How Notting Hill Carnival Taught Me To Embrace My Body

The first time I attended Carnival was in Toronto; I was a pre-teen. And oddly enough, as young as I was, I think I needed that visual reminder of the freeness Caribbean women possess. At Carnival, bodies are governed by no one but their owner, and the confidence in the air is palpable. It’s in the encouraging smiles of women in their 50s playing Mas with their group of girlfriends, it’s in the self-assured posing when approaching them for photos, and it’s in the suggestive dancing.

How Notting Hill Carnival Taught Me To Embrace My Body

Beauty standards be damned, cellulite and rounded tummies baring stretch marks from carrying new life into the world were on display for all to see.

Moving from Jamaica to Canada, America, and eventually, England is when I realised the beauty standard wasn’t a reflection of myself. As a teenager, I was always too tall, I towered over classmates, and this random growth spurt left me with stretch marks on my hips – an act I thought could only happen after childbirth (boy, was I wrong). In my late twenties, breasts far too big for my body settled in, my stomach took on a new unfamiliar roundness and every now and then, I spied the cellulite on my thighs when I crossed them.

My body was changing, curving in ways I wasn’t accustomed to; it made me uncomfortable, especially because I was slim my whole life.

Want to hear something messed up? In Jamaica, my current body type is described as slim, a body I had written off as curvy because social media told me it was. This is why Notting Hill Carnival is such an important event for me; for two days out of the year, I am surrounded by an entire spectrum of body types on women of all ages and nationalities.

More importantly, the rainbow of every shade of Black and Brown women proudly flaunting their melanin without feeling lesser is a sight comparable to no other. Carnival is a boisterous reminder to be gentle with myself, accept my body, and just live no matter what the beauty standard says.

So, here’s to the parade of gyrating bodies covered in brightly feathered, barely-there bikinis that continues to empower me and change my relationship with my body for the better.

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