I don’t generally like costume parties. The last one I went to, about 42 years ago, was a Halloween costume party. I went as a nearly penniless grad student. *pa-dump-bump*
But, if I were to go to costume parties nowadays, in this age of SJWs berating folks for racism (and all other kinds of pseudo-“isms”and -“phobias”), methinks I might dress up as my favorite characters from books read as a young lad or from even earlier childhood: Little Black Sambo (eschewing the blackface makeup, just cos I don’t wear makeup well, at all, at all ?), Mowgli (now there’s a sight: Mowgli as some Olde Pharte in his seventh decade. Pass the mind bleach, please. *heh*), Uncle Tom (again, no makeup — it’s not you; it’s me 😉 ), etc.
Why? I dunno. Just to provoke some lame brained (or brain-dirtied) idiot into mockable behaviors. Because.
Now you know why I no longer get invited to parties. Works for me. Too many people give me a rash.