What relationship is there between an Easter Week garment and the Ku Klux Klan?

Easter Week, beyond processions, masses, palms, and "monas" (cakes), displays a repertoire of vestments that we have learned to look at without seeing. Garments that, being so familiar, have ceased to seem strange to us, but which, if we pause for a moment, are profoundly unusual and far removed from any form of everyday dress. And among the mantillas with combs, the Nazarene tunics, the girdles, or the cloaks of the virgins, there is an element that stands out for its formal power and its symbolic connotations: the hood. The doors of Seville Cathedral open and the first Nazarenes begin to emerge, in a line, surrounded by an intense smell of wax and incense. Tunics, candles, and pointed hoods that rise above everything. The drums mark a dry and constant rhythm and the attendees remain expectant, in a contained silence. The faces of the Nazarenes are not seen, only their eyes, and the street, for a moment, ceases to be an everyday space to become a stage. The hood has fulfilled its function: to make individual identity disappear to give prominence to the saint being worshipped. In this way, it ensures that the wearer is seen without being recognized and allows them to enter the structure of the ritual, assuming an attitude of discipline and surrender. But what is the origin of this strange hat, which has survived centuries of history?Its origin is not, in any case, processional, but rather it was born as an instrument of public penance between the 15th and 17th centuries, in the context of the Holy Inquisition. The condemned were exhibited with sambenets — a type of tunic — and coroces — hats often conical or pointed —. Its function was clearly punitive and exemplary: to make sin visible and to humiliate the sinner. Far from pursuing anonymity, as happens today, it was about marking the body and exposing it publicly.It will be between the 17th and 18th centuries when Holy Week processions are institutionalized and penance ceases to be imposed to become voluntary. In this new context, the hood is re-signified: it comes to symbolize spiritual aspiration —with its projection towards heaven—, the assumption of religious discipline, and the centrality of the ritual over the person. But beyond its morphology, there is a question that is even more unsettling and often bewilders many visitors: what relationship does this piece have with the Ku Klux Klan (KKK)?The KKK was founded in 1865, after the Civil War, as a violent reaction against the abolition of slavery and with the aim of restoring white supremacy. It deployed a regime of terror and intimidation against the African American population, and to do so it equipped itself with a deliberate aesthetic of authority and threat. Its iconography —white robe and pointed hood— draws from a mixture of imaginaries, among which are European phantasmagorical, ritual, and religious references. The formal coincidence with the hood is evident, but its meaning is radically opposite. If in the context of Holy Week anonymity expresses humility, penance, and dissolution of the self, in the case of the KKK it serves to guarantee impunity and exercise collective violence. The same operation, that of concealing identity, which can serve both to submit and to dominate.Easter Sunday brings the Holy Week to an end and, with it, the time of penance. The solemnity fades away as easily as a Nazarene takes off his hood. A few days later, in Andalusia, the calendar turns and the revelry of the April Fair makes way: colors, ruffles, moons, exposed bodies, flowers in hair, Manila shawls... The contrast is so immediate that it is difficult not to wonder to what extent what we have seen was a deep experience or a shared theatricalization. Garments that are activated and deactivated as ways of organizing bodies, time, and desire.