The endless mazes of cypress and tupelo trees, cold-blooded predators lurking, and flesh-eating insects guarding the dark, murky Louisiana swamps were all a better fate than the chains waiting for the newly enslaved.

In fleeing their French captors, some survived the swamp’s perils, creating independent, hidden communities called “maroon camps.” (The inhabitants themselves were the “maroons.”) Others perished in the marshlands, but did so as free people, fighting to live.

Many who survived didn’t do it without an unexpected assist from the fiercely independent indigenous peoples of the Choctaw, Blackfoot, Seminole and other local tribes. When the French established the great city of New Orleans in the early 1700s, they did so on already occupied land. The Natives who weren’t scattered by the decimation of their tribes and sacred land were enslaved to build the future Crescent City. Unfortunately for the French, these peoples’ languages and customs, intimate relationship with the terrain, and strategic prowess made their frequent escape a constant liability.

The French didn’t have to wait long for replacement labor, though. In 1719, ships of enslaved people arrived from Africa, Haiti and the West Indies. Without the home advantages native people capitalized on, and terrified of a new, unfamiliar place where humans, plants and animals all held danger, the newly enslaved were much more vulnerable. Rather than live under a slavemaster’s whip, many fled into the nearby swamps, where natives who came upon them fed, clothed, guided them to safety, and sometimes welcomed the newly freed into their own tribal communities. The black and native people even established their own “Swampland Railroad” to liberate those who couldn’t escape to maroon camps on their own.

The deep alliance and mutual cultural respect black and indigenous people shared culminated into the French’s worst fear in the Natchez Revolt of 1729 when 280 slaves and 176 natives joined forces to destroy the tobacco farms further impinging on native lands and enslaving more black people. Their uprising was unsuccessful, but the relationship had been solidified. Though the French repeatedly implemented an assortment of laws and regulations – such as the “Code Noir” that regulated basic behavior like when, where, and if people of color were allowed to gather, leading to the establishment of New Orleans’ historic Congo Square – the two marginalized groups cultivated a friendship that only grew deeper with French suppression.

Having gained so much from the indigenous Americans, by 1746, the free black communities chose to honor and appreciate the tribes in the best way they knew how – by incorporating hallmarks of tribal culture, mythology and textile making into their own creations for the biggest celebration of the year, Mardi Gras. Black people were only allowed to attend the city festivities as servants, and once again couldn’t gather together under French law, but when police were occupied with peacekeeping among the major white-only parties, in black communities, vivid feathers, beaded story scenes, and tribal traditions learned from local natives became the fancy dress of choice. The bravest of black revelers would even craft masks to go with their elaborate suits, and sneak into the society events undetected. Masks were soon outlawed as well, but a centuries-long tradition was born.

Today, the Mardi Gras Indians – or Black Masking Indians as some prefer to be called, since people of color were historically segregated from the festival – preserve the tradition of their African and indigenous forefathers. During Mardi Gras, St. Joseph’s Day, and “Super Sunday” – in recognition of the only day of the week that black free and enslaved people were allowed to congregate, trade and socialize together in Congo Square – dozens of “tribes” of Black Masking Indians parade the streets of New Orleans, hoping they’ll be recognized by the crowds as the prettiest of them all.

“Beads and feathers have always been worn by indigenous people — you can’t hide among a people unless you resemble them,” explains Big Chief Shaka Zulu of the Golden Feather Hunters. “Masking” is the term used to describe dressing in your hand-crafted suit, likely derived from the tendency to subvert segregated Mardi Gras parties by donning a mask. In each tribe’s suit, elements of indigenous, African, and Afro-Caribbean influence all intermingle to create a distinctly southern African-American tradition.

“It is a tradition of resistance. It is an homage to the mutual struggles of both African Americans and indigenous Americans on their quest for freedom, self-actualization, and self-expression in America,” one Black Masking Indian queen proudly explains.

Each Black Masking tribe mirrors a typical native tribe’s hierarchy with a Big Chief, Big Queen, Spy Boy (scout) and Flag Boy (banner man). Tribes throughout New Orleans’ neighborhoods bear names as colorful as their suits, like the Young Maasai Hunters, Bayou Renegades, Black Seminoles and Yellow Pocahontas, many referencing the deep Native American, African and creole cultures that thrived together secretly for centuries. And the suits they hand-sew in the tradition of their allies and ancestors can cost up to $30,000, but are only worn for a single season. It’s a small price to pay to preserve and perpetuate such a beautiful expression of history.

Those who preserve that history today stress its importance to a cultural future in New Orleans, especially in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. “We still have some depressed neighborhoods in New Orleans,” one chief acknowledges. “When the Black Masking Indians meander through their communities, they provide a sense of belonging, a sense of self. It’s about uplifting and empowering [people] to feel good about themselves rather than feeling ‘less than.’”

Some of the Black Masking Indians can trace their lineage back to the original black and indigenous people of Louisiana, others were welcomed and initiated into the society by existing members. But either way, when the Black Masking Indians dance down the streets of New Orleans, cultures that once had to go into hiding come back to life in a bold, storied, and most of all, public display, of black and indigenous southern history at its most beautiful.

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