Fall has settled in, and we are rapidly approaching the end of October. In stores and neighborhoods are the creepy critters and ghouls we’ve come to associate with Halloween. I love the holiday. I’m an October baby, so perhaps I come by that naturally, or it’s just something I’ve grown to love over the years. It’s been a rough year for me, so I decorated the inside of my home early—like September 1st early—with human-size skeletons, skulls, spiders and candles. I was drinking from a cauldron mug on Zoom calls months ago.
But I’m a white woman. While scanning marketing, advertising and media coverage for this year’s popular costumes and decor, I noticed a distinct lack of Black people. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed it, and each year my interest in the “why” has grown until I began to ask the question out loud, first pestering co-workers here at TL|BGP, and then taking my inquiries to external sources.
As lovely as it is strange, Halloween is a festival that’s evolved over time. Whether it’s Trick-or-Treating, the thrill of getting spooked in a haunted house, or toned down “harvest” parties, there seems to be something for everyone on Halloween. But is there really?
Where are all the Black people on All Hallow’s Eve? In pop culture costuming, we find them typecast into cringy stereotypes like “rapper,” “athlete,” or “prisoner.” Society only recently began to acknowledge the damage of derogatory caricature representations of Black culture in costumes and décor. But even today we can see trivializing or degrading representations in many costumes on sale. Halloween is a big deal in U.S. culture for its commercial and celebratory opportunities. But there are plenty of additional reasons, beyond the cringe factor that Black and brown people appear less present. Among these are feelings of being unwelcomed or marginalized. Consider how Black and brown people are just now beginning to win acceptance in the Cosplay community (a disconnected, but still adjacent relationship to Halloween). In fact, there are endless online chats about how Black people “spoil everything they touch,” particularly Tolkien or mermaid movies. Racists pushed poor “Finn” completely off the internet for daring to be a face on “Star Wars.”
Religion and prioritizing other cultural celebrations may also be a factor. The relationship between Black religions/spirituality and Halloween is complicated, I’m told. Perceived pagan or occult associations, the emphasis on the supernatural aspects of the holiday and the veneration of spirits or entities often do not align with longstanding personal and cultural beliefs. In Christianity, Islam, and Traditional African religions, ancestor veneration is varied and nuanced across the Black diaspora. I’m looking forward to learning more about this in conversations with co-workers in an interview I’ll share here next week.
Any talk of Halloween in relation to Black participation must also acknowledge the issue of safety, particularly regarding Trick-or-Treating and partying. There are still neighborhoods with home decorations depicting acts of lynching, caging and chaining people. And there’s always some derp itching to show up at a house party in blackface. In this way, Halloween can not only trigger unsettling, urgent conversations, it can get psychologically and physically dangerous for kids and adults alike.
The Black experience is not a monolith. My inquiries discovered plenty of Black people who love Halloween, and there is a resurgence in quality Black horror movies, old and new, that plays well into the spirit. Navigating the complexities of the holiday within the diaspora while challenging stereotypes and embracing diversity will be complicated but worth it, y’all.
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