There is something strangely beautiful about collective grief. Not a communal loss, with everyone mourning over the same someone, but when hundreds gather together to rejoice and lament the loss of loved ones, whether they were a friend or a stranger. This commonality overwhelms the participants of El Día de los Muertos or the Day of the Dead. On November 2nd, tents, candles, and people of all shapes and sizes filled the area between 21st and 22nd Street South on 1st Avenue South to honor the dead.
The celebration known as “El Día de los Muertos,” has many different forms throughout Mexico and Latin America. Honoring the dead was a practice so deeply rooted in the minds and traditions of Mexican culture that Roman Catholic missionaries, unable to eradicate the customs, opted to tweak the rituals and realign them with Catholic practices along with their liturgical dates. In the church year, November 1st and 2nd are All Saints Day and All Souls Day, respectively. By placing the celebration of the dead on those dates, the missionaries allowed the indigenous people to continue practices like altar making, offerings, ceremonial dancing, and other revelry while glossing the celebrations with a Catholic hue. Though this fusion of indigenous Mexican celebrations and Catholic traditions is what we now know as The Day of the Dead, similar celebrations happen throughout Central and South America as well as parts of Europe.
El Día de los Muertos first made an appearance in North America in the 1960s and 70s when Latinos were struggling for civil rights and greater respect as a minority. Chicano activists in California started to organize Day of the Dead celebrations as a way to honor their Mexican heritage and challenge those who argued that in order to be true Americans, they had to assimilate. Since many of the activists were born in the United States and didn’t grow up celebrating El Día de los Muertos, they had to rely on artwork, stories, and visits to Mexico to create their version. They leaned heavily on José Guadalupe Posada’s cartoon drawings of skeletons and death. His influence can still be seen in the posters and decorations of El Día de los Muertos celebrations today. The spreading of this unusual festival has happened in the last 10 years as more and more Hispanic activist groups publicize their heritage and encourage others to learn about it. Media coverage has also helped El Día de los Muertos’ popularity as art museums, galleries, community centers and local organizations attempt to incite interest. As the festival continues to expand its territory, new hybrids are created. Some now have more South American influence, while others have a Spanish influence that is darker and more focused on mourning. Now, Day of the Dead celebrations are held all over the United States.
Birmingham festivities started at 5 p.m. on Wednesday, November 2nd. This was the festival’s 9th year in The Magic City. A tent for children to paint skull-shaped lanterns lasted from 5-6:30 and another tent offered participants the option of getting their face painted like a decorated skull. Live music filled the air with a saucy, tango flair and the Christmas lights strung from building to building aided the many candles in illuminating the fantastic scene. The whole event was in memory of Guillermo Memo Castro, the owner of Sol Y Luna who passed away this past year and was one of the founding members of the celebration. An altar on the right wall was filled with mementos and trinkets that people brought to celebrate his life and memory. On either side of his altar were other small areas and altars of all shapes and sizes, dedicated to lost loved ones. Candles, flowers, and hundreds of objects filled every nook and cranny of the altars. Some of the altars were dedicated to men and women who had died a long time ago and others who died recently; a baby crib in one corner was dedicated to lost children. The photos and personal touches made each altar unique. As people meandered down the wall of altars a feeling of collective comfort seemed to fill the air as they honored the death of strangers.
The events started around 6:30 p.m. when one of the organizers of the event read works of poetry by Walt Whitman, Allen Ginsberg, E. E. Cummings, and Mary Oliver. Each poem wrestled with a different side of death and grief, offering comfort and hope to those listening. After the readings, a number of performance pieces entertained participants. Ballet Folklorico Corazon Azteca performed a traditional dance along with a fire breather and people painted white, covered in tall tree branches. There was also a piece called “Aria For Those Who Have Crossed The Ocean” that included a projection screen blowing around in the wind. The much-anticipated role call happened at 7 p.m. Two speakers alternated reading out a long list of names; the friends and family in the crowd would call "present" or "presente" when their loved one’s name was called out. Some of more notable names included Steve Jobs and Fred Shuttlesworth, who many in the crowd called out for.
This comforting moment was followed by a procession around the block. Then the true revelry and merriment began with drinking and dancing, led by a fun band. Eccentric costumes and painted faces danced until 10; no costume was too fantastic. There were devils, corpses, skeleton outfits, traditional Mexican costumes, and then a few more skeletons. Every color of hair was represented and eyes looked out from skull painted faces on to a colorful display of love and loss. There is something beautiful about collective grief, a group of people from all backgrounds and all experiences coming together and understanding both the grief and the joy of those around them.
