As the executive director of Women With A Vision—an organization that has worked at the intersections of HIV/AIDS, reproductive justice, the criminalization of Black women and girls, and queer liberation for more than three decades—every day I see the ways oppressive systems leave too many fighting for survival. 

Too often I hear the work of organizers and activists described in opposition. I have not spent over 30 years of my life in the fight for social justice to just see a world “without.” A world without racism or capitalism isn’t enough. We’re working to topple oppressive systems because we deserve so much more. The end of these systems is just the starting point. I’m looking toward a future filled with pleasure and joy and community, one where we are free to create art and dance and share our talents. I’m looking forward to a world that looks a little like Mardi Gras. 

Come Mardi Gras, I get to see my community experience pleasure for pleasure’s sake. And that is revolutionary. 

The world that so many of us are working towards is built on care, community, and joy. And every year at Mardi Gras I see us come together as New Orleanians in the streets, at parties, and in our homes. Mardi Gras feels like an explosion of the things that are right about this city, how New Orleanians manage to prioritize what’s important in life—our relationships, fun, self expression, tradition, and creativity. 

Diane Dunn Willard at the Mystic Krewe of Femme Fatale parade on Feb. 4, 2024. Femme Fatale, founded by Black women, has been parading since 2013. Credit: Photo courtesy of Quo Vadis Hollins

As a native New Orleanian, I’m also aware of how many of our Carnival traditions are pockmarked by the legacy of white supremacy. The season makes plain the deep racial and economic hierarchies in our city from the krewes who refused to integrate, but still hold annual balls to the riders who insist on throwing vile, racist Confederate propaganda. 

And yet, for generations New Orleanians have managed to celebrate the holiday in ever increasingly inclusive ways. When Black men were barred from all-white krewes, they formed their own, elected royalty, and took to the streets to enjoy the day while satirizing the way white folks viewed Black communities. And when Black women were shut out of the good times because of their race and their gender, they took to the streets dressed as baby dolls, openly mocking the patriarchy in a tradition that endures today and paved the way for krewes like Muses. Generations have proven over and over again that there’s a place for everyone at the Mardi Gras. 

Mardi Gras is transgressive. It’s a chance for everyday folks to upend the rules and openly mock systems of oppression. By sharing our creativity for the sole purpose of delighting ourselves and others, we practice for a freer, more liberated world. 

My fellow organizers working outside of southeast Louisiana are often perplexed when I tell them we close the Women With A Vision offices for Mardi Gras. They question why an organization like ours — one so deeply committed to the struggle for liberation — would close for such a seemingly frivolous holiday. But it’s not. The joy and revelry and community of Mardi Gras is the entire point. What are we sacrificing our precious time on this earth for, if not to help birth a better, more joyous and inclusive world?

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Deon Haywood is an activist, human rights advocate, mother and grandmother, and community leader from New Orleans. For more than 25 years, she has advocated for the rights of Black women and girls, poor...