Aremo Shitai Koremo Shitai Onna no Ko ni Mietatte

creating categories of race in early New Orleans

first, let’s establish that race is made up. in the United States, Blackness has long been an either/or proposition. You’re Black or you’re not. In the years following the Civil War this definition was further tightened into “one drop rule” where a single non-white ancestor was enough to exclude a person from whiteness (at least in theory, in practice, lots of mixed-race people successfully “crossed the color line”, becoming white by moving towns and cutting off ties with their families).

things worked differently in Spanish and French (mostly Spanish) colonies. although exact regimes varied, there were always gradations, distinctions late between citizens born in the homeland vs. the colony, between free and enslaved. complex caste systems developed, based on the finer details of ancestry and birth. in New Orleans, this became what one scholar calls “a tripartite system of race and racial fluidity”. specific terms were developed to describe the free (librés or affranchis) and those born in Louisiana rather than Europe or Africa (creole, meaning “created”). slaves gained their freedom much more easily in French and Spanish New Orleans than the fledgling American colonies (despite efforts to limit manumission in the 1723 code noir which were rolled back under later Spanish rule) and the large free Black and creole of color population gave rise to complicated social dynamics.

the distinction there is important. identity among creoles with African ancestry was weighty. they were subject to restrictive, racialized legal codes. in particular, intermarriage was strictly forbidden. despite this, many mixed race children were born and often acknowledged and left inheritances—to the point that further laws were passed capping the amount of a white person’s inheritance that could be left to a non-white person at 1/3. this is not to say these relationships were good—inequality persisted and even the most adored children born in these circumstances were still subject to marginalization. but the end result was an increasingly wealthy, often white-passing group of creoles of color—highly educated, propertyowning, and separated from the white elites of the city by the tiniest quirk of birth.

influenced by the caste-based systems developed in Spanish colonies in Latin America, many of these mixed-race Creoles sought to separate themselves from “Blackness” and establish an intermediate identity. though the Spanish castas system was designed to prevent the descendants of Africans from ever becoming white, it also allowed mixed-race creoles language with which to define themselves as something other than Black and they ran with the opportunity.

shortly before American acquisition, creoles of color and free Blacks made up 1/6 of the population of New Orleans. “Historian David Rankin determined from the 1850 census that of all American cities, New Orleans "had the highest percentage of free black males employed as artisans, professionals, and entrepreneurs, and the lowest in 'low opportunity' occupations like laborer, mariner, gardener, servant, and waiter. New Orleans also contained more than a quarter of all free men of color employed as professionals, managers, artists, clerks, and scientists in the fifteen largest cities in the United States.”

they held property (including slaves), had their own social clubs and events, and wrote extensively. the “first 10 short stories of African American literature were written in French here in Louisiana,” during the early 19th century. however, during this flourishing, the rights of free Black and creole of color were being heavily curtailed. following American takeover in 1803, laws were rapidly passed, first to forbid free Black people from other territories from entering Louisiana, then to kick free Black men out (this one was never fully enforced. finally, free citizens of color were formally forbidden the vote and forced to carry documents when traveling. whatever freedom they had under French and Spanish rule was over. in 1857 emancipation was banned, as were gatherings of free Black people. many wealthier citizens fled to France, South America, or the Caribbean. others stayed, and though their collective wealth saw a slight boom during the antebellum period, it was then slowly eaten away through the civil war, and Jim Crow. emancipation and the end of slavery, in some ways curtailed options of free Black and creole of color Louisianans “forc[ing] them into a more rigid social structure of white and nonwhite”.

plessy vs ferguson: a distinctly creole case

a fact sometimes forgotten in discussions of the advent of Jim Crow, is that Homer Plessy, the man who fought a case against segregation all the way to the Supreme Court in 1896 and lost, paving the way for the advent of “separate but equal” and Jim Crow, was creole, born in New Orleans. and, if you look at his picture, he was very light-skinned.

this was no accident! homer plessy was specifically picked by a group of Black and creole of color advocates to press his case because he was racially ambiguous. Louisiana had a brief stint of good government during reconstruction, they even elected the first Black governor, PBS Pinchback. however, with segregation beginning to tighten once more, a french-speaking citizens group decided to act, using the racial fluidity of some (though not all! lotta diversity in the creole community, even within families) mixed race creoles in an attempt to undermine binary American definitions of race. plessy had to tell the conductor of the train car he was mixed race to be removed and, as one (sympathetic) newspaper put it, he was “as white as the average white Southerner.”

this legal strategy and other similar ones failed, with the Supreme Court siding against the Louisianans. however, the nature of their arguments is telling—for New Orleans, race had long been fluid and it took efforts from up top to make the lines strict.

the kicker? on the 1920 census homer plessy was identified as white.

english vs french a crucial dynamic

another critical element is the dynamic between English speaking and french speaking people of color in New Orleans. the “old money” of the free Black and creole populations, whose wealth carried over from the French and Spanish eras, who’d had generations to establish themselves in the city, were invariably French speaking. creole, the language, carried its own social connotations; wealthier creoles (of all ancestries) might be educated in France and speak a more continental french than their city-educated counterparts. newspapers and public notices were also invariably in this “colonial french” vs creole or cajun. the first Black owned newspaper in the state was in French, followed up by a bilingual successor. as more English speakers flicked to the city and more Black citizens came to speak English and English alone, french became both a status symbol and a locus of othering. “Creole” as an identity was partially defined by being francophone/creole-speaking and being creole was, as we’ve previously covered, not the same as being Black (though it could and can overlap, depending on how an individual chose to identify).

americanization slowly began to transform New Orleans into a microcosm of the south in legal codes and racial definitions but creole society continued to favor french fashions and their french dialect as a way of maintaining their unique culture. In 1915, however, french education in public schools was banned, beginning the marginalization of the language.

today, language is the primary signifier of continued creole identity as more and more descendants of the creole community identify with American racial categories. the preservation of french and Louisiana creole has therefore always been crucial to the continued preservation of the distinct identity of creoles of color.

secret societies, mutual aid, debutantes, clubs, and colorism

community organizations have always been a core part of new orleans’ social fabric. in the 19th century, organizations started by creoles of color provided opportunities to both socialize and engage in charity. these groups offered medical and dental care, covered burials, held Sunday socials and waltzes. after emancipation, many more English-speaking Black social organizations were formed, identical to their creole counterparts but usually kept separate. this wasn’t a hard and fast rule but language and religious differences limited overlap). homer plessy was a prominent member of a benevolent aid society.

two regular events kept societies and benevolent organizations crucial to the development of jazz in New Orleans: balls and burials. balls were events with live music, meant to encourage socialization and often intended to introduce newly of age young people to the community. from the 1890s, debutante balls around Mardi Gras were an opportunity for young ladies to show off and elaborate themes, costuming, and courtly manners were de rigeur. burials were also a critical chance for societies to flex; with members parading in formal wear, accompanied by brass bands and lines.

social clubs were also a key part of the picture. one location, the autocrat club, was particularly notable as a collectively run creole venue, hosting dance and music events with less harassment from the police. however, these venues were not free of internal prejudice. the autocrat club was accused by performers and locals of barring entry to those with a skin tone “darker than a paper bag”. the club itself (which still stands) has pushed back against this claim but concedes that these policies might have been implemented by any of the many aid societies, dance clubs, and other organizations who used their space. scholar Henry Louis gates jr. claimed that he first heard of the “paper bag test” from university classmates from Louisiana—if it did not originate in New Orleans its association there goes deep.

in short, although social organizations and Black led venues provided respite from Jim Crow society and were crucial to jazz age New Orleans musical development, they were not immune to internal prejudices and were often stratified along gender, religious, cultural, or color lines. even within the Black and creole of color community, divides were carefully policed and membership in organizations, which provided a protective shield against the deprivations of segregated society, could be segregated themselves.

geography and insularity, maintaining the creole identity

having established that creoles of color historically classified themselves as distinct from Anglo-African Americans, used their racial ambiguity and white ancestry to attempt to undermine segregation laws, and yet sometimes favored lighter skinned and francophone (especially those who could speak “continental french”) individuals within their own communities, let’s discuss the community altogether.

following the civil war, creole families spread out from the city center, landing in the 5-9th wards, but especially the 7th. there, families lived in close proximity, with creole churches, schools, and stores close together. many could avoid leaving their enclave for days at a time.

close knit, creole neighborhoods shielded members from interaction with outsiders. life was structured around church, school (many creole children of color were sent to (segregated) catholic schools, in part so they wouldn’t have to interact with non-creoles), and social clubs. both white people and non-creole Black people were distrusted and held at arms length. it was a tightly tied community, patriarchal but bound together by female labor. Natalie McPherson notes that in contrast to Black women in New Orleans, who often had to take domestic work, creole women of color made every effort to stay home—renting out rooms in their houses and taking on sewing work to do so. this allowed them to draw further lines between the groups. it also kept them within their already enmeshed communities.

this is not to say that creole of color and Black communities were completely at odds. early civil rights leaders united the communities in both discussion and action. from 1925-1941 community leaders favored the so called “racial progressionist” approach, focusing on anti-lynching efforts and advocating for better schools, parks, and facilities. working within the limits of Jim Crow to avoid the the violent backlash from the white supremacist establishment, the NAACP and Federation of Civic Leagues pushed for gradual, steady change. these efforts were often controlled by a few, unelected community leaders, making strategic choices on the behalf of their people. later, during the 1930s, younger civil rights advocates in New Orleans pushed for more dramatic and democratic change, paving the way for later civil rights actions.

creole of color communities in Louisiana tended to stick together; even when they left. the devastating economic impacts of Jim Crow (those “old money” creole of color families increasingly had the storied history but limited wealth due to restrictions on economic activity and periodic mass racial terror, such as the 1900 riots which burned down Black schools and property) and the depressions of the 1920s (Louisiana’s economy began faltering before the 1929 stock market crash) sent many creole families of color headed elsewhere; to urban centers like Los Angeles and Chicago. even outside of lousiana, they made efforts to preserve their culture through ritual; clustering around catholic schools or french speaking immigrant communities, cooking traditional foods and taking every chance to visit home.

bringing it back to alastor hazbinhotel

that’s a lot of history! let’s break down how, specifically, it might apply to alastor.

1. he’s light-skinned but not white passing. he’s not going to be barred from a colorist club but neither can he escape segregation entirely. the texture of his hair, the angle of his nose, all those things will have been picked apart not just by white bigots but also by his own community. as a man the scrutiny on his appearance might have been slightly lesser than it would have been for a mixed-race woman trying to make it in entertainment… but not much.

2. he can speak in a generic trans-Atlantic accent and his French (that we hear) is good but he doesn’t use it much. his linguistic flexibility means that he could maybe pass as either creole or a anglo-Protestant Black person (how french/spanish his last name is would be the deciding factor). conversely, that mutability might mean he’s distrusted by both groups.

3. we don’t get a lot of detail on his background but he does show up in a fucked up little cottage WAY outside of the city center. when he designs a retreat he designs a bayou, not a bustling suburb. there’s a good chance he doesn’t come from money and a VERY good chance that he didn’t come from one of the central nola wards. not having those connections to the city community would have been a major barrier for him, one he’d have to charm hard to overcome.

4. we don’t hear where he went to school but given that after 1915 only private schools taught in french (and many children of his generation who went to public school lost their french-language abilities), it was probably a catholic school. if his family was poor, his tuition might have eaten up the bulk of their income, but, as previously discussed, cultural transmission was prioritized in creole families.

5. given his overall confidence he might have been mistaken as a child of one of the old established creole families, but crucially not for more than a few hours—new Orleans was insular in that era and it wouldn’t take long to check the aunt-cyclopedia.

6. depending on the details of his background he may or may not have defined himself as Black (though he’d have still been subject to the same limitations placed on Black citizens, regardless). the answer may have even changed over the course of his life—adult alastor, steeped in the multi-cultural, constantly shifting world of jazz, may have thought of himself differently than rural creole baby alastor.

7. there’s a very good chance he was involved in social organizations; not just for networking but for self preservation! health insurance didn’t exist and he was working an unstable entertainment job, Black and creole mutual aid organizations WERE the social safety net. he may have also been involved in a church for the network and social camouflage (Louisiana was religious enough that he’d have raised eyebrows if he wasn’t) and, depending on how altruistic he was feeling, an early civil rights organization. his choice of affiliation would have mattered a lot—even just which mass a person chose to attend back then was a matter of status signaling. all this having to socially schmooze and depend on others probably shaped his issues with independence and perceived loss of control.

8. once he moved to New Orleans, where he chose to live would have been significant as well. some neighborhoods were associated with specific cultural groups, specific churches, and, as previously discussed, could be pretty insular. others, like tremé, were mixed.

most useful/chunkiest references

Spoken: A Documentary on Colorism and the New Orleans Creole

Defeat but Not Ignominy: The New Orleans Afro-Creoles Behind Plessy vs. Ferguson

Skin Color and Social Practice: The Problem of Race and Class Among New Orleans Creoles and Across The American South

I Am What I Say I Am: Racial and Cultural Identity among Creoles of Color in New Orleans.