"Mardi Gras is a helluva drug."
-Random person in the chat of a recent Facebook Live broadcast
"It's like if Drag Race and one of the Real Housewives of Whatever City had an actual baby, and then the baby was raised by an amateur true crime podcaster."
-Me, describing this whole thing to my brother (he laughed)
We live in a very strange time. Never in my entire life did I think to myself, "2020 is going to be a disaster movie featuring a global pandemic, wrapped inside a protest movement, alongside some environmental concerns, completely redefine the world of work, all being led by a president who would rather protect rich people and racists." I didn't have that on my 2020 list. I didn't have "NASCAR bans the Confederate flag" or "Trump knew about Russia targeting American troops in Afghanistan and did nothing but invite them back into diplomatic circles" or "It's been 100+ days since Breonna Taylor's murder and her killers are still walking around as if nothing happened" on my list either. What is the world right now?
As regular readers know, I process things when I write, but I haven't been writing much lately (unless you count rewriting stuff for work - I don't, but you can live your life however you want). I've been hesitant to keep sharing my novel, a few chapters at a time, as I had planned to do over the summer. It doesn't feel appropriate right now (I will finish posting it later in the summer). I write in a journal each morning, but it's not the same. So I thought today, let's write a little something. Let's tell everyone a weird little/big story. It's got everything: glitter purses, narcissism, controversy, social justice, gossip girls, and the drug that is Mardi Gras. The wild part? I'm 100% involved because this is 2020 and literally anything goes.
In 2019, I joined, with two of my very favorite humans, Heather and Kelly, the Mystic Krewe of Nyx. If Mardi Gras is unfamiliar to you, Nyx is one of the parading krewes that takes part in the season. Nyx is/was(?) a super krewe, specifically the largest (until three weeks ago), and membership is all women. I grew up in Louisiana, and loved Mardi Gras as a child. I wanted to be in a parade, but back then, all-women krewes were not asbcommon, and they certainly didn't play on the big stage like Endymion or Bacchus. It's wasn't until I was back in New Orleans in college that krewes like Muses and others started changing the Mardi Gras landscape.
Nyx is what I'll call a "third wave" parade - its existence is built on the successes of other krewes who came before, most notably Zulu and Muses. Zulu, founded in 1909, was the first all Black krewe, dealing with segregation in Mardi Gras well into the 1990s (Mardi Gras was officially desegregated in 1992). Muses, founded in 2001, was a new parade when I was in college, bringing women into the world of super krewes. Nyx is part of the next generation of krewes, not as traditional, a bit more "modern." I've learned a lot more about the history of the group in the last few weeks, something you'd think I'd know as a (former) member, but why would an organization want new members to know things? When Nyx began, it was the first krewe in a decade to get a permit. That alone should be a reason for the leadership to want to succeed. The krewe was founded on the idea of being diverse and inclusive and the women who joined were part of a sisterhood.
The idea of sisterhood and community is what prompted me to join. Since leaving New Orleans nine months after Katrina, I've struggled with finding a real community. I've been friends with some of my dearest friends for over 20 years. Most of them were people I met while in college in New Orleans. There's something different about the friends you make in your late teens and early 20s - you're all becoming fully formed people together. It's very powerful. Heather and Kelly were not only my friends, but we were roommates most of college. Eventually, we all left New Orleans. We'd come back, but we'd never all be there at the same time. Being part of Nyx was both about finding a larger community and getting to spend time with them. That's why I jumped in. That's why I spent months making glitter purses. That's why I came back for 2020.
Before we can even begin to talk about the current situation, we have to talk about the 2020 parade. It seems like this was last year, but it was only four months ago. Y'all, is 2020 actually seventeen years long? Anyway, I was looking forward to my second ride. I knew what to expect, for the most part, so I was planning to really focus on enjoying the experience rather than being so stressed about everything. Remember kids, overthinking is my superpower, so I have to focus on letting things go and going with the flow because it's not in my nature. I even stayed an extra day to enjoy a little more time at home. Well, Mardi Gras 2020 had other plans for us. At about the halfway point in the parade (float 21), a woman was struck and killed by a float. The parade was turned around, and we were all dropped in a parking lot to fend for ourselves, while also trying to grapple with the fact that a woman had just been killed. It was awful on so many fronts. Most of us felt abandoned by the Captain and the board. There was no leadership during that experience, or at least not in the way there should have been. Hats off the float lieutenants, tractor drivers, and fellow riders who did their best to help us all in the chaos that was Nyx 2020.
Flash forward a few weeks to late March. We're all trying to figure our lives in the midst of a global pandemic. Fear and uncertainty were/are the feelings of the day. The krewe sent out renewal emails with an extended payment schedule for membership fees. In a time when many people lost jobs or weren't sure if they'd have them for much longer, we got hit up for money. For women like me who didn't actually parade this year, I think we expected a discount or an acknowledgement of some form. Nothing. I paid my first installment despite these things. I wanted to ride in 2021, the 10th anniversary year. I wanted one more ride since this year ended so tragically. I decided I'd play each payment by ear, and drop out if my financial situation changed or if Mardi Gras 2021 got canceled (that's a thing that could still happen).
And then the end of May happened. George Floyd's murder by Minneapolis PD was captured on video and the outrage at what officers did during this arrest has led to protests, vigils, and a call for defunding police departments around the world. Since then, we've all watched countless hours of police, including random unnamed police forces in DC, shoot tear gas and rubber bullets at protesters. We've watched the 45 support racists, while calling protesters "antifa" and saying that being anti-facist is a bad thing. We literally fought a war as anti-facists, so please sit the fuck down, Impostor in Chief.
I woke up the Monday after the first weekend of protest to notifications on my social media accounts of a post from the krewe captain. She used her own social media and the krewe's to post an "All Lives Matter" post. It was totally inappropriate and was against the very ideas of sisterhood and diversity that she claims the krewe represents. When I saw the post, my first thought was "Are you fucking kidding me?" My second thought was of the Black women who ride - does she not understand what this means and how they may feel when they see it?" My third thought was "Why does she have to be this way?"
The post was quickly removed, but enough people had seen it and taken screen shots that it wasn't forgotten. Our private float group was buzzing, and reactions were, as I predicted/hoped, not favorable toward the captain. The forum on the members' only website had some posts too; those were eventually removed, but the overall sense was that the majority of the membership was pissed. She sent a video to members, apologizing and expressing her need to "learn." Eventually, a public apology was issued. At no time did she say "Black Lives Matter" or show solidarity or even knowledge of what is actually going on in this country right now. And this is where things begin to fall apart. Since the post, half (if not more) of the membership, including myself, have resigned. Many of the support groups, like marching bands, dance troupes, and walking krewes, have refused to continue to support the krewe in solidarity. The sister krewe, Pandora, has only 15 members left. Other krewes have come out in support of us "Nyxed Sisters."
And then the flood of allegations began: financial misdeeds, racist practices around board member and float lieutenant selection, racism within the associated dance troupe, transphobia. One of the women I rode with has a great podcast episode that explains the events up until this point if you want to check it out (also, please enjoy the use of the word "allegedly" in this episode - it is everything). There have been two Facebook live broadcasts featuring former members and board members talking about the problems within the krewe (there are two more planned). Members protested at the Nyx office, calling for her resignation. The captain refuses to step down, and the plan she announced is lame at best. People are being served with cease and desist orders from her lawyer (which are apparently just show according to the lawyer of someone who was served). It's a mess, BUT it's one that could have been avoided.
She said she wanted to learn, but refused to meet with or listen to the countless members who wanted to speak to her. Black members of the krewe have been ignored. She had people who wanted to help learn and to educate her about why what was posted was wrong, why previous statements or actions are racist, why it's not all about her. But she choose to get a lawyer, stop communicating with any of us, and act like a petulant child. I hate to use the term "Karen," mostly because I know some really lovely women named Karen, but she's a Karen, and she's now the leader of the Mystic Krewe of Karens. For her, it was never about anyone else. It was always about her. And those who stay and help her, well, it's still about her. They're loyal to her now, but I'm sure something will one day make her call the manager on them too.
Of course I can't stop thinking about any of this. The thing that keeps coming to mind for me is this: does she (the captain) not realize the power she actually has? Think about it, you have approximately 3500 women in an organization who are all interested in empowerment, being part of a community, and having fun. We were willing to spend lots of money to be part of this. For me and many others, Nyx was our vacation, the luxury item we saved for each year. Most of us spend months designing and making glitter purses, something that was incredibly cathartic for me. The sheer power of this group could have made such an impact on the community. Members come from all 50 states (51 - DC should be a state - pass it on) and several countries. Instead, we got "Eat, Prey, Love/Girl, Wash Your Face" empowerment, racism and transphobia, and financial mismanagement. She had the power to make this into a real moment instead of the drama that is now. Her husband is under investigation by the NOPD for computer fraud. If other financial misdeeds can be proven, she and other members of the board may end up under investigation. For what? So she can feel important? So she can be the captain forever?
I saw the comment about Mardi Gras being a drug during the first Facebook live video, and it's stuck with me for the last two weeks. I know exactly what that person meant. There is something very powerful in being in a krewe. When I was a kid, it was about family ties to a krewe or who you knew. No one, it seemed, was randomly in a krewe. A person like me, not from the area, would have a hard time getting in. That's why the second and third wave groups are so important - they bring more people in. And with more people, more diversity of thought and experience and life become part of the fabric of Mardi Gras culture. I'm sure others will disagree with me; that's cool. We can disagree; let's just be civil about (if you can remember how to be civil).
I've also felt the power of riding in a parade. I've seen what the promise of a coveted Nyx purse or a special throw can do. I've seen, from the top of a float, the wonder on people's faces. I've made eye contact with people, from that distance, and had the ability to decide if they got anything at all. It's powerful to be a woman, in a large group of other women, in a public space, deciding whether or not someone gets a throw. It's a lot of other things, but this is the part we need to focus on now. If that's what it feels to be a rider, imagine what it must feel like to be captain. Mardi Gras is a helluva a drug.
We had the potential to be a group on the right side of history. As I wrote in my resignation letter:
You had the ability to amplify the voices of our sisters, but chose to place yourself and the krewe on the wrong side of history. Earlier this week, a group of our sisters sent you an open letter concerning this matter. That you have chosen not to engage with them or any other sisters asking to speak to you is even more evidence that you don’t understand sisterhood.
If the last few months have taught me anything it's that nothing is removed from the systems of oppression and white supremacy we've created in this country. Mardi Gras has a long history of racism. I'm not going to pretend that doesn't exist, but I've felt like most modern krewes had moved away from that history or were trying to do more to bring diversity and inclusion into Mardi Gras. There is so much joy in Mardi Gras, and this entire event has taken that joy out of it for me.
Why does it even matter? I resigned. I should just move on, focus my attention on more important things, right? But this is an important thing. At first glance it is the drama of Drag Race married with the cattiness of The Real Housewives sprinkled with an overuse of the phrase "forensic audit," but it matters so much. It's 2000ish women and supporters walking away from something they loved because one person couldn't see past their own ego to embrace the change that has to come. It's important because some of these women have probably never taken a stance in this way before, and this is how they become allies and activists. It's important because each time one more woman tells a story we hear her and we take her seriously. If we don't hold organizations responsible for the actions of their leadership, change will never happen. It's important because this exodus from something as "frivolous" as a Mardi Gras krewe is the true definition of sisterhood.
I'm not naive enough to believe the captain will change her ways or the board will find a way to get rid of her. They don't want to. The people who are still left are, for the most part, are people who feel the same way or who don't care enough about others to do something. They can have it. They can have this rotten shell of a parade. They can keep that busted up purse float and their pop psychology empowerment. But they don't get to take the friendships that came out of being part of this. They don't get to take the memories of doing something I've wanted to do since childhood. They don't get to take away the love that went into every handmade purse the Nyxed sisters made over the years. They don't get to take away what true sisterhood and solidarity is.
Stay safe. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Be nice to one another. Vote. Black Lives Matter.
