I remember float riders leaning forward, stretching toys and trinkets toward a sea of Black children, only to snatch them back at the last second, enjoying the pain they inflicted. I remember our tiny, chocolate-skinned hands crushed beneath the weight of white feet, sharp and satisfying to icy, piercing blue eyes.
In two 9th Ward schools, Abramson and Douglass, students lean on discipline, music, and one another as they prepare for New Orleans Carnival — and for life beyond the parade route.
“Throw me my Motha Mista, alive well before age fifty and dancing whole,” writes poet MonaLisa Saloy. This poem kicks off this year’s Lens Carnival Edition, a collection of stories, photography, and poetry.
"Jamming 1.5 million humans into the same party space that struggled to accommodate half a million in 1970 is, put simply, unsafe."
