Aldrick Prospect

 The central character, Aldrick Prospect, can at times be placed firmly into a hegemonic type
of masculinity (Lewis 166). This, according to Connell, is an ideal or dominant form of
masculinity, based on strength and aggression and a degree of social status (78).
As the dragon master, Aldrick holds a position of respect in the Calvary Hill community. Every year,
in preparation for Carnival, he sews a new dragon costume that he wears on Carnival day to present
his “self that he lived the whole year” (Lovelace 44). He believes the costume provides him with a
link to his ancestors:
The making of his dragon costume was to him always a new miracle, a new test not only of
his
skill but of his faith… it was only by faith that he could bring alive from these scraps of cloth
and tin that dragon, its mouth breathing fire … It was in this message that he asserted before
the world his self. It was through it that he demanded that others see him, recognize his
personhood, be warned of his dangerousness. (35-36)

By bringing the costume to life, Aldrick’s sense of self is connected to the dragon, the dragon dance,
and on a broader scale, to Carnival. Preparing for and celebrating Carnival is instrumental to Aldrick’s
existence. It is his opportunity to be visible and to be heard. According to Martin, the Dragon role
originated in 1908 as a hellish illustration that was inspired by Dante’s The Inferno (225). The mask
corresponds albeit 2. metaphorically to the suffering endured by African slaves under the yoke
of slavery. As he dances through the streets, the costumed Aldrick frightens onlookers and delights
in their fear. His performance is a reclamation of the power lost by his ancestors but regained by
him via the fearsome mask he wears.

Aldrick also retains a sense of power through his rejection of the money offered by the Carnival
spectators. Traditionally, the offering of money was seen as a way to appease the Dragon’s wrath
and would occur “after the traditional climax of the Dragon dance…known as the crossing of the
water… when its passage was blocked by water in drains or gutters” (Harris 117). 3. But by
refusing to accept money for his performance, Aldrick assumes a position of moral superiority.
Although Carnival is controlled and commercialized, he will not be; instead he dances the Dragon
dance for the sheer pleasure of the act itself and what it symbolizes.

This philosophy of non-possession, to not succumb to a capitalist notion of payment for services or
ownership and the responsibility this entails, is another component of Aldrick’s identity as a resident
of Calvary Hill. Though a dragon, he is also “a hustler, working nowhere; and the only responsibility
he was prepared to bear now was to his dragon” (Lovelace 44). In conversation with his friend, the
calypsonian Philo, he says “You see me here. I is thirty-one years old. Never had a regular job in my
life or a wife or nutten. I ain’t own house or car or radio or race horse or store. I don’t own one thing
in this place, except that dragon there, and the dragon ain’t even mine. I just make it” (110).

At the end of each Carnival season, Aldrick discards the dragon costume. 4. By his very lifestyle, he
rejects those hegemonic notions of masculinity that call for a goal-oriented ideology (Lewis 168).
Yet, this is in line with the dominant thinking on the Hill which on its surface, despises all attempts at
material possession. There is almost an unspoken adage that to possess is to be possessed. For this
reason, Aldrick refuses not only material trappings, but also the prospect of a relationship with
Sylvia, the carnival princess.

5.Throughout the novel, Aldrick harbors feelings for Sylvia, a seventeen- year-old tenant of Calvary
Hill. However, these feelings prove problematic as they require him to consider the possibility of
disruption to his autonomy:
To him she was the most dangerous female person on the Hill, for she possessed, he
suspected, the ability not only to capture him in passion but to enslave him in caring, to
bring into his world those ideas of love and home and children that he had spent his whole
life avoiding. So he had watched her swing back and forth in the yard, not even wanting to
meet her eyes, keeping his distance, not even trying to get her into his bed, for he knew that
she could make him face questions that he had inoculated himself against by not working
nowhere, by not being too deeply concerned about anything except his dragon costume that
he prepared for his masquerade on Carnival day. (31)

But the more he distances himself from Sylvia, the more anguished he becomes. Sylvia harbors
romantic feelings for Aldrick, all but offering herself to him. Aldrick however feels that his economic
circumstances prohibit him from entering into a relationship. He is unable to reconcile his desire for
her with his dragon role. As he sees the face of Carnival changing all around him, Aldrick struggles
with his identity. He is afraid he has nothing to offer Sylvia, he is afraid she will possess him, and he is
equally afraid that his romanticized view of Carnival has left him unable to see the annual festival the
way he used to.

It is against this background of struggle with the self that leads Aldrick to ultimately find himself in
prison, serving a five-year sentence. Disappointed with the transformation of Carnival, he joins a
rebellion patrol, the Calvary Nine. In a reimagining of the 1970 Black Power uprisings in Trinidad,
Aldrick and some other men organize a short lived and poorly executed rebellion against the
authorities. Upon his release from prison, Aldrick makes up his mind to never again participate in the
Carnival with his dragon mask which he now sees as “a mere masquerade with no political, cultural,
or social significance” (195). Instead he gets a job as a sign painter and for the first time, approaches
Sylvia. His admonition to her that she “wants to be a self that is free” can also be viewed as self-
admonition. He asks her to reject the safety net of material security with Mr. Guy just as he has
rejected the security of his dragon costume. The novel concludes with the status of their relationship
somewhat unsure. However, the same cannot be said for Aldrick, who, now unmasked, is able to
rethink and renegotiate his identity outside of Carnival, but more importantly, outside his Carnival
costume:
Lovelace recognizes the necessity of veils but points to the saving virtue of being conscious
of one’s veils as veils, as well as to the dangers of allowing the veil to become a permanent
mask. For if the latter occurs, the self is denied; or else it becomes impossible either to begin
to know one’s self or to be known by other selves. (Ramchand 8)

Aldrick’s disillusionment with Carnival is shared by another character, the bad john, Fisheye.
“Notions of masculinity in the island of Trinidad are historically linked with the figure of the bad-
john” a term that is strongly associated with the yard or ghetto, an environment inhabited primarily
by lower class Afro Trinidadians (Ramchand 313).
Bad John, Fisheye
The bad-john is a warrior who rebels against any system that seeks to regulate his behavior or
control him. In the context of Carnival, both Dragons and Bad Johns are characters local men play.
While Aldrick performs an exaggerated manliness via his dragon costume, Fisheye does so through
physical violence. He finds himself through a “hyperactive virility displaying itself in all its pathology”
(Badinter 20). At nights when Fisheye lies restless, he has to “get up and go and burst a man head” in
order to make sure he is still himself” (Lovelace 50). His – like Aldrick’s – is a kind of hegemonic
masculinity defined by aggression but for him, every day is Carnival. In the same way that Aldrick
finds his identity through his participation in Carnival and his wearing of the dragon costume,
Fisheye’s identity has been shaped through his participation in the steelband. This according to
Lewis, is “yet another metaphor for the construction of masculinity” (175). His assertion is that
“the fashioning of melody in the crucible of steel drums, wooden sticks, rubber tips and fire,
constituted the alchemy through which young boys became men, and where they experienced their
‘manness’ and enacted their warriorhood” (175). Fisheye is therefore able to use the rivalry between
competing steelbands as a way to do battle:

In this war, in this army, Fisheye at last found the place where he could be a man, where his
strength and quickness had meaning and he could feel pride in belonging and purpose to his
living, and where he had all the battles he had dreamed of, and more, to fight. While he was
with them, Calvary Hill became a name to be respected. (Lovelace 54)

Fisheye and his band continually clash with other rival steelbands, the Bad John leading the way and
“entering bodily into the violence boiling in the guts of the city” (54). He is therefore disillusioned
when the warring steelbands make peace, as he finds himself a warrior without a war. Eventually
the band suspends him for his continuous fighting despite the truce that has been brokered. Without
his membership in the steelband, Fisheye’s life loses its sense of purpose. This is the catalyst for his
formation of the rebellion patrol which Aldrick joins. In many ways, Fisheye seems destined to
become the man he is. He comes from a family of men described as being good with their fists. His
father, a stickfighter turned preacher, taught Fisheye and his brothers to fight from an early age. This
leads to a conflation of intimidation and violence with masculinity. Through the stickfight or kalenda
which could be traced back to Guinea, there was a “psychological release of tensions; frustration
engendered by domination, and violent expressions of anger” (Liverpool 31-32). By the time Fisheye
arrived in the capital city of Port of Spain from Moruga in southern Trinidad, he was “at eighteen,
already too young, too strong, too eager to prove himself a man to have escaped the violence in
which men were tried and tested in that town” (Lovelace 62). Unlike Aldrick who donned his dragon
costume only during Carnival to discard it soon afterwards, Fisheye is never able to rid himself of
his violent tendencies. The violence and aggression of the steelband clashes permeate his personal
life; he is physically abusive to his girlfriends, son, and stepson. But Carnival is temporary and
Fisheye’s hypermasculinity needs a constant outlet. Like Aldrick, his disillusionment with the ‘new’
Carnival propels him to rebel. But unlike the dragon, there is no reformation for the Bad John at the
novel’s conclusion. While he brings himself to admit that being a bad John is a joke, “this business
of being bad,” that it is an “old long time thing” and that a man must “learn how to live,” he
represents the least progressive aspect of masculine identity (Lovelace 190). Having seen every day
as Carnival, he remains a warrior in need of something against which to fight. He struggles to come
to terms with the commodification and commercialization of steelbands and Carnival in general, a
transformation that leaves old warriors like himself, ostracized.
Philo
Carnival’s metamorphosis is fully embodied in the character of Philo in The Dragon Can’t Dance. Like
the dragon and Bad John, Philo’s identity is bound up in Carnival; he is a calypsonian. Calypso is a
musical genre that developed from African musical sources such as song commentary and ritual
music (Winer 116). According to Rohlehr, “the roots of the political calypso in Trinidad probably lie in
the African custom of permitting criticism of one’s leaders at specific times, in particular contexts,
and through the media of song and story” (2). Liverpool believes that the genre “was not the
descendant of any one particular form of song, but owed its origin to the numerous songs, rhythms
and dance traditions present in Trinidad during the time of African enslavement” (204). Like
Carnival, calypso emerged as a cultural art form that spoke to the plight of African descendants in
Trinidad, and the calypsonian’s role became even more important post Emancipation.

2 Calypso was therefore seen as a marker of identity, specifically an Afro-Caribbean identity as the
lyrics addressed issues relevant to each island, the Caribbean, and the larger Black diaspora. As the
self-proclaimed voice of the people, the calypsonian gave voice to the plight of the
underprivileged masses, enjoying a position of respect in the community.

This however is not the case with the character, Philo. He never receives the respect Aldrick does,
despite his full participation in Carnival. This is due in part to his physical appearance; he is “skinny,
ordinary and unmuscular” (229). In addition, he continues to pursue Miss Cleothilda, the former
Carnival queen, even after seventeen years of rejection. Labeled “a jackass in a jackass skin,” Philo,
unlike Aldrick and Fisheye, embodies a type of subordinated masculinity that according to Connell
is characterized by physical, and to an extent emotional weakness. At the age of forty-two, he
remains a struggling calypsonian who sings about social change but finds little to no commercial
success. This changes with his release of a sexually suggestive calypso titled “the Axe Man”.

Over the decades, a pattern has emerged wherein calypsonians release two types of calypsos during
Carnival: the social commentary that is mostly local (read national, regional or Black) in its focus, and
its more upbeat, less seriously themed counterpart. The bottom line is that the social commentary
calypso does not attract the kind of broad based and commercial popularity of the party calypso
(Best 31). Philo is tired of following calypso tradition since in his view, his songs about social change
and local politics have yielded neither success nor recognition. He pens “the Axe Man,” a song
about sexual bravado and prowess in which the Axe Man cuts down any tree in his way. The tree
is a metaphor for female sexuality, the Axe the man’s penis but more so, his ability to conquer any
woman. The song becomes hugely popular and Philo finds himself catapulted into a level of fame
and success that had previously eluded him.

He also finds himself alienated from his community who now view him as a traitor to the music and
to Carnival. By selling his song to foreign sponsors, he has also sold himself, another victim of the
continued commercialization and foreign influence on the local art form. And although he makes
genuine efforts to retain his position among the residents of Calvary Hill, he is shunned and
alienated leading him to ponder:

What did they want him to do? Continue to stand on the Corner watching people? What did
they want him to do? End up like his father singing and playing the Arse on Local Talent on
Parade? The show didn’t exist anymore…He had to move on, and they couldn’t, wouldn’t
leave the Corner… he had to get away, to move in larger area of space, to move, to move.
(Lovelace 232)

This movement is not only symbolic but literal. Philo relocates to the bourgeois neighborhood of
Diego Martin, further alienating himself by violating the norm of non-possession to which Aldrick
and other Calvary Hill residents subscribed. For a while, he plays the role of the dandy, and here
Lovelace presents readers “with a concept of masculinity filled with fantasy, sexual conquests and
material gain” (Lewis 181). But at the end of the novel, Philo returns to the Hill, welcomed not only
by his mates but even more symbolically, Miss Cleothilda. He releases another song, this one more
in line with his former social commentary, an act that can be seen as a kind of compromise. As a
calypsonian, he realizes that his music can work outside prescribed social boundaries of ethnicity,
race or nation, as does Carnival. He is therefore able to come to terms with his class background and
reconnect with his community, without fully abandoning or disparaging his newly gained affluence.
This navigation of a middle ground is not the all or nothing game that Aldrick and Fisheye play, which
is why Philo seems more at peace than the other principal male characters when the novel
concludes.

Pariag

Pariag, a character in Earl Lovelace's novel "Dragon Can't Dance," represents the
struggles and marginalization of the lower class in Trinidadian society. He is a
member of the "children's band," a group of young boys who participate in the annual
Carnival celebrations, often seen as a symbol of joy and freedom. However, Pariag's
experience reveals the harsh reality of poverty and social inequality in Trinidad.
Pariag's character also serves as a commentary on the effects of colonialism and
post-colonialism in the Caribbean. He is a descendant of Indian indentured laborers
brought to Trinidad by the British, and his experiences reflect the legacy of
exploitation and discrimination faced by these communities.
Through Pariag's story, Lovelace highlights the struggle for identity and cultural
preservation in the face of dominant Western influences. Pariag's love for his
traditional Indian dance, the tassa, is constantly threatened by the growing popularity
of the Western-influenced steel band. This reflects the larger tension between
preserving cultural traditions and assimilating into a dominant culture.
Pariag's eventual transformation into the "Dragon," a mythical creature in Carnival
celebrations, also symbolizes the loss of his sense of self and identity in the face of
societal pressures and expectations. His struggle to hold onto his roots and resist
assimilation is a powerful commentary on the erasure of indigenous cultures and
traditions in the Caribbean.
Overall, Pariag's character highlights the complexities and challenges faced by the
lower class in post-colonial Trinidad. He represents the struggle for social and
cultural autonomy in a society that often values Western ideals and marginalizes its
own history and traditions.

Sylvia

Sylvia is the seventeen-year-old daughter of Miss Olive and a resident of the Yard on
Cavalry Hill. She is already sexually experienced, “but she moved too fast for things
to penetrate her; they could only slide off her.” Sylvia is always moving quickly,
restlessly, from place to place. In Aldrick’s eyes, she is a victim of circumstances.
Sylvia, however, seems to think she is taking advantage of her beauty, using her
sexuality to pay the rent and persuade Mr. Guy to buy her Carnival costume. Though
she insists she “have no man,” Sylvia ends up in a relationship with Guy, and they
are to be married by the end of the novel. The older women in the Yard think it is
good for her because she will be settled down with a stable man, a city councilor,
who will give her a (materially) better life in Diego Martin. However, she also has
affairs with younger men on the side.
Though Sylvia is a character in her own right with her own subplot, she is also
regarded as symbolic by various men of the community. In her, Aldrick senses a
spirit of rebellion, a vivacity, hope for the future. When she dances on the way back
up the Hill as Carnival winds down, Aldrick has an epiphany: Sylvia, in “her rejoicing
dance,” her “cyclone of tears,” shows him how they should all live, and that makes
her more powerful than the dragon. For Philo, the calypsonian, she also represents
“a promise to life, which shone on the faces of some children, even through the fogs
of slums.” It is this “aura” that makes her “the most beautiful of anything.” While both
Aldrick and Philo agree that she represents this potent energy, both men also feel
the need to protect, guard, and take care of her because they both know that what
she possesses is fragile and could be squashed...

CLEOTHILDA AND SYLVIA FOIL

The effects of colonialism on the people of Calvary Hill are perhaps most readily
apparent when discussing race and colorism. The reader is presented with a very
clear foil between two women that discusses the role that race and colorism play in
the ability to assimilate and succeed in the post colonialist society. This foil is cast
between Sylvia and Miss Cleothilda. Both women, one freshly bloomed and the other
beginning to wither, stand on opposite sides of the spectrum of the neo-colonialist
construct. Seventeen year old girl Sylvia’s dark-skinned poise and innocence is a
physical representation of Trinidadian tradition, while Cleothilda’s mulatto stimulated
arrogance is representative of the assimilist ideal. This contrast is most evident in the
fact that Sylvia’s beauty subjects her to “inevitable whoredom” whereas Cleothilda’s
beauty grants her access to a supreme existence.
Sylvia’s character stands as a representation of the traditional Trinidadian woman.
The weight of this position is that her beauty is tied to the struggle she is doomed to
face, “she needed to perfect that unflinching steadiness and triumphant surrender
fitted for the whoredom that was
 Conclusion
With its roots in African cultures and expressions, Carnival remains an integral part of Caribbean
society. Emerging as it did in a society that had enslaved African peoples, Carnival was a symbol of
resistance, a means of giving voice to societal dissatisfaction, a way of masking/hiding and being
invisible, yet completely visible. It was therefore not surprising that it would be so instrumental in
shaping the identity of the Caribbean and its people. As seen in The Dragon Can’t Dance, Carnival
not only constructed the society but it also to some extent, constructed varying versions of
masculinity. The novel shows characters struggling to redefine themselves in an ever changing milieu
where outside forces threaten to undermine and devalue what for them has become a marker of
identity: the Carnival. Written in 1979, the novel was ahead of its time, its themes of identity
formation, negotiation and reevaluation still evident today in a region where men and women
continue to grapple with entrenched masculine heteronormative ideals. And even today, there are
dragons, Bad Johns, and calypsonians – each trying to find themselves as they are forced to
negotiate and compromise, all while seeking to remain true to the spirit of Lovelace’s novel, which is
ultimately, the spirit of Carnival.