Calling a queen stubborn and intimidating is like calling Hugh Hefner a connoisseur of breasts. Yet Mona “Zydeco Queen” Wilson has been crowned with those less than flattering labels.
In true Minnie Pearl fashion, Wilson has had to wear her crown with a trademark symbol dangling from the diamonds. Her other royal products include a 90-minute video with Zydeco Force, “Zydeco Dancing, Etc.” and forthcoming, taped workouts called “Zydeco-robics” and Mona-robics.” They even bear the trademark to keep eager imitators in line. Her Royal Highness of Zydeco Dancing said too many cultural Robin Hoods are robbing from the originators and two-stepping to the bank.
“I was in Atlanta and my sister was having a shower,” said Wilson. “I came across a flyer that said a guy in Birmingham was teaching zydecorobics. I was so mad. Why can’t they come up with their own stuff? In one of my classes in West Virginia, there was an entertainment lawyer who really liked what I was doing and was willing to help me in any way. I had the lawyer copyright my video and file a trademark showing I have been using ‘Zydeco-robics’ and ‘Mona-robics.’ It’s something I had to do to keep them from stealing my stuff.”
Welcome to Mona Wilson’s Kingdom of Zydeco, where a queen rules in a land of would-be kings. As zydeco continues to move from the rickety, wooden clubs and boucheries (that’s hog butcherings for you foreigners) of southwest Louisiana, its sweaty, sensual and sassy dance steps have led the way. Zydeco dance classes can now be found everywhere from Caribbean cruises to the “Roll Tide!” hills of Alabama to the House where Bill and Monica played doctor without a stethoscope.
Ironically, many instructors in the New World Order of zydeco dance have as much in common with Bayou Country as pimps have with the Pope. Dance steps invented by French-speaking, black sharecroppers at the old “La La” house dances are being taught by whites from the Midwest and Silicon Valley. Some are respectful and true to the tradition while others are thieves bearing tongues and moves of misinformation. Few grew up like Wilson, in Cade, Louisiana, where the music of Creole deejays and zydeco’s forefathers at Wilson’s Super Pecan Grove still rings in her ears.
Wilson didn’t inherit her crown from a book or video, but while dancing on her father’s feet as Clifton Chenier’s 45, “I’m a Hog For You, Baby,” spun on a nearby record player. As a young adult, Wilson followed in the footsteps of generations of young Creoles who hopped the Sabine River to southeast Texas in search of better job opportunities. She hosted her own zydeco radio show in Port Arthur and had a show with Lawrence Ardoin on the Fox affiliate back in Lake Charles.
In 1990, Wilson shared the title of World’s Best Zydeco Couple in a dance contest at Richard’s Club in Lawtell, the Grand Ole Opry of Zydeco. The contest was broadcasted on “Zydeco Extravaganza,” a now-defunct Sunday morning television show from Lafayette.
Now that she’s 37 and a financial analyst in Atlanta, Wilson has turned the roots of her raising into a small business of videos, personal dance lessons and a web site—http://zydecoqueen.crazygator.com. Those lessons recently took Wilson and her regular dance partner, Joseph “Joely” Bias of Opelousas, to the unlikely halls of Dartmouth College.
Wilson and Bias, collectively known as the Human Tornado, gave free lessons at a formal presentation for a thesis entitled “Louisiana Creoles in the African Continuum.”
All of the Queen’s endeavors are stamped with her trademark and relentless slogan: “Specializing in TRULY AUTHENTIC & Quality Creole Zydeco Dance Lessons.”
“I’ve seen zydeco presented as an 8-count dance or with some people, the first thing they do is hop, skip and jump,” said Wilson. “Zydeco is a smooth, grounded dance. Truly authentic zydeco dancing means no counting. At Dartmouth, the people came in with a totally open mind. We told them there’s no counting, all you need to do is follow us. They all picked it up so easily. They had so much fun they asked us to come back in the fall. All you need is an open mind. You don’t need someone to tell you there’s an 8-count. I’m from the culture and no one I know in the Creole community learned to dance by counting.”
Wilson’s royal pronouncements have literally stepped on toes and raised eyebrows in the lucrative circuit of zydeco dance instruction. One interviewer, who had encountered one too-many illiterate musicians, told Wilson she was surprised she could spell. The interviewer apologized profusely when Wilson gladly mentioned her accounting degree from Southern University and her father’s graduate school work.
Wilson tells stories of being ignored in favor of white instructors at dance camps. She heard one white teacher tell a class that Creoles don’t waltz in a circle. They prefer to waltz in place.
When Wilson explained that Creoles have no problems making circles and the in-place waltzes result from the jam-packed dance floors, his response was, “I never thought of that.” At camps, Wilson has been coupled with some outside the royalty who simply couldn’t keep up. She now specifies that Joseph Bias be booked as her dance partner at events.
Wilson has also noticed other instructors not participating or observing through the lens of a camcorder. According to Wilson, some of those same instructors received higher fees at camps where she was also teaching. When organizers tried to renegotiate and they received the Queen’s address on cultural authenticity, Wilson heard their labels—stubborn and intimidating. “It’s not about the money,” said Wilson. “It’s about paying someone that’s not of my community more than me. They said I didn’t talk at one camp, but I said you didn’t give me the mic. I’ve been at camps where people ask questions and the mic is passed to the white guy. It’s the principle of someone else representing my culture who is not from my culture.
“I was teaching in West Virginia and I noticed a guy standing back and he never joined in. I wondered why he wasn’t participating although he had paid his money like everyone else. On the last dance of the weekend, I got him to dance. He said he was a zydeco dance instructor and he had a video, but he messed up four times in one song. I asked him how could he mess up four times in one song and his excuse was he was intimidated by me. He should be because he’s taking from my culture.”
Wilson has even felt bad vibes back home from Creoles reluctant to promote the hometown culture only to have it end up in a video from Minnesota. They tell me why go out there and teach it when they’re just going to steal it. I tell them they can’t look at it that way. They’ll only steal it if you don’t go out there and do something about it.”
Wilson emphasizes her attitude is not racially-motivated, nor does she want to squelch the ever-growing clamor for zydeco dance around the globe. The Queen’s message is simply if you’re going to represent the kingdom, do it right. “Mona Wilson is just standing up for her culture and heritage. I want to give people the tools they need to dance to the real thing. People don’t have to lie to teach you how to zydeco. I heard one person say in 1996, he had been teaching zydeco dancing for 10 years. But I had never heard of him. I heard another say in ’96, he had been teaching for 25 years. Twenty-five years ago, there were no whites in the clubs in Louisiana. Where were they doing it? People are lying just to make a buck.”
(Contact Herman Fuselier by email at [email protected]. or visit his Bayou Boogie page at www.bayoubeat.com).
