A Love Letter to Essence Music Festival from a New Orleans Girl.
1995 called, she wants her vision back….These are my confessions.
Dear Essence Music Festival,
Essence New Orleans Marie Louisiana, this is a love letter sent via regular mail. Not the kind written in anger, but the kind written in concern, the kind you write when something you love is hurting, and you believe it can get better with a few tips from a New Orleanian who has attended Essence Music Festivals since I was seventeen. We knew that every July, Essence was coming home. We could go to Canal Place and the malls and curate cute outfits for the festivities heading to the city. I am not going to hold you, but I have been meaning to blog this for a while.
Essence New Orleans Marie Louisiana
Why Marie, because it is the most popular middle name in New Orleans. Chile, for Creole New Orleanians pre-1910s, women commonly used Marie as their first name followed by the second common name. After the 1910s, when English became the norm in schools, the trend reversed: Marie became a middle name with English-speaking names used as first names. Chile, Marie wasn't just common, it was THE traditional naming pattern for Catholic Creole women in New Orleans. The practice shifted from Marie as a first name (like Marie-Louise, Marie-Anne) to Marie as a middle name after 1910. Marie is a beautiful nod to the city's Creole heritage. We want Essence Marie back! My middle name is Marie. I loved Teena Marie growing up and my mom nicknamed me Deana Marie. Marie is the kind of girl that does not beg for attention, like New Orleans. She demands presence. The kind that teaches grace and has an authentic history. Back to my story..
Before the Music Stopped
Before the music stopped, we were so magic. All the things. I am talking nostalgia and power of a Southern Black Owned Festival in New Orleans. 1995 was the year we built US. You were a community investment. Guess what, 1995 called—she wants her vision back. We want Marie back. We want to return to the roots of Essence.
It's ironic that Essence Fest was founded by Black men, but it has been celebrated more by Black women. Edward Lewis, a visionary from the South Bronx, created this for us. He and George Wein conceived this festival as a one-time celebration of Essence Magazine's 25th anniversary during New Orleans' slow July 4th weekend. What started as a single celebration became a 30-year love affair between a festival and a city. You brought us acts like Luther Vandross, Maze, Diana Ross, Anita Baker, Chaka, Juvie, Master P, PJ Morton, Destiny’s Child, Patti Labelle, Teena Marie, and Aaliyah. I attended the concert with my best friends and twin sisters the year of Katrina (2005) and coincidentally it was Destiny’s Child. Our favorite performances, ever. It was definitely a symbolic experience with Rhonda, Dawn and Shawn. Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans? Do you know how divine it is to see Nas in a hotel lobby in New Orleans? It's magical because New Orleans is not a real place. Don't tell anyone. You were "the party with a purpose", music that made us dance paired with empowerment that made us think. Black Excellence at our fingertips. Back to my story….
But then something shifted. When Essence was sold to Time Inc. in 2005, it became the first African-American magazine owned by a white man. Dat’s right! After 34 years of Black ownership, we lost something intangible but essential. Content that aligned with Black feminist thought decreased. Susan L. Taylor's "In the Spirit" column; the soul of the magazine that addressed spirituality, domestic violence, and self-esteem, lost its prominence. In 2011, they hired a white male managing editor whose conservative views contradicted everything Essence stood for. The authentic voice that made Essence special became diluted. And though the festival continued, we could feel the difference. The vision wasn't quite ours anymore. New Orleanians want to be part of the story. We want to be the main character.
For three decades, you've been our homecoming. You centered Black women, generating over $316 million in economic impact for our city. You hired 2,000+ local workers. You filled our hotels, restaurants, and streets with joy. We want Essence Marie back. We don’t like the red tape that our local businesses have to endure.
What Happened in 2025
But this year hurt. In my New Orleans accent, let’s spin the block. Let’s circle back. Get the chat back poppin. What’s going on? We were sent some vague promises after the last Essence Fest. And we need to talk about it. I have been feeling this way for years. After reading the history, I see why….You have to get back to the heart & soul of Essence Music Festival, the foundation. All I can think of is Steve Harvey suits being the talk of the town and Black Excellence events lighting up the streets. If you don’t agree with my writing, like they used to say in New Orleans -’ Talk what you know’. Meaning speak from lived experience, not hearsay. I am speaking from first hand stories and info from credible sources.
My twin sister and I got tickets at the last minute. I wish Essence could comp media with passes and we can in turn help boost the concerts. That would work wonders for the creatives in this town. Use the creatives to promote the events ahead of time.
The Superdome's terrace level, where 60% of Essence seats are located, sat mostly empty all three nights. Shows ran so late that Lauryn Hill didn't take the stage until 2:30 a.m., performing to a nearly empty venue. Stephanie Mills wrote an open letter describing "chaotic and stressful" backstage conditions, poor scheduling, and serious sound system problems.
The lineup lacked a stadium-sized superstar, and performer names were released too late; April and May announcements for a July festival when people travel from across the country. The convention center had hours-long lines, vendors ran out of product too quickly, and the entire production felt strained.
But beyond logistics, something deeper fractured. Attendees voiced concerns that the festival's traditional Black American focus; rooted in descendants of slavery and Southern Black culture, felt sidelined in favor of broader Pan-African inclusion. What was meant to honor the full diaspora left some feeling like the original family was being asked to share their own homecoming without acknowledgment.
New Orleans has always been a melting pot. African restaurants, Caribbean markets, diaspora businesses; they've become part of our city's landscape, and many of us have cultivated relationships within these communities. I love visiting Dakar Nola, Addis Nola and some other diaspora restaurants in the area. They brought a beautiful addition to our African heritage here. This wasn't about xenophobia or resistance to inclusion. This was about something New Orleanians understand deeply: when something sacred shifts without conversation, it feels seismic, even when the change itself might be minor. For us, it's not about keeping others out. It's about sacred ground feeling uncertain beneath our feet. After Katrina, the world didn’t think New Orleans would return. We didn’t think we would return. Throughout that process, we were living in fear, not knowing if our city would ever return.
The Super Lounge Controversy
Due to ongoing Superdome renovations, many original Superlounge spaces were unavailable. Instead of scaling back, the festival reintroduced Superlounge as a premium lounge experience—described as an "intentional evolution."
The Problem:
Superlounge access was limited to those with VVIP tickets (those cost $800-$1,500+ per weekend)
What used to be intimate, included performance spaces became an expensive add-on
People were upset about luxury pricing for what used to be a complimentary experience, especially in this economy
Essence's Response: They admitted on Facebook: "Was it confusing? Yes. Did we get it right? No. And the frustration. Fair." They promised clearer, earlier communication next year.
What Super Lounges Used to Be:
Small, intimate stages throughout the Superdome where rising stars and legends performed close-up sets
Included with regular concert tickets
Fan-favorite feature known for unmatched energy and personal connection to artists
Lucky Daye had a special Super Lounge performance in 2025 (a hometown celebration for the Grammy-winning New Orleans native)
Suffice it to say: Super Lounges went from beloved complimentary intimate spaces to VVIP-only luxury lounges due to renovations, and people were NOT happy about it.
What New Orleans Needs to Survive This Festival
Let's be frank: New Orleans doesn't just host Essence Festival. We give you our whole city. Our streets, our culture, our infrastructure, our people. And when hundreds of thousands descend on us in one weekend, we need you to help us hold it together.
Infrastructure that can handle the weight:
Realistic timelines that don't run until 3 a.m., incurring massive overtime costs and exhausting our workers
Sound and technical systems that work—not just for the headliners, but for every artist on every stage
Convention center flow that respects people's time, with adequate staffing and supply planning
Clear communication between production teams and local services
Economic partnership that's genuine:
Prioritize Black-owned vendors and local businesses—not just in talking points, but in actual contracts
Support local artists with meaningful stage time, not just filler slots
Ensure your production partners reflect the community you celebrate (yes, we know Solomon Group produces this, and yes, that matters)
Return investment to the neighborhoods that absorb the impact
Cultural clarity about who you are:
Honor your founding purpose: celebrating Black American women, Southern Black culture, and descendants of slavery
Expand thoughtfully without erasing your foundation
If you're evolving toward Pan-Africanism, bring us along in that conversation—don't shift without us
Remember that "for us, by us" meant something specific in 1995, and it should still mean something today
Operational excellence:
Release full lineups early—by February, not May
Book at least one undeniable superstar who creates that "wow factor"
Bring back livestreaming for those who can't afford to travel
Treat artists with respect: proper schedules, functioning equipment, professional conditions
Because We Still Believe
Richelieu Dennis stood up and took accountability: "It's our fault, because we engaged them, and it's our job to make sure that everything is delivered properly." That matters. You heard us. You responded. You're working on it.
And we're still here because we still believe.
We believe in the Essence Festival that changed our lives. The one where Beyoncé gave us everything. The one where Prince reminded us we were royalty. The one where our grandmothers, mothers, daughters, and sisters saw themselves celebrated on the world's biggest stage.
We believe in the festival that proves Black culture is economic power. That shows our joy is resistance. That turns July 4th into Independence Day for real.
We believe you can be better. Not because we want to tear you down, but because we know what you're capable of when you get it right.
Moving Forward
New Orleans will continue to open our arms to you. We'll staff your events, fill your hotels, cook your meals, play your music, and welcome your visitors with the hospitality only we can give.
But we need you to remember: this is a partnership. We're not just a backdrop for your brand. We're the soil you planted in, the roots that have held you for 30 years. Treat us—and our city—like we matter.
Bring back the magic. Honor your history while building your future. Center the people who built this festival with you. Invest in excellence, not just scale. And remember that sometimes the most powerful growth happens when you tend your roots before reaching for new branches.
We love you, Essence Festival. That's why we're writing this.
Now come back home for real.
With hope, history, and hunger for what's next,
Lynn Wesley Coleman
Wife, Mother, Sister, Friend, New Orleanian!