Dynamics of Racial Mixing in New Orleans and St. Augustine (Florida) in the Second Half of the Eighteenth Century: An Analysis from Critical Intersectionality

Abstract

This article analyzes the dynamics of racial mixing in two regions with diverse colonial administrations in the second half of the eighteenth century: St. Augustine in the province of East Florida (under British and Spanish rule) and New Orleans in the province of Louisiana (under French and Spanish rule). Baptismal records for Black and Brown individuals were used, compiling nominal data from a sample of Afro-descendants born in the latter half of the eighteenth century. Whenever available, information was collected regarding racial classification—for both the baptized individuals and their parents—as well as legal status (enslaved or free) and birth legitimacy. The analysis is conducted from a critical intersectionality framework, highlighting how race, legal status, and gender served as amplifiers of inequality. Among the main results, we must highlight gender and racial classification that, thus, emerge as key differentiators for explaining the legal status and legitimacy of baptized individuals, and they also indicate systemic asymmetries in parental relationships.

1. Introduction

1.1. St. Agustine and New Orleans

Following the Seven Years’ War and the signing of the secret Treaty of Fontainebleau, the vast territory of Louisiana, encompassing both banks of the Mississippi River, came under the authority of the Spanish monarchy. Spanish officials, however, did not take full control until 1766, when Antonio de Ulloa arrived in New Orleans (Din 2014). In the region known as the German Coast, located along the Mississippi River north of New Orleans, a transformation of agricultural and ecological production unfolded throughout the eighteenth century. This transformation was key to the expansion of the enslaved population (Din 1999). In 1716, rice seeds were introduced from West Africa, and their cultivation spread due to the transatlantic slave trade operated by the Compagnie des Indes Orientales, which transported 6000 enslaved individuals from the Niger, Senegal, and Gambia river valleys. Alongside these individuals came knowledge of grain farming and rice cultivation techniques suitable for flood-prone areas such as the Mississippi banks. The liberalization of trade with Spanish ports—including Cádiz, Seville, Alicante, Cartagena, Málaga, Barcelona, Santander, A Coruña, and Gijón—in 1765, the reopening of trade with French Caribbean and French metropolitan ports in 1776, and the duty-free importation of enslaved people starting in 1782 all contributed to the rapid growth of tobacco and indigo plantations across the province (Holmes 1967).

Meanwhile, the Treaty of Paris (1763) transferred the territory of East Florida, including the town of St. Augustine, to British control. This frontier settlement bordering South Carolina was known for its fortress, Fort Mose, which since 1738 had housed a community of free Black individuals who had escaped from the Thirteen Colonies following various uprisings and who defended the Spanish frontier against the British (Deagan 2014; Deagan and McMahon 1995; Linebaugh and Rediker 2022). British control of the region was short-lived—twenty years later, in 1783, following Britain’s loss of the Thirteen Colonies, the territory returned to Spanish rule. Both settlements, despite their differing colonial administrations, had significant Afro-descendant populations during a critical period—the second half of the eighteenth century—marked by the expansion of market-oriented agriculture, particularly in tobacco, indigo, and cotton. This process relied heavily on labor, forming the foundation of what has been termed the “second slavery” (Blackburn 2024).

1.2. The Research of Slave Trade and Enslaved People

Recent scholarship on the development of slavery and the Atlantic slave trade from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries has expanded its focus. By analyzing the historical dimensions of slavery, researchers are engaging with pressing social, economic, and cultural issues relevant to contemporary society. While general syntheses often adhere to the chronological narrative established by Thomas’s (1997) classic work, new monographs increasingly combine thematic and cross-cutting analyses that transcend chronological frameworks, as seen in the works of Brion Davis (2006) and Walvin (2022). From an economic perspective, the Atlantic slave trade is a critical process for understanding the roots of globalization in the early modern period (Yun Casalilla 2019) and for examining how connections between eighteenth- and nineteenth-century capitalism, industrialization, and global geographic inequalities were forged (Berg and Hudson 2023). The concept of the “second slavery,” as proposed by Tomich (2004, 2016), has also opened new research paths that delve into the connections between economic systems and social relations based on slavery (Blackburn 2024), as well as their medium- and long-term negative consequences in places such as Brazil (Palma et al. 2021) and sub-Saharan Africa (Gardner 2023).

From a social and cultural standpoint, the mass forced migration of over 12 million enslaved Africans to the Americas constituted a process of deep interconnection. The mutual impact of these connections on the modern world is undeniable, as demonstrated in the recent volume edited by Tsuchiya and Vialette (2025). African rhythms resonate across Caribbean islands, and African iconography stretches from Buenos Aires to the Great Lakes region of the contemporary United States. These cultural connections also extend to racial mixing, a process in need of critical reevaluation. Although often depicted as a positive feature of Iberian colonialism compared to the more rigid Anglo-Saxon model, racial mixing conceals stories of abuse and violence, many of which persist today in the sexualization of racialized women (McCurdy 2020). For this reason, this article approaches the dynamics of racial mixing in two regions with fluctuating colonial regimes through a critical intersectional lens, exploring how gender, racial classification, legal status, and birth legitimacy contributed to the systemic inequality of baptized Afro-descendants.

Over the past two decades, historiography has advanced in offering interpretive syntheses on the Atlantic slave trade, incorporating new social and global approaches (Black 2006; Blackburn 2024; Edwards 2023; Rediker 2021; Walvin 2022). The social and cultural focus of these investigations has gained significant prominence at the international level. A prime example is the range of articles published in one of the leading journals on this subject: slavery and abolition. A review of more than 700 articles published since it was indexed in the Web of Science reveals the dominance of topics such as gender, marriage, violence, and manumission. These studies explore the role of women in the abolitionist movement (Holcomb 2014), the role of enslaved women in marriage formation and the effects of their legal status on conjugal relations in African societies (Quirk and Rossi 2022), manumission during the American Revolution (Gallagher 2021), and the violence experienced by enslaved individuals in the nineteenth century and its consequences in the collective memory of the Americas (Parry 2021).

Among the most frequently cited articles in this journal are Anderson’s (2009) on violence against Indigenous peoples, Turner’s (2017) on the experiences of enslaved mothers coping with high infant mortality, Belton’s (2023) on the illegal slave trade between the U.S. and Brazil in the years leading up to abolition (1860–1880), and Hagler’s (2023) study of manumission in New Spain, which analyzes 18 life trajectories of enslaved and free individuals and the impact of manumission in that region.

The journal’s bibliography with a stronger social orientation on Afro-descendants includes pioneering works such as those by Diana Paton, who explored punishments and crimes related to slavery (Paton 2001) or Wood (2000), who studied representations of enslaved daily life in England and the U.S. In the case of New Orleans, key studies include Hanger (2002) on the free Black community during the Spanish colonial period, and Piché (2018) on vital records and life trajectories of enslaved individuals in the first half of the nineteenth century—this latter study drawing from the French methodological tradition of historical demography and social population history.

Academic production focused on slavery and the Atlantic slave trade in Spain and Latin America has developed more slowly than in the Anglo-Saxon world. Important syntheses have been provided by Piqueras (2012, 2021, 2024). As Santamaría (2022) notes, in recent decades there has been a growing body of research on Spain’s role in the Atlantic slave trade. In the early modern period, studies have focused on cities such as Madrid (López 2020), Cádiz (Morgado 2013), and Seville (Fernández Chaves and Pérez García 2020). These works analyze both the presence of enslaved individuals in the Iberian Peninsula (Periáñez Gómez 2010b; Corona Pérez 2022; Fernández Martín 2024; Martín Corrales 2018) and connections with Atlantic trade (Pérez García and Fernández Chaves 2023).

Pioneering studies in the Hispanic world have focused on family and social relations of enslaved people and adopted a gender lens. Authors such as Corona Pérez (2022, 2023), Fernández Chaves (2023), González Arévalo (2022), and Pérez García (2023) highlight the relevance of these themes in current research agendas. Other approaches, such as studies on rebellions, marronage, uprisings, or violence (e.g., Sembe 2022), are still emerging. Moreover, many studies on the social lives of enslaved people in Spanish America—including rebellions, manumissions, social relationships, and cultural connections—have been conducted by scholars based in Anglo-American institutions (Burton 2004; De la Fuente and Gross 2020). Foundational studies on gender, sexuality, the Inquisition, and racism within the framework of social history include those by Alberro (2015), Altman (2000), Bennet (2009), Lavrin (1989), and Twinam (1999).

1.3. Intersectionality Approaches in Subaltern Studies

The subaltern studies framework has broadened the scope of research by emphasizing the agency, initiative, and social relationships of marginalized groups, as well as their cultural practices (Bustos 2002; Linebaugh and Rediker 2022). Intersectionality, in turn, offers a critical lens to interpret power relations and privilege while allowing for the appreciation of diverse social identities (Collins 2019; Collins et al. 2021). These contexts shed light not only on the inherent interconnections of social relationships but also on the ways individuals may amplify or downplay aspects of their identity depending on specific contexts (Bhopal 2020). Intersectional analyses prompt ongoing reflection on the tendency of any discourse to adopt hegemonic positions and to create knowledge–power structures that exclude and render others invisible.

Traditionally, identity categories such as ethnicity, class, gender, or sexuality have underpinned dynamics of inequality, oppression, discrimination, and exclusion toward specific social groups. Integrating intersectionality into historical research enables the recovery of alternative narratives of resistance and resilience, fostering reflection on the inequalities that have shaped our societies over centuries (Boveda and Annamma 2023). Addressing intersectionality entails deconstructing systems of oppression and understanding that forms of discrimination based on identity do not operate independently but are interconnected with various structures and processes of capitalism (Nayak 2023). In today’s globalized society, it is a challenge to account for the full diversity and historical depth of the identities that comprise our communities. Historians must therefore demonstrate that identities do not function in isolation but interact dynamically and complexly, producing intersectional realities (Carter and Vavrus 2018).

Following this historiographical approach, we will analyze the baptismal records of St. Augustine and New Orleans from an intersectional perspective. We will advance this analysis based on the racial classification made by those who recorded these baptisms and their differences by gender, legal status (free or enslaved), information about whether the father is known or unknown, and the legitimacy of birth. This will allow us to understand some of the axes of inequality that these African descendants faced.

2. Materials and Methods

The primary objective of this article is to analyze the dynamics of racial mixing in two regions with different colonial regimes—St. Augustine in the province of East Florida (under Spanish and British rule) and New Orleans in the province of Louisiana (under French and Spanish rule)—from an intersectional approach. To achieve this aim, the following specific objectives were established: to identify the racial classification of baptized Afro-descendants in the selected frontier spaces and that of their parents; to distinguish the legal status of the baptized Afro-descendants and its relationship with their racial classification and the legal status of their parents; and to analyze the illegitimacy of the baptized individuals in relation to their racial classification, legal status, and that of their parents.

The sources used for this analysis were the baptismal records of “Blacks and Browns” from the localities of St. Augustine, Florida, and New Orleans in the second half of the eighteenth century. Since St. Augustine was under British sovereignty from 1763 to 1784, a sample of baptisms from ten years was selected, ranging from 1750 to 1791—five years before and five years after the British occupation. No significant differences were found between the categories used in this article for the pre- and post-British periods. During the selected years, a total of 274 Afro-descendants were baptized (

Table 1. Baptized Afro-descendants in St. Augustine by gender.

Gender	Number	%
Woman	127	46.35
Man	147	53.65
Total	274	100

), with a slightly higher proportion of males (53%). Of those 274 individuals, more than 75% were children, while nearly 25% were adult baptisms (

Table 2. Children and adults among baptized Afro-descendants in St. Augustine.

Children/Adults	Number	%
Children	206	75.18
Adult	68	24.82
Total	274	100

). Among those baptized as adults, 60% were male.

New Orleans, being a more populous locality with a greater presence of Afro-descendants, required a different sampling strategy. One year was selected during which the number of baptisms was similar to those recorded in St. Augustine. The legible data from 1796 were analyzed (283) (

Table 3. Baptized Afro-descendants in New Orleans by gender (1796).

Gender	Number	%
Man	142	50.17
Woman	141	49.83
Total	283	100

). Eighty-six records could not be digitized due to poor legibility. The gender distribution was nearly equal (142 men and 141 women). Of the 283 baptized Afro-descendants, only 20 were adults (

Table 4. Children and adults among baptized Afro-descendants in New Orleans (1796).

Children/Adults	Number	%
Children	263	92.9
Adult	20	7.1
Total	283	100

), with a similar distribution by gender (9 men and 11 women).

The information was systematized into two databases—one for each locality. The data provided by the parish priests varied in consistency. Whenever specified, the following information was recorded: name of the baptized individual, gender, legal status, legitimacy, racial classification, owner (if enslaved), adulthood status, name of the father, father’s racial classification, father’s origin, father’s legal status, father’s owner, mother’s name, mother’s racial classification, mother’s origin, mother’s legal status, mother’s owner, birth month, year, place, godparents, and observations (Supplementary Materials). The information was analyzed using the XLSTAT software (v. 2022) with descriptive statistics (frequencies and percentages) and contingency tables to compare variables and conduct intersectional analysis.

3. Results

3.1. Racial Classification of Baptized Afro-Descendants and Their Parents

A total of 274 Afro-descendants were baptized in St. Augustine, Florida, during the ten selected years of the second half of the eighteenth century. In 179 of these cases, their racial classification is identified (

Table 5. Racial classification of baptized Afro-descendants in St. Augustine.

Racial Classification	Number	%
Black	150	83.80
Mulatto or Pardo	29	16.20
Total	179	100

). Of these, 83% were recorded as ‘Black’. Only one in six (16.2%) was classified as ‘Mulatto’ or ‘Pardo,’ indicating very limited dynamics of racial mixing.

In contrast, New Orleans presents a greater diversity in the racial classification of baptized Afro-descendants in 1796. Just over half (53%) were identified as ‘Black’ (

Table 6. Racial classification of baptized Afro-descendants in New Orleans.

Racial Classification	Number	%
Black	152	53.71
Mulatto	82	28.97
Quadroon	32	11.31
Griffe	15	5.30
Mestizo	2	0.71
Total	283	100

). The remaining individuals reflect more diverse patterns of racial mixing: nearly 29% were classified as ‘Mulatto,’ 11% as ‘Quadroon’ (three-quarters European ancestry and one-quarter African), and 6% were recorded as having Indigenous ancestry—‘Griffes’ or ‘Mestizos.’

In St. Augustine, 31% of baptized children had a ‘father unknown.’ Seven out of ten known fathers were identified as ‘Black’ (

Table 7. Racial classification of known fathers in St. Augustine.

Racial Classification	Number	%
Black	98	69
Known but racial distinction not indicated	38	26.77
Mulatto/Pardo	6	4.23
Total	142	100

). In a quarter of the cases, no racial classification was provided, and only 4% were classified as ‘Mulatto’ or ‘Pardo.’ The proportion of unknown fathers was higher among children classified as mulattoes. Only 9 of the 29 children labeled as mulatto or pardo (30%) had their father’s name recorded (

Table 8. Known fathers of mulatto children in St. Augustine.

Father of the Baptized	Distinction of the Baptized Father	Origin of the Father of the Baptized	Distinction of the Mother of the Baptized
Ildefonso Ordoño	Does not indicate	Ronda (Reino de Granada)	Black
Pablo Villa	Does not indicate	Gasconia (Francia)	Black
Juan Grey	Mulatto	Does not indicate	Black
Don Juan Sivelli, sargento distinguido del Real Cuerpo de Artillería	Does not indicate	Does not indicate	Mulatto
Don José Sánchez	Does not indicate	San Agustín de la Florida	Black
Juan Bautista	Mulatto	Does not indicate	Black
Alonso Hill	Does not indicate	Does not indicate	Mulatto
Pablo Villa	Does not indicate	Gasconia (Francia)	Black
Juan	Black	Does not indicate	Mulatto

). Among them, one-third were Afro-descendants, while the rest had no racial classification noted and are presumed to be of European origin. Examples include Pablo Villa from Gascony (France), father of two mulatto children with his enslaved Black Juana Blas1, baptized in 1789 and 1791, and Don Juan Sivelli, a distinguished sergeant of the Royal Artillery Corps, who had a mulatto daughter, María Isabel, with Tecla, a mulatta enslaved by Don Juan Leslie, a merchant in St. Augustine in 17882.

Almost 92% of mothers in St. Augustine with an identified racial classification were labeled as ‘Black’ (

Table 9. Racial classification of mothers in St. Augustine (with racial identification).

Racial Classification	Number	%
Black	159	91.91
Mulatto/Parda	10	5.77
Indian	2	1.16
China criolla	1	0.58
Mestiza	1	0.58
Total	173	100

), a higher percentage than for fathers (69%). There is no case among the 274 registered where the father was Afro-descendant and the mother was not racially identified. In other words, in Afro-descendant cases, racial mixing always appears asymmetrical: whenever one parent was of European origin, it was always the father.

Examining the racial relationship between father and mother, there is no instance of fathers identified as ‘Black’ or ‘Brown’ having children with mothers identified as ‘Mulatta,’ ‘Parda,’ or ‘Indigenous’ (

Table 10. Racial relationship between father and mother (both classified) in St. Augustine.

Racial Classification	Black	Mulatto/Parda	Indian	Total	% Black Mother
Black	95	0	0	95	100%
Mulatto/Pardo	3	2	1	6	50%
Total	98	2	1	101	97.9%

). The reverse, however, is observed. Half of the fathers classified as ‘Mulatto’ or ‘Pardo’ had offspring with mothers identified as ‘Black’, and the other half with ‘Mulatta,’ ‘Parda,’ or ‘Indigenous’ women. We can see this in two examples: the baptism of Victoria Josefa in 1755, whose father was Francisco Javier, a brown-skinned native of Havana and a slave of Governor Don Fulgencio García3, and whose mother was Paula Gloriana, a brown-skinned native of Havana and also a slave of the governor. This was also the case with the baptism in 1750 of José Javier, son of the Creole mulatto Marcos Ortega and of María, a Black native of the Congo and a slave of Licentiate Don B. de Ortega4.

In the case of New Orleans, 75% of mothers identified at baptisms are referred to as “Black,” (

Table 11. Racial classification of fathers and mothers of African descendants baptized in New Orleans.

Racial Classification	Mothers	%	Fathers	%
Black	198	75.57	25	65.79
Mulatto	46	17.56	4	10.54
Quadroon	13	4.96	6	15.78
Griffe	3	1.15	0	0
Mestizo	1	0.38	0	0
Indian	1	0.38	0	0
Does not indicate	0	0	3	7.89
Total	262	100	38	100

) a significantly higher percentage than those baptized (53%) and known fathers (65%), reflecting these more diverse dynamics of racial mixing. One in six mothers is mulatto (a percentage three times that of St. Augustine, Florida), and 5% are cuarteronas (a designation not found in St. Augustine, Florida). The remaining 2% are of Native American descent, a combination of European and Native American (mestizo) and African and Native American (griffe). Among known fathers, one in six baptized is “quadroon”, and 10% are mulatto. For 8% of known fathers, no racial distinction is indicated, although it is inferred that they are of European origin.

The percentage of unknown fathers is much higher in New Orleans than in St. Augustine, Florida. Only 14% of the African American children baptized in 1796 had their fathers identified. A higher proportion of “unknown” fathers is found among children of mixed race whose mother is Black. While 16% of those baptized as “Black” have a known father, only one of the 54 “mulatto” and “mulatto” children baptized whose mother is Black is known. This is the case with the baptism of Pedro in May 1796. He was a free mulatto native of the Mississippi River coast, son of Francisca, a free Black woman, and Don Francisco Labarrestere5.

The combination of the racial distinction of the child and that of the mother, when indicated in both cases, shows significant differences (

Table 12. Relationship between mother and child racial classification in New Orleans baptisms.

Child/Mother	Black	Mulatto	Quadroon	Griffe	Mestizo	Indian	Total	% Black Mother
Black	131	0	0	0	0	0	131	100
Mulatto	54	26	1	1	0	0	82	65.85
Quadroon	1	9	4	0	0	0	14	7.14
Griffe	7	1	0	2	0	1	11	63.64
Mestizo	0	0	0	0	1	1	2	0.00
Total	193	36	5	3	1	2	240	80.42

). Two out of every three baptized children named “mulatto” or “mulata” and “grifo” or “grifa” were born to “black” mothers. This percentage drops to 7% in the case of children named “quadroon” or “quadroon”. This is the case of the baptism of Celeste Catalina in April 1796, a free quadroon, of an unknown father, whose mother was Julia, a Black slave of Madame Lasmare, who granted her freedom at birth6. These differences persist when comparing the racial distinction of the father and mother (

Table 13. Relationship between racial classification of father and mother in baptisms in New Orleans.

Baptized Father Classification\Baptized Mother Classification	Quadroon	Mulatto	Black	% Black Mother
Quadroon	6	0	0	0%
Mulatto	1	1	2	50%
Black	0	1	24	96%
Total	7	2	26	74.28%

). While 96% of mothers are called “black” when the father is also Black, this percentage drops to 50% for fathers named “mulatto,” and in no case when the father is named “quadroon” Racial distinction acts as a clear differentiating element in the relationship between father and mother.

3.2. Legal Status of the Baptized and Birth Legitimacy

Eighty-three percent of the baptized individuals in St. Augustine, Florida, were enslaved, whereas in New Orleans, this figure drops by ten percentage points (73%). This difference can be attributed to a more established free Black community in New Orleans, as studied by Kimberly Hanger (2002), Din and Harkins (1996), Din (2014), and Piché (2018) for the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. In both cases, the legal status of the parents shows notable differences. In St. Augustine, 27% of the fathers whose legal status is known were free—a proportion that doubles that of the mothers (12%).

All children whose fathers were enslaved also had enslaved mothers (

Table 14. Relationship between the legal status of the father and mother when both are known in San Agustín.

Legal Status of Baptized Father/Legal Status of Baptized Mother	Enslaved	Free	Total	% Free Mother
Enslaved	74	0	74	0%
Free	16	9	25	36%
Total	90	9	99	9.1%

). However, the reverse was not always true: only one in three children of free fathers also had a free mother. Thus, gender acts as a differentiating factor in legal status. In other words, there were cases of free Afro-descendant fathers having children with enslaved women, but not vice versa, according to the data from St. Augustine.

Regarding the legal status of the baptized individuals themselves, all those classified as enslaved had enslaved mothers (

Table 15. Legal status of the mother and children in San Agustín.

Baptized Legal Status/Baptized Mother Legal Status	Enslaved	Free	Total	% Free Mother
Enslaved	82	0	82	0%
Free	6	9	15	60%
Total	88	9	97	9.27%

). However, the same correspondence did not hold for free children: in six cases, baptized children were recorded as free despite having enslaved mothers. Three of them were children of free fathers of unspecified race. Two were the children of Pablo Villa, a man from Gascony (France): Pablo Cirilio, a “pardo” born in 1789, and Antonia María del Carmen, born in 17917. Their mother, Juana Blas, was enslaved by Pablo Villa, who recognized them as his natural children and granted them freedom. Another case was María Pilar Sánchez, daughter of Don José Sánchez, a native of St. Augustine, and Flora, a Black woman enslaved by his brother Don Francisco Sánchez, who granted the child freedom at birth8.

Two other cases involved children of escaped slaves from South Carolina: María Ana (age four) and Ana (two months old), baptized in 1790. Their parents, Tomás and Sabina, were enslaved by Tomás Barnaby but were recorded as free at baptism. The sixth case was María Rosa, daughter of the free mulatto Juan Bautista and María Isabel, an enslaved Black woman in 1790. Her mother’s owner, Doña Margarita Toneli, granted her freedom at birth9. Her parents, Tomás and Sabina, were slaves belonging to Tomás Barnaby. Both were baptized as free men. The last of the six baptized was “María Rosa,” the daughter of a free mulatto, Juan Bautista, and María Isabel, a Black slave in 1790. Her mother’s owner, Doña Margarita Toneli, granted her freedom at birth10.

In New Orleans, the proportion of free Afro-descendants is higher. Four out of ten known fathers were free, while this figure dropped to one in four among mothers (

Table 16. Relationship between the legal status of the father and mother in New Orleans.

Legal Status of Baptized Father/Legal Status of Baptized Mother	Enslaved	Free	Total	% Free Mother
Enslaved	23	2	25	8.00
Free	2	9	11	81.82
Total	25	11	36	30.56

). There is a notable correlation between the legal status of both parents: in 81% of cases where the father was free, so was the mother. Some exceptions exist, such as the baptism of Eulalia in May 1796, a Black enslaved child whose father, Enrique, was a free Black man and whose mother, also named Eulalia, was an enslaved woman owned by Juan Bautista McCarty11. It is rarer to find the inverse case, such as the baptism of Felipe in April 1796, a free Griffe, son of Manuel, a Black enslaved man, and Tonton, a free mulatta12.

When the baptized child was enslaved, the mother was also enslaved in all cases (

Table 17. Relationship between the legal status of the son and the mother in New Orleans.

Baptized Legal Status/Baptized Mother Legal Status	Enslaved	Free	Total	% Free Mother
Enslaved	187	0	187	0%
Free	10	65	75	86.66%

). As in St. Augustine, the reverse was not always true: in 10 out of 75 cases of free baptized children, the mother was enslaved. None of these 10 had a known father. In each of these instances, the child was granted freedom by the mother’s owner. For example, Euphrosima, identified as a quadroon, baptized in November 1796, was the daughter of Magdalena, an enslaved mulatta owned by Monsieur de Longuet13. The owner granted Euphrosima her freedom at baptism.

The relationship between racial classification and legal status among baptized children and their parents is significant (

Table 18. Relationship between the racial classification of the baptized person and the legal status of the mother in New Orleans.

Baptized Classification\Legal Status of Baptized Mother	Enslaved	Free	Total	% Free Mother
Black	127	4	131	3.05
Mulatto	52	30	82	36.59
Quadroon	5	27	32	84.38
Griffe	13	2	15	13.33
Mestizo	0	2	2	100.00
Total	197	65	262	24.81

). While 84% of children labeled as quadroons had free mothers, this percentage falls to 36% among mulatto children, 13% among griffes, and just 3% for those classified as Black. In other words, there is a strong correlation between the proportion of African ancestry and the mother’s legal status. A similar pattern emerges when considering both parents’ statuses. In 96% of cases where the father was enslaved, the mother was classified as Black (

Table 19. Relationship between the father’s legal status and the mother’s racial classification in New Orleans.

Legal Status of Baptized Father\Classification of Baptized Mother	Quadroon	Mulatto	Black	% Black Mother
Enslaved	0	1	24	96%
Free	8	2	4	28.57%
Total	8	3	27	71.05%

). This percentage drops to 28% when the father was free. Thus, gender, legal status, and racial classification intersect in meaningful ways.

More than half of the baptisms registered in St. Augustine lacked information about the legitimacy of the births. Therefore, the analysis of legitimacy is based on the more complete data available for New Orleans, providing a broader base for intersectional analysis.

Of the 262 baptized infants in New Orleans whose legitimacy status is known, 93% were labeled as natural children (i.e., illegitimate), leaving only 18 cases (6.87%) classified as legitimate (

Table 20. Legitimacy of birth in New Orleans.

Baptized Legitimacy	Number	%
Non-Legitimate	244	93.13
Legitimate	18	6.87
Total	262	100

). This figure aligns with the highest rates of illegitimacy found in regions like Extremadura in the Iberian Peninsula (Periáñez Gómez 2010a).

There are significant relationships between legitimacy, racial classification, legal status, and gender. While only 5% of legitimate children had mothers classified as Black, the figure rises to 53% for those whose mothers were classified as quadroons (

Table 21. Relationship between maternal racial classification and illegitimacy of birth in New Orleans.

	Legitimate	Non-Legitimate	Total	% Legitimate
Black	10	188	198.00	5.05
Mulatto	1	45	46.00	2.17
Quadroon	7	6	13.00	53.85
Griffe	0	3	3.00	0.00
Mestizo	0	1	1.00	0.00
Indian	0	1	1.00	0.00
Total	18	244	262.00	6.87

). For example, Manuel Mayeux, a free quadroon baptized as legitimate in September 1796, was the son of Bernardo Mayeux, also a free quadroon, and María Francisca, a free quadroon woman14.

This relationship also extends to legal status. While only 5% of children born to enslaved mothers were legitimate, the percentage rose to 14% among children of free mothers (

Table 22. Relationship between illegitimacy and the mother’s legal status in New Orleans.

Legitimacy/Legal Status of Baptized Mother	Enslaved	Free	Total
No	95.43%	86.15%	93.13%
Yes	4.57%	13.85%	6.87%
Total	100%	100%	100%

). One example is María Ovó, a free mulatta baptized in August 1796 as legitimate. Her parents were Pablo Ovó and Francisca Bienville, both free mulattoes15.

Gender also functioned as a differentiating factor: two-thirds of legitimately baptized individuals were male. Additionally, only 16% of legitimately baptized males were enslaved, while the reverse was true for females—five out of six legitimately baptized girls were enslaved. For instance, María Francisca, a Black enslaved girl baptized in October 1796, was the daughter of Pedro and María Rosa, both enslaved by Madame Villie16.

4. Discussion and Conclusions

As noted by Corona Pérez (2023) and Paiva (2020), the dynamics of racial mixing transformed the social relationships within the Iberian worlds, giving rise to racially mixed societies. While this phenomenon has often been portrayed by a segment of the historiography as a positive feature of Spanish colonization in the Americas—especially in contrast to other models such as the English one—such a view requires critical reconsideration through an intersectional lens. From the sexual exploitation of Indigenous women as part of the broader subjugation carried out by conquistadors in territories such as present-day Mexico and Peru (McCurdy 2020) to the impact of slavery in shaping unequal relationships between male slaveholders and enslaved women (Afro-descendant or not), women experienced a dual form of oppression: legal and sexual (Araujo 2024). Although some traces of this violence remain in judicial records (as shown by Fernández Martín 2024), most of these abuses were never documented.

This exploratory study of two frontier regions—each subjected to different colonial regimes in the second half of the eighteenth century (Britain–Spain in the case of St. Augustine, and France–Spain in the case of New Orleans)—demonstrates how gender, racial classification, legal status, and legitimacy were key variables in producing and reinforcing social inequalities (Collins et al. 2021). One especially important finding is that not a single case was found in either St. Augustine or New Orleans where the mother was of fully European origin and the father Afro-descendant. Thus, racial mixing itself was already shaped by deeply entrenched racial and gender biases.

Also, this must be contextualized in the economic changes in second half of XVIII century in some Spanish colonies of America. The sugarcane and cotton revolution of the 1790s brought about technological and commercial changes, but above all, it represented a transformation in extraction methods and the use of labor. This required a significant increase in slaves for the collection and processing of these products. A process related to the concept of “second slavery,” proposed by Tomich (2004), and which has delved into the connections between the economy and social relations based on slavery. Through the study of sugar plantations and other products such as coffee and cotton in America, this research has investigated the development of global capitalism and the accumulation of capital in the first half of the 19th century. The province of Louisiana and South Florida was part of this socioeconomic transformation related to the markets of the first industrialization, which led to cotton production in the southern United States, the sugar mills of Cuba, and the coffee plantations of Brazil (Blackburn 2024).

We must highlight some results. The number of children with unknown fathers was substantial—one-third in St. Augustine and more than 85% in New Orleans in 1796, where more varied patterns of racial mixing were observed. Again, gender and racial classification function as differentiating variables. Among the 54 “mulatto” children baptized in New Orleans whose mothers were identified as “Black,” only one had a known father.

When both parents were identified, their racial classifications often reflected unequal relationships. In New Orleans, 96% of mothers were classified as “Black” when the father was also “Black”; this percentage dropped to 50% when the father was a “mulatto”, and to 0% when the father was a “quadroon.”

The relationships among gender, racial classification, and legal status clearly reveal processes of increasing inequality. In both New Orleans and St. Augustine, when the child was enslaved, the mother was also enslaved in all cases. However, the inverse was not always true. While 84% of children classified as “quadroon” had free mothers, this proportion declined to 36% for “mulattoes,” 13% for “griffes,” and just 3% for “Blacks.” That is, the percentage of African ancestry in the child was strongly correlated with the mother’s legal status.

Similarly, in 96% of the cases where the father was enslaved, the mother was classified as “Black.” This figure fell to 28% when the father was free. These patterns underscore the interconnectedness of gender, legal status, and racial classification.

This relationship also extended to legitimacy: only 5% of children labeled as legitimate had mothers classified as “Black,” compared to 53% for those whose mothers were “quadroon.” Moreover, while only 16% of legitimately baptized males were enslaved, the opposite held true for females—five out of six legitimate girls were enslaved. Gender and racial classification thus emerge as key differentiators for explaining the legal status and legitimacy of baptized individuals, and they also indicate systemic asymmetries in parental relationships.

In the book of Camillia Cowling about Havana and Rio de Janeiro, she indicated that women became a germinal force for Black freedom, as their wombs could reproduce slavery, but they could also become “spaces in which, literally, freedom was conceived.” It must be remembered that many racialized people defined themselves in judicial proceedings as children of “free wombs.” However, it must be remembered that 85% of those baptized had no known father, which led these women to have to raise their children alone, whether free or enslaved. They had to deploy different survival strategies in a society where the percentage of African blood, the legitimacy of birth, gender, and legal status created increasing layers of inequality. In the 1791 census of New Orleans, there were 538 free Black women and 334 men (Hanger 2002). These data show that, despite the inequality that Afro-descendant women had to face, their developed strategies were successful, taking advantage of the legal, social, and economic context.

This exploratory study highlights the potential of critical intersectional analysis. There is a pressing need to integrate the subaltern studies approach—akin to “history from below” and more fully developed in U.S. slavery studies—with the methodological rigor of the French historiographic school. As Rey Castelao (2022) argues, combining data from baptismal, marriage, and death records can help reconstruct life trajectories. Notarial documents—including manumissions, slave sale records, lawsuits for mistreatment, rebellions, and escapes—are also vital for deepening our understanding of social dynamics through nominative cross-referencing (García González and Guzzi-Heeb 2023). As the eminent historian Chacón Jiménez (2006) noted, family history can serve as a powerful analytical lens to unravel social complexities beyond binary frameworks.