Back to Black: We need a return to mourning etiquette

Turn on any TV show with a funeral scene. Watch any movie from 1915 to 2026 with a funeral scene.

What do you see? Dignified grieving families all in tasteful, restrained black clothing. The men wear black suits. The women wear black dresses and obscure their faces with a veil, or at least the suggestion of one on a fascinator.

‘Personalization’ is precisely what most of us do not need at a moment of crisis.

You’ll never see a more unrealistic scene on film.

Putting the ‘fun’ in funeral

Very few reading this article have ever witnessed this kind of sober, black-clad mourning in real life. America in the late 20th and early 21st centuries has jettisoned nearly all etiquette as “lol boomer stupid,” and not even the most solemn occasion was spared the vulgarization.

Go to a funeral today and tell me what you see. I’ll tell you what I see: men who should know better walking into the parlor in jeans and name-brand sneakers in day-glo colors. Women wearing tarty outfits that barely cover enough leg to qualify for even the skimpiest Catholic schoolgirl uniform.

Since the hippie-commie takeover of the 1960s, we have decided to let it all hang out, including our backsides and cleavage. No matter what. Nothing is serious. Nothing is sacred. Not even death has enough gravitas to prod the average American into showing respect through sober dress.

It’s time to bring back the black. Contrary to modern glibness about everything, etiquette is not some silly, optional “Boomer” fixation on using the correct utensil at dinner. It’s not an oppressive regime. Etiquette is the word we use for the universally agreed-upon rules of behavior.

All human societies have etiquette. Without it, there is no society, only tribes and warfare. When etiquette is important enough to be codified, it becomes what we call “law.” That, too, is becoming seen as some quaint notion from a bygone era, and we can all look to our cities to see where this road is taking us.

Digging in

For 20 years I was the executive director of a nonprofit called Funeral Consumers Alliance. It was an educational organization and a watchdog group. Think of it like Consumer Reports magazine, but only for the funeral and burial purchase. Our aim was to give people accurate information so they could choose a send-off that was emotionally meaningful and affordable.

Strange as that may sound, contemplate the fact that Americans spend more than $20 billion annually to bury the dead. It’s easy to see how the grieving can be hoodwinked into paying premium prices for scams like “protective caskets” (the claim is that they keep the body dry and preserved; not true) and a host of other purchases that push the tab up to $10,000 or more.

My mentor was the outgoing organization director who became my dear friend. Lisa was a tough old no-nonsense broad. We spent many a night at her kitchen table working while drinking wine and chain-smoking, cracking each other up over the absurdity of the funeral business while figuring out how to arm grieving people against graveside upselling.

Lisa taught me almost everything I know about the subject. When we first met in 2002, she told me how “modern” consumers wanted something different in a funeral. “The Baby Boomers aren’t going to put up with cookie-cutter funerals. They want personalization,” she said.

Graveside groove

Lisa was correct, as I would discover after taking over her job. During my two decades, I spoke with more than 10,000 American families over the phone who needed counseling on funeral arrangements. This gave me a good baseline of understanding of the American mind on the topic of deathways.

The majority who called for advice wanted to avoid overspending, certainly. But the next biggest category of question was, “How do we do this the right way, but also our way?”

This never sat right with me. The more I thought about it, I began to realize why. “Our way” invariably meant conforming to a new set of assumptions about death, assumptions we had adapted en masse at some point in the last 50 years.

• To say someone “died” is offensively blunt; “passed away” or simply “passed” is preferred.
• “Funerals” are gloomy remnants of the Victorian era designed to make everyone suffer. What your friends and family really want is a “celebration of life.”
• And anyway, who cares what other people want? This is about you — not your loved ones and their messy, depressing grief. “Throw me a big party!”

In other words, we have agreed to pretend that death is just another stop on a soft-focus Life Journey™. If we maintain this fiction, then somehow the deaths of our husbands, wives, and friends won’t be real. Or we won’t hurt as much. We convinced ourselves that there was something pathological about being bereft.

Crisis without crutches

This is all fake. We can’t party away grief, and our efforts to do so have left people in mourning with no guideposts. Like G.K. Chesterton’s fence, we tore down the structures around death without asking why we built them.