Colors, Costumes and Courage: My Miami Carnival Experience
The music was loud, thudding from the speakers tied to the trucks, through the tar and pulsating through the beautiful bodies that moved in tune to the beats. It was a kaleidoscope sea of beads and feathers. Different textures and materials, vibrant gems and enormous back pieces moved in chaotic sync along the road, as the sun tucked behind the warm purple sky. The adrenaline that rushed through my body, only intensified by the buzz from the rum.
Carnival is the celebration of freedom, who’s complex history continues to be observed in and around the Caribbean islands. Originating in Trinidad and Tobago, Carnival is deeply rooted in the colonial and religious impact the Europeans had in the Caribbean. Being secluded from the balls and masquerades the Europeans hosted during the Lenten season, slaves in Trinidad began Canboulay. It was a celebration of resistance, that evolved into Carnival after the emancipation of slaves in the 1830s. The tradition of celebrating this freedom was spread throughout the diaspora, birthing similar festivals like Caribana in Toronto, Notting Hill Carnival in the UK and the Miami Broward Carnival in South Florida. Unlike the celebrations in Trinidad that occur during the Easter period in April, Miami Carnival is held during the Columbus Day weekend. Having a diverse friend group, all of whom either celebrate Carnival in their culture or have attended the celebrations in the past, I was welcomed to experience the festivities they had enthusiastically shared stories about. They guaranteed my experience would be invigorating and life changing, which together with the clips of them at past Carnivals was enough for me to register in the same band as them.
Weeks before the festival, I bombarded the group chat with questions that allowed me to better understand why and how the event takes place:
“We’re in a band together, so that means we’re playing instruments?”
“What is the difference between playing backline and midline?”
“Who makes the costumes?”
“What is J’ouvert?”
“Why do we walk the stage?”
Met with only love and genuine appreciation that I wasn’t shy to ask questions that might've been obvious to them, my friends gave me all the answers I was looking for and more. A band is a group of masqueraders that wear costumes from the same theme. Backline, midline and frontline are tiers of costume packages masqueraders choose from. It dictates the price, coverage and how elaborate costumes in a band will be. The costumes are made by designers both local and international. They create a theme for each costume collection which masqueraders represent when they walk on the road. The band our group decided to play in was Wolf of Wall Street by Fusion Mas. This band channelled the “bravery and boldness of a Wolf on Wall Street”, which resonated with our group. J’ouvert is a colorful parade where festival goers use water, mud, oil, paint and powder to celebrate the start of Carnival. After parading the festival route, each band crosses the stage where they are met by judges who crown a winner based on the bands’ costume and enthusiasm during their short showcase. They shared how Carnival is an opportunity for the Caribbean community to remember the hardships their ancestors endured not only on the islands, but also as they migrated to different countries, carving their space in new places. The collaborative efforts and meticulous details fed into the weekend celebrations, mimic the same communal grit that is found on the islands.
There was excitement and anticipation brewing in the group chat as I researched more about the significance of Carnival. As a global citizen, I am eager to learn about new cultures. Knowing the historic value that it carried, I slowly felt nervous to participate. Expressing my timidness and apprehension to my friend, she understood my reservations about being in an enormous, high energetic crowd. Her advice was to release the fears I had; that this weekend was an inclusive festival. She wanted me to cross the stage so I could experience all the emotions that came with it. Her positive reassurance built up my confidence and elation for my first Carnival.
The morning of Dutty Mas/ J’ouvert, my friends and I arrived in shorts and tees we were willing to sacrifice for the colorful day ahead of us. Surprisingly lively after a long night at an all white fete, we trekked to the festival grounds. No makeup. Beat up sneakers. Hair wrapped and protected in plastic caps. No one was in competition in how they presented themselves. Whistles whirred and cheers charged the spirits of hundreds of people that walked, bounced or bolted to the entrance.The humidity from the grey Floridian clouds drew the sweat from our bodies. The rhythm of my pulse beat in tune with the vibrant soca sounds as I was quickly engulfed in the train of movement. The Pied Pipers of the festival- the trucks, led their bands along the designated route only stopping for people to top up their liquor bottles…or for those bold enough to do the splits in front of them. Tranced by the music that made hips tic toc and waists wine, everyone expressed themselves through movement.
It was an explosion of color! Paint filled bottles were distributed and quickly stained anything white. Clouds of powder poofed from side to side. Like a child getting rewarded for a good job with a sticker on their forehead, people were dramatically sprayed with paint after showing off their dance moves. People danced wherever the foundation below could hold them- to many that was the road; to others that was on top of the trucks, or the golf cart… or the fence…even the trees. Some men and women carried chains and wore horned helmets; Drenched in this sticky almost tar like black oil, I learned this was an ode to their ancestors (especially in Grenadian culture), whom satirically played into these devilish characters slave masters had made them out to be. There was an undeniable, saturated spirit of liberation that everyone radiated.
20,906 steps, approximately 9.30 miles was our movement count during J’ouvert. Both my fitness tracker and friends impressed that I made it through the day. My unrecognizable white tee was beautifully dyed by the paint and oil from the afternoon. People, just as artistically drenched as me, lined up in the grocery store, waiting to grab a recovery Pub Sub (chicken tender Pub Sub of course, if you know, you know). Usually aware of how I carry myself in public, I could’ve cared less about how messy I looked as I checked out in the store. It might have been that everyone in the store knew where we had just come from that contributed to this care free feeling, but a good portion of this indescribable blasé attitude I had came from the energizing freedom I experienced at J’ouvert, just minutes before. Fed, and feeling fabulous, I picked up my costume for the parade the following day, anxious to see how it fit when I got home.
My costume was skimpy, for lack of better words. It was a teeny tiny bikini that made my stretch marks on my butt look even more pronounced. It made my razor burn on my thighs look even more irritated. The holographic gems and ribbons did a decent job at hiding some patches of hair that I skipped, but it was there- there and visible to me. Putting it on and seeing how much of my body (with all the insecurities I had attached to it) would be exposed made me feel uncomfortable. Being a human being, I like to think the world revolves around me at some point in time. I think that… that’s what I tell my ego. In doing so I created this imaginary world that on any given day, wherever I walk into, whoever is around me will give up their precious time to stop and analyze the parts of me I wish I could alter. A valid theory to me which created an almost conditional confidence. Remembering my friend tell me that no one goes to Carnival to judge others or bring them down, I trusted her, not allowing those unpleasant thoughts carve their space in my mind.
Pretty Mas- the actual Carnival parade day was intense. Having my best friends usher me through the experience only heightened the euphoria that consumed my senses. It was a vicious and melodic ocean of stimulation. The soca and calypso anthems rattled speakers that were mounted on the trucks. Men on stilts, towered over the bands of people, getting a birds’ eye view of the colorful wave of movement and cheer. Glitter moved from body to body as people caught wines or were raised on shoulders. Unlimited liquor was waterfalled into masqueraders’ mouths so smoothly, almost as if it was criminal if a drop was to land on the ground. Feathered back pieces, some of which doubling the height of those who wore them, created an even more exotic maze that masqueraders were all maneuvering through. Glistening beads of sweat reflected the suns rays, only adding to the glow that each masquerader already radiated. Care and worry seemed to disappear as people reveled in the celebrations. The spirit of everyone and the authenticity they basked in, made room for me to do the same.
I danced. I danced with my friends. I danced with men and with women. I danced with strangers and I danced alone. I danced with people who looked like me…and people who did not. I danced.
It was freeing to be able to express myself without the fear of a judgmental gaze. That feeling was only multiplied when my band crossed the stage. Less than five minutes we were on there, yet it felt like time was paused for me to relish in the moment. It was a euphoric awakening, which sounds dramatic and over exaggerated only because there are no words that fully describe what I felt. People- no matter how different or similar they looked to me, carried so much confidence and pride in who they were and what they represented. They embraced everything about themselves. My inhibitions which would have otherwise stopped me from fully experiencing Carnival, were replaced by grace, confidence and courage I hope to apply to my everyday life.
Both the Carnival parade and J’ouvert drew every age demographic. Single people, mature couples, families with children, teenagers… age didn’t stunt who came to observe and/or participate in these celebrations. Pointing out this observation to my friend, she replied, “Carnival doesn’t age”. As a young adult I’ve categorized what should and shouldn’t be done once I’ve reached a certain age. To witness people with polar ages participate and equally enjoy such an experience, dismantled this idea that I have to align my age with times when I can experience the world.
The magnitude of the celebrations made it surreal for me in the moment. Remembering that this mass joy is a recognition of the challenges and hardships endured by the ancestors from the Caribbean whom, were brought to the islands from Africa, I was grateful to experience how their history continues to be honored and preserved. Though our band was not crowned “Band of the Year”, I left extremely thankful that I had the opportunity to attend Miami Carnival and be immersed in such a rich, powerful and uplifting culture. I am truly blessed to have friends who are welcome to share their traditions and heritage with me, exchanging greater understanding and appreciation for where they come from. I look forward to extending the same hospitality I was shown when they visit Malawi, continuing this never ending cycle of living and learning about the world and those who make it.