Heat rising from the gravel road, sun high in the afternoon sky, enormous music trucks blaring the sweet songs of soca while moving parallel to the swaying hips and chipping feet down the road. This is the forward march and movement of many who join in numerous caravans of thousands of revellers in their respective mas bands, all headed to the home of carnival - the Queen’s Park Savannah in Port of Spain, Trinidad and Tobago. When one thinks of carnival in Trinidad and Tobago, immediately visions of streets awashed in masqueraders reveling in debauchery all while bedecked in barely there costumes of glittering, feathery vibrant shades of bright colors. What I didn’t expect to find was such a freedom, a spiritual and familial connection that goes deeper than the seas that surround the twin island nation of Trinidad and Tobago. Carnival is the lifeblood that pumps in the hearts of all who participate, whether native or foreign. It’s a roar of freedom the ancestors who came before us fought for. It’s the collective joy of a people who feel the love in every moment where nothing else matters but embracing the goodness of life more abundantly. It's the vibrancy of a nation that bands as one to shower love upon all who embark to touch upon their shores to partake in the greatest show on earth. My mother was born and raised in Trinidad and Tobago; so the culture, people, passion and love of all that is West Indian is imbedded into my DNA. I have always known about carnival and the celebratory experience but I never really took the time to explore the spirit of carnival at the birthplace its birthplace and how it truly is important to continue the culture for generations to come. I felt such a spiritual bliss in being able to celebrate what West African slaves rebelled to keep. Slaves were prohibited from participating in the extravagant balls hosted from Christmas to Ash Wednesday by the French until emancipation. After emancipation and the battle won by the slaves, Carnival became a symbol of freedom, identity, tradition and culture. Carnival was birthed as a farewell to the flesh before lent by the French but it became a celebration of defiance and abolition of slavery. My people fought for this. Their blood soaked into the land sustains us even today. My experience was the culmination of my blended background - a daughter of Trinidad and Tobago, as well as a daughter of Gullah Geechee nation from the South Carolina coast; with its own connection to the Caribbean, and murky history of slavery - that was able to rejoice in freedom and redemption together. It was about embracing the opportunity to live carefree and be grateful for the courage of those who fought for and won our people's emancipation. Our carnival culture is a movement that you can see, hear, feel and touch everywhere you go in the sister islands and across the diaspora. Through the blended rhythms of classic kaiso and the bumping beats of soca, you can feel and hear the tribal sounds that carried our people through the years with generations far removed from their ancestral African homeland. No matter through time or space, the connections still linger and the spirits of voices forever silenced still reside in the midst of our people. Carnival in Trinidad and Tobago is the legacy and history of a melting pot of cultures from West Africa, India, China and native Amerindians that survived. Carnival is more than just bacchanal on the road Monday and Tuesday, dressed head to toe in beads and feathers. Carnival is the reenactment of Canboulay riots, J'ouvert, black indians, the warahoon, panorama, kaiso, international soca monarch, steel pans, moko jumbie, chutney and traditional characters such as dame Lorraine. Carnival is magical. Carnival is a lifestyle. Carnival is a story that continues to live and breathe - the radiant legacy of struggle, survival, triumph, freedom, release and the coming together of people. If carnival is a nation of its ownself, then I am a true and loyal citizen. Carnival is all of we and we are all of carnival.