“When I think of Mas, one of the first words that comes to mind is freedom. For me, there’s nothing more liberating than being myself, living in my truth, and embracing all the aspects that make up who I am,” says Tennesse Biswah to Unbothered, who goes by she/her pronouns. “I want them to see and know they’re not alone, and we’re in it together. It’s our responsibility as queer Caribbean people to encourage others to feel free to be themselves as well.” Biswah is, of course, referring to Caribbean Carnival and the long, centuries-old tradition of “playing mas”, which sees individuals assume roles of traditional characters and adorn themselves in ornate costumes to march and dance alongside carnival bands. From its origins in Trinidad to the parade routes on Kadooment Day in Barbados to London’s Notting Hill, “Mas” is an honoured feature of Caribbean Carnivals; however, as time passed, I observed that there was no photo series dedicated to capturing queer individuals who participate in Mas or those who have refrained from doing so due to concerns about acceptance. Given that Mas is widely recognised as a form of expression and liberation, it seemed only fitting to create a platform for those who have felt marginalised.
The inaugural photo series begs to disrupt the norm and urge people to make space for those who have been alongside them all along. “For she/for he/for them” is not only my vibrant homage which highlights the stories of five queer individuals with Caribbean roots but also a heartfelt tribute to queer individuals who find solace and happiness in Mas despite the ignorance they face in the world.
This ignited an ambitious idea (initially jotted down in my Notes app) and quickly manifested into something grander; “Portraits of Mas” stands as a visual project with the goal of spotlighting the rich, multi-faceted history of Carnival through the medium of portraiture.
Having parents from Trinidad and Tobago, as well as St. Kitts and Nevis, I’ve been fortunate to celebrate various facets of my culture. Out of the many customs and traditions, “playing mas” has always felt like a rite of passage. I’ve experienced the thrill of the Caribbean road march (or rather, “chipping down the road”) in the Bahamas, Jamaica, and Trinidad & Tobago on several occasions. For me, the road has consistently served as a source of escapism and pure joy, where hearing the sweet sounds of soca music resonates deep within. However, as I’ve grown from that curious girl to a woman, who has finally come to terms with my sexuality, I felt a deep sense of sorrow that I had to suppress parts of my identity in fear that I wouldn’t be wholly embraced by my family and on the road.
“I wasn’t sure where I fit in. Earlier this year I pushed back against that feeling and was able to revel in the euphoria of being on the road in Jamaica.”
brianna roye, photographer of ‘PORTRAITS OF MAS’
Every single part of this project was intentional and enlisting Brianna Roye to photograph this project was a deliberate choice; I had been blown away by her remarkable photo series titled, “Out of Many, One People,” which beautifully captures the essence of queer individuals of Caribbean descent through portraiture. Roye, a queer masc woman of Jamaican heritage, shared her personal journey of longing to participate in Mas but feeling unsure of her place. “I wasn’t sure where I fit in. Earlier this year I pushed back against that feeling and was able to revel in the euphoria of being on the road in Jamaica,” says Roye. “Photographing ‘Portraits of Mas’ was my way of carving out a space for myself, and for other people like me. Visually seeing queer people in costume, especially masculine presenting people made me feel seen and empowered.”
With the team subsequently assembled, the next step entailed selecting individuals from the LGBTQ2S+ community who also carry Caribbean lineage — highlighting multiple identities whether it be gay, bisexual, lesbian or non-binary who represent islands, such as Haiti, Jamaica, and Guyana, remains one of the pivotal focal points throughout the project.
Born in Jamaica, Darynel Weekly (pictured), who goes by he/they pronouns, started playing mas recently, and what was once a fear, has evolved into a full-blown love affair for the road, which he likens to a sanctuary. “Carnival, for me, is reclaiming its rebellious foundation as a means of taking up space in a collective Caribbean culture that makes it difficult for me to truly love myself,” says Weekly. “Mas is my act of rebellion in reclaiming my love for self.”
Weekly was completely aligned with the central theme of the introductory series, where he felt he could be open and experience a sense of belonging — a feeling that isn’t often granted to numerous queer individuals in the Caribbean diaspora. “We’re often excluded from Caribbean identity in general, a lot of the times queer people feel a lack of statehood when it comes to representation,” says Weekly. “And I think, at the very centre of this project it’s seen that, like, regardless of what your sexual identity or whatever identity that you find yourself attached to within this lifetime, it should not limit how Caribbean you are.”
“I believe that the contributions of queer individuals to the culture will lead to a widespread acceptance of the queer community as a whole. This isn’t to suggest that we need your validation but at the same time, to recognise that we’re present and our presence is unwavering,”
Darynel Weekly
By opting for vibrant colours, whether in the choice of fabric or backdrop, the series conveys a clear message. In essence, “we are present,” and “our visibility is crucial.” Biswah, an experienced masquerader who has engaged in the traditions since her youth, hailing from Jamaican and Guyanese heritage, echoes similar sentiments to Weekly’s. “I just felt like it was something important to just to put myself in. It allowed me to step out of my comfort zone because it’s bigger than me. That’s how I kind of looked at it,” recalls Biswah. “I thought that it would really bring a lot of awareness and shed a light onto a topic that’s not really discussed enough and spark the necessary conversations.”
It is truly a familial event for Biswah, who, along with her loved ones, eagerly anticipates Carnival each year with the excitement akin to a child on Christmas Eve. She envisions a future for Carnival where queer individuals can feel secure, supported, and at ease with being authentic to themselves. Similarly cherishing feelings of security and belonging, Weekly holds numerous aspirations for the future of Mas, aspiring to a future where queer individuals can discover solace and a warm embrace. “I believe that the contributions of queer individuals to the culture will lead to a widespread acceptance of the queer community as a whole. This isn’t to suggest that we need your validation, but at the same time, to recognise that we’re present and our presence is unwavering,” he shares.
The primary objective of this project is to continue celebrating the beauty, resilience, and multifaceted nature of Mas, as well as showcasing every aspect of Caribbean culture, including the people that ignorance often seeks to exclude. Through the medium of portraiture, ‘Portraits of Mas’ will persist in narrating stories with intention, deep affection, and profound joy, both for the art of Mas itself and for the undeniable love for the culture it represents. “For she, for he, for them” is just a glimpse of the potential that this project aims to unlock. Despite potential challenges along the way, archiving the many faces of Mas is the ultimate mission.
Portraits Of Mas is a photo series by Wanna Thompson and Brianna Roye.
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