The Supernatural Role of Masks in Nigeria’s Yoruba Tribal Culture

Julia Kelley

Whether the feminine celebration of the Gelede mask or the spiritual transformation through the Egungun mask, these cultural objects perform an imperative role in the Yoruba people’s religious culture. 

Egungun Festival Masks

Egungun Festival Masks. Fermi12. CC BY-SA 4.0. 

African masks have been functionally used for thousands of years. Recognized for their supernatural qualities, they transform wearers into new entities, symbolize animal or ancestor spirits, mythological heroes, or moral values, and can even be a way of honoring specific individuals. Moreover, specific ceremonies and masks act as visual representations of local customs. With a vibrant music and dance tradition, the Yoruba people are known for their notable mask culture. The Yoruba are one of Nigeria’s largest ethnic groups, mainly concentrated in the southwestern part of the country but also found in smaller groups throughout Benin and Togo. For over 1,500 years, they have also been defined by their advanced urban kingdoms, strong economy and unique artistic tradition. Ceremonies are imperative to their way of life; vibrant festivals, rituals and weddings display cultural pride, celebrate history and connect the physical realm to the spiritual. Beyond the symbolic instruments and costumes used during these occasions, masks are also extremely vital due to their mystic transformative qualities.

Gelede Mask With Animal Figure

Gelede Mask With Animal Figure. Daderot. CC0 1.0.

Gelede Dance

Gelede Dance. dave massie. CC BY 2.0.

Gelede Mask With Woman Figure

Gelede Mask With Woman Figure. Kugbenu (Vervaardiging). CC0.

However, when and how masks are used depends on their corresponding festivals. The Gelede mask, for example, is used during the Gelede dance. This ceremony is performed as a way to pay tribute to the primordial mother Iyà Nlà and recognize women’s role in social organization and development. Retracing the history and myths of the people, the Gelede takes place annually after harvests and during times of drought and epidemics. The masks, adorned with intricate motifs and vibrant colors, are worn as a way to honor “mothers,” or good witches who have power over bad ones, in their efforts to protect the community from negative forces. Individual masks reflect local traditions, such as through unique facial markings or figures included on the masks. 

Epa Festival Mask

Epa Festival Mask. Beeldhouwer / sculptor: Jospeph Agbana. CC BY-SA 3.0.

Epa Mask With Warrior Figure

Epa Mask With Warrior Figure. Unknown author. CC BY 3.0.

Large Epa Helmet Mask.

Large Epa Helmet Mask. Em-mustapha. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Epa masks are worn during yam harvest festivals by young male dancers as they leap onto mounds. The rigorous movements of this dance indicate the community’s fate over the next year; if the dancer successfully leaps, then all is well, but if not, sacrifices are made to the forces that made him fail. Leading up to these ceremonies, the masks are kept in shrines, where they are fed to increase their power and efficacy. Since they are believed to contribute to the wearer’s success, heavy weight and symbols associated with war are characteristic of these masks.

Ancestor Egungun Mask

Ancestor Egungun Mask. Sailko. CC BY 3.0.

Egungun Festival

Egungun Festival. Fermi12. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Yoruba Egungun Mask

Yoruba Egungun Mask. Daderot. CC0 1.0. 

One of the most important masks in their ritual culture, the Yoruban Egungun masks are worn to worship ancestors. These are used during Odun Egungun or “masquerade” festivals, during which men move through town wearing masks as they embody their ancestors. These masks act as a visual manifestation of those being depicted, offering members of the community the opportunity to strengthen their familial bonds and ask for protection or blessings. 

Yoruba Festival Music and Dance

Yoruba Festival Music and Dance. Tunde Akangbe. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Developed over centuries, ceremonial masks remain a significant part of Yoruban culture. African masks have also become admired in museums worldwide for their intricate designs, but contemporary artists and historians have noted that they are exhibited mostly as ethnography. Moreover, African masks have inspired many well-known European artworks, most notably in Picasso’s 20th-century modernist paintings. This Westernization has helped shape stereotypes around African communities, decontextualizing their current cultural significance. However, as the Yoruba masks demonstrate, festivals recommence every year, and the masks continue to visually represent the community’s rich history and religious tradition.


Julia Kelley

Julia is a recent graduate from UC San Diego majoring in Sociocultural Anthropology with a minor in Art History. She is passionate about cultural studies and social justice, and one day hopes to obtain a postgraduate degree expanding on these subjects. In her free time, she enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her friends and family.

Opening the World to Deaf Travelers with Lily Yu

Zoe Lodge

The creator of Deaf Journey strives to make travel more accessible, one destination at a time. 

When Lily Yu and her husband, both deaf individuals, began sharing travel photos on social media in 2018, she didn’t expect it to grow into a viral movement and a new career opportunity. What began as a private account for friends and family soon evolved into Deaf Journey, a travel media brand focused on sharing accessible guides, amassing over 100,000 followers across Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, YouTube and her blog.

Yu’s mission goes far beyond that of a typical content creator focused on travel. As a deaf traveler, she’s become a leading advocate for accessible travel, working to ensure that deaf and other disabled individuals are considered and included in every part of the travel experience, from hotel rooms to museum tours. “I want to make sure traveling is accessible for the deaf community,” Yu says. “That means having interpreters, flashing light fire alarms and visual doorbells in hotels, and captions or transcripts in museums and tours.”

Yu was raised on the East Coast and is a graduate of Gallaudet University, America’s only liberal arts university for the deaf. She began her travel content journey by posting photos from her trips for close friends. “People would ask, ‘How did you find that place?’” she said. “So I kept sharing, and then my husband and I created a public account. That’s when Deaf Journey really began.” Since then, the couple has traveled across all 50 U.S. states, partnered with more than 50 tourism boards and visited 54 countries. Her husband often handles videography, while Yu takes the lead on editing and blogging. “I love writing and sharing stories that not only inspire but also educate,” she said.

Traveling while deaf presents unique challenges. Yu pointed out that travel accessibility tends to focus on mobility, including ramps, elevators and wheelchair access, but often allowing deaf-specific needs to fade into the background. “Hotels might have accessible rooms for wheelchairs, but nothing for deaf people. When we’re showering, we can’t hear someone knocking or a fire alarm going off,” she said. “I give advice to hotels about things like flashing light signals, visual doorbells or providing video relay services with interpreters.”

Yu at the Gamchon Culture Village in Busan, Korea. Courtesy of Lily Yu.

From the sweeping beauty of national parks to hidden small-town charm, Yu's adventures have offered a broad view of the diverse travel landscape available within the United States. She described the natural beauty of Hawaii, noting the islands as one of her favorite destinations within the U.S. However, Yu was also surprised by smaller cities like Boise, Idaho, and Bentonville, Arkansas. “Boise had amazing food and outdoor activities. Bentonville really impressed me with its modern art museums and bike trails,” she said. “Every place is different, and that’s what makes traveling here so special.”

While visiting every corner of the U.S. was her first major travel goal, Yu is now setting her sights globally. She’s already visited 54 countries and has noted Japan as a particular champion of accessibility. “In Japan, even the soda cans have braille,” she says. “Crosswalks have both visual lights and floor indicators, which are helpful for blind travelers too. And in hotels, you can select your language on digital screens to communicate. I’ve never seen that level of accessibility before.” Yu also shared how museums in places like Ireland and Boston have become exemplary leaders in the world of accessibility. “In Ireland, one museum gave us an iPad with an ASL interpreter explaining the exhibits. In Boston, there was a deaf guide giving an ASL tour. That kind of access makes a big difference.”

Yu with a capybara at Zoo to You in Paso Robles, California. Courtesy of Lily Yu.

Yu’s vision for Deaf Journey is not just to document her own experiences as a deaf traveler and content creator, but also to provide ease for future travelers. She’s passionate about providing accessibility tips, raising awareness on social media and consulting directly with businesses. “I think spreading awareness is key,” she says. “We need to educate hotels, airlines, museums and tourism boards on how to be more inclusive. And we need to share both the positives and the gaps, what works and what doesn’t, so we can keep improving.” Yu also emphasized the importance of using respectful and inclusive language. “We prefer to be called ‘deaf,’ not ‘hearing impaired,’” she said. “That term feels outdated and even offensive within our community.”

After conquering all 50 states, Yu’s next challenge is tackling the rest of the world, one accessible destination at a time. “I haven’t made a full plan yet,” she said. “But I’m hoping to partner with more tourism boards internationally. There’s still so much work to do.” With every post, blog and video, Lily Yu is proving that travel doesn’t have to be outside of the realm of possibility for disabled adventurers. It can, and should, be made accessible for everyone.


Zoe Lodge

Zoe is a student at the University of California, Berkeley, where she is studying English and Politics, Philosophy, & Law. She combines her passion for writing with her love for travel, interest in combatting climate change, and concern for social justice issues.

Where Protest Lives in Paint: Oaxaca’s Murals of Resistance

Kennedy Kiser

Oaxaca’s vibrant street murals speak out against injustice, preserve Indigenous identity and invite travelers to witness resistance in color.

Oaxaca mural of revolutionary figures and Mexican History

Oaxaca mural of revolutionary figures and Mexican

In the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca, visual art spills onto the streets and across crumbling walls, telling stories rarely captured in textbooks or by tour guides. Oaxaca has long been a hub for both Indigenous culture and political resistance. Its murals reflect this layered history with vibrant and sometimes defiant voices, often highlighting legacies of colonialism and systemic inequality. 

Many amplify the voices of the Zapotec and Mixtec peoples, who have long resisted marginalization and assimilation. As scholar Bethany J. Welch explains, murals function as a way for Indigenous communities to reclaim public space and narrate their histories, refusing to allow their story to be filtered through state-sanctioned narratives and the lens of tourism.

Corn mural with “Don’t forget your roots” text

Mural referencing the 43 missing students in Oaxaca, Mexico. Tobias Versus. CC BY 2.0.

Strolling through neighborhoods like Jalatlaco or Xochimilco becomes a visual lesson in autonomy. On Jose Lopez Alavez Street, bold images of Indigenous women, animal protectors and corn deities appear on walls beside neighborhood cafes and galleries. The murals mix ancient Zapotec symbols with messages of resistance to gentrification, environmental destruction and cultural erasure.

Mural referencing the 43 missing students in Oaxaca, Mexico

Mural referencing the 43 missing students in Oaxaca, Mexico. Tobias Versus. CC BY 2.0.

In central Oaxaca, a wall along Berriozabal Street honors the 43 students from the Ayotzinapa Rural Teachers' College who disappeared in 2014 while on their way to a protest. Created by the Urtarte Collective, the mural preserves their names and images, reminding passersby of the unresolved violence that continues to haunt their community. Elsewhere, recurring symbols like the possum — a local protest motif — emerge in politically charged artwork critiquing police violence and land theft.

Muralist painting wall for Casa de la Cultura in Oaxaca.

Muralist painting wall for Casa de la Cultura in Oaxaca. Alejandro Linares Garcia. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Murals also serve as visual protests against environmental injustice. Canadian mining company Fortuna Silver Mines carries out operations near San Jose del Progreso despite long-standing resistance from locals. Murals in neighborhoods like La Noria depict masked water defenders, cracked land and slogans like “El agua vale más que el oro,” or in English, “water is worth more than gold.”

Feminist mural reading “Sin mujeres no hay revolución” in Mexico City

Feminist mural reading “Sin mujeres no hay revolución” in Mexico City. Wendy Aviles R. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Themes of gender injustice are equally prevalent. Oaxaca, like many parts of Mexico, faces an ongoing femicide crisis. In response, murals around the Santo Domingo Cultural Center and near Carmel Alto feature the faces of missing women, alongside phrases like “Ni Una Menos” (meaning “not one less” in English).

While often photographed, these murals are not decorative. They are part of an ongoing dialogue between community and state, artist and audience. Travelers can deepen their understanding by participating in walking tours run by local artists, such as Caminos del Arte, which provide historical and political context while ensuring support flows back into the neighborhoods depicted on the walls.

Oaxaca’s murals are not permanent fixtures. They adapt in response to elections, tragedies and resistance movements. Some are painted over, others quietly fade and many are reborn in new forms. This continued renewal reflects a larger truth: in Oaxaca, street art is a living archive — one that documents what official records often omit.


Kennedy Kiser

Kennedy is an English and Comparative Literature major at UNC Chapel Hill. She’s interested in storytelling, digital media, and narrative design. Outside of class, she writes fiction and explores visual culture through film and games. She hopes to pursue a PhD and eventually teach literature!