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Brooklyn owes a thank you to a handful of ladies from Caribbean nations who, like Atlas shouldering the globe, have undertaken the organization of the annual West Indian American Labor Day Parade, for years, with a smile and laugh, and generally without pay. (Everything you need to know about the parade.)
Organizing an event that attracts as many as a million spectators over five days of events in and around the Brooklyn Museum and Eastern Parkway is such a big logistical undertaking —thousands of marchers; competitions; coordination with many groups representing a half dozen or more Caribbean nations; working with multiple city agencies such as the NYPD on safety, and NYC sanitation department; fielding questions; raising money; dealing with media — it is the kind of production for which, were it a corporate event, PR agencies might charge many tens of thousands of dollars and employ dozens of specialized staff.
The annual Labor Day Parade extravaganza that dances its way to calypso, steel band and soca music down Eastern Parkway is the handiwork of a nonprofit organization called WIADCA, the West Indian American Day Carnival Association. Founded in 1967, during an era in the US when there was talk of "consciousness raising," black power and first wave feminism, WIADCA is just one of many civic society institutions created by Brooklyn's proud and cohesive Caribbean communities.
WIADCA's president as of 2014 is William Howard. But the production of the parade and associated events is powered by a few dozen not-really-so-young-anymore immigrant women, some of whom have had long careers with such city agencies as the MTA. Some are still working. These aren't fancy women, and aside from a few who enjoy seats on the judging stand during the parade, the larger community who watch the parade on TV or visit Crown Heights to witness it, barely knows they exist.
These volunteer women, talented organizers, are fiercely dedicated to their original vision: to keep the cultural traditions, symbols and festivals of their home countries alive for their children, grandchildren, and now, great grandchildren.
There was carnival at home, and so there shall be carnival here, in the new home, in New York City.
That some of the events have names like "Caribbean Woodstock" make it all the stronger a cross-cultural phenomenon. Indeed, WIADCA is expanding into social media marketing with a Facebook presence, and in 2014 launched its first ever Caribbean Restaurant Week.
Less visible to outside observers are the natural tensions in an event that tries to represent many nations, and which has its run-ins with the NYPD. With so many countries — not just Trinidad but also Barbados, St, Vincent, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Haiti and many more — there are bound to be internal politics over whose music and culture is perceived as getting the most prominent billing.
Leadership has changed over time; in 2011, the NY Daily News ran a story about how Yolanda Lezama-Clarke, whose father Carlos Lezama founded the association, left her decade-long stewardship of WIADCA after some unfortunate incidents with the police.
Modest Headquarters for a Big Operation
WIADCA's headquarters is located in the most modest of storefronts on a not-yet-gentrified street in Crown Heights. When a reporter visited, the two-room office, which appeared to be no larger than 800 square feet in size, exuded the energy of a political campaign headquarters. Phones were ringing, people popping in and out, things were being dropped off and packets picked up. An air of immediacy and excitement mixed with laughter. A few Trinidadian ladies were clearly in charge. On the walls were posters of public officials who have marched in past parades. A dozen or more carnival masks and some extraordinary headdresses were on display, sitting atop bookshelves crammed with boxes and papers. A temporary screen served as a wall on which are hung proclamations, accolades and some photos.
If there is a place in New York where one feels that it takes a village to raise a child, it's in the offices of WIADCA and at the Junior Carnival, where many dozens of kids dressed up in amazing costumes and performing choreographed dance routines to various kinds of Caribbean music before a jury.
This project is an urban anthropologist's dream case history of intentional cultural preservation, of inter-generational cultural transmission complicated by the huge pressures of immigration and assimilation. It's an opportunity designers, craftsmen and artisans, costume and mask makers and of course musicians to show their talents.
Benefits to New York City
It's also a boon to a city that prides itself on diversity.
No wonder New York City politicians, from the Mayor on down, walk in Brooklyn's West Indian Labor Day Parade. This parade showcases the Big Apple as a once-and-future melting pot, as an icon of diversity and tolerance, a place where immigrants can literally strut their stuff, a city that's worthy of Lady Liberty a few miles away in the harbor. As with the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island, City touts this parade as one of its largest, most unique annual events; it's a tourist attraction, with spectators traveling from across the US to attend.
And so, on the eve of the annual West Indian Labor Day Parade 2014, thank you, to the founders, the workers, and past and current leaders of WIADCA, which includes men of course. (The new President of WIADCA IS ABut it is to the ladies of WIADCA, who have embraced this tradition for their own community and lent it to everyone else, that thanks are due. The costumes and dancing are exuberantl, the steel band music sublime, the pride palpable. You have done a wonderful, wonderful job.
Based on an on-site interview, 2013.
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