Last week, I was floating along Roosevelt Street with my spooky skeleton daughter when she stopped in front of La Paz Cantina.

She was staring at Paz’s murals, which depict spooky skeletons laughing, playing music, blowing kisses at each other and doing other normal, day-to-day spooky skeleton activities.

“Look, ma,” she said. “They look just like me!”

My hypothetical heart stopped right there. Tear vapor clouded my eye sockets.

“Yeah,” I told her. “Yeah, they do.”

At that moment, I realized that mainstream portrayal of spooky skeletons has been isolating and limiting my spooky skeleton daughter.

With Halloween just a day away, the commodification of spooky skeleton culture has reached its annual peak. People hang spooky skeletons from their balconies on wires, plant plastic spooky skeleton hands in their yard as if we’re rising up from the ground — even put their children in spooky skeleton outfits as if they can choose to “dress up” in our culture whenever they please.

Disgusting.

I don’t want my spooky skeleton daughter growing up in a world where her culture is only represented on Halloween. I don’t want her to believe her life is a commodity that those with flesh can choose to celebrate or disparage at will.

We have the same hopes and dreams as anyone else. We have sternums, femurs and skulls, like anyone else. Spooky skeleton culture is rich and vibrant, from our little dances to how we strum our ribs like xylophones.

As a spooky skeleton mother, I realize it is on me to make my haunting laugh heard on the midnight wind. That is why I have set up a GoFundMe campaign for the implementation of more positive spooky skeleton representation in downtown Phoenix.

Contributions to the campaign will go to the commissioning of local, spooky skeleton artists to reactivate barren walls in the central corridor with art that invites — not excludes — spooky skeletons everywhere. Made by spooky skeletons, for spooky skeletons — and everyone!

Together, we can create a future where our spooky skeleton children won’t be surprised to see their lifestyles represented in mainstream media. One where they have a strong sense of affirmation and spooky self-identity. If we work to include everyone, we can make all cultures feel welcome downtown.

Diablo contributor Junie B. Bones is a mother, xylophonist and community advocate.