There is no place on earth quite like New Orleans in July during Essence Festival weekend.
That is not hyperbole. It is a feeling that hits you the moment you land — the heat wrapping around you like an old friend, the smell of the city carrying something ancient and alive, and tens of thousands of Black people moving through it all like they own every inch of it. Because for one weekend a year, we do.
The 2026 Essence Festival of Culture, presented by Coca-Cola, came back with something to prove. And largely, not entirely, but largely, it proved it.
The whispers have been getting louder over the last few years. Complaints about logistics, questions about the lineup, concerns about whether the festival still feels like it belongs to us or whether it has slowly become something curated for us by people who no longer fully understand what that means.
Essence heard it all. You could feel the response in the programming choices, the intentionality of the daytime experiences, and the way the Superdome lineup was constructed with a clarity of purpose that has not always been present. This was not a perfect festival, but it showed growth, genuine listening, and that the leadership cares enough to attempt to get it right. That matters and deserves acknowledgment.
The convention center held its own. The conversations happening inside those walls—on reproductive justice, Black political power, wealth building, HBCU excellence, and what it means to age unapologetically in this industry—were substantive in a way that reminded you that Essence Festival is not just a concert series. It is a summit.
Angela Rye, Jasmine Crockett, Bakari Sellers, and others gathered at GBEF HQ to talk about the midterms and protecting Black political power. In the current climate, that conversation was not optional. It was urgent.
The Superdome Got It Right This Year
Let’s start where the energy was undeniable: the Caesars Superdome.
What stood out immediately was how deliberately the three-night concert series was designed to speak to different corners of the Essence family—because that family spans generations now, and the festival finally seemed to lean into that truth rather than struggle against it.
Friday was built for the younger end of the crowd. The Gen Z attendees and younger millennials who have grown up waiting for their turn to go to Essence showed up and were seen.
Saturday was for the older millennials, the Gen X contingent, and the baby boomers who built this festival with their loyalty and their dollars over decades. Saturday delivered in a way that will be talked about for years.
Brandy and Monica on one stage together. After decades of history, mythology, and anticipation, they showed up and made everybody see why the wait was worth it. The chemistry was real, the vocals were there, and the Superdome became a sanctuary. When Brandy reached back and brought out MC Lyte and Yo-Yo for a performance of “I Wanna Be Down,” the room did not just go up; it went home.
I caught MC Lyte in that atmosphere and asked her what it feels like to still be in these spaces, still inspiring, still showing up for Black women who look to her as a blueprint.
“It feels great,” she said, with the kind of calm that only comes from someone who has made peace with their greatness. “Just a blessing to be able to inspire others along the way. There are a lot of people here who feel lost—and we all had to go through that. A lot of people here are just looking simply for inspiration for their art and talent to be catapulted. So it’s just great to be in the midst of all of the art, the talented people, and the food. The people that live here in New Orleans.”
I had to ask her the question that had been sitting with me: when she started, did she think hip-hop would still be a staple part of her life now?
“Absolutely not,” she laughed. “It’s been the best blessing ever.”
That exchange, that humility, that gratitude, is exactly what Saturday felt like.
Patti LaBelle graced the Superdome stage and reminded everyone in attendance that there are levels to this. Timeless elegance, powerhouse vocals, and a presence that made everything else stop. Babyface delivered a career-spanning masterclass. And the evening’s surprise—Michael Ealy appearing to the absolute delight of everyone in the building—was the kind of unscripted joy that makes Essence magic.
Sunday brought something for everybody, which is exactly what a closing night should do. George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic landed the Mothership in New Orleans with an all-star lineup that included Big Boi, Big Freedia, Trombone Shorty, Kim Burrell, Savion Glover, and more. It was a multi-generational celebration that felt like New Orleans itself had taken the stage.
Missy Elliott’s tribute to Aaliyah, “One in a Million Forever,” was one of the most emotionally resonant moments of the entire weekend. Chlöe, Mya, Normani, Ryan Destiny, and Sevyn Streeter are honoring a woman we will never stop loving, continuing her legacy for generations to come. There was not a dry eye in the building, and there should not have been.
T.I. closing the festival with a live orchestra was bold and highlighted the growth of the man and the genre. Southern hip-hop and symphonic arrangements as the final statement of Essence Festival 2026 are choices that say something about who the festival believes it is becoming.
And the Superlounge — brought back for one night, curated by Teyana Taylor and the Aunties — was exactly the kind of intimate, elevated experience that long-time festival attendees have been asking for. Teedra Moses, Inayah, Lil’ Mo, and Raheem DeVaughn in the Claiborne Lounge felt like a gift to everyone who has ever complained that Essence has gotten too big to feel personal.
I caught Teedra Moses in the press room after her Superlounge performance, and she was in full form—proud, grounded, and completely unbothered in the best possible way. I asked her what advice she would give to women who are getting their start late or having their moment later in their careers.
“Hold on to it; don’t run away from it,” she said without missing a beat. “Why would I sit up here and front like I’m not 50 when I’m really 50? Hone in on it. Make that part of your thing. Something that they could throw at you and try to take you down with—use it to build yourself up. Lean into it. I’ve made my album “Grown Woman Realness” because I’m grown. I dress a certain kind of way, and people sometimes say I’m too old to have my legs out, and maybe I am—but I like it.”
She continued: “I love where we are in music, where women can be any age they want, any size they want. People in general can look however they want and make great music and just go out here and do it. Lean into whatever it is. Make it part of your brand.”
Teedra Moses is 50, thriving, and carrying no apologies.
The Empty Chairs at the Table
Now for the harder conversation.
Anyone who has attended the Essence Festival over the years knows the brands that have become part of the furniture: AT&T, Ford & McDonald’s. Their activations, their stages, their presence—woven into the fabric of the festival experience for so long that their absence this year was impossible to ignore.
I am not in a position to speak definitively to why. Contracts end. Budgets shift. Priorities change. But I am also a Black woman who lives in the world in 2026, and I am paying attention to which brands are choosing this moment, this particular political and cultural moment, to quietly step back from their commitments to Black spaces.
So I am watching and noting who shows up when it is easy and who shows up when it costs something. I am keeping a list of the brands that have remained consistently present and consistent in their investment, because that consistency is going to mean everything in the months and years ahead. I will keep watching to see who stays with us when it is not popular to do so. The future of Essence Festival will be shaped in part by who chooses to stand in that gap.
BeautyCon: Still the Gift and the Thorn
There is no delicate way to say this: the logistics around BeautyCon continue to be a problem.
The experience itself — the brands, the products, the energy — remains one of the most exciting activations at the festival. People genuinely look forward to it. They budget for it. They plan their days around it.
But paying for a VIP ticket and not necessarily receiving a VIP experience is a contradiction that erodes trust. The flow of getting attendees in and out has still not been properly worked through, and when you have put real money on the table for an elevated experience, standing in a chaotic line does not feel elevated. It feels like a broken promise.
This is solvable. It requires investment, planning, and a willingness to prioritize the attendee experience above everything else. Essence has shown this year that it can hear feedback and respond to it. BeautyCon needs to be next on that list.
And while we are on the subject of the vendor experience, the smaller vendors operating in and around the festival footprint deserve acknowledgment too. Several raised concerns this year about the impossibility of competing with the larger brands and their exclusive deals. When the little guy cannot get a fair shot at the crowd they traveled to reach, something in the ecosystem is broken. Essence was built on the idea that Black entrepreneurship deserves a stage. That principle should extend to every level of the vendor experience, not just the headline activations.
New Orleans: The Question Nobody Wants to Ask
I have to say it.
The future of Essence Festival in New Orleans is not guaranteed. Between the escalating climate reality of a city sitting below sea level in an era of intensifying storms and the leadership changes happening both within Essence and in the broader landscape of institutions that shape these decisions—the question of where Essence goes next is no longer theoretical. It is real, and I hate that it is real.
Because you cannot replicate New Orleans. You cannot bottle what happens when Essence meets this city — the second-line bands winding through convention halls, the food that is itself a cultural experience, the way New Orleans absorbs hundreds of thousands of visitors and somehow makes every single one of them feel like they belong here. The city gives something to this festival that no other city can give: the bounce music, the history, the soul.
I am not ready to imagine Essence anywhere else. I do not think most of us are.
But love requires honesty, and honestly, we may have to face that reality sooner than we want to. If that day comes, I hope Essence fights for New Orleans the way New Orleans has always fought to survive. And I will do everything in my power, on whatever platform I have, to make sure this city gets its due—because it has earned every dollar, every visitor, and every headline that Essence brings to its doorstep.
Essence Festival 2026 was not perfect, but it was better. It was more intentional and more responsive. It honored its elders—Patti LaBelle receiving flowers from Marsha Ambrosius in a moment that made time stand still and MC Lyte and Yo-Yo stepping back into the light they never really left—while making room for what is coming next.
It was a festival that looked at itself honestly and tried to do better. In this moment, in this climate, that is not a small thing; that is everything.
I love Essence Festival. I love New Orleans. I will keep showing up, keep writing, and keep holding both to the standard they deserve because they are worth it. New Orleans, we are not going anywhere without you if I can help it.
So God willing, I hope to see you next year on the banks of the Mississippi, where we have always belonged.
Words by Valese Jones
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The 2026 Essence Festival of Culture was held July 3-6 in New Orleans, Louisiana, presented by Coca-Cola.
