This past weekend I went
to the Memorial Day service at Fort Snelling National Cemetery. This year’s
ceremony had a decidedly Civil War slant, and a good friend of mine was the keynote
speaker. The First Minnesota Infantry was in attendance, and I went along in
mourning attire.
I created my mourning
ensemble last fall (as long-time readers will recall) for a presentation I gave
on mourning and death rituals. For me, it was a no-brainer - Memorial Day is
about soldiers who have passed away, it began as a day of decorating the graves
of veterans, ergo mourning.
When I got there,
however, the weight of what was happening felt very heavy. There
were hundreds of people there - many of them veterans, many of them the
families of those who had served. I realized what I was - a representing
everyone who had lost a loved one to war, and everyone who had been left
behind. It was an awesome responsibility, but it was very heavy, and for a
while I felt incredibly awkward. My life has been remarkably free of grief, and
I felt like an imposter.
Thankfully, I was able
to pull it together, and many people told me afterwards how much my impression
meant to them. I even got a few emotional hugs. It was overall a really
positive experience, and it caused me to do some heavy duty thinking about what
a mourning impression really means.
It seems to be timely.
This week there has been a lot of discussions in groups of reenactors on
Facebook about when and how a mourning impression is appropriate, and sharing their experiences
with displaying mourning impressions. Some shared their experiences of wearing
mourning while grieving the real-life loss of a loved one. A lot of the stories shared were disheartening -
women who had been jeered at, who had been interrogated or otherwise accosted
with invasive questions. Perhaps even more disheartening were various posts I
saw around blogs and social media of women portraying armies of widows,
frolicking and mooning for the camera while swathed in black, and presenting
the “myth-tory” of mourning instead of the hard facts.
This has brought me to a
few conclusions about mourning in reenacting, specifically about how to present
mourning when one is not actually grieving a loss, which I would like to
share with you:
Grief Is Real. To those experiencing it, whether living
historians or those among the visitors and guests to an event, grief is
overwhelming and tangible. You may know who these people are based on their
attire, the context of the event, or your own prior knowledge of the
participants; however, there may be no way of telling who is grieving, and how,
and for whom. Therefore…
Treat Mourning As Real. If you see someone at an event in mourning
attire, treat them with the same respect you would afford anyone who had
suffered a loss. Their use of mourning attire will, hopefully, clue you in to
what kind of loss they have experienced. Leave your sarcastic comments or
snickering for later; ascertain politely about the nature of the person’s loss.
If You Are Doing a
Mourning Impression, You Are A Mourner. If you are actually grieving for a personal loss, this is
unfortunately a seamless impression for you. If you are, rather, honoring the
hundreds of thousands of those left behind by casualties of the Civil War, then
it is your honor and duty to present them in a somber, serious, and respectful
impression. Do not go into histrionics, and forget the “merry widow” trope, both of which cheapen the reality of those who grieved then and those who
grieved now. The weight of presenting real grief is heavy, and it is now your
personal responsibility to carry that load, and to act like a real mourner.
So Do It Right. Before you even consider putting on black, do real
research. Use primary sources to find out exactly what they did -
avoid going to secondary sources, which have (to be frank) bastardized and
muddied this niche topic. Seek out letters, diaries, and etiquette manuals to determine
what was actually done. While there are certain elements we cannot reproduce,
purchase accurate fabric based on what they wore, and utilize the appropriate
accessories. Mourn according to your relationship with the deceased - leave
widows’ weeds to the actual widows. Follow the actions prescribed for and
followed by those who mourned - this will give proper context and understanding
to mourning.
If You Cannot Do This,
And You Are Not Really Grieving, Do Not Present a Mourning Impression. Those who have to scramble to put on mourning
after a sudden death already have a difficult enough time. If you are not
grieving, and want to present a mourning impression, you owe it to those who
have suffered losses today, and the many women and men who grieved their sons,
brothers, fathers, relatives, and friends who died in the Civil War to do it the right way. There
isn’t anything cute or funny about it; it’s not another pretty dress.
Here's why I feel strongly about this: Ann-Elizabeth Shapera, a
street performer at a Renaissance Festival, has written an excellent book about
improvisational theater for street performers, called Easy Street. It’s
an fabulous book for anyone who does modified first person/my-time-your-time
impressions or deals with the public in any capacity. The point she makes which
stuck out to me the most is that, whether we like it or not, we invite those
with whom we interact to understand history by acting as a mirror for them. Our
emotions, our actions, our motivation invite the visitor to feel emotions with
us, and to remember how they have felt those emotions, and connect their
experiences to history and the greater human experience. Think about that -
when you present a mourning impression, you’re connecting with every visitor
who has experienced grief and loss in their lives, and inviting them to connect
with the experiences of the women who lost loved ones in the Civil War, and
through that, connecting them with every single person who has experienced
grief and loss.
Whoa.
It’s a pretty big and
bold statement, but I felt it on Memorial Day and it was a big and bold and
important feeling. It’s the kind of statement that cuts through the noise of
pretty dresses and niche impressions, and it reminds us of what’s really
important and that the way we present ourselves matters, to us and to others.
