When the Road Doesn’t Feel Like Home

What Caribbean Carnivals in America Are Missing

So BOOM…

It’s the last Monday of the school year. I’m home, mentally clocked out and gearing up for a much-needed power nap before scooping my daughter from daycare. I’m dragging y’all, and running on fumes thanks to a wedding in NYC that had me crawling into bed around midnight. For some reason, I decide to check our carnival crew group chat on WhatsApp. (Note: I hadn’t touched that chat in weeks.)

Big mistake. Here’s what greets me:

T: Allyuh don’t understand these domestic carnivals are not wanted. Picture every {Caribbean} carnival in America done.

R: Honestly I don’t understand why folks have {Caribbean} carnivals {in America}

Me: Don’t get me started. Why I open this chat LMAO?

T: To bring what is done back home to the locals

Me: Yeah but if I want a piece of home I don’t want it to be trash. Cus that’s what we’ve been getting

D: Probably cuz everybody not rich like allyuh bouncing up every island lol

Me: From a realist perspective, people just gotta own that they won’t be able to do or experience certain things once they migrate to another place

The Instigator

After about ten more minutes of aggressive typing, I threw my hands up and said, you know what? “This bout to be a blog article.” And here we are. 😅

But wait, there’s more.

I casually opened Instagram (for no valid reason), and BAM—Strictly Soca’s post (from 2022) smacked me in the face. See image on the right >>>>>>>>

After laughing hysterically I immediately hit the group back like:

“Yup. Now I see what sparked all this.”

A Quick (but Necessary) History Drop

Carnival didn’t start in America or on Eastern Parkway. It dates all the way back to the 18th century with Trinidad on record as being the first country to hold such festivities. And yes— for the delulu folks, slavery was still very much a thing.

The slave masters in Trinidad would throw these lavish pre-Lenten events filled with masks and fancy garments, where enslaved people were obviously not invited to the party. But as always, we flipped the script. Our ancestors said, “You know what, y’all can keep your dry little gathering. We’ll do our own t’ing and call it Canboulay”. They took scraps of fabric, turned them into actual art (hello sustainability anyone?!), and created a space of resistance, joy, and cultural power.

That spirit carried across the Caribbean region—every island has its own spin, but the root is the same: liberation through celebration. If you want to dive deeper, I encourage you to visit each country’s tourism website, and also check out the Know Your Caribbean platform. They’re out here dropping gem after gem on their podcast and instagram page.

And by the way, per a 2019 Migration Policy article, there are over 4.4 million Caribbean immigrants in the U.S. That’s a lot of folks who’ve traded “island in the sun” life for American hustle.

I’m sure many of those individuals are proud to be from their homeland. I’m sure they left for a reason. I’m sure they understood the sacrifices they made to live in America—a country with far less melanin than their own. And I’m also sure they deeply miss the traditions and cultural happenings they left behind. Remember I said this as you move forward with your reading.

So… Why Do Folks Go Hard for U.S. Carnivals?

To circle back to the conversation from the chat, let’s highlight some of the arguments in support of U.S. based carnivals, and give credit where it’s due:

They create a cultural outlet for Caribbean natives and their children born abroad
Many caribbean immigrants cannot afford to fly back home every year for these festivities
Some people can’t leave at all because their immigration status is in limbo

Listen, those are all valid points. And I respect them. But keep reading, because I’m gonna break down some ideas I have for addressing these arguments later on in the article. If you have other arguments, by all means hit me up on Instagram.

Now Let Me Be Honest…(per Uzh!)

It’s no secret that I’m pretty much anti-“Caribbean” carnivals in America. Don’t get me wrong—when I first started going as a teen, I thought they were lit. But after watching the decline over the years, and giving it way too many chances, I’ve come to the conclusion: they’re just not worth my time, money, or energy.

Just to be clear—I’m specifically talking about carnival day on the road in costume. Yes, fetes play a big role during the season, but that’s not the focus here. I’ll definitely still pull up to another state to catch a lil wine, but trust—my expectations are always set to low.

Okay, now where was I? Right, Caribbean carnivals in America are just not …”giving” (IMHO). Here’s why I’d rather stack my coins and head to the islands:

My people are there. Imagine stepping off the plane and, for once, you’re not the minority—you’re the majority. Brown skin everywhere! That comfort? Unmatched.
Endless events. Imagine having the option to choose from an ungodly number of events (cultural and fete-tural) every single day for a month or more—knowing the venues will be solid, the temperature will be amazing (rain or shine), the vibes will be high, and the chance of violence? Less than 1%.
No ignorant policing. In the Caribbean, I don’t have to worry about non-melanated police officers snatching powder out of my hand as I dance down the road on Jouvert morning (true story, by the way). Everyone on duty knows what the deal is an do their best to keep a straight face and a stiff waistline.
Island time is real. I can almost guarantee that any party with a flyer saying it ends at 8PM is def going to run over by at least an hour and no one will be pressed about it. On carnival day… we going until the last band crosses. What curfew?!
Real food and real welcome. I know I’m going to be fed well and greeted with high-quality trinkets or drinks as soon as I touch the road or a fete
Cancel what? Canceling carnival is the last thing on the government’s mind. I don’t have to be fearful that carnival day will get canceled—unless Mother Nature’s throwing something serious, like Hurricane Beryl in summer 2024.
Give me road! We’re not herded into somebody’s stadium. We’re not given half of a two-way street. We’re out on the actual road—streets properly and happily blocked off for us to carry out tradition the way it was meant to be.
Love from the sidelines. When I go on the road, there’s nothing like seeing locals and children on the sidelines dancing, waving flags, and singing along. In the States? You’re more likely to catch folks watching with confusion, disgust, or judgment. Then they sit down and write a petition to the city council for the event to stop happening in their town. Steupps.

U.S. Carnivals Keep Getting Washed Out

And we know why. A lotta people outside the culture see Carnival as noise, not tradition. They have zero understanding and respect for what is taking place. It is my firm belief that carnivals in the United States are not going to thrive (or survive) until there is real community education and buy-in. You can’t just throw feathers in the mix and call it a day.

And yes—I definitely have ideas on how to fix some of this. Am I sharing them here? Absolutely not. Because y’all don’t like to give credit where it’s due 😭. But if you’re a band leader or promoter and you’re serious? Email me. Let’s talk real strategy.

Here’s a hint though: If your U.S. – based carnival event is only centered around Caribbean folks and dollar signs, you’re missing the whole plot. You gotta pull in the entire community if you want longevity and respect.

Also… Social Media is NOT Helping

Let’s call it what it is. Carnival content online is lookin’ real questionable these days. Go search “Caribbean carnival” on any platform and watch what pops up first – likely a stream of half-naked people caught mid-whine, engaging in what looks like raunchy, distasteful behavior to the untrained eye.

The half-nakedness? We love that for us. But raunchy, outta-order behavior posted with zero context? Whew. That’s how traditions get watered down.

Now breathe—I’m not judging the behavior. If you know me, you know I misbehave on the road respectfully. But I’m also a firm believer that not everything needs to be blasted on the innanets. What happens on the road should stay on the road—or at the very least, be recorded TASTEFULLY and posted with context. Every dance clip that’s captured does not have to have my eyes looking at the center of some woman’s backside.

Because let’s be real: I don’t need your auntie thinking Carnival is just a glorified OnlyFans shoot. When the culture gets reduced to oversexualized clips with no storytelling here’s what happens…Our beloved carnivals become flooded with uncultured individuals at these events who don’t know the history, don’t respect the purpose, and are there for all the wrong reasons. Just taking up space and throwing off the whole vibe.

Pull ten of ’em from the crowd, line them up, and quiz them on the roots of Carnival. Bet you most would fail—with flying colors.

A Few Gems to Consider

Cultural education starts at home, and it should start from young. You don’t even need a plane ticket to begin. Here are some simple, meaningful ways to keep the culture alive wherever you are:

Play the music. Put on soca, calypso, roots reggae—whatever’s your flavor. Play the music around the house or in the car. Let the rhythms become part of everyday life.
Cook the culture. Make traditional dishes and, more importantly, share the stories and recipes with your family while you do it.
Destination: Living Room. Can’t hop on a plane? Host a Carnival watch-party at home. Stream the bands crossing the stage, serve up street food-style apps, and pour the drinks that take you back home.
Make mas with the pickney dem. Throw a Carnival-themed birthday party or collaborate with your child’s school during Black History Month or Caribbean Heritage Month. Let the youth feel the culture, not just hear about it.
Take a local trip. Not in New York? Plan a road trip to Brooklyn in the summer (Flatbush Ave. specifically) and you’ll basically be in the islands for the day.
Plan ahead, buy the ticket. Save yuh coins, set a timeline—especially if you’re booking for more than one person—and build a budget-friendly itinerary to get yourself home.

Final Word

U.S. carnivals? They’re cute or whatever. But they ain’t filling the shoes of a true Caribbean road experience—not even close. The energy, the authenticity, the history…it all hits different back in the islands. So while domestic carnivals might serve as a placeholder for some, for me, it’s always gonna be quality over quantity.

Pretty costume ≠ meaningful experience.

I said what I said. ✌🏾

Thanks for reading, y’all!