an argument for halloweens of yore

*8-year-old Alex in her peacock costume.*

Let me start by confessing that I am not a “Halloween native”: while I did attend an American elementary school in my homeland of Trinidad, and thus was familiar with Halloween at a very young age, the concept of Halloween, at least as traditionally celebrated in the United States, was not something that my ancestors did. In fact, my true induction into Halloween didn’t really occur until I moved to the United States as a preteen. It was here in Houston that I struggled to understand what an appropriate Halloween costume was. I’m thinking particularly of one early Halloween when my mother convinced me to dress in traditional Trinidadian bélé attire, as a point of cultural pride. She took great pains to put together an elaborate costume which I wore to school with considerable dignity; that is, until dozens of my white classmates asked if I was supposed to be Aunt Jemima. Confused and vaguely humiliated, I tore off my headdress and kept an exceedingly low profile for the rest of the day.

But time is a proficient teacher, and eventually I became more comfortable with the celebration; when I became a mother myself, we were enthusiastic participants. For the last 18 years, we’ve lived in a neighbourhood that takes Halloween VERY seriously: we rarely ever see our neighbours except for Halloween night, when kids and their families come trick-or-treating in droves. I’ve even been known to don a costume or two, wisely staying away from anything that would allow my culture to become the butt of anyone’s joke.

Anyway, because of these years of experience, I’ve come to believe the following as core tenets of my Halloween practice:

Halloween is for children. It’s one of the few nights of the year where kids can go out at night for nothing more than play, eating way more candy than is reasonable, and allowing their parents to delight in their joy. It is secular and therefore for everyone, it matters not if you’re wealthy or poor, and it allows for wholesome moments of connection between neighbours.
Because of this, I believe that the world we adults create for our collective kids on Halloween night should tend toward spooky, not terrifying. The world is terrifying enough.

Now, I can already hear you saying: “Karen, it’s just one night. You’re actually spending your time writing an entire essay about this? Go eat some candy corn and calm down.”

To that I say: first of all, candy corn is disgusting. Secondly, normally I would agree with you, but this past week I was walking around my neighbourhood, and my neighbours are starting to put their Halloween decorations up. And I couldn’t help but notice that in recent years, the entire celebration of Halloween seems to be getting darker and more menacing.

To be clear, I am for rows of charming jack o’lanterns.

See? Lovely.

I am, however, against decorating houses with crime scenes and police tape. Call me uptight, but I just don’t think murder is entertaining.

Also, I am for kids in cute costumes, or even scary costumes.

*7-month-old Alex as the Killer Bunny in Monty Python & the Holy Grail. “Look, that rabbit’s got a vicious streak a mile wide!”*

Because, let’s face it: even a 6-year-old in a ghoul mask is adorable.

But I am against adults dressing up as pedophiles or serial killers, or costumes that require carrying anything resembling an assault rifle. What is wrong with people?

Finally, I am for carefree witches on swings hung in trees.

*She’s got BCE — big crone energy — and I’m here for it.*

But I am dead against skeletons or anything resembling bodies hung in trees. Have we actually lost our minds? The first time I saw this was a few years ago: I looked out the window to discover our across-the-street neighbour had hung life-sized skeletons so that they dangled from their heads from tree branches. What in the strange fruit is this shit? I thought, vacillating between being wondering if I was overreacting, while also being deeply aware that as the only Black person who lives in our neighbourhood, this felt wrong. And our neighbour has decorated his house this way every year since.

But I think it was this recent story of a homeowner creating a scene in his front yard of mannequins in “MAGA” hats that finally sent me over the edge. Because, while I love a political message, let me be clear: as disgusted as I am by the current White House (and oh, I am), the day I think hanging Trump supporters from trees is funny is the day I hope somebody has my ass committed. Is our humanity slipping away so much that we think lynchings are entertaining — on a night for kids? That this depiction of brutality just adds to the “Halloween mood”?

I may be wrong, but I can't help but wonder: when we're raising our kids to think of crime scenes and lynchings and serial killers as entertainment, how can we possibly expect anyone to be anything but numb or indifferent to actual cruelty? I mean, I'm no psychologist, and maybe it's the other way around -- we're numb to cruelty, so now this feels like entertainment -- but still, it's just wrong.

So at the risk of sounding fully old-fashioned, I’m yearning for a time when appropriate yard decorations were limited to mummies with glowing eyes and dry ice machines pumping out prodigious amounts of mist. When line-dancing zombies were high entertainment. When the scariest thing that could happen on Halloween night was that someone put fruit in your trick-or-treat bag, instead of chocolate.

Because while I wasn’t born into a Halloween tradition, I hate seeing what I’ve come to think of as a joyful, connecting time, become something less so.