Dear Queenie,
I recently attended a funeral and left wondering if people came to mourn or audition for a fashion campaign. The outfits were unbelievable. Sequins. Designer labels. Dramatic hats. Full glam makeup in the midday sun. One woman arrived so overdressed I thought she had mistaken the funeral for a Carnival pageant launch. Then came the comparisons. People whispering about who repeated an outfit, whose wreath looked cheap, who “could have done better” for the repast, and who appeared to be “enjoying themselves too much.” At one point, more attention seemed to be going toward shoes and hairstyles than the person who had actually passed away. Maybe I am old-fashioned, but funerals used to feel more solemn. Now it feels like some people are treating grief as a social event with a dress code. Queenie, when did funerals become fashion competitions?—Came to Mourn, Stayed for the Runway Show
Dear Came to Mourn, Stayed for the Runway Show,
Funerals in the Caribbean have always been about more than grief. They are also community gatherings, family reunions, social occasions, and, whether people admit it or not, public presentation. This is not new. What has changed is the performance level. Social media, image culture, and the increasing pressure to “show up properly” have quietly transformed many funerals into carefully staged appearances. People are no longer just attending. They are being seen attending. So yes, the hats became larger. The shoes became shinier. And somewhere between the third outfit change and the catered repast, the line between mourning and presentation became blurry. Now, to be fair, dressing well for a funeral is not inherently disrespectful. In many Caribbean families, it is considered a sign of honor. People want to present themselves neatly for the deceased and the grieving family. The problem begins when appearance overtakes purpose. When the conversation becomes: who wore what, who spent what, who looked good, instead of: who was lost, who is grieving, and how the family is coping. That is when the event starts drifting from remembrance into spectacle. But here is the uncomfortable truth. Funerals often reveal exactly what communities value. And sometimes, communities value visibility more than reflection. So no, you are not imagining the shift. The runway energy is real. Just remember that among the sequins and side-eyes, there are still people quietly grieving. Focus on them. Not the woman balancing six-inch heels in cemetery gravel.—Queenie
