I hate Halloween. It’s not a super-saved-Hallelujah-night thing, it’s a I-was-scarred-when-I-was-five-and-now-I-have-PTSD thing. I’ll set the scene for you: I was an innocent kindergartner, celebrating my first Halloween in elementary school and someone thought it was a good idea to take me to the school haunted house. This wasn’t just a cute little haunted house either. My school was in New Orleans, so the haunted house was super extra. The whole day was a big party and I ate everything they had; candy, chips, pizza, pickles, all dat. I’d already expressed my fear of going to the haunted house, but I was forced to go with my class. I didn’t last 5 minutes before throwing up all over the place. My daddy had to come and get me, it was shameful. Ever since then, I haven’t fooled with Halloween. I never understood the excitement around Halloween, what twisted person decided people should dress up as scary things and scare people? What’s the point?
One thing I can get with is the evolution of Halloween; I’m crediting the Black community with that accomplishment. We decided we could do what we wanted and not just impersonate characters from horror films, but we could become our favorite cultural icons like TLC, Beyonce or whoever the hell we want. Now I can get with that.
itsmeashli.com 