Doing It Anyway: What Carnival Taught Me About Confidence and Insecurity

This past Indigenous People’s Day weekend, I participated in Miami Carnival.

If you’ve never been, Carnival is a massive celebration of Caribbean culture. It’s a day full of joy, rhythm, and color: a mix of feathers, sequins, and pure freedom. The tradition started as a celebration before Lent, but over time, it’s become a vibrant expression of Caribbean pride, community, and resistance. Today, you can find Carnivals in places like Trinidad, Jamaica, Barbados, London, Toronto, Miami, and even right here in Boston.

This was my sixth time participating. I’ve played mas in Boston and once before in Miami. But this time felt different. This time, I felt nervous.

Feeling Different in My Own Skin

Since the first time I played, my body has changed. I’ve gained weight over the years, and right now, I’m at my heaviest. I’ve got a roll under my boobs that I’ve never seen anyone else have, and it’s one of those little things that makes me self-conscious.

The costumes at Carnival don’t leave much to the imagination. Even the “modest” ones are still bikinis covered in rhinestones and feathers. I picked the most modest option available for my section—high-waisted bottoms and a full-coverage bra—but even then, I still had that wave of insecurity wash over me.

This time, I also decided not to drink much. Normally, I’ll have a bunch of drinks during Carnival, it helps me loosen up and feel a little braver. But I had a 6:30 a.m. flight the next day, and I didn’t want to spend the morning hungover and miserable. That meant I had to face the day sober, without the “liquid courage” I’ve leaned on in the past.

And that’s when I realized something deeper was happening.

I wasn’t nervous because of Carnival itself. I was nervous because I didn’t feel as confident in my body as I used to.

Why Carnival Matters to Me

Carnival is so much more than a party. It’s one of the few times of the year when I feel completely free.

The music, the people, the energy: it’s unlike anything else. There’s no judgment, no shame, no “shoulds.” You can dance however you want. You can move your body in ways that feel good. You can show up exactly as you are.

When you’re in that crowd, surrounded by beautiful Black and brown people of all shapes, sizes, and backgrounds, it feels like home. You see doctors, teachers, nurses, students, entrepreneurs, moms, and aunties all celebrating side by side. You see thick thighs, stretch marks, and belly rolls glistening in the sun. And nobody cares. Everyone is there to feel joy.

That’s why Carnival has always been spiritual for me. It’s a release. It’s like “church”—just louder and with more feathers. Every year I play, I leave everything behind on the road: stress, heartbreak, frustration, fear. I dance it all out until I feel light again.

When I miss Carnival, I feel it in my spirit. It’s like a piece of joy I can’t replace anywhere else.

The Year I Almost Let Fear Win

This year, for the first time, I almost let my mind ruin it for me.

When I thought about wearing my costume, I noticed myself zeroing in on my body in a way I hadn’t before. My belly roll. My weight. The way the costume might fit differently now. I started comparing my body to my smaller self from years ago—the one who didn’t think twice about how she looked, who just put on her costume and hit the road.

For a moment, I caught myself getting stuck in that spiral. Picking myself apart. Wondering how I’d look in pictures. Thinking about who might be watching.

But then I had to stop and have a talk with myself.

I reminded myself that Carnival has never been about perfection. It’s about joy, freedom, culture, and connection. It’s about presence. And none of those things require a “perfect” body, or any specific type of body at all.

I told myself, “You already know you deserve joy in this body, too, so STOP IT.”

This body has carried me through everything—grief, growth, love, long days, entrepreneurship, laughter, and healing. It’s been my home through every version of me. It’s done its job every single day, even when I wasn’t kind to it.

And that reminder shifted something in me.

I wasn’t going to let doubt or insecurity take over what I love. I wasn’t going to stand on the sidelines in my own life, especially not at Carnival.

Stepping Onto the Road Anyway

The morning of Carnival was a whirlwind. Me, my sister and my friend all went to get our makeup professionally done and helped each other put on our intricate costumes. When I had my top and bottom on, I felt that twinge of discomfort again. But instead of letting it win, I said to myself, “You’re doing this anyway.”

And I did.

We put the rest of our costumes on and I danced. I laughed. I sang along to the music. I whined my waist in the middle of the road surrounded by thousands of people, most of whom were probably too busy having fun to notice what anyone else looked like.

The funny thing is, once I got moving, I forgot all about my insecurities. They didn’t disappear—they just stopped being the main focus.

The more I danced, the freer I felt.

The more I smiled, the more beautiful I felt.

The more I looked around at other women—each with their own stories, bodies, and insecurities—the more I realized we were all doing the same thing. We were showing up scared and doing it anyway.

None of Us Felt “Ready”

I played mas with my sister and one of my close friends. At some point, we started talking about what we each felt insecure about that day.

My friend said she was insecure about her back roll. My sister said she felt self-conscious about razor bumps on her bikini line.

None of us felt “ready.” None of us felt perfect. But we all showed up.

And that’s really what made it powerful.

We didn’t let our insecurities stop us from living. We didn’t wait to “fix” ourselves before we participated in something we love. We showed up exactly as we were, and that made the experience even more meaningful.

By the end of the day, we were sweaty, tired, glitter-streaked, and absolutely glowing. We laughed until our stomachs hurt. We ate good food, hugged strangers, and moved through the crowd like we belonged there—because we did.

Our weight, bumps, rolls, or scars didn’t keep us from feeling joy. The only thing that could have kept us from that experience was fear—and we refused to let that happen.

Doing It Scared

That’s the thing about confidence that people rarely talk about: it doesn’t show up first. Confidence doesn’t knock on your door and tell you, “Okay, now you’re ready.”

You build it by doing the uncomfortable thing. You gain confidence through action, not avoidance.

Every time you do something scared—something that pushes you, stretches you, or makes you nervous—you grow a little stronger. You prove to yourself that fear isn’t a wall; it’s a doorway.

This year, Carnival reminded me of that lesson in the loudest, most joyful way possible.

You don’t need to feel confident to put yourself out there. You just need to take the first step anyway.

What Carnival Really Gave Me

When I think back on that day, I don’t remember the self-conscious thoughts. I remember the rhythm of the music, the bass vibrating through my chest, the laughter, the smiles, the smell of food in the air, and the sea of color moving down the road.

I remember how good it felt to be surrounded by people celebrating life, freedom, and culture. I remember how light I felt by the end of it, like I had danced off every ounce of self-doubt and self-criticism I’d been carrying.

And that’s what Carnival always does for me, it brings me back home to myself.

It reminds me that I am allowed to take up space. That joy is not something I have to earn. That beauty doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from presence.

It’s a reminder that life is happening right now, not 30 pounds from now, not “once I feel confident,” not “when things are perfect.”

Right now.

If You’re Reading This and Struggling

If you’re reading this and there’s something you’ve been avoiding because you don’t feel ready… this is your sign.

Do it anyway.

Wear the outfit. Go to the event. Take the trip. Dance at the party. Start the project. Book the photoshoot.

You don’t need to shrink yourself to belong. You don’t need to be perfect to participate.

Fear will always whisper reasons why you shouldn’t, but the truth is, you’ll never find confidence by waiting for fear to disappear. You’ll find it by doing the thing that scares you, even while your hands shake.

You’ll look back one day and realize that you built your courage one small act at a time, one bikini, one bold choice, one dance at a time.

Choosing Joy

Carnival is my yearly reminder to choose joy on purpose. To let go of the baggage and focus on how I want to feel.

I want to feel free.
I want to feel alive.
I want to feel proud of the woman I am right now.

And that means doing it scared sometimes. That means showing up even when my body feels unfamiliar or my mind starts to spiral. Because the only way out of insecurity is through it.

When I stepped onto that road in Miami, I wasn’t the most confident version of myself, but I was the bravest.

And bravery is enough.

It always has been.

So wherever you are, whatever it is that’s been holding you back, I hope you do it anyway.

Because joy, freedom, and confidence aren’t waiting on the other side of perfection.
They’re waiting on the other side of fear.

And once you cross that line—even once—you’ll never forget how good it feels to dance in your own skin.