
by Kabrena Robinson
Colourful feathers and jewels glisten under the warm Toronto sun. Jubilant sounds fill the air, transporting you to another place — the essence of the islands on Canadian soil.
In the coming days, many will take to the streets to admire and indulge in the grand cultural spectacle that is the Toronto Caribbean Carnival. But there is more to it than what meets the eyes and ears. Woven into the eye-catching costumes and rhythmic beats of carnival culture lies a deep history — one brought here and preserved by immigrants from the Caribbean. Carnival is our piece of home, an expression of African identity forged from resistance to oppression and colonization. Carnival is not just about costumes and parties. It is a celebration of history, liberation, innovation, and creativity.
Carnival across the Caribbean stands as a remnant of its colonial past. During colonial times, European slave traders in Trinidad and Tobago held private balls, dressing up in lavish costumes. Enslaved Africans were excluded from these events and banned from celebrating their own traditions. So, they established their own gatherings, using their resourcefulness and creativity to subvert their oppressors. Following emancipation, the festival took on a new form, becoming a grand celebration of liberation and a rebellion and protest against the suppression of their African and Indigenous identity.

Today, a wide variety of celebrations are held on different Caribbean islands, such as Cropover in Barbados and Spicemas in Grenada. All pay homage to and celebrate the resilience of our forebears. In the diaspora, these traditions live on through generations of Caribbean people devoted to passing on the culture and keeping the spirit of carnival alive.
Creating the costumes for grand parade day is a complex creative process, says Alycia Campbell of the band Toronto Revellers. “Whenever we do a costume, whether it is for big mas or the masqueraders themselves, we always start with a theme. Whether we are drawing from things like nature or colour palettes or cuisines around the world or even things that are going on in the media, we always incorporate everything around us to make sure that we are inclusive of everyone.”
Earl Anthony Hypolite, a Canadian born to Trinidadian and Grenadian parents, says that it’s critical for children born in Canada to know their roots, which can fade through assimilation. And, he adds, carnival isn’t just important for people within the community: it gives others the chance to learn about its history and significance.
This is something Ayana Francis aims to highlight in her work. The children’s author migrated to Canada from Trinidad at a young age; her goal is to share Caribbean culture with children of all backgrounds.
“For me, writing books is a way of preserving our culture in words for the next generation and, now that I am a mother, to pass the culture on like a baton to my daughter so she will be able to read it and see it,” she says. “It is also about showing the next generation a positive light of carnival because there are a lot of misinterpretations that carnival is just about sexualizing a woman’s body. I try to put a positive spin on it by showing the joy that carnival brings out in people in the community.”
As we gear up to indulge in the festivities and take in all that carnival has to offer, it is important that we appreciate it in its entirety. Enjoy the music, immerse yourself in the culture and feeling of togetherness and freedom. But be mindful of what carnival is about. It is years of hard work and dedication. It is stories carried and preserved by its people. It is the history and strife of their forebears. It is a celebration of unity, liberation, joy, and pride — an ongoing gift to Canada from the Caribbean.
Kabrena Robinson is a freelance journalist. Her work focuses on issues related to social justice, race, culture, and the Jamaican-Canadian Diaspora.