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For Black Debutantes in Detroit, Cotillion Is More Than a Ball

By Miranda Barnes and Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff

Three young women in white ball gowns, pearl necklaces and tiaras holding bouquets of flowers. The woman on the left wears elbow-length white gloves. All photos in this story are black and white.

Where We Are is a visual column about young people coming of age and the spaces where they create community.

In a heady swirl of bright white silk and lace, the young ladies of the Cotillion Society of Detroit Educational Foundation are presented as debutantes.

The Society’s annual ball is the culmination of eight months of etiquette lessons, leadership workshops, community service projects and cultural events. As the girls take to the dance floor, they become part of a legacy of Black debutantes in the city and beyond.

Debutante balls, which traditionally helped girls from high society find suitable husbands, emerged from Europe in the 18th century. Black Americans have adopted a unique version of them since at least 1895. Responding to the politics of the Jim Crow era, these balls, which emphasized women’s education, echoed the work of the racial upliftment movement and women’s clubs, said Taylor Bythewood-Porter, the curator of a recent exhibition on Black cotillions at the California African American Museum. Organizers saw the balls as a way to “dismiss the idea of Black people not being smart enough, or good enough, or worthy enough.”

For today’s debutantes, many of whom grew up in predominantly white neighborhoods of Detroit, gaining an informal network of Black adult mentors was “life-changing,” said Sage Johnson, 17. “Signing up for debutantes, I thought it was just one big ball. But there were a lot more layers to it.”

Two lines of pairs of young men and women standing with their backs to each other in a ballroom. The girls wear white hoop skirts over their regular clothes. A large crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room.
A young woman and an older woman sitting together on a wooden window seat under a large stained glass window, with throw pillows on either side of them. The younger woman has long braids and wears jeans and a white short-sleeve top. The older woman has short hair and wears black pants, a black v-neck T-shirt and a silver necklace and earrings.
On the day of the ball, as months of study and rehearsals come to fruition, emotions run high. “If I had to sum it up into one word, it’s just chaos,” said Lexi Clark, at left, a 2022 debutante. “But it’s so fun.” Her mother, Dr. Renita Clark, at right, founded the Detroit cotillion in 2009.
A young woman wearing a white hoop skirt over a black long-sleeve top and an open plaid button-down shirt, with white heels. She holds a small bouquet of white flowers and rests her left forearm on the right forearm of an older man wearing jeans and a polo shirt. They stand at the foot of a staircase.
The girls get ready in two large back rooms, which become a bustle of loud music and wardrobe adjustments. At the entrance to the ballroom, they line up with their father figures – important older men in their lives whom they’ve chosen to accompany them to the stage.

The girls’ names and achievements are announced as they make their way into the ballroom and, once they’ve all entered, they begin a series of seven choreographed dances, some of them with their escorts. The young men have been through a similar program that includes sessions on etiquette, chivalry and financial literacy.

A group of young men, mostly wearing black suits and button-down shirts, standing in rows and dancing in a carpeted room. One man towards the back wears a gray and white Nike tracksuit. The wall behind them is paneled in dark wood.
A group of young women wearing white hoop skirts or petticoats and T-shirts of sweatshirts. They stand at the top of a wood staircase, looking at something off camera to the right.
“We created an environment where we were giving each other pep talks,” said Madison Galloway, 17, one of this year’s debutantes. “Watching everybody go down, honestly, I was tearing up because we created connections and everybody looked so beautiful.”
A young woman wearing a white hoop skirt and a plaid cardigan sweater with black trim standing halfway down a staircase with an ornate, black metal rail. She holds the bannister with her right hand and touches her eyebrow with her left.
The night goes by in a swirl of satin and pearls, under the crystal chandeliers of a Masonic temple. “It felt like a scene out of ‘Bridgerton,’” said Skye Davis, 17, below, another member of this year’s cohort.

The debutantes can choose their own escorts, but Dr. Clark also has an informal system to pair up appropriate partners. (She recommends the girls not choose their boyfriends, in case they break up before the ball.)

Three young men sitting on the bottom steps of a staircase, while a fourth man stands to the right, leaning on the bannister. They wear black or gray polo shirts and pants. One of the men on the stairs holds a pack of cards, which he is discarding into a face-up pile on the bottom step.
At the end of the night, the ball transitions to an after-party, where the music switches from classical to contemporary hip-hop.

The whole event “was just so magical, not even because we got to wear the white dress,” said Mallory Childs, 17. “We genuinely were being celebrated as Black women and Black men.”

Nearly 30 girls between the ages of 16 and 18 graduated this year after going through the club’s program. They met twice a month starting in September and then, when dance rehearsals began in January, up to four times a month until the ball in April. “We were taught social graces, but also how to be ourselves, be confident, be the most intelligent in the room, how to carry yourself in any situation,” said Lexi. “That’s one thing that I really loved about the club — that it wasn’t instilling old ideas of what a lady should or should not be.”

The cost of participating in the club can be prohibitive, with membership fees running into the thousands of dollars (not to mention the cost of dresses, gloves and other accessories). Most of the debutantes tend to come from privileged backgrounds but, Dr. Clark noted, “You can ask for community support.” One of this year’s debutantes described having “what you would call a fairy godmother” who sponsored her application.

Girls are selected for each year’s cohort based on their personal, extracurricular and educational achievements. Ultimately, the goal is to prepare the young women to take on the mantle of future leaders of the community.

The back of a seated woman in a sleeveless, white, beaded lace ball gown with laces up the back. She wears elbow-length white gloves and holds a bouquet of roses.

What the debutante club means to the cohort of 2023 varies. They speak with sincerity about the beauty of their dresses and wanting to feel like princesses.

A group of young women in white ball gowns, elbow-length white gloves and sparkly tiaras. They hold bouquets of roses.
But beyond the fluff and fancy, the girls also form a profound bond over the months they spend together. “This time in-between, getting ready to go from high school to college, is when these relationships that you build with other young women are essential,” explained Skye.
A man in a black tuxedo adjusts the white bow tie of a younger man, also wearing a black tuxedo. They are both smiling. The younger man wears white gloves and has a white rose boutonniere pinned to his lapel.
Three young women in white ball gowns, pearl necklaces and white elbow-length gloves. The girl on the left wears a tiara. The girl in the middle is bent forward at the waist and laughing.
“They can be your friends for the rest of your life,” said Skye. “My cousin actually did this ball 10 years ago, and she’s still very, very close with her debutante sisters.”
A young woman in a white ball gown with a large tulle skirt sitting on the floor. She wears white elbow-length gloves and her arms are stretched in front of her, with her right hand stacked on top of her left. Her eyes are closed, and she wears a pearl necklace and a tiara, with her hair pulled half up.
One of the most special experiences, the girls said, was a sleepover that the society arranged for them. “It gave us a chance to just be teenagers,” said Madison, above. By the time of the ball, they felt more mature — as if the process had been a step toward adulthood.

“Going into the debutante experience I always thought, ‘This is just a ceremony,’” said Avery Roberson, 17. “But doing it and seeing your mom, your parents, any of your viewers, tearing up — now it feels like I really am grown up.”

A young woman in a sleeveless white ball gown and white gloves being escorted by a bearded man in a black tuxedo, white gloves and glasses. The woman holds a bouquet of multicolored roses in her right hand. Her hair is long and curly and she wears a tiara.

Both the girls and the organizers are conscious of the elitist perception of debutante culture. Balls such as theirs have been criticized for being heteronormative and anti-feminist. “We cannot gloss over the ways in which they can and do substantiate respectability politics and uphold white, European beauty standards that are destructive to the psyche of young Black women,” the researcher Karla Mendez wrote for the blog Black Women Radicals.

The Cotillion Society has worked to reframe the ball not as an antiquated mating ritual but as a launching pad for the girls’ academic and professional ambitions. According to a 2021 study from the Othering and Belonging Institute at the University of California, Berkeley, Detroit is the most segregated city in the United States. Many of the debutantes grew up in largely white areas where, beyond their families, it was difficult to find role models who looked like them or peers who understood the challenges they’d faced.

The cotillion offers them a network that can support and mentor them as they enter this next chapter of adulthood.

Two lines of young women in white ball gowns descend staircases into a ballroom, where they are met by two rows of young men in black tuxedos. Rows of people in formalwear are seated on either side of the young men and women. A large crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling.
A young woman in a sleeveless white ball gown with a beaded bodice and a large tulle skirt. She wears elbow-length white gloves, a pearl necklace and a tiara and holds a bouquet of roses with both hands.
Sitting in predominantly white schools all day, “you’re not around your culture at all,” said Skye, above. The ball was “a special moment: to be surrounded by young Black women who had goals and aspirations.”
Three women and one man seated at a round table with a shiny tablecloth in a ball room. They wear formal attire and are eating dinner, talking and laughing.

The unabashed Blackness of the cotillion was a breath of fresh air for many of the debutantes.

Eight young women in white ball gowns standing in two rows in a ballroom, holding bouquets of multicolored roses and smiling. Several of the girls wear sparkly tiaras.
“It felt like being introduced to a bigger world of opportunities for us as Black youth,” said Mallory, third from left, who is considering becoming a lawyer in order to fight for Black communities and other oppressed groups.
Two young men and two young women seated at a long table with a shiny tablecloth. The girls wear white ball gowns and the boys wear tuxedos; one of them has taken his jacket off. One of the boys holds a plate of butter pats up for the girl to his left, who serves herself with a silver knife.

“Being a young Black girl is very powerful,” said Mallory. However, she added, “There are still people that don't necessarily believe in themselves that way.”

Four young women in white ball gowns and elbow-length gloves standing in a cluster, with their shoulders and heads out of frame. The girls in the back hold bouquets of roses, and the girls in the front hold hands.
“I want them to know that they are welcome in these types of spaces.”

Miranda Barnes is a photo-based artist born in Brooklyn. Her practice borrows from vernacular photography and a fine art tradition of documenting everyday scenes of families and friends, often in communion and celebration.

Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff is a London-based journalist, columnist, book editor and author. She writes a newsletter called The Companion, about the culture of friendship.

Where We Are is a series about young people coming of age and the spaces where they create community, produced by Alice Fang, Jennifer Harlan and Eve Lyons.

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