BLACK HISTORY

After attending two Mardi Gras balls this carnival season, I realized that not many people outside of New Orleans understand the history of the carnival season or the social significance of such events for Black people. From the outside looking in, Mardi Gras is just a big egalitarian party where people can eat and drink freely and catch some good throws like beads, shoes, purses, and coconuts. Over a million people visit New Orleans each year for Fat Tuesday. But for locals, the season means so much more. Allow me to explain.

When Mardi Gras began in 1857, the celebration was a whites-only affair. The Mistick Krewe of Comus, the first parade to ever hit the streets of New Orleans, forbade Black people from attending their annual gala or enjoying the public festivities. "All gatherings by slaves and free men of color were prohibited." So, even though the city's secret societies, known as Krewes, hosted balls and parades from King's Day to Shrove Tuesday since before the Civil War, who could attend these soirees has always been a controversial topic.

Did you know Krewes maintained racially segregated organizations until a city ordinance passed in 1992? White-run Krewes kept Black people out of their organizations for more than a hundred years. As a result, Black New Orleanians know that some parades cater moreso to White people while others are more welcoming to Black people. After city officials passed the ordinance desegregating its secret societies, the Krewe of Comus decided to dismantle their organization and stop parading rather than allow Black members to join their ranks. Other Krewes adapted, welcoming Black locals to join, though some did so begrudgingly. For instance, the Cleopatraparade threw some beads with the Confederate flag on them in recent years, and other racist throws have been frequently thrown from floats.

Black people from New Orleans realize that some Krewes are still dominated by racist White people who hoped to maintain segregated organizations. Thankfully, not all Krewes are led by White people— that's where the gumbo roux thickens.

Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, for instance, first started marching in 1909 as a Black-led organization. In honor of Black Louisianians' African ancestry, the club adapted an African theme, with members wearing grass skirts, painted faces, and feathered crowns. Since White people didn't initially let Black people attend their festivities, Black people made their own. And the amazing part about the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club is they've lasted the test of time — they've been marching and making contributions to the community for a hundred and fourteen years. Furthermore, incorporating African-themed imagery and symbols in a Black American celebration is a way of reclaiming culture disrupted through the chattel slavery system. As Lawrence Powell commented, “by embracing and amplifying white stereotypes of a Black character, Zulu was a safe way to mock the mockers. Its clownish royalty punctured the pretensions of the ermine-bedecked white elite.”

On Mardi Gras Day, Zulu is the first parade to roll before Rex, which maintains mostly White members. Each year, members throw or give away doubloons, beads, stuffed animals, and thousands of brightly painted coconuts with "Zulu," a giant "Z," and the year on each one — they are collectible items around the city. Sheila Stroup of the Times-Picayune called the Zulu Coconut "priceless" and labeled them the city's most popular throw of Mardi Gras season. Many locals who have to miss the parade for work often ask colleagues, "can you please bring me back a coconut," if you're going, you would traditionally agree. We have dozens of coconuts collected over the years at our home — each is special and helps tell a story about the time we spent together as a family, the rich culture of New Orleans, and the way Black people take seemingly benign items and turn them into precious artifacts.

Zulu helped create a significant milestone in New Orleans race relations in 1999 when the respective kings of the traditionally Black Zulu krewe and the traditionally white Rex krewe exchanged official greetings for the first time in history. — Long-standing Zulu member Roy Glapion Jr. told reporters.

Krewes do more than create extravagant parades for the public to enjoy; they also throw elegant galas. For example, Zulu Ball, which falls on the Friday before Mardi Gras every year, is hosted near the Mississippi river and attracts 17,000 mostly Black guests. If you've never attended, it's unlikely you've seen that many Black men wearing tuxedos and Black women wearing ball gowns in your life — it's a vibe, like Black Wall Street mixed with a Great Gatsby flair.

To enter Zulu Ball, you need a ticket, which you must purchase from Zulu members — it's not something you can get online from Ticketmaster, for instance. However, once you get inside, the food and drinks are free, and there are live performances, and you should get comfortable because the event lasts from six in the evening until three in the morning. First, each member of the court, from the King and Queen to the maids, is announced and seated in a debutante style. Then, a second line, a live band, and a procession of dancers make their way throughout the event, and when they stop playing, the lights turn off, and the mood shifts to a concert. This year, R&B singers Lloyd and Anthony Hamilton graced the audience with their presence, but there are always special guests.

Each table at Zulu Ball belongs to one member, who traditionally sits with their family, friends, and other prominent locals. One of the people that accompanied me was my friend Mariah, whose from Boston. Halfway through the night, she said, "every Black person should come to Zulu Ball at least once," and I knew what she meant—seeing so many Black people dressed to the nines enjoying the carnival season is a Black joy event many people have never seen, even those who've visited New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

Even though racism drove Black people to create their own social clubs in New Orleans, the existence of the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club reflects Black people's resistance. White people didn't want Black people in New Orleans to attend their parties, so they created bigger, better ones, and that's a part of Black history more Americans should know. So we’re not just partying down here in New Orleans — they’re rhyme to our reason.

Now, the Zulu parade is the first to roll on Mardi Gras day and is seen by locals as the most beloved organization. Black people were the stone the city's builders refused; they were enslaved, discriminated against, and marginalized. And yet, Black people's celebration has become the head cornerstone of the carnival season, something locals are very proud of. Mardi Gras is so much more than a party for locals — it's a time to celebrate life, spend time with family, friends, and lovers, rejoice in our unique culture, and embrace our history. Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler!

Author’s Note: Attending the Zulu Ball is a tradition in my family, and I am part of the third generation to enjoy the festivities. Anyone interested in seeing pictures from Zulu Ball can type the hashtag into their favorite social media platform. Check out my experience here. Next, I will break down the tradition of Black Masking Indians and the role they play in the Mardi Gras celebration. Stay tuned.

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