Zulu likes to tell certain people things about their outfits. They tried to tell my friend she couldn’t come in because her split was too high (right above her knees) meanwhile they had women in there with MAXI DRESSES on and splits all the way up to their hooha. I have my own thoughts on why they wouldn’t let her in but either way they should be ashamed but they won’t be ?

Growing up was very difficult for me. Aside from my parents, sister, and very few people, I was always bullied and humiliated because of my eccentric choices in style as well as my philosophies about social gravitas. There were times that it was so bad, that I would beg to stay home because it was such a terror. Tears have continued to well in my eyes for the majority of the day, as I recollect such an awful period. You could say those two sectors—art and social progress, were and still primarily the sum of my existence. Throughout my childhood, I never chose to shrink myself because of the mockery. However, that doesn’t negate a very real truth that I became weary from incessantly being ridiculed. And more oft than not, I was defending myself alone. This is why I bathed in detestation for school up until college, when I moved to New York. I hadn’t experienced that sort of derision against me for lack of understanding about my personhood for years, until last night.

On last night, I attended the Zulu Coronation Ball. Somewhere I’ve enjoyed watching the enigmatic nature of Black people be paraded in all of it’s glory. To bear witness to that is nothing short of amazing. Upon admittance, I was complimented by passing members of the club and security personnel for the way in which I decided to dress— think AfroPunk formal wear. I was in full dress code, floor length dress with a knee high slit on each side, the fabrication was a rainproof taffeta, and sealed the look off with Bootsy Collins-esque platforms. I was ready to board the Mothership if they had a black tie ceremony. I was there for about an hour when I ran into some friends to chat. Suddenly, I was then circled by three men, two Harbor policemen and a member of the club, who went on to harass me. They stared at me until they decided to berate me. Arbitrarily, they criticized how I was dressed, with not one valid reason of how I was not in accordance with their rules of dress. As I tried to respectfully plead my case, they followed and watched me until I exited the building. Upon realizing who my parents were and having my mother defend me, they allowed me back in, however, I decided not to enter again. I’m not that desperate to be in the midst of a place that cannot recognize the full spectrum of Blackness. sexy long sleeve prom dresses

I was embarrassed and humiliated. There were both men and women actually not in compliance. Beach and maxi dresses, flip flops, sneakers, slits cascading up the entire leg, different colored tuxedos when only black was “allowed”. So, why was I told to leave and encircled like I was getting ready to be sent off to prison? It may seem hyperbolic, but that was in such poor taste. I was in their dress code that they themselves are lackadaisical in enforcing. And it may be exasperating to attend any other Zulu event. Which, is cumbersome in light of all of the great work they have done. I know this and me are a blip on their radar. Even before this occurred, Zulu has tainted their communal efforts and feats with greed and haughtiness. Despite my engagement, I wish the club the best and truly hope their social aid doesn’t become an afterthought to the distaste and repugnance that has been displayed.

Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club, Inc. Social Club · New Orleans, LA, United States 23,229 people checked in here