Self-Care
I Almost Let Body Insecurity Keep Me From Barbados’ Crop Over Carnival
At 40-plus, I put on the revealing costume, joined the celebration and found freedom among women of every shape and size.
AARP (Alamy, 3; Stocksy)
My close girlfriends and I often talk about the mental shift that happens when you hit the age of 40. You suddenly approach life with an “I don’t care” attitude. Not in a reckless way, but in an “I’m living life on my terms” way. When I was approached to attend and participate in my first Crop Over celebration in Barbados as a freelance travel writer, I suddenly crept back to my younger self who often felt insecure and shied away from experiences that put my body on public display.
For years I have admired the Black and brown women that came across my social media feeds for the various Caribbean Carnival celebrations. Their confidence radiated as they proudly wore the colorful bejeweled and feathered costumes while playing mas (masquerade) through the open island streets. It was a certain freedom that I longed to have one day, but often told myself would never happen.
The Body Fears That Almost Kept Me Home
See, my weight has often fluctuated. I was labeled as morbidly obese from childhood through college and then went on a weight-loss journey after law school, losing over 40 pounds. I even went as far as competing in fitness shows for two years after dropping another 50 pounds, but after the pandemic, the weight crept back as I grieved the loss of my mom in 2021 and dealt with a slowing metabolism. Thankfully, I’m back on my hardcore fitness routine again and recently shed 25 pounds, but I still have insecurities about the size of my arms and the jiggle in my belly.
As my trip approached, I vented to one of my dear friends—who happens to be from the U.S. Virgin Islands—about my fear and anxiety around wearing such a revealing costume during the parade. Her response: “Girl, no one is going to be looking at your body like that. Crop Over, and carnival in general, is one of the most body-positive experiences you’ll ever have. So, wear the costume and simply have the time of your life.” Her words were exactly what I needed to hear.
Could I Really Bare This Much in Public?
Once in Barbados, a rush of excitement came over me. There were signs and decorations all across the island, letting you know that it was time to celebrate and party. We had two days before the Grand Kadooment (the grand finale) parade, so it gave me time to not only settle those last few nerves but also better educate myself on the meaning behind the celebration.
The History Behind Barbados’ Biggest Celebration
Over the course of those days before the main parade, I learned that Crop Over was originally created by enslaved people on the island as a way to mark the end of the yearly sugarcane harvest. They would play music and dance into the night to honor their work. Though the elaborate costumes weren’t a part of it then, the festival has now evolved into something much larger, from the intricate costumes and live bands to locals (and tourists) flooding the streets to honor the island’s history. Some Bajans that I met even described it as a way to preserve what their ancestors started while serving as a form of resistance against what they endured. Knowing the deep history further inspired me to really soak in all that this experience means.
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I Found Someone Else Taking the Same Leap
Lucky for me, I wasn’t alone as far as being a woman over forty participating in my first Crop Over. While staying at The House Barbados, I met a Black woman in her fifties—Rochelle Jackson—and her close girlfriend, who were both in the same shoes as me. We formed an instant bond over being newbies and promised to help each other have the time of our lives no matter what.
Like me, participating in a Caribbean carnival was something on Jackson’s bucket list and she was able to attend for free with her Marriott Bonvoy points— something I never knew was possible.
“When the opportunity to participate in Crop Over came almost two years after my first visit to Barbados, I jumped at it,” St. Louis-based Jackson shared.
The Morning I Put On the Costume
Grand Kadooment Day finally arrived, and it was time to get dolled up for the annual parade. There were naturally some nerves that morning, but hearing and seeing how excited the local women who worked at the hotel were put me at ease and reminded me to just let go and be in the moment. They were singing and dancing around the property to honor this special day for their island. Some of them even volunteered to help me get into my costume as well. As they tied the accompanying jeweled pieces all over my body, they reminded me how beautiful I looked. Once everything was on and in place, I took a look in the mirror and became emotional. I looked—and felt—like a queen. Sure, I’ve worn bathing suits on public beaches plenty of times, but I’m typically with friends or donning a cover-up. This was the first time seeing myself in a costume like this, which I was also minutes away from wearing among thousands of strangers.
During the car ride to the parade line, I repeated affirmations in my head to further ignite my confidence for what was about to take place. “You’ve got this.” “You can do hard things.” “You are beautiful.”
When we arrived, we were met by dozens of men and women of all ages, ethnicities, shapes and body types. But the one thing we had in common was that we all looked absolutely gorgeous, and that radiated in the smiles we wore. Surprisingly, the presence of men didn’t have an effect on me, probably because I’m on a dating hiatus, so the male gaze is not something I look for. Once I spotted Rochelle, I walked over to her, and we showered each other with compliments after seeing the other’s full costume for the first time. Shortly after, it was time for our band, Vida by Esquire, to get in line to begin the journey down the road.
Four Hours That Changed How I Saw My Body
Seeing all of the colors, jewels and feathers merge into a large sea of bodies was an experience in itself. I instantly felt a sense of pride in knowing not only had I overcome my fear, but I was a part of something so beautiful—and for a purpose. As the bass from the band kicked into high gear, I began moving my body to the upbeat soca rhythms that played through the speakers. There was something about rolling my hips as joy and singing filled the Caribbean air around me. It was indescribable. For over four hours, I chipped through the open Bajan roads with not a care in the world. Every insecurity about my body or fear of how people were perceiving me while doing this melted away. At the end of it all, I was on a high that stayed with me long after I left the parade route—and even Barbados.
“The experience was amazing, and it was a true show of sisterhood. So many women I’d never met before were helping each other, complimenting one another and celebrating freedom together,” Jackson recalls.
The Confidence I Brought Home
For me, the energy that day was electric and it’s something every Black woman should experience at least once in her life. I would definitely participate in another carnival in the future, especially for the confidence boost that it provides and the powerful reminder that when you let go of fear, there’s something so beautiful on the other side.
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