Camp Pratt near New Iberia, a reporter for the Ohio paper took note of local Cajuns serving in the Confederate forces. “You don't know what a Cajun is?” he inquired of his Midwest readers. “Of course you don't, but I will try and tell you.”(7)

The Delaware (Ohio) Gazette, 12 December 1862.

As for the word Cadien, which is merely the Louisiana French form of Cajun, it has been found in print as early as 1851. That year the Louisiana francophone newspaper Le Pionnier de l'Assomption of Napoleonville ran a piece of local-color fiction containing the line, "Et moi, continua Jérôme, je m'enfoncerai dans les campagnes afin de tâcher de vendre mes bonnets de coton aux Cadiens." [Translation: "And I, continued Jerome, will go deep into the countryside to try and sell my cotton caps to the Cadiens."](8)

Le Pionnier de l'Assomption (Napoleonville, La.),
7 September 1851.

Granted, many of these historic references deride the Cajun people as backward and ignorant; some even call the word Cajun an insult. My point, however, stands: Cajun ethnic identity and the word Cajun appeared long before the mid- to late twentieth century, whether describing a discrete ethnic group or, conversely, a type of Creole, more or less (or not at all) distinct from other Creoles. Indeed, the examples I provide above are merely a few such references. I provide additional examples below, all chosen from the nineteenth century, including some using the alternate spellings Cajan, Cajen, Cadian, Cadien and cadjien. This list is by no means comprehensive: other such references exist in the historical record and still others may await discovery.

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Addendum — Early Appearances 

of the Word Cajun and Its Variants

 

"As a people, the ‘Cajuns are very simple, for they live in communities so simple that straight conduct is a necessity. The men are fairly honest, but hot-blooded and often quarrelsome, the favorite weapon of the coast ‘Cajuns being the knife. . . . These ‘Cajuns are fine duck hunters, and know their country as no stranger can. . . ." ~ E. Hough, "The Sunny South — VI," Forest and Stream (23 March 1895), pp. 224-25.

 

"Presently we saw our first Acadians — nowhere spoken of in their own country otherwise than as ‘Cajuns." ~ Julian Ralph, "Along the Bayou Teche," Harper's New Monthly Magazine 87 (November 1893), p. 874.

 

"The Cajun is sui generis [one of a kind]. He has even lost resemblance to his Canadian brother. . . . Dancing and festivals are weekly affairs, for in Cajun land everybody knows everybody else, and entire communities are often bound by ties of kindred." ~ M. A. Byrne, "Cajun Housekeeping," Good Housekeeping (October 1891), p. 170.

Good Housekeeping (October 1891).

"In this delightful climate, where illness is almost unknown, people acquire the habit of living, and keep on ad infinitum, until, as [states] the proverb of the Cajuns (the descendants of the exiled Acadians), they get old, old, so old! then shrivel up and blow away." ~ T. W. Poole, Some Late Words about Louisiana (New Orleans: E. Marchand, 1889), p. 26.

"Will the Reveille [newspaper] point out of these appointments of Cadiens those who are not creoles." ~ The (St. Martinville, La.) Weekly Messenger, 29 October 1887, p. 1.

The (St. Martinville, La.) 
Weekly Messenger, 29 October 1887.

"The Creoles proper will not share their distinction with the native descendants of those worthy Acadian exiles who . . . found refuge in Louisiana. These remain ‘cadjiens’ or ‘cajuns’ . . . ." ~ George E. Waring Jr. and George W. Cable, History and Present Condition of New Orleans, Louisiana: Social Statistics of Cities, Tenth Census of the United States (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1881), p. 10.

 

"[T]hese Acadians, or as in common colloquial parlance they are termed ‘Cajuns, are generally illiterate, and as a race non-progressive and unenterprising. Though of America they refuse to become Americanized. . . ." ~ Louisiana Bureau of Agriculture and Immigration, Louisiana Products, Resources and Attractions (New Orleans: Times-Democrat, 1881), p. 234.

Louisiana Products, Resources and Attractions (1881).

"Among themselves they are ‘Créole Français’; and Acadian — or rather its corruption ‘Cajun,’ as they pronounce it — is regarded as implying contempt." ~ "The Acadians of Louisiana," Scribner's Monthly XIX (January 1880), p. 383.

Scribner's Monthly XIX (January 1880).

"’The Acadians of Louisiana,’ — more familiarly called Cajuns — [are] a simple people, having much in common with their congeners described in Longfellow’s poem." ~ Scribner’s preview, The Ellsworth (Maine) American, 25 December 1879, p. 3.

 

"[W]e found [the campground] had been taken possession of by ‘Cadiens,’ whose little skiffs were moored to the shore." ~ "The Dredge," The Petite Anse Amateur (Avery Island, La.), April 1879, pp. 25-26.

 

"Il est impossible de relire les pages émues de l'exode des Acadiens, ou plutôt des Cadiens, car tel est le nom véritable de cette vaillante population. . . ." [Translation: "It’s impossible to read over the emotional pages about the exodus of the Acadians, or rather the Cadiens, for such is the true name of this valiant population. . . ." ~ "Bibliographie," The Opelousas Courier, 17 November 1877, p. 1.

The Opelousas Courier, 17 November 1877.

"The Cajan [sic] was as prolific as his Canadian cousin." ~ "Our People: Where They Came from Originally, the Source of the Population of Louisiana," The New Orleans Daily Democrat, 4 March 1877, p. 2.

 

"The Acadians — abbreviated to ‘Cajens’ by our laconic race — form a small portion of the Creole population." ~ Albert Rhodes, "The Louisiana Creoles," The Galaxy 16 (August 1873), p. 254; cited in Carl A. Brasseaux, Acadian to Cajun: Transformation of a People, 1803-1877 (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1992), p. 102.

 

"[Q]uite a lot of them ["French habitans" from Canada] came to Louisiana. Here they took the name of ‘Cadiens,’ a contraction of Canadians or of Arcadians [sic]. . . . [T]he Cadiens are scarcely the people to comprehend, or indeed to execute, the laws of a republic. . . . [They are] a sort of semi-Creole race. . . ." ~ "The Posse of Red River," New Orleans Republican, 27 May 1873, p. 2.

 

"Il entendait certains ignorants dire autour de lui: ‘Damned Cadians! — Les Acadiens ne sont pas Américans — Les Acadians sont des demi-créoles, etc.'" [Translation: "He heard some ignorant people say around him: ‘Damned Cadiens! — The Acadians aren’t Americans — The Acadians are half-Creoles, etc.'"] ~ "Acadiens," Le Louisianais (St. James Parish, La.), 2 November 1867, p. 1.

Le Louisianais, 2 November 1867.

Notes

 

(1) See my book Shane K. Bernard, The Cajuns: Americanization of a People (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2003), pp. 86-88, 93-94, 101-09, 136-37, 147. For more on the history of the word Cajun, including its variants, see Jacques Henry, "From Acadien to Cajun to Cadien: Ethnic Labelization and Construction of Identity," Journal of American Ethnic History 17 (Summer, 1998): 29-62. Henry’s article remains important to understanding the development of Cajun ethnic labels, though it should be noted the article is somewhat out-of-date: working without today’s Internet search capacities, Henry traced the word Cajun only as early as 1879 and found primarily negative references — though references are now known to extend back as early as 1862 and to include not only negative, but neutral and positive occurrences.

At the risk of seeming to construct a “straw man” argument,  I choose neither to identify nor quote the sources to which I take exception and that prompted me to write this essay. Although that practice would be requisite for an academic publication, and would in some ways strengthen my assertions, I nevertheless do not wish this discussion to involve personalities, but, rather, only issues of substance and actual historical evidence.

 

(2) “Cajun Chefs Help Prepare U.S. Army Mess in London,” The Troy (N.Y.) Record, 21 July 1943, p. 4.

(3) Images of the Cajun Queen and Cajun Coonass can be found in my blog article: Shane K. Bernard, "My Oddball Collection of Cajun Warplane Photos," Bayou Teche Dispatches, 31 May 2012. The original Cajun Coonass photograph is in the National Archives and Records Administration and is photograph #342-FH-3A-32507-79171a.c. It is dated "April, 1943" on verso; and "rec'd 7 Jan. 1944" on recto.

 

(4) “The ‘Cajuns’ of Louisiana,” Dallas (Tex.) News, reprinted in The Indianapolis Journal, 28 January 1898, p. 7.

 

(5) “A Boston Criticism of Cable,” New Orleans Picayune, reprinted in The Ouachita Telegraph (Monroe, La.), 28 April 1888, p. 1.

 

(6) “The Acadians: A Picturesque People Unchanged by Time,” San Francisco Chronicle, reprinted in The Abbeville (S.C.) Press and Banner, 29 June 1887, p. 7.

 

(7) “The Louisiana Cajuns,” Cincinnati Commercial, reprinted in The Delaware (Ohio) Gazette, 12 December 1862, p. 1.

(8) “La Negresse du Diable,” Le Pionnier de l'Assomption (Napoleonville, La.), 7 September 1851, p. 1.

Portrait of a Cajun Woman: Andonia Thibodeaux of Bayou Tigre

My assistant found the below tin-type image in the archives I administer on Avery Island, Louisiana. The tin-type had been stored in an old letter envelope, and on that envelope someone had long ago recorded the name of the woman in the image as "Mlle." [Mademoiselle] Andonia Thibodeaux of Bayou Tigre. That bayou (bayou is the Louisiana term for a generally smallish, slow-moving, muddy river) runs through coastal Vermilion Parish.

Andonia Thibodeaux of Bayou Tigre, [ca. 1887].
Source: Avery Island Archives, Avery Island, Louisiana.
(Click to enlarge)

On searching the Internet for information about Andonia I found a description of her in an 1887 issue of Harper’s. (Think about it: what are the odds of that!) Composed by noted nineteenth-century writer Charles Dudley Warner, the article seems to have appeared around the same time the image in question was taken. I say this because Andonia, in both the article and the photograph, is depicted as a young woman. Furthermore, the article describes Andonia as sporting "small corkscrew curls" — just as she wears in the photograph. (The article also refers to Andonia "waving her handkerchief," one of which, I note, she holds in the image.)

Titled "The Acadian Land," Warner's article not only mentions Andonia, it offers a glimpse into the lives of Cajuns (Acadians) in late-nineteenth-century south Louisiana. The article reads in excerpt:

"[W]e came into the Bayou Tigre, and landed for breakfast. . . . Resuming our voyage, we presently entered the inhabited part of the bayou, among cultivated fields, and made our first call on the Thibodeaux [family]. They had been expecting us, and Andonia came down to the landing to welcome us, and with a formal, pretty courtesy led the way to the house.

"[T]he inhabited part of the bayou. . . ."
Present-day aerial image of Bayou Tigre section.
Source: Google Maps
(Click to enlarge)

Does the reader happen to remember, say in New England, say fifty years ago, the sweetest maiden lady in the village, prim, staid, full of kindness, the proportions of the figure never quite developed, with a row of small corkscrew curls about her serene forehead, and all the juices of life that might have overflowed into the life of others somehow withered into the sweetness of her wistful face? Yes, a little timid and appealing, and yet trustful, and in a scant, quaint gown? Well, Andonia was never married, and she had such curls, and a high-waisted gown, and a kerchief folded across her breast; and when she spoke, it was in the language of France as it is rendered in Acadia. [By "Acadia" Warner presumably meant the Cajun-populated parishes of south Louisiana — now called "Acadiana" — and not colonial "Acadia" in what is now the Maritime Provinces of Canada.]

Bayou Tigre, south of Erath and Delcambre, La.
Source: Google Maps
(Click to enlarge)

The house, like all in this region, stands upon blocks of wood [inevitably cypress blocks], is in appearance a frame house, but the walls between timbers are of concrete mixed with moss [actually a mixture of mud, straw or moss, and sometimes animal hair called bousillage in Louisiana French], and the same inside as out. It had no glass in the windows, which were closed with solid shutters. Upon the rough walls were hung sacred pictures and other crudely colored prints. The furniture was rude and apparently home-made, and the whole interior was as painfully neat as a Dutch parlor.

Bousillage in wall of historical home,
Acadian Village, Lafayette, La.
Photo by Shane K. Bernard
(Click to enlarge)

Even the beams overhead and ceiling had been scrubbed. Andonia showed us with a blush of pride her neat little sleeping-room, with its souvenirs of affection, and perhaps some of the dried flowers of a possible romance, and the ladies admired the finely woven white counterpane on the bed. Andonia's married sister was a large, handsome woman, smiling and prosperous. There were children and, I think, a baby about, besides Mr. Thibodeaux. Nothing could exceed the kindly manner of these people. Andonia showed us how they card, weave, and spin the cotton [cotonnade in Louisiana French] out of which their blankets and the jean for their clothing are made. They use the old-fashioned hand-cards, spin on a little wheel with a foot-treadle, have the most primitive warping-bars, and weave most laboriously on a rude loom. But the cloth they make will wear forever, and the colors they use are all fast.

Madame Dronet and daughter carding and spinning
to make Acadian homespun cloth.
From the 1942 film Cajuns of the Teche.
(Click image to enlarge it; or view film here)

It is a great pleasure, we might almost say shock, to encounter such honest work in these times. The Acadians grow a yellow or nankeen sort of cotton [coton jaune in Louisiana French] which, without requiring any dye, is woven into a handsome yellow stuff. When we departed Andonia slipped into the door-yard, and returned with a rose for each of us. I fancied she was loath to have us go, and that the visit was an event in the monotony of her single life.

Acadian homespun cloth (coton jaune),
woven ca. 1900, in the Avery Island Archives.
Photo by Shane K. Bernard
(Click to enlarge)

[Later] all the neighborhood, accompanied us to our boats, and we went away down the stream with a chorus of adieus and good wishes. We were watching for a hail from the Thibodeaux. The doors and shutters were closed, and the mansion seemed blank and forgetful. But as we came opposite the landing, there stood Andonia, faithful, waving her handkerchief. . . ."

Addendum of 21 August 2018:

Sadly, genealogist Stanley LeBlanc informs me that Andonia Thibodeaux, full name Marie Andonia Thibodeaux, died 4 May 1889 — only two years after the appearance of the Harper's article. The cause of death is unknown. Moreover, Stanley tells me, as does Donna Caswell Murphy, that Andonia was born in 1854 (22 June 1854 to be precise). Her age at death was 34, so she may not have been, as I thought, a girl when she sat for her photograph. I have thus changed the title of my article from "Portrait of a Cajun Girl" to "Portrait of a Cajun Woman." 

Stanley and Donna's sources are the 1870 U.S. Census and Father Donald Hebert's Southwest Louisiana Records, Vol. 1, p. 107, and Vol. 2, p. 162.

From Charles Dudley Warner, "The Acadian Land," Harper's New Monthly Magazine, LXXIV (February 1887). This excerpt originally appeared, albeit without annotations, on my personal Facebook page in April 2018. I have reformatted the article slightly to accommodate the images.