Notting Hill Carnival is the ultimate Black Lives Matter march – My London

From running her own clothing brand to making moving about the challenges Caribbean people face, Fiona Compton is a woman of many talents and successes.

As a cultural ambassador representing NHC, the 39-year-old has spoken to MyLondons sister website 2Chill about the true meaning behind the festival.

The first time Fiona attended Notting Hill Carnival was in 2005, when she was only a spectator.

As somebody coming from the Caribbean islands to London, seeing my culture on this big platform but not being part of it was hard, she recalls.

I felt I could never do this again, standing behind this partition between myself and my culture, so I started by joining what we call bands where you wear customs, and then helping with the production processes.

Since then, Fiona has never missed a single year. She says: We compared it to Mecca. It's a rite of passage that you have to do every year. Its something like a reset button.

For people, especially those from the Caribbean diaspora, that one weekend of celebration or the week of events it leads up to is an absolutely precious time allowing them to reconnect to themselves, their extended Caribbean families and their culture.

One of the most powerful memories Fiona created for herself and the carnival community was the Not Asking For It movement she started in 2016.

She says: The Mayor of Trinidad made some very irresponsible comments after a masquerader was murdered in the heart of carnival in the country. He implied that the murder was helped because she wore a costume and people drunk alcohol.

Such comments blew up in a big way and inspired Fiona to start the initiative.

She adds: The essence of carnival is freedom. Its a sign of freedom of black people from the plantations, and a celebration of our ability to sing, dance and play the drum. For women to not feel safe in this space is the antithesis of what carnival means.

Dressing in different clothing whether its a fancy costume, t-shirt or a pair of jeans people spontaneously put on placards in front of their chests, with some reading not asking for it and how I dress does not mean yes in Fionas Not Asking For It section.

That day in 2016, she and her band performed at the judging point in the parade and took centre stage to showcase what they stood for: protecting women and creating a safe space for the community.

This collective voice of women and some men as well, coming together to share the same messages, moved Fiona.

To sit back and see people supporting that message was really beautiful, she says. It showed people that carnival was not just a place to come and get wasted, but it was also a community of empowerment, freedom and family.

As the carnival grew ever more prominent, so did the inclusion of commercial business. Music houses packed the street while news of big brand sponsorship splashed the front page.

When the fleeting moment of euphoria of Britishs Afro-Caribbean people celebrating the carnival diminishes, and many go back to leading quiet and segmented lives, carnivalists start to reflect on the true meaning of carnival today.

Fiona admits: There are certain moments in carnival where I feel that we are the minority in the very thing that we created. Commercialisation has taken over certain aspects of carnival. I dont see the mystique about NHC that many are attracted to the generation of 150million a year in London resonate back into the community.

Think designers who spend months making all kinds of costumes and steelpan orchestras who practise every week for the parade, these are not the people who are getting that money.

The carnival has changed in that sense, and it concerns me. We're starting to feel marginalised. People see less and less value in the masquerade, the creativity and artistry of craftsmanship. Theyre more interested in going to the sound systems or going to see particular DJs.

In the world of Snapchat and Instagram, where information is presented in ways that must grab attention in an instant, it might be hard for the young generation to engage in the more obscure, historical aspects of carnival, but Fiona believes there is a way to strike a balance between having fun at the festival and appreciating its roots.

She says: The essence of the carnival was informed by the enslaved who, on the plantations, were banned from playing the drums because it was illegal. Now you see people playing steel pan in the streets, and that in itself is resistance from oppression.

Everybody loves having Jerk chicken at the carnival, but some dont know that it exists because the enslaved Africans liberated themselves in the plantations, then went up into the mountains and developed the Jerk.

We took to the streets to sing and dance because our ancestors used to be despised as heathens and demons because of that.

Then our community went through a very volatile, George Floyd-like period in the 1950s and early 60s, people once again took to the streets to sing, dance. They also incorporated social and political commentaries while bringing joy to their lives.

Carnival is the ultimate Black Lives Matter march. Its a march that has existed for more than two centuries.

Its not that young people dont care about the essence of NHC, because in the past 18 months, we saw that they do care. Theres a need among young people to express themselves and be heard.

And thats what the carnival is about. If you know the history behind it, youd connect to it instantly.

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Notting Hill Carnival is the ultimate Black Lives Matter march - My London