Commentary
Dara Healy
Culture matters
DARA HALY
DANCE through the streets of New Orleans outside of the official Carnival period, enveloped by the sounds of jazz, blues and entertainment from balconies and magic shops everywhere.
In London, I bought a compilation of Bob Marley’s music from a stall in the center of many others that stretched as far as the eye could see along the streets of Notting Hill.
And in Miami, a global community gathered to buy and sell books under tents on the street in front of the university.
Before the pandemic, we took the streets for granted. They were there to be placed in the tent, adjusted or reused as desired. After years of forced isolation, the streets are calling again. They are reminding us that in many ways life happens outside.
It is possible that the first form of local street theater appeared when ex-slaves took over the streets at carnival time, highlighting the brutality of slavery as a masquerade. Perhaps when the commoners lifted their skirts and “washed their underskin” to the respected elite, it wasn’t really to shock their former masters, but to reclaim their bodies from them.
Similarly, with the jab molassie masquerade, centuries of trauma were channeled into paint, ritual and public cries of defiance.
Historically, street theater has been synonymous with challenging oppressive regimes or systems. By 1861, anti-British theater in India had become such a threat to the colonial government that it enacted the Dramatic Performance Act of 1876 to suppress Indian theatre.
Theater was an important component of popular revolutions in Europe against the monarchies of Russia and France.
In the early 1960s, the Southern Free Theater began in New Orleans at the height of the US civil rights movement. Its founders were senior members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), which our own Kwame Ture would eventually lead as chairman.
In the following decade, theater practitioners were inspired by Paolo Friere’s Pedagogía del Oprimido, Pedagogy of the Oppressed. In his groundbreaking work, Friere advocated the inclusion of people from lower-income families as partners in their education and development.
Inspired by Friere’s insights, Brazilian theater practitioner Augusto Boal discovered his technique Theater of the Oppressed in 1979. Through Boal’s work he sought to free Brazilian theater from European interpretations and make it “national, popular and political”.
Meanwhile, in 1970s Jamaica, the grassroots group Sistren led the incorporation of improvisational theater as a powerful voice for women’s rights.
In TT, similar shifts were evident. As early as the 1950s, the street theater of masquerade entered the civil rights conversation with George Bailey’s winning portrayal of Back to Africa. The Black Power movement of the 1970s would introduce a structured form of street theater as part of NJAC’s Black Traditions in the Arts, curated and scripted by Eintou Springer.
Unlike organic jamette protests, this form of street theater included features such as an outdoor stage, sound, and actors. Critically, the performances were free and everyone could engage in the performance without being restricted by ropes or other physical barriers.
At the time, Black Power activists were concerned with highlighting injustices such as police brutality and the depressing living conditions of the urban poor, mostly people of African heritage. These themes were echoed by playwrights such as Errol John and Eric Roach and by creative forces of the time such as Astor Johnson and Andre Tanker.
Today, there is a growing appreciation for the power of street theatre, for its ability to challenge and move audiences in a way that sitting in a closed formal theater space cannot. However, as discussions intensify about the transformation of Ariapita Street and perhaps other spaces across our country as centers of culture and art, the line is being drawn.
It is disheartening to read the typical venomous opinions about the negative aspects of carnival and the problems the festival can cause for communities. Of course, noise, encroachment, litter and other issues are real problems – I am plagued by these problems everywhere I live in this country. So it is essential that they are addressed, in consultation with the people of the area.
Our national festival is not just a holiday; it is based on resistance, craftsmanship and a people’s struggle for self-determination. Let’s not repeat the mistakes of the 1800s. Let’s appreciate the complex beauty of our TT culture and, together, explore how best to get it back on the road.
Dara E Healy is a performance artist, communications specialist and founder of the NGO, Indigenous Creative Arts Network – ICAN
