Revellers take part in the Caribbean Carnival Grand Parade in Toronto on Saturday, Aug.4, 2018. THE CANADIAN PRESS/Christopher Katsarov
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Conversations around Caribbean carnivals and their diasporic iterations abroad are brimmed with commentary steeped in xenophobia and respectability politics, painting women as devoid of agency or hypersexualizing them for their participation. In 2016, for example, a Japanese steel pan player named Asami Nagakiya was murdered during Trinidad carnival. Then-Port of Spain mayor Raymond Tim Kee blamed “lewdness” and “vulgarity” for her death, which consequently inspired #NotAskingForIt, an anti-victim blaming campaign that advocated for the acknowledgement of women’s agency both within and outside of carnival spaces.According to Michael Saunders, social media manager of the popular Trinidad-based band TRIBE Carnival, hiding carnival-related posts on Instagram can negatively affect locals for whom carnival is a financial opportunity as well.“My initial reactions were that of shock, confusion and overall disappointment,” Saunders said of his feelings upon realizing that he was unable to view posts under St. Lucia carnival-related hashtags on Instagram."Not only does Instagram’s ban affect business models and tourism, it suppresses an entire culture that has worked tirelessly to be established and silences a massive creative voice," he said. "Carnival in my opinion is a dominantly visual experience. If you’re playing it, you wanna show the world [that] you are."With Barbados’ own Grand Kadooment parade approaching—a parade Rihanna is frequently seen at—Instagram users will soon see if the issue is fully resolved so as to not interrupt sharing highlights of carnival’s culture.Sharine Taylor is a Toronto-based writer. Follow her on Twitter .