Caribbean Atlanta

Around 4 p.m. on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend in 2009—three days after I moved to Atlanta to begin this study—my friend Nevis picked me up from my apartment and we made our way downtown to attend the Atlanta Caribbean Carnival. I had planned my move to the city to coincide with the Carnival so that I would be able to experience this important Caribbean cultural event and get a glimpse of Caribbean life in Atlanta. When Nevis and I arrived downtown, it looked deserted. In New York, as soon as you get within a few blocks of Eastern Parkway, where its Caribbean Carnival takes place annually on Labor Day, you are inundated with images, sounds, and smells that let you know that you are at or approaching the Carnival. But, as we drove along the streets of downtown Atlanta, I didn’t see any signs that the Atlanta Caribbean Carnival was occurring there—no music, masqueraders, banners, large crowds of people walking around, traffic, or lines of police officers and barricades on the street marking the location of the Carnival. According to its website, the Atlanta Caribbean Carnival included a parade of bands (from 12pm to 2pm) that moved along West Peachtree Street and a Festival Village (from 10am to 10pm), located on historic Auburn Avenue in the Carnival Village, which would have food, vendors, and musical performances by a number of popular Caribbean soca and calypso artists.

I imagined the streets would be filled with people dancing and waving the national flags of their respective Caribbean home countries and the sounds of soca, calypso, reggae, and various other Caribbean music, pouring from the large speakers tied tightly to carnival trucks as they slowly rolled down the streets or from the speakers of cars parked along the streets as Carnival attendees tried to create their own carnival experience. But, after driving along West Peachtree Street and Jesse Hill Jr. Drive for ten minutes looking for cheap parking, I saw no signs of the Carnival. Despite this, we parked and made our way towards the Carnival Village. Slowly, we spotted small groups of people walking in the direction of the street. Looking closely at the people, I saw that some were holding Caribbean flags or wearing clothing with a Caribbean country’s name or flag on it. About a block away from Auburn Avenue, I saw the first major sign that an event was happening: police officers and barricades. A few steps later, vendor stands and crowds of people became visible. Caribbean music began to fill the air. On each side of the street, there were crowds of people standing around vendor stands selling Caribbean CDs, DVDs, clothing, and crafts. After several feet, the vendor stands turned into food stands, which were located under a highway overpass. As we walked past the stands towards the other side of the Carnival Village, the smell of different island foods filled the air. Many of the stands offered similar Caribbean dishes. On the other side of the overpass, there was a stage in the middle of a circular area. Scattered around the stage, there was a few more food stands and a large crowd of people. A band was performing a calypso song on the stage, while thousands of people were dancing to music and waving flags from various Caribbean islands. The smell of the Caribbean dishes, such as curry goat, jerk chicken, and oxtail stew, wafted through the air from the many food stands, enticing those walking by to stop and eat. The Carnival Village was filled with vibrant expressions of Caribbean culture, identity, and pride. As Nevis and I weaved through the crowd towards the stage, I felt a strong connection to my Caribbean culture and to the thousands of other Caribbean people at the Carnival.

The Atlanta Caribbean Carnival is one of many ways that Afro-Caribbeans have marked their growing presence in the region. Since their arrival in the city, Afro-Caribbeans have put a distinctive stamp on Atlanta and its surrounding suburbs. In this chapter, I explore how Afro-Caribbeans are using cultural practices and institution building to create community among each other and to claim spaces in Atlanta that foster and reinforce a distinct Caribbean identity and culture—“Caribbean Atlanta.” The community supports Caribbean newspapers, radio programs, festivals and parades, and numerous cultural and social organizations and clubs, including country-specific associations, a theater group, cricket teams, and a networking organization. Through their businesses, neighborhoods, organizations, and events, Afro-Caribbean immigrants are transforming the physical and cultural landscapes of the Atlanta metro area, as well as helping members of the Caribbean Atlanta community, especially recent migrants, adapt to their new life. They are also creating transnational and “translocal” (extending or operating across regional boundaries) linkages between Atlanta and other major cities. Many Afro-Caribbeans maintain strong ties to their former communities (i.e., the cities, towns, and countries that they migrated from) through frequent travel and social networks. These ties are especially important for Afro-Caribbeans’ community-building efforts in Atlanta. They allow Afro-Caribbean migrants to get services, support, and goods that they need to feel more at more and to create and sustain a Caribbean identity in their new home.