When you think of the Day of the Dead, what comes to mind? Sugar skulls? Halloween? Disney’s Coco? Many may know its imagery, but not the significance behind the observance.
I recently saw a TikTok of a parade of people donned in vibrant and elaborate dress, makeup and headwear being presented to a crowd of admirers one by one. I couldn’t scroll, I was mesmerized by the elegant and prideful tone of the event—a Catrina contest, one of the many ways people are partaking in Día de los Muertos celebrations around the globe.
Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is traditionally celebrated on Nov. 1-2 each year in Mexican culture through both intimate family gatherings and community festivals.
In a Catrina contest like the one I saw, participants dress up as La Catrina, the iconic skeleton figure wearing an exaggerated feathered hat that has become a prominent symbol associated with the Day of the Dead since the 1940s.
Yes, she represents death, but not in a gloomy way. Her original artist, José Guadalupe Posada, created her as a figure of satire, making her origin story blend well with the lighter Mexican perspective on death—one that believes when the people we love leave this world, their spirits should be celebrated rather than mourned. La Catrina’s flair has helped shape the Día de los Muertos aesthetic in recent decades, and wearing the ornate costumes is a way to honor those who have passed over through beauty and extravagance.
La Catrina’s symbolism is only one aspect of Día de los Muertos as a whole, and a relatively new one. The ritual itself can be traced back 3,000 years to pre-Colonial Mexico. Perhaps its oldest tradition is the preparation of las ofrendas, or “offerings” to honor the people they love who have passed on.
Families set up temporary altars adorned with the photos of their dead loved ones, along with offerings such as their favorite food, decorations, candles, marigolds, and Pan de Muerto (Day of the Dead Bread). The ofrendas are set up in a home, or their grave is decorated. The altars serve as a space to congregate and remember lives, share stories, and welcome spirits back—often more symbolically than literally—to be celebrated.
It made me wonder—how accurate is Coco? What role do photos of loved ones play on an ofrenda? Are spirit guides really connected to the tradition? Which customs and beliefs are a real part of Día de los Muertos, and which are embellished—or made up altogether—for the sake of a good story?
As it turns out, while there are many community-specific variations and interpretations of Día de los Muertos, the film is generally praised for blending authentic traditions with creative liberties to tell a compelling story.
As far as the photos go, including them does not help determine whether or not the soul can come back to visit, but it does serve as a good metaphor for the importance of remembrance and honoring where you come from. This makes sense considering the ofrendas have been around for thousands of years, and photographs have only been included in the past century or so.
When it comes to the spirit guides, they are also not traditionally associated with Día de los Muertos. The film chose to animate alebrijes, or vibrant figurines that are symbols of Mexican folk art, to incorporate magical beasts to serve as protective spirits for the characters.
Still, the film depicts the core traditions in an authentic way that resonates for many who celebrate.
Each community has its own way of honoring the dead. Here, there’s a Día de los Muertos Festival that draws community members, vendors, and performers each year to Bellevue Berry Farm to celebrate together and engage in the occasion’s rich traditions. This year, the festivities took place on Saturday, Nov. 2-3.
The organizer, Elizabeth Gaona with the Mexican Cultural Center of the Heartland (MCCH), said the event has flourished since its inception in 2018, “becoming a vibrant celebration of Mexican culture and tradition.”
“I thank God for being able to bring a little bit of our ‘Mexico lindo y querido’ to the wonderful city of Omaha,” Gaona remarked, commenting on the beautiful and beloved country. “The richness of our traditions and culture deserves to be celebrated and shared.”
Organizers of the MCCH believe that for traditions to endure, children and young people need to engage in the customs. Hosting the festival and encouraging community involvement is one way they hope to cultivate pride and a sense of identity in the next generation.
I’ve attended this event for the last several years and wanted to participate in the festivities firsthand again this year. Taking my winter jacket off its hanger for the first time this season, I braved the biting cold. But upon arrival, I was quickly warmed by the sounds of mariachi that filled the air.
Inside the ticketing barn, there were tables decorated with sugar skulls, marigolds made of tissue paper, and calacas (skeletons), and there was an impressively sized piñata on display. An aroma of comida sabrosa (tasty food) filled the air.
Priorities are priorities, so I immediately started looking for different foods to try. There were several food stations set up around the festival grounds, so I wandered around to scout some vegetarian options. There was a lot to stop and see, between the painted displays and papel picado (brightly colored banners) decorating the farm, ofrendas being set up, activities, and merchants selling traditional wares like serapes and dolls.
I ended up sampling the bean tacos, fresas con crema (strawberries with cream), and elote (street corn), with lime-flavored Jarritos to top it all off.
I noticed a man painting his caballo (horse) like a skeleton, and before I knew it, he was joined by others from Rancho Jalisciense, mounted on horses to perform an equestrian show. They trotted through the farm, their horses prancing to the music of the mariachi band trailing behind. A procession of people joined in, creating a celebration all its own.
Near the center stage, performances of folkloric ballet followed. Women, men, and children wore vibrant attire and painted faces, taking turns performing for the onlookers that had gathered to admire their talent.
It wasn’t an overwhelming crowd, although it grew in size as the day went on, but there was an aura of togetherness. We were all there to remember someone, or many someones, and that feeling is universal.
As a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, MCCH will use the funds raised from the festival to help support future events and initiatives and continue their work to engage young people and the community in Mexican culture.
As the organizer put it, “Ultimately, the festival aims to revive and celebrate Mexican culture while honoring the memories of those who have passed away and embracing the joy of life.”