The Emperor

IV

The Emperor... but not just any emperor. The Big Chief stands before you tonight.

Look at him there—spine straight as an arrow, eyes steady and unwavering. The Big Chief of the Mardi Gras Indians, holding his staff of authority, the very streets of the Quarter at his feet. And that star in the background... lighting his path, marking him as chosen to lead.

This is an emperor who earned his crown. Not through inheritance or conquest, but through dedication to craft, to community, through countless hours sewing those magnificent suits, stitch by sacred stitch, through mastering the songs and the stories, through proving himself worthy to his tribe.

When the Big Chief appears in your reading, he speaks of authority that comes from within—not imposed from above. The Indians began as a way for our Black communities to honor Native Americans who sheltered runaway slaves, and to claim space in a celebration that once excluded them. They created their own tradition, their own royalty.

The Emperor brings structure, order, stability. But the Big Chief shows you that sometimes the most powerful order is the one you create in defiance of the systems that would confine you.

There's a responsibility here. The Chief doesn't wear that crown for himself alone—he carries it for his tribe, for those who came before, for those who will come after. His authority serves a purpose beyond his own glory.

What territory are you being called to claim and protect? Where in your life must you stand firm, like the Chief on Mardi Gras morning, unwilling to bow or step aside? What traditions must you uphold, even as you transform them with your own vision?

The Big Chief knows that true power isn't about controlling others—it's about mastering yourself. The discipline to practice all year for just a few days of glory. The courage to face rival tribes with nothing but your song and your presence. The wisdom to know when to compete and when to collaborate.

In New Orleans, we understand that even in the midst of the wildest celebrations, there must be structure. Someone must call the rhythms. Someone must remember the songs. Someone must lead the procession through the streets.

The Emperor asks: Are you ready to be that someone? To stand tall, to claim your authority, to protect what matters? The Big Chief didn't ask permission to be magnificent—he simply was, against all odds.

What will you build with your authority? What order will you bring to chaos? What legacy will you sew with your own two hands?