More than a year ago, I wrote about the dangers involved in not knowing one’s culture. Back then, I was talking about the audacity it must require to pick an aspect of a nation’s Carnival culture and slap it on a bottle of rum without doing the due diligence that would have alerted you to the fact that this is a very bad idea. While the audacious individual ultimately did the right thing and disappeared the brand, there was a whole contingent who saw that move as a loss for Trinidad and Tobago’s cultural exposure. I found that to be a strange position given that the brand was misrepresenting the aspect of the Carnival it was named after… which was a large part of why so many Trinis were pissed about it.

Fast-forward to yesterday when Lala Anthony posted an IG pic that triggered the latest battle in the digital diaspora wars. Judging from the threads, it looks like this particular skirmish is mainly between Caribbean people in the Caribbean and Caribbean people (and their descendants) abroad.

The question: Did Lala appropriate Carnival (and therefore Caribbean) culture with her Halloween costume?

From what I can tell—and let me be real honest with you, I REFUSE to spend too much time in any diaspora war thread—Caribbean people based abroad generally feel like it’s appropriation and those living in the Caribbean are, by and large, unbothered.

First things first, I’d just like to point out that Lala never said which Carnival she was repping, so any Trinis (diasporic or otherwise) beating up about it can rest dey bodies because we all know that costume could have originated on any of the islands and multiple cities outside of the Caribbean that have Carnivals of their own.

Additionally, as has already been explained quite clearly by others: that is not a representation of Trinbagonian Carnival culture. That is a representation of generic pretty mas which, again, is played all over the world and isn’t at all related to the actual cultural roots of Trinbagonian Carnival. And we’d all know that if we actually knew the roots of our own culture.

By “we”, I mean ALL ah we; the locals and those based abroad. Because if it’s one thing I learned during the “J’ouvert” fiasco, it’s that a lot of us right here in the Twin Island Republic know next to nothing about our roots (and given what’s in our textbooks, that’s not accidental).

It should be obvious that that costume has more to do with Las Vegas showgirls and Brazilian Carnival than actual Trinbagonian Mas. The fact that this type of costume is the one most associated with our Carnival (and so many others) is a direct result of what we’ve chosen to amplify and uplift over the past 30-40 years. But it isn’t appropriation of Caribbean culture for someone from the US to put on a costume inspired by costumes from the US and Latin America.

As Kathryn Nurse put it on the clock app, so long as she leaves the Dame Lorraine alone, she’s good. The irony is that Dame Lorraine, Baby Doll and co. are most likely safe from appropriation specifically because of the way we consistently fail to support and promote the meaningful parts of our culture. By the time anyone found out what they were, odds are they’d know enough about them to pay the proper respect.

Personally, I think the real issue here is the disconnect between people who are from the Caribbean and people who live in it. I know first-hand the experience of living abroad with an underrepresented identity. I know the frustration of seeing others pick it apart for cute costumes and cool slang. Gatekeeping is an important part of preserving and protecting your identity in a space where others regularly strip marginalised identities for parts. But before you can gatekeep something, you have to really understand it. If not, you end up trying to gatekeep someone else’s theatre outfits.

It should also go without saying that, while a Caribbean person living abroad can speak to that specific experience, they cannot and should not attempt to speak over and on behalf of all Caribbean people. Because obviously, context matters and those living in the Caribbean, where they are members of the majority culture, may see things differently.

Oh, one last thing to our American cousins who respond to every instance of Caribbean or African gatekeeping with “but y’all listen to our music/watch our movies/use our language, tho.”: One day I hope we can have a real honest talk about how US cultural hegemony works and what has been lost as a result of it. We know you’re at a disadvantage in your country, but that doesn’t mean you’re not at an advantage when you’re going up against islands in the Caribbean archipelago or African nations that are purposefully suppressed on the global stage and you know that.

So maybe we can finally stop these petty-ass squabbles because, to quote one of your great poet laureates, nobody wins when the family feuds.