by Cierra Chenier
Originally published in the Louisiana Creole Research Association Journal Volume 14, Issue 1 - 4 December 2021
Growing up in Black New Orleans, my experiences of what I knew and saw were often, in some way, rooted in Catholicism. Schools such as the world-renown St. Augustine High School, St. Mary’s Academy, Corpus Christi, Xavier Prep, and Xavier University hold a long history in my family lineage. I attended mostly Catholic schools from preschool until high school, was baptized and confirmed in St. Maria Goretti Church in New Orleans East, and spent many days in the care of my very Catholic grandmothers. Crucifixes on display, praying to St. Anthony for lost items, and seafood on Lenten Fridays were commonalities. My earliest years of education were by Black nuns, I served as a flower girl in a number of Catholic weddings, gifted many, many rosaries and prayer cards over the years, and could recite both the Our Father/Notre Père and Hail Mary/Je Vous Salue Marie front and back in both English and French. In contrast, I also grew up molded by the importance of Black representation, Black power, and Black history.
Sisters of the Holy Family – c. 1899 Source: Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sisters_of_the_Holy_Family_ New_ Orleans_1899.jpg
It didn’t take long to recognize the disconnect between white Catholics and Black Catholics in values, practice, celebration, and imagery. I recognize how often white, Catholic spaces contradict the religion’s core values and support conservative ideals and policies that negatively impact the very people Jesus dedicated his life to: the poor, the sick, oppressed, women, and children.
As I grew older, I gravitated closer to the brown-skinned images of Jesus rather than that of white skin and blue eyes and more closely resonated with the Black Madonna depictions of The Virgin Mary. I learned the history of Black figures who led selfless, righteous lives that in my opinion, alone should qualify as a miracle and sainthood. I gained a broader knowledge of other religions such as Islam and Vodou, which have had a tremendous impact on Black communities throughout history. And finally, being unable to ignore the many aspects of Christianity, specifically Catholicism, that continue to uphold white supremacy and ways the religion is used by man to justify oppression of marginalized groups like women, LGBTQ+, those experiencing poverty, people of color, and specifically, Black people. In a largely Black, Catholic city with heavy African and Caribbean roots, my thoughts on religion get as complex as New Orleans’ history and often lie at the intersection of what I’ve always known versus what I’ve always felt.
EXAMINING THE CODE NOIR
That complex history is strongly defined by the Code Noir, the “Black Codes” of Louisiana. In 1724, this set of laws was established to regulate the lives of both enslaved and free Black population in Louisiana. It remained in place until the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, when the state of Louisiana was acquired by the United States from the French. For nearly eighty years, the Code Noir was recognized as “law of the land” in Louisiana territory, establishing the precedent for the colony’s early years and impacting our future ways of life.
There is a false narrative that often suggests that the French were “lenient” in their regulations compared to other slave-holding groups such as the British. It is believed that this resulted in Black New Orleans’ ability to preserve so many of our African-derived traditions and cultivate a large community of gens de couleur libres, free people of color. I strongly reject this narrative, as there can be no real leniency under the institution of slavery. Instead, we must constantly examine the Code Noir and understand its implications. Under its fifty-four articles, the Code Noir prohibited the exercise of any religion other than Roman Catholicism, required that enslaved people were baptized in the Catholic Church, and stated that Sundays be recognized as the Sabbath, a day of rest. This is often misconstrued as leniency, when in actuality, the French were handpicking what aspects of their religion they did not want to be contradictory. With Sundays as off days, enslaved and free people gathered at Congo Square on North Rampart in the Tremé neighborhood of New Orleans and cultivated musical, cultural, and religious practices true to their homeland of Africa that shaped modern culture locally, nationally, and globally.
CATHOLICISM IN BLACK CREOLE LOUISIANA
Catholicism is a key aspect of many of Louisiana’s Black Creole families. My paternal great-grandfather, Lawrence “Count” Chenier, was born in Opelousas, Louisiana to the Chenier family of St. Landry Parish. He, like many Creoles of Color from the area, was sent to New Orleans to receive his education at one of the city’s Black Catholic schools, Xavier Prep (previously coed). He was a member of the school’s first football team, received his bachelor’s degree in social work from Xavier University, and went on to become the first Black case worker in the New Orleans Department of Welfare.
Lawrence C. Chenier Sr. Source: The Creole Genealogical and Historical Association, Inc. (Creole Gen) https://www.creolegen.org/2017/ 10/28/a-pharmacist-and-a social-worker/
One of the many definitions of Creole indicates those who were born in the colony, as opposed to having immigrated or been forcibly brought here. The children of many enslaved Africans trafficked to New Orleans were considered first-generation Creoles if they were born on Louisiana soil. With the Code Noir requiring Roman Catholicism as early as six years into the city’s colonial history, 1 your family’s religious history is often an indicator of how long you have been rooted in this area, hence, Creole. Louisiana families with deep Catholic roots such as my own are part of the legacy of the Code Noir, whether we like it or not.
1 Dictionary of American History. Encyclopedia.com, https://www.encyclopedia.com/history/dictionaries thesauruses-pictures-and-press-releases/code-noir : accessed May 26, 2021.
The question is—how do we rectify that, if at all? Wilson and Louise Jacobs, my paternal 4th great grandparents, were enslaved by the Academy of the Sacred Heart in Grand Coteau, Louisiana where they forcibly worked and lived. This practice was common among white Catholic orders, such as the Jesuits, who were some of the largest slaveholders in the state of Maryland. Catholic nuns bought and sold enslaved people, even using these human beings as transactions like paying off debts or tuition. This horrific history is difficult to digest when raised in Black Catholicism, but is necessary to learn in understanding all impacts of the religion on this region and our daily lives.
MOTHER HENRIETTE DELILLE & THE SISTERS OF THE HOLY FAMILY
The Sisters of the Holy Family is a Catholic congregation of Black women that was founded in 1837 in New Orleans, Louisiana by Henriette DeLille, free woman of color. With much disapproval from family members, she rejected the act of passé blanc, passing for white, to join the existing, white religious orders. She instead sold all of her property to fund the Sisters of the Presentation with friends Josephine Charles and Juliette Gaudin, which later became Sisters of the Holy Family. The congregation defied racial laws during its time and was dedicated to educating and caring for those who were enslaved, poor, sick, or orphaned.
Mother Henriette DeLille Source: Catholicism.org https://catholicism.org/mother-delille new-orleans-native-is-declared venerable.html
2 Financial support from Thomy Lafon, notable free man of color, businessman, and philanthropist, assisted in the mission of the Sisters of the Holy Family. 3 Many New Orleanians are part of their enduring legacy with institutions like St. Mary’s Academy, Thomy Lafon School, Lafon Daycare (former Lafon Boys Home), Lafon Nursing Home (the oldest nursing home in the United States), Southern University, and more. My maternal grandmother and family line were avid parishioners of Our Lady of Grace Church in Reserve, Louisiana, where Sisters of the Holy Family helped operate the school and church. My paternal grandmother attended St. Mary’s Academy at its Bourbon/Orleans Street location in the French Quarter. My early years of education began at Lafon Daycare in New Orleans East, which was operated by the Sisters of the Holy Family and where my earliest recollections of Catholicism were centered on Mother Henriette DeLille. As a toddler, we were already introduced to who she was, what she did, and the legacy she helped pave for Black New Orleanians and beyond.
2 Sisters of the Holy Family, New Orleans, LA, https://www.sistersoftheholyfamily.com : accessed 20 May 2021 and Encyclopedia.com, https://www.encyclopedia.com/education/news-wires-white-papers-and-books/delille-henriette 1813-1862 : accessed 26 May 2021.
3 Campbell-Rock, C.C. “Lafon Boys Home slated for demolition”, The Louisiana Weekly (online database), http://www.louisianaweekly.com/lafon-boys-home-slated-for-demolition/ : accessed 21 May 2021.
Today, I reflect not only on the Beatification of Venerable Henriette DeLille and her path towards sainthood, but also one of her family members, who has also had a profound impact on my young adult life–Voodoo queen Marie Laveau, who is believed to be DeLille’s great cousin.4 One is on track to be canonized as a saint and widely recognized as a Catholic woman of impact and virtue, another is often misinterpreted, praised by some and demonized by others. Their blood relation and proximity encompass so much of Black New Orleans’ tangled history, and in better understanding DeLille and Laveau, we can better understand ourselves.
THE VOODOO QUEEN OF NEW ORLEANS
Marie Catherine Laveau was an entrepreneur, healer, and humanitarian whose impact extends beyond her rise to power as Voodoo priestess. She is highly-regarded for her syncretism of French-implemented Catholicism and African-derived Voodoo, contributing to a form of Louisiana Voodoo independent of what existed in both Africa and the Caribbean. She adapted to the tradition of Catholicism left behind by the Code Noir while preserving religious practices indigenous to her bloodline. She, like many Black Catholics today, took the white-dominated Christian faith and made it work for herself, family, and community.
Commonly believed to be Marie Laveau, although she never sat for a portrait. Source: Portrait by Frank Schneider, based on painting by George Catlin (Louisiana State Museum). Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie_Laveau
On most days, she attended mass at St. Louis Cathedral where she was baptized 5 and where now, there is a chapel dedicated to her distant cousin, Henriette DeLille. Laveau committed to prison ministry towards the end of her life, joined by the leading religious authority in New Orleans’ Catholic Church, Père Antoine. He baptized her and officiated the wedding with her first husband, Jacques Paris. 6 Laveau visited prisoners on death-row daily, brought them fried fish and gumbo for their last meals, and would work her altar in their favor. 7 Laveau venerated both Catholic saints and Black figures held in high regard in the local community. Jean Saint Malo was a maroon, enslaved African who escaped slavery, who led a large group of nearly fifty maroons throughout the swamps surrounding New Orleans. He formed settlements in each of their locations and evaded authorities for months, until eventually being captured and executed in Jackson Square in 1784.8 His name and legacy of resistance lived on for centuries, with stories of his image displayed on the altar of Marie Laveau, labeled as “Saint Marron,” “a colored saint that white people don’t know nothing about.”
The life of Marie Laveau mirrors the reality of Black Catholics over generations–adapting Catholic beliefs and practices to who we are racially, culturally, politically, and socially.
4 Copeland, Mary Shawn, and Raboteau, Albert J. “Uncommon Faithfulness: The Black Catholic Experience.” United Kingdom, Orbis Books, 2009. Accessed May 18, 2021 and Fessenden, Tracy. “The Sisters of the Holy Family and the Veil of Race” Religion and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation, vol. 10, no. 2, 2000, pp. 187–224. JSTOR : accessed 26 May 2021.
5 Carolyn Morrow Long, “A New Orleans Vodou Priestess: The Legend and Reality of Marie Laveau” (Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2006), 20-50.
6 Archdiocese of New Orleans, St. Louis Cathedral Baptismal Records of Slaves and Free People of Color 1801- 1804. https://nolacatholic.org/documents/2020/4/1801-1802%20SFPC%201-1.pdf : accessed 20 May 2021 and Ina J. Fandrich. “The Birth of New Orleans' Voodoo Queen: A Long-Held Mystery Resolved.” Louisiana History: The Journal of the Louisiana Historical Association, vol. 46, no. 3, 2005, pp. 293–309. JSTOR :accessed 18 May 2021.
7“Death of Marie Laveau” ,The Times-Picayune, New Orleans Louisiana -1881, p. 8 - accessed 26 May 2021 and Ward, Martha, “Voodoo Queen: The Spirited Lives of Marie Laveau” 2004.
8 ExecutedToday,com, “1784: Jean Saint Malo, New Orleans Maroon”, (database online), https://www.executedtoday.com/2012/06/19/1784-jean-saint-malo-new-orleans-maroon/ : accessed 22 May 2021
My role as a historian often lies with a foot in the past and foot in the present. This requires a full decolonization of history and its ongoing influences on our lives today. For many in this region, Catholicism has been something one is born into and raised in, not necessarily something one chose. Nor was Catholicism a choice for our enslaved and free ancestors born in or brought to Louisiana in the 18th century. What is a choice, however, is our decision to claim agency over our minds, bodies, and spirits with what we have in front of us. And Black Catholics have done just that, often holding this religion as its own, true standard of beliefs and values, in contrast to those who have weaponized it to uphold the discriminatory afterlives of Catholicism's slave-holding past.
As novelist, activist, and poet James Baldwin stated in his 1979 speech in Berkeley, California–in more ways than one, “We are still governed by the slave codes.” The laws of the Code Noir still echo here, but so do those drums in Congo Square. Even unintentionally, we venerate ancestors with photos, candles, and heirlooms, and venerate saints and their prayer cards right along with them. The sounds of church bells on a Sunday often ring simultaneously with brass bands at the second line. In some ceremonies you’ll hear “Amen,” and in the same breath, “Ashé.” We are our history, every bit of it, and I honor the way Black Catholics in New Orleans have chosen to stand in it.
Is Xavier university a catholic college?