Carnival Is Not Just a Party
- Nadia Renata
- 7 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Every year, as Carnival approaches, the same conversations surface.
It’s too expensive.
It’s not for “real people” anymore.
It’s lost its meaning.
It’s just about partying.
And yet, despite all the complaints, Carnival keeps pulling people back. Even those who say they’re “done with it” still feel its absence when it doesn’t happen. That alone should tell us something.
Carnival is not just an event. It’s a cultural release system.
And when we reduce it to costumes, fetes and wining, we miss what it has always done for us, especially as a people shaped by survival.
Carnival Was Never Meant to Be Neat
Carnival was born out of resistance, not respectability.
Long before it became organised, ticketed or branded, Carnival was a space where formerly enslaved people reclaimed their bodies, voices and presence.
It was noisy.
It was physical.
It was irreverent.
It broke rules on purpose.
It allowed expression in a society that depended on control.
That history matters, because it explains why Carnival has never sat comfortably inside polite frameworks.
It was never meant to.
Carnival has always been about expression before explanation.
Canboulay, Control and the Riots That Shaped Carnival
Canboulay did not create Carnival but it shaped how Carnival learned to resist, adapt and endure.
After emancipation, Carnival was already a space of expression for formerly enslaved people: music, chant, movement, masquerade and gathering in public space. What Canboulay represents is the moment when colonial authorities attempted to force that expression back into silence and were met with refusal.
Canboulay (also spelled Canboulay, Kambule, Camboulay), derived from cannes brûlées (burnt cane), became associated with torchlight processions, drumming, chant and collective movement during Carnival time. These gatherings unsettled colonial rule because they brought bodies together loudly, visibly and without permission.
Attempts to suppress them led to direct confrontations, the Canboulay riots of the late 1800s, where the right to occupy public space, to move freely and to be heard was actively defended.
That struggle matters.
It explains why Carnival has always carried tension between expression and control and why Carnival weekend officially opens with the re-enactment of the Canboulay riots on Carnival Friday.
Carnival does not begin with costumes...... It begins with resistance.
The Rhythm of Carnival Is Not Accidental
One of the things we have forgotten is that Carnival has a rhythm and that rhythm is deeply intentional.
J’ouvert is not a sunrise event. It begins in the dark hours of Carnival Monday and carries through the morning, the heat, the exhaustion, the full arc of the day.
J’ouvert comes first.
Before the beauty.
Before the colour.
Before the costumes.
There is darkness.
Mud.
Oil.
Paint.
Powder.
Sweat.
Noise.
J’ouvert is where frustration lives.
Anger.
Class tension.
Political fatigue.
Personal burdens.
It’s messy because what comes out is messy. This is where we bring the things that weigh on us and we leave them on the road.
J’ouvert literally means opening of the day, but it also functions as an opening of the body and nervous system. It happens before sunrise for a reason. This is not performance. This is release - and release takes time.
Then comes Tuesday - what the world sees.
The colour.
The craft.
The sunshine.
The beauty.
The joy.
The spectacle we export.
But Tuesday only works because J’ouvert came first.
Joy, in our culture, is not denial. It is what comes after expression. It is embodied, earned and shared.
And then, immediately after, comes Ash Wednesday.
Stillness.
Mortality.
Limits.
Grounding.
That transition is not accidental either. Carnival does not leave us floating. It brings us back. It reminds us that joy, expression and humanity exist alongside restraint and responsibility.
Release.
Joy.
Reckoning.
That arc is psychologically sound. Spiritually grounded. Culturally intelligent.
Why Carnival Feels “Too Much” to Some People
Carnival unsettles people because it refuses to separate body from meaning.
It is loud. Physical. Sensory. Sexual. Emotional. It doesn’t apologise for being felt.
In societies trained to associate control with virtue, that feels threatening. Especially when the body is no longer contained, monitored or corrected. So Carnival is dismissed as:
Vulgar instead of understood as embodied.
Excessive instead of expressive.
Disorderly instead of regulating.
But for people whose histories include forced restraint, silence and surveillance, embodiment is not indulgence. It is reclamation.
Is Carnival Only for the Privileged Now?
Yes... and no.
There is no denying that parts of Carnival have become expensive and exclusionary. Costumes, fetes and access have shifted in ways that deserve honest critique. But Carnival itself has never been limited to those spaces.
J’ouvert still exists on the road.
Pan still fills yards and communities.
Music still pours from corners, cars and speakers.
Mas still lives outside of packages and wristbands.
What’s changed is not only access; it’s attention. We’ve been taught to look at Carnival through curated lenses and forget where it actually lives.
Carnival was never meant to be consumed only by spectators.
It was meant to be participated in: bodily, emotionally, culturally.
What We Lose When We Reduce Carnival to a Party
When Carnival is flattened into “a good time,” we lose its deeper function.
We lose:
A sanctioned space for release
A communal pressure valve
An embodied language for joy and resistance
A cultural reminder that expression matters
And when that disappears, the tension doesn’t. It just has nowhere to go.
That’s why Carnival’s absence is felt so deeply.
It’s not nostalgia people miss. It’s regulation.
This Is What We Forget
Carnival is not perfect.
It has always evolved. It has always been contested. And yes, parts of it need care, protection and revitalisation.
But Carnival is not dying. And it is not meaningless.
It is one of the few spaces where Caribbean people have historically been allowed to be fully human: loud, physical, joyful, angry, creative, expressive, without explanation. And before we decide what Carnival should become next, we need to remember what it has always been for.
This is not the end of the conversation. It’s the opening.
Some things are not meant to be explained away. They are meant to be felt, honoured and returned to…
Whisper from the Heart
Some cultures survive not because they are quiet, but because they are allowed to release. When expression is honoured, the body remembers how to breathe. This is not indulgence. This is survival. – Nadia Renata | Audacious Evolution
Affirmation
I honour my ancestors by living fully.
Through joy, creativity and expression, I carry forward what they protected even in the hardest times.
I am proud of my culture. I am proud of where I come from.
This is my inheritance.
(If you’d like a quiet moment to sit with this affirmation visually, it’s included in my YouTube affirmation playlist — a calming space filled with grounding reminders for your day. Affirmation of the Day)
This article is part of the Audacious Evolution Community series, which explores Caribbean culture, social norms and the unseen forces that shape behaviour and relationships. The goal is understanding, not blame and creating space for more informed, compassionate conversations.
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