Growing up, celebrating El Dia De Los Muertos meant cutting out tissue paper skulls and eating skeleton-shaped bread in Spanish class, and ultimately, it meant extending Halloween for a few extra days. I loved the idea of lively dancing skeletons and spirits coming to visit, but I never really understood their true significance until I moved to the Mission District in San Francisco, where Dia De Los Muertos (“Day of the Dead”) is a grand holiday all its own, as over 15,000 people march the streets, honor the dead, and party down.
Unlike Halloween, which seems to have progressively become about vampires, ironic throwback pop culture, and dressing up as the “slutty” version of something (or the ever-popular combination: slutty Debbie Gibson vampire), Dia De Los Muertos is a meaningful celebration of life and death. This past Monday evening, thousands of people dressed as Calacas (skeletons) and paraded through the streets, complete with exquisitely painted faces and a multitude of deathly props, all lit by the warm, eerie glow of their votive candles. The teeming river of bodies moved to the beat of live drumming, with beautiful Aztec dancers, children in adorable outfits and more than a few curious onlookers in tow. It was a spectacular sight.
With origins in ancient Aztec culture, this Latin American holiday, celebrated on November 2nd each year, brings friends and families together to pray and remember loved ones who have passed. Throughout Mexico, neighbors traditionally gather in local cemeteries to share food, art, music and stories with their ancestors, acknowledging their continued relationship, even after death.
In San Francisco’s version of the festivities, the wild processional ends in a small park where hundreds of elaborate altars were built, many of them interactive installations, inviting the crowd to step in and share their memories. Some altars glowed like velvet-filled, Victorian living rooms, and others were precious, thoughtfully curated clusters of trinkets. Many colorful shrines were filled with artwork and photos, like the Michael Jackson Memorial, or giant spooky skeletons doing a variety of funny human activities. My favorite altar was a simple one–several clotheslines hung between two trees, displaying notes and names of the dead. “Celebrate the Lives and Souls of Your Loved Ones…Please Put Your Memories Here,” instructed the painted sign, as the crowd continuously added more hand-written messages and candles.
In that moment, there existed a rare blend of grief and gaiety; an overwhelming sense of community and spirituality that isn’t often witnessed in public celebrations. It was the perfect night to contemplate our mortality, remember our friends and family beyond, and rejoice in the abundance that we have on earth….“All Souls Day” indeed.
Rachel Znerold is an artist and independent fashion designer living the good life in San Francisco, CA. www.rachelzart.com
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