Summer FridaysA guide to enjoying the best of the city every weekend.
Celebrating the Caribbean
Labor Day weekend in Brooklyn means one thing — time to "mash it up." On Monday, the 57th annual West Indian American Day Parade will sashay its way up Eastern Parkway to close out a long weekend of Carnival activities. Parade participants adorned in vibrantly sequined, feathered and spectacularly scant costumes will "wine" in a traditional circular hip movement atop or alongside bouncing floats booming the latest soca, afrobeat and dancehall music. The route is almost two miles, beginning at Rochester Avenue and ending at the Brooklyn Museum. "The parade is the culmination of a year of hard work and dedication and sort of like a commercial for not just New York City's Caribbean culture, but the entire Caribbean community that comes together and shows off its pageantry," said Jelanie DeShong, a board member of the West Indian American Day Carnival Association. The goal is to introduce a taste of the Caribbean to the city. "Even if you're new to the Caribbean culture, you know that distinctive soca music, you know the distinctive reggae music," DeShong said. "We're just trying to put on a commercial for those new and old to the culture to come and enjoy. This weekend is a love story that we put together every year for the Caribbean community and the larger Caribbean culture." The parade was started in the 1930s by Jessie Waddle, a Trinidadian immigrant, and a few friends, originally as an indoor costumed Carnival gathering in Harlem. Carnival celebrations usually precede the religious observance of Lent and so are held outdoors in February. For Waddle, the winter cold was problematic. At its core, Carnival, with its dancing and parading, needed to be held outside. Eventually, the events were moved to Labor Day weekend, and to Brooklyn, with its sizable West Indian immigrant community. Today, the parade attracts millions of spectators from around the world, hosts roughly 100,000 participants and streams online. It has also expanded to a weeklong celebration that includes a children's carnival, the international music-filled Brass Fest, Panorama Steelpan Competition and Mas, short for masquerade. That event has its roots in slavery when African people, prohibited from participating in masquerade balls, formed their own ancestral celebrations mocking their enslavers. Another historical aspect of the Labor Day parade is the night leading up to it, the predawn ritual of J'ouvert. Pronounced "JOO vay," it is a French term that translates to daybreak and signals the start of Carnival. After the end of slavery, newly emancipated Africans in Trinidad denounced the horrors of bondage while celebrating freedom during Carnival. They began at dawn and dressed their skin with natural elements, such as mud and natural dyes. Today, the ritual continues with revelers gathering at night to cover their skin with mud, paint or powder before parading in unity. "A lot of people see it as this messy paint-filled festival, but J'ouvert really boils down to slavery, when a lot of these folks were looking for a way to celebrate freedom," DeShong said. The intensity of the spectacle is exactly the point. "It's the most ritualistic way for us as Caribbean Americans to promote the culture, get in touch with our ancestry and celebrate with the paint, mud, the steel pan and really engage with the music but also with the ancestors and the culture that we represent," he said. The parade has become a major event, attracting attendees from Europe and Africa. DeShong promises a great time for all, as the Caribbean community represents a swath of people. "You have Indo-Caribbean, you have Afro-Caribbean, you have Hispanic, a lot of ex-Caribbean folks and the Garifuna population in New York. We are a concert and a festival that represents all backgrounds, stripes, sexualities and everything," he said. "If you want to have a good time, support a local business, try a beef patty, try a roti, try a salo, maybe try a Guinness or two, and really just enjoy yourself." He added, "John Lewis used to say, 'We all got off the boat, but some of us just got off a little earlier.' It's so true. And for us to now all be here, to come from different islands, to be in Brooklyn, New York, to come together on one day, to truly put on a commercial for our culture, sometimes I get emotional. I know the ancestors are looking down on us." WEEKEND WEATHER Expect a chance of showers and thunderstorms throughout the weekend. Temperatures will be in the low 70s to the mid-80s during the day, dropping between the high 60s to the low 70s at night. ALTERNATE-SIDE PARKING In effect until Monday (Labor Day). What Else to Do This Weekend
Last chance exhibits
More local events
For more events in New York, here's a list of what to do this month. We hope you've enjoyed this newsletter, which is made possible through subscriber support. Subscribe to The New York Times. METROPOLITAN DIARY LifelineDear Diary: I was headed downtown for a meeting, so I got the No. 2 train at 96th Street. I moved to the end of the car. When we pulled into 42nd Street, riders flooded in. Among them was a middle-aged woman who stepped with an air of confidence. She wore an orange shirt, a long beige skirt and white stilettos. On her way to a corporate meeting perhaps, I thought. I watched her glancing around for a seat only to wind up in front of me. When she realized we were facing each other, she moved past me. At that very moment, the train gave a jerk and began to speed down the tunnel. I tried to grab the bar above my head but missed it. As I felt myself falling backward, I noticed that the woman in the orange shirt was losing her balance as well and searching for something to cling to. Her arms did some windmills, and my right hand reflexively stretched to hers like a lifeline. She gripped it immediately. While the train raced on, we tugged at each other's arm to keep our balance in wobbly fashion. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. I could feel her pulse in her grasp. We remained like that until the next stop, as if a couple. When the speed no longer threatened to topple us, and the commuters had clustered around the door, our hands parted in tacit agreement. The door opened, and she disappeared. We never shared a word. — Frederic Colier Illustrated by Agnes Lee. Send submissions here and read more Metropolitan Diary here. Glad we could get together here. Emma G. Fitzsimmons will be here on Tuesday. — T.M. P.S. Here's today's Mini Crossword and Spelling Bee. You can find all our puzzles here. Melissa Guerrero and Ed Shanahan contributed to New York Today. You can reach the team at nytoday@nytimes.com. Sign up here to get this newsletter in your inbox.
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N.Y. Today: A sequined and feathered parade
August 30, 2024
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