Mas Must Play

Modesty is not for mas.

Look up synonyms for the word decent

and tell me why you would ever want to

be average, passable, side of the road,

indifferent when you are Magnificent.

Some will roll the word indecent

on their tongues like molasses,

intoxicated with fear of watching

you steer your own damn ship

onto the world’s shores. Forgetting

our labour is source that built these

streets and we just want roll bamsie

free in these streets.

My ancestors will tell you that when

the colonisers’ ignorance labelled our

maji nonsense, they laughed in their

faces with bam-bams rolling, waists

gyrating, skins glistening and took to

the streets to show them godfidence.

It’s less about the body and more about

the spirit of rebellion. That's why

Mas Must Play.

Today, in fact - this year 2020, has been one of heavy mourning. The world seems to slowly be returning to “normal” for many with the new academic year commencing. Students are returning to school, those working from home are beginning to or are preparing to commute to work and the UK government is persisting that a ‘second wave’ of coronavirus is coming.

Social distancing is still a thing, but isn’t a thing; we’ve had Black Lives Matter protests, lost prolific members of our community and there’s been some tearing down of Babylonian sons and their still white gazes (whoever thought to idolise those in forms of statues says a lot for the mentality of the era it was erected – we have evolved). There has also been no carnival for myself and many others in this year 2020 (lucky are those who attended Trinidad carnival at the start of the year).

I have wholly understood the potential health risks of hosting carnival and think the decision was right given the current climate. This does not mean we cannot grieve.

Those who live and love carnival, who do it right, understand the mass energy gathering that it is, is transformative for many of us. It is ritualistic; the embodiment and acceptance of love itself in full form, its entirety. Love of body, love of self, love of each other, love of spirit, love of both history and progress, love of both death and life.

To those who determined that holding a carnival would be insult to the lives lost, I’d like to assert that you speak from a place of ignorance towards the originators of carnival as we know it and their root; their spirituality. I hate living in a world of polarities where it is said that nature is to do one extreme and not the other; this is a fight against nature itself and are we not tired of pilfering mother’s gems and then cowering from her rage? Is this not the fundamental message of carnival? To bring dark to light and make light of the dark? To show the nature of polarity, to rebel when oppressed; to accept that carnival is woman in her purest, wildest, freest form; to make light of capital labels and chains?

Ask yourself how you honour your loved ones when they transition. Do you not celebrate their lives in whichever way is custom to you? Is it not the peace that comes in celebration of them that allows you to survive in this realm without them?

The black community has lost a lot this year. The loss of the right to perform ritual, to grieve properly will hurt anyone, so allow us to mourn our several losses. For some, carnival signals a year end and the horizon of fresh beginnings.

So I say a heartfelt eulogy to all of our carnivals lost this year. Healing is communal and despite being kept apart, I’m glad all carnival lovers are grieving and mourning together.

Here’s to every rebel heart. I love you. Pwan tjè, be encouraged.