Zulu: More Than Blackface

I’ve seen the reactions. People, on social media and specifically young south Africans are just now discovering the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club and its iconic Mardi Gras costumes. There’s shock, misunderstanding and there’s judgment. And I get it. At first glance, the blackface and grass skirts can be jarring. But if you stop there, you miss the story. You miss the history.

Zulu was founded in 1916. Black people weren’t allowed in most organizations, most clubs, most social spaces. White-only Mardi Gras parades, Rex and Comus had been running for decades, and Black people were completely barred. Worse, some Black men were used as torch carriers along the parade routes, jobs that were dangerous, even deadly. And still, the white parades went on, oblivious to the cost in Black lives.

Zulu was born out of necessity, creativity, and community. The Club wasn’t just about parading; it was about establishing a space for Black people to celebrate themselves, to create something that belonged to them, and to do it with style, humor, and dignity. Inspiration came from what was around them at the time. minstrel shows, burlap costumes, and sambo characters. Within Zulu, a group called the Tramps shaped that inspiration into what became the signature look: blackface, grass skirts, bold performance. But let me be clear. this blackface was not about ridicule. It was about ownership, expression, and joy.

The parade itself was unconventional. On Mardi Gras morning, Zulu members would gather early, travel the city by tugboat, and parade without an official route. They moved freely, creating spaces where the Black community could celebrate, disrupt the white-only norms, and simply exist with power and presence. It was playful resistance, cultural pride, and community celebration all at once.

Over time, criticism surfaced. NAACP leaders spoke against blackface. Progressive thinkers debated its place in modern culture. And yes, there were difficult conversations, especially when white parades began integrating in the 1990s. some white clubs ended their parades rather than allow Black members. Yet Zulu continued, inclusive and resilient, eventually welcoming white members who participate in the traditions responsibly.

I’ll also point this out: other parades feature people dressed like “white knights,” invoking the KKK. Hardly anyone bats an eye. But Zulu’s story is different. It’s about Black people claiming space, joy, and creativity in a world that tried to deny them both.

So before judging, understand the history. Understand the intention. Understand the resilience. Zulu isn’t just blackface. It’s more than costume. It’s survival, community, and a joy that has lasted for over a century.