Time for a change

By Anthony Joseph

The 2025 Toronto Caribbean Carnival, still fondly known to many as Caribana, is now in the books.

Another year of feathers, music, celebration, and culture. And while we find pride in the ways our community continues to show up and shine, we must also confront the harsh truth: the Festival Management Committee (FMC) is failing. Again.

Yes, there were bright spots this year, moments of excellence and pride. But those moments came in spite of the FMC, not because of them.

And if this organization continues to lead the charge, we risk losing the very essence of what has become the largest Caribbean cultural celebration in North America.

It’s time to speak plainly: we must get them out before they kill the goose that laid the golden eggs for Toronto, for Ontario, and for Canada.

The Good, A Few Shining Moments

Let’s start with what went right because we owe our community, especially our volunteers and masqueraders, their flowers.

The parade started on time, a rarity in recent years and a sign that someone, somewhere, was paying attention. Volunteers were courteous and helpful, bringing a welcoming energy to the event. And for once, there was praise from attendees for the VIP tent: the food was plentiful, the service was smooth and guests felt their hefty ticket price was justified. That’s progress.

The FMC also hosted a volunteer appreciation event at the elegant Hotel X. While the gesture was appreciated, the execution raised some eyebrows, more on that in a moment.

But there’s no denying that Jamaal Magloire’s Toronto Revellers earned their first-place win, with Tribal Carnival and Carnival Nationz rounding out the top three. Congratulations are in order for all the bands. Your dedication to culture, craftsmanship, and community continues to be the festival’s beating heart.

The Bad, Missed Opportunities and Misguided Leadership

Unfortunately, these highlights were dimmed by a long list of missteps.

Let’s start with the food, or rather, the lack of Caribbean food. Yes, the VIP experience improved, but when people pay $180 or more for a ticket to a Caribbean festival, they expect the tastes of the islands.

A plate full of pasta and Canadian-style desserts just won’t cut it. Where was the sorrel? The ginger beer? The rum cake, the roti, the oildown?

Food is culture, and the erasure of our culinary heritage from such a premium space is a disappointing, if not deliberate, oversight.

At the so-called “Big Beautiful Brunch” at Hotel X, while meant as a thank-you to volunteers, non-volunteers were charged over $100.

One wonders if the price tag was meant to show volunteers what their brunch was “worth.” It’s a strange message to send. Recognition should never come with strings attached.

Then there was the issue of media access. Our newspaper, The Caribbean Camera, has faithfully covered this festival for decades, even when the FMC decided not to advertise with us. Still, we show up, because we serve our community, not a board of directors. Yet this year, we were denied the full complement of passes for our writers and photographers. That meant reduced coverage, fewer images, and a missed opportunity to showcase the cultural brilliance of our people. Why restrict access to one of the few media outlets that prioritizes this community year-round?

The Ugly. The Mishandling of Pan and Parade Chaos

And then, the unforgivable: the treatment of the steelpan community.

Pan players, custodians of our culture and ambassadors of our heritage, were treated disgracefully. Not only were they given poor support, but the FMC went so far as to undermine the credibility of the manager hired to run their events, sending communications warning against hiring them. This is not only unethical; it borders on intimidation. Are we now policing who can work with whom in our own community?

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the parade route, going west to east was poorly planned from a photographer’s standpoint. With the sun setting in the west, the front of the costumes were left in shadow you were shooting into the sun, while the backs were lit, making it difficult to capture the full glory of the masqueraders. It may seem like a small thing, but it’s these little details that demonstrate care and foresight, or lack thereof.

Speaking of poor planning: with the elimination of barriers on the parade route, what we got was chaos.

Spectators flooded the streets by noon, turning what was supposed to be a showcase of mas’ into a free- for-all. Yes, this likely saved thousands of dollars in fencing, but at what cost?

Masqueraders, many of whom paid hundreds of dollars for their costumes, found themselves fighting for space among onlookers.

The Troubling Symbolism of Leadership

We must also address the controversial moment at the King and Queen show where the FMC chair, a woman of Indo-Caribbean heritage, wore a saree to an event commemorating Emancipation Day. Was it tone-deaf? Perhaps. Was it a reason to boo her publicly? No. Caribbean culture is diverse, and people of all backgrounds have the right to participate in its expression. But using an Emancipation-linked event as a platform for political posturing, particularly when tensions are high, reflects poor judgment and a lack of sensitivity. We must raise the bar on how we respond to perceived missteps.

Band Results: A New Era?

This year also marked a shift in how bands were judged. For over a decade, A-class, B/ C-class bands competed within their tier, making it impossible for B or C-class bands to place overall. But in 2025, that changed. A B-class band placed in the top three. However, Sunlime won the B-C class winning band, a move that has sparked debate. Some say it’s a welcome evolution; others worry about fairness and precedent. Regardless, no one saw that change coming.

Final Thoughts: Enough is Enough

To summarize: the FMC did what they could, but what they could do simply wasn’t good enough. From lack of media access to poor parade planning, to cultural insensitivity to mismanagement of our beloved steelpan, this year’s carnival felt more like a warning sign than a celebration.

And yet, Caribana endures. Not because of the FMC, but because of the tireless work of mas’ makers, musicians, volunteers, and community members who continue to breathe life into it.

The time has come to ask hard questions and make bold decisions. Who is the FMC accountable to?

Who benefits from their decisions? And how much longer will the city, province, and federal government continue to support a body that appears to hold the community’s culture and legacy in such low regard?

Toronto’s Caribbean Carnival is a crown jewel, a cultural and economic powerhouse. We cannot afford to let it be diminished by weak leadership and questionable motives.

The goose that laid the golden eggs is still alive. But it’s under threat. Let’s protect it before it’s too late.

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