The Language of Dress - Resistance and Accommodation in Jamaica, 1760-1890

The Language of Dress:
Resistance and
Accommodation in
Jamaica, 17601890
Steeve O. Buckridge
University of the West Indies Press
Language of Dress.qxd
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page i
The
Language
of
Dress
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page ii
This page intentionally left blank
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page iii
The
Language
of
Dress
Resistance and Accommodation

in Jamaica, 17601890
Steeve O. Buckridge
Foreword by Rex Nettleford

Jamaica Barbados Trinidad and Tobago
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page iv

1A Aqueduct Flats Mona
Kingston 7 Jamaica
www.uwipress.com
2004 by The University of the West Indies Press
All rights reserved. Published 2004
08 07 06 05 04
5 4 3 2 1
CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION DATA

Buckridge, Steeve O.
The language of dress: resistance and accommodation in
Jamaica, 17601890 / Steeve O. Buckridge; foreword by
Rex Nettleford
p. cm.
ISBN: 976-640-143-8
1. Clothing and dress Jamaica History 18th century.
2. Clothing and dress Jamaica History 19th century.
3. Dress Jamaica History 18th century. 4. Dress Jamaica
History 19th century. 5. Costume Jamaica History. I. Title.
GT667.B83 2004
391.009'7292
Cover illustration: I.M. Belisario, Queen or Maam of the Set Girls (c.1837).
From Sketches of Character in Illustration of the Habits, Occupations
and Costume of the Negro Population in the Island of Jamaica (Kingston,
Jamaica, 1837). Reproduced by courtesy of the National Library of Jamaica.
Cover and book design by Robert Harris.
E-mail: roberth@cwjamaica.com
Set in Adobe Garamond 11/14.5 x 25
Printed in the United States of America.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page v
To my mother, who taught me to serve God,

to reach for the stars and to love with all my heart!
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page vi
Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important
offices than merely to keep us warm. They change our view of the world,
and the worlds view of us. Thus, there is much to support the view that
it is clothes that wear us and not we them . . . they mould our hearts,
our brains, our tongues to their liking.
Virginia Woolf, Orlando
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page vii
Contents
List of Illustrations / viii

Foreword / x
Preface / xiii
Acknowledgements / xiv
1
2
3
4
Introduction
/ 1
The Crossing
16
Dress as Resistance
67
Dress as Accommodation
Conclusion
174
Appendix 1 / 195
Appendix 2 / 197
Notes / 199
Glossary / 232
Selected Bibliography / 240
Index / 260
111
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page viii
Illustrations
viii
1.1
The Linen Market
1.2
Metal buckles made by slaves
41
1.3
Bone buttons made by slaves
42
1.4
Laghetto or lace-bark branch
51
1.5
Preparing Lace Bark, Jamaica
53
1.6
A Piece of Prepared Lace Bark, Jamaica
1.7
West Indian Washer Women
1.8
Freed woman wearing lace-bark veil
1.9
Negro Mode of Nursing
1.10
Creole Negroes
2.1
The simple headwrap
2.2
Surinamese headwrap: Wacht me op de hoek
2.3
Surinamese headwrap: Feda let them talk
91
2.4
Four Girls
2.5
St Vincentian Villagers Merrymaking
2.6
Red Set Girls and Jack in the Green
2.7
Queen or Maam of the Set Girls
103
2.8
Koo, Koo or Actor Boy
3.1
The Romantic dress
3.2
Dress of the 1870s
120
3.3
Dress of the 1880s
120
3.4
Dress of the 1890s
121
3.5
King Street, Jamaica
41
53
55
/
56
58
61
/
89
/
92
/
/
105
119
130
93
101
90
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page ix
3.6
Harbour Street, Jamaica
3.7
Nathan, Sherlock & Co. Ltd, Metropolitan House,

Shoe Department / 132
3.8
Alfred Pawseys store advertisement
3.9
Nathan, Sherlock & Co. Ltd, Metropolitan House

Dress Goods / 133
3.10
Betty of Port Royal
3.11
Mrs Louis Verley
3.12
Fun day for a group of middle-class Jamaicans
3.13
Mrs A. Bush, middle-class Jamaican woman
3.14
A View of King Street
3.15
Washing Day on the White River
3.16
Nineteenth Century Negro Woman, Lydia Ann
3.17
G.M. Campbell and Servants, Spanish Town
3.18
Miss Josephine Gray
3.19
Miss Marie Gray
148
3.20
Jamaican woman in a stylish hat
3.21
Native Jippi-Jappa Hat Maker
150
3.22
Governor of the Leeward Islands
3.23
Nineteenth Century Negro Girl, Celia
3.24
A Negro Wedding in the Country
3.25
Native Wedding Party
3.26
Task Workers Breaking Stone by the Roadside
3.27
On the Way to Market
3.28
On the Road to Market
3.29
Jamaican Market Woman with Basket
4.1
Jamaican woman in separates
4.2
A fashionable lady
4.3
Mrs Maria Gray in European dress
/
/
131
132
135
136
139
140
144
141
/
143
/
145
162
148
149
/
/
153
/
159
160
161
163
/
163
/
164
179
180
/
182
Illustrations
ix
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page x
Foreword
To introduce his concluding chapter of this well-researched, engaging

and informative study of dress and its bipolar significance in Jamaica
under slavery and colonialism, Steeve Buckridge, the author, borrows
Anne Hollanders most apposite statement that [w]hen people put
clothes on their bodies, they are primarily engaged in making pictures of
themselves to suit their own eyes, out of the completed combination of
clothing and body.
The Language of Dress brings the reader up to date by way of comment and persuasive argument that Jamaicans in bondage and outside of
it have persisted in using clothes (dress) for purposes of identity and
even for masking, whether it be in a nineteenth-century festival art such
as Jonkonnu or in the late-twentieth-century rhythm and style of popular dancehall culture in which less is admittedly oftentimes more, if
only to resist the time-worn denigration of the black body. In either
case, such combination of clothing and body puts a great many
Jamaicans arguably among the worlds best dressed poor.
The books relevance at this time of publication is by no means
unconnected to that lingering preoccupation with dress in complete
combination with the body. The author successfully argues that such
preoccupation is a manifestation of the techniques of accommodation
and resistance, used separately and oftentimes simultaneously both for
survival in slavery and for self-definition in freedom.
From the books early journey to press, it seemed as though the
author had invoked clairvoyant powers in anticipating the heated debate
which followed later on the erection of the nude Redemption Song statues sculpted by Jamaican artist Laura Facey and placed at the entrance
of Emancipation Park, a new facility in midtown Kingston commemox
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xi
rating the full free emancipation in 1838 of slaves in Jamaica. The

Buckridge study, if it does nothing else, confirms the importance of
dress to African forebears in bondage and their Jamaican descendants in
freedom in affirming self, delineating identity, defying denigration, and
asserting self-dignity and pride so as to regain the paradise lost in a
process of dehumanization lost almost totally in past history while
continuing to be threatened with diminution in contemporary life.
The undressed statues excited the ire of many who were further
incensed by the stark nakedness that exposed the black males genitalia,
stereotypically deemed to be over-endowed. No less disturbing to many
are the fulsome mammary glands which, because they are life-giving, are
felt by protesters to be the black womans prerogative to have them covered (that is, dressed) even when minimally adorned in modern-day tasselled splendour or allowed to appear with a suggestive cleft between the
protuberation, as was evident in the low-cut full-skirted gowns of the
Victorian era which were adopted by Jamaican freed women in accommodation but no less in resistance to that enduring slave image indelibly imposed on newly emancipated persons by an ignominious past.
The book will provide much grist for the mill which is the discourse
on whether liberation from slavery (physical and mental) means, or
should mean, a new beginning, preferably in nudity, freed of the fabrics of servitude, which came in the form of coarse cotton rations of
cloth called osnaburgs or of hand-me-downs for church and festive wear
from the masters clothes closets in the great house, or whether liberation should celebrate the pre-slave existence of the enforced African
arrivants who, on the authors account, continued to nurture African
customs in dress, thus enabling them to maintain a vital cultural link
with their ancestral homeland and, in the process, to resist the institution of slavery which denied them basic human rights.
What is clear from this Buckridge study of the formation of Jamaican
creole society over time is that, as with what now exists as the intangible heritage of Jamaicas and indeed of all of Plantation Americas peoples of African ancestry, innovation and creativity were engendered
from the earliest of times as a means of self-affirmation and self-validation.
Such creativity and innovation apply to dress (from the variety of
coded head-ties to the skilful adaptations of European fashion) as much
as to such other creolized aspects of life as worship, orature, the performing arts (especially music and dance), family patterns and language.
Foreword
xi
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xii
As such, this volume is a valuable and welcome addition to the growing

literature on Jamaicas and the wider Caribbeans history and process of
becoming, and it should be required reading for all who have an interest in Caribbean history and cultural studies.
Rex Nettleford
xii
Foreword
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xiii
Preface
This study was inspired by my experiences growing up in Jamaica. The

world of my childhood was populated by strong women who shared stories of their own struggles and of my ancestors resilience and determination to create both a better life for their family and a space for
themselves within the male-dominated society. For instance, Theresa
Green, a woman huge in stature, owned her own business and was a
boxer in her community. Theresa won every match and was happy to
beat (literally) any man who dared to challenge her to a fight. GangGang raised cattle and became famous for climbing tall trees a habit
she maintained well into old age. These stories showing that women
were capable of mastering any job as well as any man shaped, sustained
and nourished me. More important, they shaped and sustained my
mother and grandmother, who, like so many others, refused to be marginalized. Instead they relied on their inner strength and their own history to get them through lifes daily challenges.
In many cultures, it is customary for individuals to save a particular
garment that is symbolic of an event. Some women save their wedding
dresses. Others may keep a garment with religious and symbolic significance, such as a baptismal or christening outfit. These garments are
usually passed down from one generation to the next. My mother saved
her childrens baby clothes, a habit that my siblings and I found strange
and at times embarrassing. On my visits home, my mother would
retrieve the garments from a plastic bag, which was carefully hidden in
her closet. She would lay out the clothes meticulously, then would indicate as she went along which garment I had worn at age one, two and
so on. The clothes were discoloured with age but had otherwise
remained surprisingly intact. On one occasion, when I asked why she
xiii
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xiv
did this, my mother replied, Because it is your history! My mother had

long known the importance of material culture and the function of dress
as a historical artefact. Her words stuck with me, though it was not until
years later, when I embarked upon this study, that I came to understand
their meaning.
I also realized that many Jamaicans, like my mother, are fascinated
with dress and obsessed with style. From the uptown ladies in cutwork
linen suits and the Rastas in bright colours to the dancehall queens in
glitter and the ghetto fab ladies in body tights, the Jamaican body performs as a canvas that both transforms and is transformed. As a result,
the body politics of dress is a narrative, or a script, about style. The
discipline of material culture studies enables us to comprehend this narrative and to see that Jamaican black people have long used dress to
make a statement. In the process old paradigms are challenged and new
ones created, as in the case of dancehall in contemporary Jamaican popular culture.
This book is not a descriptive overview of fashion. It is about the use
of dress to create a space to conform, confront and contest. On another
level, this study is a return to my roots and a look at how the past has
shaped the present. It is also a celebration of Jamaican womens contribution to the struggle for freedom and their ability to create a space for
themselves in an oppressive society. I share this work of history as a testament to my love for, and gratitude to, all Jamaican women who struggled to survive and in the process left a rich legacy of hope and solidarity.
xiv
Preface
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xv
Acknowledgements
There is an old Jamaican proverb, one-one coco full basket, which

means that the contributions of each person, no matter how small, will
lead to a bountiful harvest. An acknowledgement is a testament to this
truth. I thank Claire Robertson for her guidance, mentoring and
encouragement. I also wish to extend my sincere appreciation to Dr
Leila Rupp, Dr Ahmad Sikainga and Dr Gwendolyn ONeal for their
intellectual support during the early stages of this project.
My deep appreciation to the staff and faculty of the Ohio State
University History Department and the graduate school for their help
throughout my years there as a student. I am grateful to the CIC,
GSARA and the Elizabeth Gee Fellowship Foundations for supporting
my doctoral studies. The Ford Foundation provided me with a post-doctoral fellowship that allowed me to spend a year in Jamaica at the
University of the West Indies. This permitted me to study, research and
write in a way that would otherwise not have been possible. I am proud
to be a Ford fellow and I thank the staff at the National Research
Council, which administers the grant, for their support and assistance.
My research has benefited immensely from the superb service and
expertise of the administrative staff, archaeologists, archivists and librarians at the following institutions, the University of the West Indies
Library and West Indies Collection, the National Archives of Jamaica,
the Jamaica Heritage Trust at Port Royal, the Institute of Jamaicas
Natural History Division and Museums of History and Ethnography;
and the National Library of Jamaica. Special mention must be made of
archivist Racquel Stratchan, librarians Mrs Eppie Edwards, Mrs Francis
Salmon, Mrs Ouida Lewis, Ms Pat Dunn and Ms Valerie Francis, who
always went the extra mile to assist me. I will always be indebted to them
xv
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xvi
for their patience and assistance during my field research. Thanks to Mr

Lawrence Nelson, head of research, and Mr DOwen Grant, botanist
and senior forester, at the Jamaica Forestry Department. My thanks also
to the staff in the Office of the Governor General at Kings House and
Mona Information Systems. My deep appreciation to Dr David Boxer
of the National Gallery of Jamaica, who welcomed me into his home
and shared his love of art and photography with me. Thanks also to Mr
Michael T. Gardner, Dr John Campbell, Dr Susan Mains, Mr David
Johns and the staff at Photo Express for their assistance with photographs. I am particularly grateful to Dr George Proctor and Mrs Tracy
Commock, director and botanist of the Natural History Division at the
Institute of Jamaica for their kindness and courtesy. I am thankful for
my friends at Long Mountain House for their support, and to Ashie and
his peers at City Guide for providing me with superb transportation
service to and from the archives.
I am intellectually indebted to Professor the Honourable Rex
Nettleford, vice chancellor of the University of the West Indies, for his
continued support and mentoring over the years. His insight and
knowledge continue to mould and shape me, and for this I will always
be thankful. My deep appreciation as well to the staff in the Office of
the Vice Chancellor, especially Ms Eula Morgan, and the staff in the
Housing Office, particularly Mrs Merita Dunkley and Ms Valrie
Buckley, who were always generous with their time and attention to my
comfort and needs. Dr Olive Lewin, director of the Jamaica Folk
Singers, and Mrs Muriel Whynn, of the Moore Town Maroons, were
kind enough to share their ideas and stories with me. Many thanks to
Professor Carolyn Cooper for sharing her love of African dress and textiles. Mrs Shirley Lindo-Pennant introduced me to the Accompong
Town Maroons, who opened their hearts to me and taught me much
about my culture. I thank them.
I am indebted, as well, to Professor Verene Shepherd for her guidance
and friendship, Professor Patrick Bryan, Dr Swithin Wilmot, and the
staff, faculty, and students of the History Department at the University
of the West Indies for their help and suggestions and for making me feel
so welcome during my fellowship year. Ms Vanessa Ellis and Mrs
Michele Bartley in the Department of History were willing to assist me
with technical challenges whenever necessary. Many thanks to a true
pioneer in the field of Jamaican dress, Ms Glory Robertson, for her
encouragement. Heartfelt gratitude to Professor Barry Higman, the
xvi
Acknowledgements
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xvii
Jamaica Historical Society and the members of the Association of

Caribbean Historians who offered valuable advice on this project during
the 1998 conference in Suriname, and to those who made suggestions
during the history seminars at Mona during my tenure. I wish to
acknowledge Mrs Linda Speth and her staff at the University of the West
Indies Press for their dedication to this project, and for navigating me
through the publication process.
I thank the staff of the Kingston and St Andrew Corporation Markets
Company Limited who assisted me in my research, particularly market
consultant Mr Michael Webb and the manager of the Coronation
Market, Ms Sandra Bullock. I am most grateful to all the market women
who were so generous with their time and knowledge. There were many
others with whom I have shared conversations and correspondence, and
whose responses and suggestions helped me in this study.
I appreciate the support and assistance from Dr Priscilla Kimboko
and Ms Valorie Frank who helped to set up my fellowship account, and
from my chair, Dr James Smither, Jon Jellema, dean of the Faculty of
Arts and Humanities, and all my colleagues and friends in the
Department of History and across campus at Grand Valley State
University. My sincere thanks to the faculty and staff of Grand Valley
State University Library, especially Jill Reyers. Finally, I would like to
acknowledge my friends who helped to make this journey easier, my
teachers who enlightened me, and my family members, particularly the
women who both inspired and moulded me. I thank them for their
prayers, their unbounded support, and most of all, their unconditional
love that nourished and sustained me throughout the years.
Acknowledgements
xvii
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page xviii
This page intentionally left blank
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 1
Introduction
Material culture is made up of tangible things crafted, shaped, altered and

used across time and across space. It is inherently personal and social, mental and physical. It is art, architecture, food, clothing, and furnishing. But
more so, it is the weave of these objects in the everyday lives of individuals
and communities.
Simon J. Bronner, American Material Culture and Folklife
Material Culture and Dress as Jamaican History

Many scholars do not read objects as they read books, as a means of
comprehending the people and the times that created the objects.
However, the study of material culture seeks to change this by exposing
material evidence to historical analysis. Material culture is the study of
human-made physical objects, or artefacts, in social settings, to understand the beliefs, values, ideas, attitudes and assumptions of a particular
community or society at a given time. It enables us to understand the
meanings of texts and to highlight the social and cultural history embedded in them.1
It is not my intent to establish the primary importance of objects as
opposed to documents, but to show that objects are parallel to written
materials. As Henry Glassie has appropriately stated, For too long historians have left out vast realms of experience that do not fit into words
at all, that can only be shaped into artefacts.2 The study of material culture includes the analysis of a spectrum of objects from the use of
space to something as simple as a teapot, photograph or a chair in ones
home. Material culture is especially important for studying individuals
1
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 2
who left no written records. In the Caribbean, for example, written narratives generated by enslaved people do exist. Many enslaved Africans
wrote important treatises, dictated autobiographical accounts, presented
critical oral testimony to commissions of inquiry and assisted in or made
arrangements for the publication of their opinions and experiences,
which form part of the Caribbean tradition. Yet, unlike other
Caribbean territories where slave narratives do exist such as the works
of Mary Prince, Olaudah Equiano and Esteban Montejo, and letters by
Dolly Newton and Jenny Lane no such texts or letters have been
found in Jamaica so far.3 Scholars have had to resort to colonial and
official documents and planters journals for a picture of enslaved peoples lives. However, material culture can be most useful in this regard,
because it promises to fill the gaps in our knowledge of slaves lives, and
in the process make significant contributions to the field of Caribbean
history.
Material culture facilitates new methods of exploration and interpretation by analysing the material objects of those who left no written
records. Henry Glassie has stated that without material culture, we
would miss the profound wordless experience of these people.4 As a
consequence, material culture allows us to give voice to the voiceless; it
enables us to see objects as a form of visual literacy that can be read. It
differs from archaeology in that many archaeologists disengage themselves from the study of belief, the province of cultural anthropology,
and even more from aesthetics, the province of art history. Material culture in this respect can be described as an object-based branch of cultural
history.5
The use of material culture along with documents can be most useful to historians. Cultural historians Steven Lubar and W. David
Kingery point out that the artefact-document dichotomy is in many
ways false. Although historians traditionally use documents rather than
artefacts or objects, documents are a species of artefact, and some historians, mostly palaeographers, make use of the document as artefact.
Further, artefacts are remnants of the environment of earlier periods, a
portion of the historical experience available for direct observation. Not
only do artefacts present new evidence to support historical arguments,
they also suggest new arguments and provide a level of rhetorical support to arguments that mere documents cannot begin to approach.
Kingery argues that artefacts, especially when used in conjunction with
the kind of history gleaned from documentary sources, widen our view
2
The Language of Dress
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 3
of history as they increase the evidence for historical interpretations.6 In

this study, the artefact that is used along with written sources is dress.
This is a study of how dress, as part of the material culture of enslaved
and freed women, functioned as a symbol of both resistance to slavery
and accommodation to white culture in pre- and post-emancipation
Jamaican society, 17601890. This project illuminates the complexities
of accommodation and resistance, showing that these responses were not
opposites but were interwoven. Nor were these responses confined to
any specific period. Instead, they reflect a pattern throughout Jamaican
history, a continuum that began on the shores of Africa and has continued into the present. This analysis will enhance our knowledge of the
African diaspora and its impact on the lives of African women, while the
focus on dress will stimulate further scholarly work on womens material
culture and the role of women in Caribbean history.
This study not only reveals the dynamics of race, class and gender in
Jamaican colonized society but also examines the relations between dress
and the body, and the use of the clothed body as a means of cultural
expression and performance art. This is not a study of fashion but rather
an analysis of how dress narrated style, or the space where one could
conform, contest, confront and resist. I argue that African slave women
and their descendants in Jamaica had some control over their clothing,
and that they were able to maintain and nurture expressive African cultural characteristics in their dress as a means of survival. Emancipation
brought major changes in dress customs, from more African modes to
more European-influenced styles that accompanied greater possibilities
for social mobility. My findings are not definitive, but they suggest how
dress, as an artefact and a part of material culture, can be used to communicate various aspects of womens lives within the Jamaican plantocracy.
Social historians Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Eicher define
dress as an assemblage of modifications of the body and/or supplements
to the body.7 We can, then, assert that dress includes many forms of
adornment: hairstyles; coloured, dyed or bleached skin; pierced ears;
scented breath as well as garments; jewellery; accessories; and other
modifications of and items added to the body. From this perspective, the
term dress is most appropriate for this study. The term apparel has serious limitations in that it does not include body modifications, whereas
the term costume implies an out-of-the-ordinary social role or activity.
Consequently, the latter term is avoided except in relation to carnival
Introduction
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 4
dress. The term fashion is used occasionally, to refer to the actual style of
a garment. Fashion and dress should not be confused, however, because
the term fashion lacks the precision of the word dress. Furthermore, not
all types of dress qualify as fashion. Religious dress, for example, in some
societies, resists fashion changes.8 In this study, the term dress is used
instead of garment or apparel because neither of these terms is technically
correct, nor are they as comprehensive or inclusive as the term dress.
How does one analyse dress, and what do material culturalists look
for in such artefacts? Cultural historian Jules David Prown informs us
that the objective of a cultural historian is to investigate the beliefs of
individuals and of groups of individuals. He argues that there are surface
beliefs, of which people are aware and which they express in what they
say, do and make, and there are also beliefs that are hidden or submerged. A cultural analyst wants to get at hidden beliefs, at what lies
under the surface, behind the mask of the face.9 The ability to get
behind the mask allows the analyst to establish a footing in the subjects
culture. Clifford Geertz describes this as an opportunity to converse,
rather than merely talk, with ones subjects.10
Unmasking the face can present problems. The cultural analyst tries
to understand another culture whose pattern of beliefs and mindset are
different from our own. Our own beliefs and mindset bias our view. It
is essential to try to approach the other culture in an unbiased manner,
at least while we gather data. This is the great promise of material culture. By pursuing cultural interpretations through artefacts, we engage
the other culture in the first instance, not with our minds, the seat of
our cultural biases, but with our own senses. Metaphorically speaking,
we put ourselves into the bodies of the individuals who made or used
these particular artefacts; hence, we see with their eyes and touch with
their hands. To identify with people from the past or from other places
empathically, through the senses, is clearly a different way of engaging
them than abstractly, through the reading of written words. Prown adds
that instead of our minds making intellectual contact with their minds,
our senses make effective contact with their sensory experience.11 I
have tried to do this here to capture the experiences of Jamaican
enslaved women by making contact with their own experiences. I focus
not merely on the reality of these experiences but, as Joan W. Scott
explains, on trying to understand the operations of the complex and
changing discursive processes by which identities are ascribed, resisted,
or embraced.12
4
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 5
Caribbean Historiography and Dress

We miss the profound wordless experience of all people when we concentrate
exclusively on texts made out of language.
Henry Glassie, Studying Material Culture Today
Early historiography on Caribbean slavery was Eurocentric and often

depicted a complacent male slave. For example, in 1928 Lowell Ragatz
remarked, The West Indian Negro [slave] had all the characteristics of
his race. He stole, he lied, he was simple, suspicious, inefficient, irresponsible, lazy, superstitious, and loose in his sexual relations.13 Gender
was not an issue, and enslaved women were rarely mentioned. Since
1970, there have been major developments in the study of slave resistance and rebellion. Studies by Monica Schuler, Michael Craton, Barry
Gaspar, Richard Hart, Hilary Beckles, Barry Higman and Brian Moore
have filled crucial gaps in our knowledge about organized slave revolts
and resistance.14 In addition, Gad Heuman has carried out important
research on marronage and slave runaways.15
The rise of gender studies and womens history in Britain and
America in the late 1970s to 1980s became a way for women to tell their
herstory and to establish women and gender as categories for historical analysis within many historiographies and, in the process, engender history. This investigative process at first involved primarily the role
of white women within the cult of domesticity. While white women
became the focus of attention, slave, freed and black women remained
voiceless and invisible. Early scholarly work on women slaves focused on
the US South, represented in studies by Elizabeth Fox-Genovese,
Darlene Clark Hine and Kate Wittenstein, and Deborah Gray White.16
Meanwhile, Arlette Gautier produced a comprehensive study of women
slaves in the French Caribbean.17
The pioneering works on women and gender relations in Jamaica and
the British Caribbean include those by Lucille Mathurin Mair, Hilary
Beckles, Barbara Bush, Marietta Morrissey, Janet Momsen, Verene
Shepherd, Patricia Mohammed, and, more recently, Brian Moore, Barry
Higman, Carl Campbell and Patrick Bryan.18 Lucille Mathurin Mairs
monograph The Rebel Woman in the British West Indies During Slavery
has inspired new scholarship that focuses on the contributions of
Introduction
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 6
African slave women and their descendants to resistance in the British

Caribbean.19
The analysis of dress as part of material culture studies was built on
the early works of anthropologists and undertaken by art historians,
social psychologists and social historians such as Mary Ellen RoachHiggins and Joanne Eicher and Anne Hollander.20 Some of the most
challenging recent work on dress has been produced by American and
British scholars of feminist cultural studies such as Juliet Ash and
Elizabeth Wilson and Shari Benstock and Suzanne Ferris.21 Many of
these analyses focused on marginalized social groups such as women,
gay men and lesbians, and ethnic minorities in the context of latetwentieth-century capitalism. These studies concentrated on the repressive and restrictive powers of dress and on fashion as a commodity.
Social scientists, social historians and cultural historians, however, examined dress and its reflection of the relations between social groups in
industrial societies.22 While some scholars, such as bell hooks,23 explored
dress in contemporary popular cultures, others began to investigate slave
dress, hairstyles, headwraps, and church hats, to gain some understanding of their impact on the daily lives of Africans and their descendants
and of how dress was used to construct individual and social identities.
Early studies on slave dress focused on the US antebellum South and
included works by, among others, Eugene Genovese, Gerilyn Tandberg,
Sally Graham Durand, Helen Bradley Griebel and, more recently, Helen
Bradley Foster.24
Although there is a good deal of interest in the fields of literary and
cultural studies in contemporary Jamaican dress, such as Rastafarian and
dancehall fashions, the analysis of dress in Caribbean historiography has
been limited. Some pivotal works on slave dress include those by
Edward Kamau Brathwaite, Michael Craton, Barry Higman, Roderick
McDonald and, more recently, Steeve Buckridge.25 In addition, Glory
Robertson, Patrick Bryan and Carol Tulloch have enlightened us about
post-emancipation customs in dress.26 Other writers such as Joseph
Moore and Edward Seaga have examined Afro-Jamaican religions and
their ceremonial dress.27 In more recent years, Rex Nettleford, Judith
Bettelheim, Richard Burton and Hilary Beckles, among others, have
enriched our knowledge of carnival dress and masquerade as satirical revelry.28 But more scholarship is needed for analytical discourse on the
material culture of Caribbean enslaved people and on dress as artefact.
This study is the first of its kind in British Caribbean historiography that
6
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 7
focuses exclusively on the dress of colonized women, both slave and freed,
and examines dress as a symbol of resistance and accommodation.
African slaves in the Caribbean participated in resistance and accommodation activities that were vital to their survival in a society that
sought to dehumanize them for the purpose of exploitation. Numerous
studies have shown that slaves resisted enslavement in many ways. Some
resistance activities were blatant, like rebellions, while others were subtle, like feigned stupidity. Some forms of resistance were based on the
notions of accommodation and adaptation in that accommodation in
itself was a form of resistance. Accommodation in this respect was part
of a subtle and complex survival strategy and adaptive mechanism.
Similar adaptive mechanisms included submission, degradation and
self-hatred. These forms of resistance have been under-represented in
recent studies. Historian Sidney Mintz has argued that adaptive mechanisms like accommodation cannot be ignored because they reflected
complicated processes of culture change and retention that must be
analysed. He maintained that to dismiss them as a lack of desire or will
to resist on the part of slaves is tantamount to the denial of creative
energies to the slaves themselves.29
Yet slaves were very creative, and this study illuminates one aspect of
their creativity their use of dress for cultural expression and to make a
political statement. It should not be assumed that accommodation as a
resistance strategy was ineffective or that it masked the reality of slaves
lives. Caribbean slavery was brutal; and even though it failed to completely deculturate and dehumanize African slaves, the atrocities committed against African people cannot be denied. Subtle resistance
strategies like accommodation mirrored slaves intelligence and their
ability to create delicate balances in their resistance efforts. The fact that
Africans and their descendants in the Caribbean survived is an affirmation of the effectiveness of these strategies.
Caribbean historiography needs to develop a theoretical framework
for the study of dress and material culture. This theory must be relevant
to and reflective of the conflicts, struggles, experiences and realities of
Caribbean people. Such a development will allow Caribbean historians
to join various scholars studying material culture in other parts of the
world and stimulate new and exciting debates in the field. It will enable
us to address crucial questions and develop more understanding of the
use of dress and the body within the social, economic and political contexts of Jamaican and Caribbean society, both past and present.
Introduction
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 8
For instance, we need to know why dress is so politicized and divisive

during Jamaican electoral campaigns, creating opposing camps of green,
orange, and more recently blue. How did dress articulate differences,
and empower women, within the plantation complex and the colonial
state at large? Is there a relation between patriarchy and the Caribbean
womans dress, and how does the masculine gaze interpret and construct black femininity? Does dress, as social reproduction, represent
and authenticate social categories? What is the role of dress in social
activities such as drama and dance? What are the relations between
dress, the body and sexuality as reflected in the symbolic link between
white cloth and virginity? Is there a connection between dress and the
diseased, as well as tortured, body? Why is it that the term blood klaat
(blood cloth), once used in association with womens menstrual flow, has
become part of Jamaican cuss vocabulary and an abusive, profane term
used predominantly by Jamaican men? We also need to address whether
dress reflects the interconnectedness of cultural systems, and whether an
understanding of dressing across social boundaries or cross-dressing is
essential to understanding culture and resistance. How did ethnic
minorities dress customs influence the Jamaican people, and what influence did ideological and political movements, such as the Afrocentric
movement and nationalism, have on Jamaican dress and the emergence
of a national costume? Do clothes and the dressing of the human body
have potency in other words, can dress be used as a channel to communicate with the spirits in private and public rituals?30
It is important to note that dress played many roles in slave society
besides cultural resistance and as a means of accommodation. In fact,
dress was closely linked to Afro-Jamaican religions and traditional medicine. For instance, among the Revival Zionists, their officers, among
them the wheeling shepherds and shepherdesses,31 wear distinctive long
gowns of specific colours and kerchief-tied turbans for different types of
ceremonies. A blue gown is worn when invoking individual spirits, and
a white gown for a secret working in purity.32 In obeah, priests or priestesses (commonly called obeah men or women) wear red flannel shirts or
a crosspiece of red under their ordinary clothes and, sometimes, gold
earrings. The gold is said to brighten their eyes so they can see duppies
(ghosts).33
Traditional African medicine was used for several things apart from
healing, such as protection and the harming or killing of enemies.34
These practices involved herbs and sometimes objects that had been
8
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 9
physically close to a particular person, including items of dress. Personal

effects, therefore, had to be carefully disposed of or put away lest they
fall into an enemys hands.35 In Jamaica, for example, among some obeah
followers, it was believed that burning certain clothing would take off
the owners skin. In some parts of the island, it was believed that sewing
a button on a garment while wearing it could bring about the wearers
death, since this activity was normally done only on dead bodies.36 In
Jamaica, like many other Caribbean countries, people still believe that
putting a red chemise or a red ribbon on a newborn will keep away evil
spirits.
The religious uses and significance of clothing deserve in-depth
attention that is beyond the scope of this study. In this text I am concerned with the secular legacy of African cultural characteristics;
Africanisms expressed in Jamaican slave womens dress; the functions
that dress performed in slave society, such as resistance and accommodation; and the role dress played as a marker of class distinction, status,
occupation, feminine beauty and gender relations. I also analyse how
dress changed after emancipation and the significance of these changes
specifically, why did large numbers of Jamaican women adopt
European dress? Moreover, I explore the reciprocity of fashion trends
between classes and races, and the fashion synthesis that emerged in
Jamaican society.
Terminology and Organization

A word on terminology regarding racial and cultural categories is advisable. Jamaican society was divided into three main castes during the
period of this study: whites, coloureds and Africans.37 Whites in this
context referred to people from Europe or of unmixed European descent
in Jamaica, mainly English, Scots and Irish. This group also included
locally born whites. The second caste, the coloured, consisted of all people of African and another ancestry. In the United States all persons of
African ancestry, of whatever degree, were categorized as Negro, or
black. Miscegenation in Jamaica gave rise to gradations of coloureds: a
sambo was the child of a mulatto and Negro; a mulatto was the child of
a white person and a Negro; a quadroon was the child of a mulatto and
a white person; and a mustee was the child of a quadroon and a white
person. The more common term for this caste was mulatto. Any slave or
Introduction
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 10
free person of colour could be termed mulatto, brown or yellow. Some

coloureds had special privileges granted by private acts. The third group
were Africans and their descendants. Whites used two kinds of generalizations for this group, Negro and slave; the terms were synonymous
until abolition.38
More recently, the debate on terminology has led to several new terms
in Caribbean historiography. Some scholars now use the following
terms, among others: enslaver instead of planter or master; enslaved or
enslaved person rather than slave; and post-slavery instead of post-emancipation. The classification and organization of individuals in this
respect is necessary if one is to comprehend how the institution of slavery functioned and to grasp the dynamics of the power relations between
the various groups involved. Some of the newer terms can be stylistically
cumbersome and convoluted, depending on the context in which they
are used. Nonetheless, their proponents argue that using terms like
enslaver and enslaved prevents an essentialist reading of slave and places
the blame of enslavement squarely on the planter and slave owner. This
rationale is indeed valid; however, we should also keep in mind that the
terms are not perfect and can be problematic in certain contexts. The
term enslaver, for instance, is very broad in definition; it implies homogeneity among slave owners and those who were involved in the enslavement of Africans, thus masking the diverse occupations and economic
interests of those involved. Participants in the enslavement of human
beings included ships captains, planters, bankers, and many others.
I have chosen to use some of these new terms. Throughout the first
part of this study, I use the terms slave and African for those from Africa
and of African ancestry living in Jamaica, rather than the term black,
which has an ahistorical twentieth-century American connotation. The
term slave is used to identify Africans status within the plantation economy, while the term enslaved is also used to evoke a sense of the harsh
realities of the slave experience in the diaspora. For the same period, the
term coloured is used in reference to slaves and freed persons of mixed
ancestry. In the second section, on the post-slavery era, I use the terms
ex-slave and freed persons, which makes sense to a certain point. These
eventually give way to socio-economic categories based on the old tripartite racial division of slavery upper class (white), middle class
(coloured/mulatto) and working/labouring/peasant class (African).39
The term Afro-Jamaican is also used to describe the peasant and labouring classes. These groups are discussed further in the text. The term black
10
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 11
is used mainly in the final chapter in regard to contemporary situations,

as it has become increasingly popular in Jamaican society. During the
colonial era, Jamaican racial categories were more complex and fluid.
Whites may have seen themselves as one group set apart from all others,
but all those of African descent were not in the same category in their
own view.
The subjects of this study are slave and freed women, and their
descendants, who lived in British colonial Jamaica and were African or
of African ancestry. The key term resistance is used in its broadest sense
to mean the ability to strive against, oppose, refrain or abstain from, as
well as to make efforts in opposition. Accommodation means to embrace
or to adopt and use as ones own; this term is used interchangeably with
acculturation. These terms are more appropriate in this context than the
term assimilation.40
This study focuses on Jamaica because of the abundance and availability of sources on dress. The style and organization employed here are
intended to appeal to a wide audience beyond the academic community,
while the start and end dates for this study were determined by the data
collected. Extensive sources on slave dress before 1760 are scarce,
whereas the analysis of dress through to the end of the 1890s enables
some understanding of the transformations in dress customs from slavery to freedom. The period after abolition to the end of the nineteenth
century was one of expanding consumerism and an increase in the value
placed on material acquisition. There were also a plethora of new commodities, greater access to them for everyone, and vast amounts of retail
sales, never before seen in Jamaica. I have chosen to focus attention on
women rather than men (or both) because women, over time and across
many cultures, have been the ones primarily responsible for the production, maintenance and care of clothing.41 This practice was maintained
within the slave community and continues to the present. Despite this,
there is some reference to men and their clothing because the lives and
dress customs of Jamaican colonized women can be understood only
within the context of their relationships with other racial groups and
with their menfolk.
The interdisciplinary nature of this study is heightened by the use of
primary and secondary sources, derived not only from history and
womens studies but also from anthropology, social psychology, folklore,
cultural studies, archaeology, and textiles and clothing. Particular attention has been paid to journals and travel records that reflect changes in
Introduction
11
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 12
dress over time and include sketches and descriptive accounts of slave
and freed womens dress. Written sources are used in combination with
illustrations, photographs and paintings of slave and freed women by
artists of the period, such as Adolphe Duperly and I.M. Belisario. The
earthquake of 1907 and the great fire that followed destroyed the principal photography studios of the period, along with many nineteenth-century photographs and their negatives, so photographs of freed womens
dress in the late post-emancipation era are rare.42 Nevertheless, the few
from the period included here are examined in detail. I have also created
several illustrations based on my interpretation of the data collected.
These sources are supplemented with an analysis of artefacts of slave
dress found during various archaeological digs.
Oral history obtained during field research is employed where possible. This information is the result of open-ended interviews about dress
conducted with Jamaican folklorists, folk musicians, Maroons and market women about Jamaican dress. Other oral sources used include stories and slave songs related to dress that were recorded and preserved. I
have also incorporated some of my own experiences and observations
from growing up in Jamaica. Jamaican proverbs and songs in patois are
included as a means of evoking the folk sensibilities of my subjects.
Likewise, quotations from various writers serve as a useful frame for my
argument. Although I have used various methods and sources to
uncover some aspects of slave womens use of dress, this study is by no
means exhaustive. At times I have had to generalize from specific examples because of the lack of evidence and the absence of slave testimony.
The book is divided into four chapters, which reflect a diversity of
theoretical, comparative and interdisciplinary approaches to the study of
colonized womens dress. The first chapter, The Crossing, explores the
role of dress in African societies and its use as a communicative tool.
This analysis of African womens dress within the African context is crucial to understanding why dress played such an important role in
Jamaican slave society. I examine how African women dressed in their
homelands and the cultural characteristics, especially those regarding
dress, that were brought across the Atlantic to the Americas. The second
part of the chapter looks at how the new arrivals adapted to their new
environment, the types of clothing they received, and what they were
allowed to wear. I also analyse the laws that regulated their dress and the
effectiveness of these laws. I emphasize the cultural traits brought across
the Atlantic and the notion of cultural retention in other words, what
12
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 13
was maintained, nurtured and fashioned to suit the needs of African

women in exile. I also include a discussion on the Creole dress that was
a product of the process of creolization.
Much has been written about creolization over the years since the
publication of Kamau Brathwaites pioneering text, The Development of
Creole Society in Jamaica (1971), which sparked numerous interpretations
and schools of thought on this phenomenon. These interpretations have
led to lengthy debates and have continued to divide scholars in diverse
fields such as culture studies, Creole studies, linguistics and history.
Some scholars have turned away from Brathwaites Creole-society model
based on acculturation due to osmosis, whereas others, like Sidney
Mintz, have argued from early on that Creole cultures are almost
entirely new creations that seek to adapt to new environments. More
recently, some Caribbean linguists and those in the field of diaspora
studies, like Maureen Warner-Lewis, have emphasized the cultural continuity between Africa and the Caribbean. Meanwhile, historians such
as Paul Lovejoy and David Trotman have reaffirmed Mintzs creolization
as newness. Percy Hintzen argues for a definition similar to Richard
Burtons segmentary creolization. For Hintzen, creolization was a type
of hybrid Creole space between two racial poles that serve as markers
for civilization and savagery.43 It is not my desire to theorize about creolization any further or to make this study overly theoretical; nonetheless, creolization is implicit throughout the text. It is essential to realize
that creolization in this study does not mean simply commingling of
African and European elements, but rather a complex process of compromises and, to borrow Rex Nettlefords term, a battle for cultural
space.
In the first chapter, I also cover some of the symbolic aspects of dress
and adornment within their limited cultural boundaries. An analysis of
dress in a particular society cannot be undertaken without examining
the social and cultural context as well as its impact on the body.
Clothing and unclothing the body, as well as the process and act of
dressing up or down, are activities that transform, manipulate and reveal
ideologies of both body and dress. We cannot treat dress as independent
from the body because the two are inextricably tied; as a consequence,
the biological self is subject to acts of dress, therefore the body has a
certain primacy.44 Most societies at times set limitations on what is
socially acceptable in terms of dress, and those who do not conform
are often disallowed a positive self-identity, eventually leading to their
Introduction
13
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 14
developing a negative self-image. I use a symbolic-interaction perspective throughout this study to show how dress can reflect both the negative and positive images, as well as reveal the status differences and class
identities within and between cultures. From the perspective of symbolic-interaction theory, individuals acquire identities through social
interactions in various social and physical settings. Identities are communicated by dress, as it announces the social position of the wearer to
both wearer and observers within the specific interaction situation.45
Chapter 2, Dress as Resistance, deals primarily with the aesthetic
value of Jamaican enslaved womens dress and its use as a symbol of
resistance to colonial domination. I examine why dress became a
weapon of the weak,46 as James C. Scott described it, and how this
expression of resistance contested the power of the colonial regime. The
use of dress in this manner was varied and sometimes challenged gender
categories. For instance, some enslaved persons cross-dressed; others disguised themselves as freed persons to resist a life of servitude. Others
destroyed the garments received from their owners as an act of defiance.
A discussion of the African womans headwrap highlights its importance
as both a symbolic and functional tool in the resistance movement, as
well as a vital link to enslaved womens heritage. Some consideration is
given to the ambiguous meanings of carnival dress. Masking and masquerading provided enslaved persons with a sense of power at least
temporarily.
The third chapter, Dress as Accommodation, focuses on social
change in post-emancipation Jamaican society, the rise of a consumer
society and the commercialization of clothing. I consider why many
women abandoned the more African plantation ways of dressing and
accommodated to white culture by embracing Victorian ideals of feminine beauty. Women began to wear European-style dress, consisting of
long skirts, crinolines, bonnets and gloves. I examine the role of dress in
communicating social and moral customs, the reasons for accommodation, who accommodated, and the extremes these women pursued to
achieve their aims. Apart from how and why the transformation took
place, I present the problems and failures of accommodation. The work
would be incomplete without some focus on the role of seamstresses,
and this chapter contains analyses of their contributions to their society
and their changing roles within the new social order.
The final chapter provides a brief overview. Recent developments in
womens dress in Jamaican popular culture deserve some attention. This
14
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 15
section provides the opportunity to bridge the past and the present, to
relate my discussion on dress to present-day cultural activities. As historian Barbara Bush has stated, The purpose of history is to establish a
continuity between the past and the present.47 The continued importance of dress as a symbol of resistance and accommodation is evident in
aspects of Jamaican popular culture and movements, such as dancehall,
Street Style and Rastafarian customs in dress. These contemporary dress
styles play a key role in the shaping and construction of a Jamaican identity.48
Introduction
15
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 16
Chapter 1
The Crossing
Clothing establishes new statuses and connotes new identities in several rites
of passage. When a new village chief or king is installed, the first step and
one of the most crucial moments of the ceremony consists in tying a turban
around that individuals head.
Adeline Masquelier, Mediating Threads
Africa as Source and Origin

The history of Jamaica is one of migration, involving diverse groups of
people, each of which arrived with aspects of their own culture. Cultural
contact eventually gave rise to both cultural conflict and integration
particularly between Europeans and Africans, because the white ruling
class defined the terms under which the African existed. Africans were
among the earliest migrants to Jamaica. The first wave arrived under
Spanish rule from 1498 to 1655; the second, under the British between
1670 and 1808. They were forcibly extracted from their homelands and
brought to Jamaica as slaves. Enslaved Africans came from diverse backgrounds and cultures, predominantly from West Africa. They represented the Igbo, Coromantee, Congo, Papaw, Chamba and Mandingo
people.1
The conditions of transit for enslaved Africans were not conducive to
the coordinated transfer of any entire African culture. Based as it was on
16
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 17
the economic desirability of cheap labour and profitable commerce, the

Atlantic slave trade was not designed for the aid, comfort or community
of the involuntary migrants.2 Nevertheless, Africans brought with them
to the Americas aspects of their culture such as folklore, music, language, religion and dress. The customs and beliefs that were retained in
the African diaspora enabled displaced Africans to maintain a vital link
with their ancestral homeland. As slaves in an alien environment,
Africans shaped and modified these cultural elements based on their
experiences, needs and circumstances. They also nurtured certain
African characteristics and transmitted them to their descendants.
In Jamaica, most African slaves and their descendants worked on the
sugar plantations that dominated the colonial economy. Others worked
on pimento, ginger and coffee estates or on pens (estates that produced
livestock). Africans also worked as slaves in urban centres, serving as
builders, domestic servants, sailors, longshoremen, carters, firemen and
even hospital attendants.3 Slave owners believed in control through
deculturation, achieved by means of dehumanisation and psychological
conditioning, in order to create a passive, powerless class suitable for
European exploitation.4
The planter class argued that eradication of all forms of African cultural practices was essential because of their power to unify the slaves
and thus enable them to resist or rebel against their masters.
Nevertheless, Africanisms persisted, not as archaic retentions but as
vibrant cultural features that continued to grow and develop in a
sense, establishing new roots in a new environment. Robert Farris
Thompson has argued that these practices contributed significantly to
the enrichment of the Americas in the areas of herbalism, mental healing and funeral customs, to name a few.5
African cultural features were retained and nurtured in Jamaica
because they guaranteed the survival of Africans and their descendants
despite European attempts at cultural annihilation. Melville J.
Herskovits points out that cultural retention was useful because it
fulfilled functions that were indispensable to the survival of African
people.6 Furthermore, keeping African customs alive fostered a soulforce, as Leonard E. Barrett describes it, that gave quality to the lives
of Africans and enabled them to cope with the horrors of enslavement.7
Cultural expression as a survival strategy played an integral role in
the daily lives of African slaves. As a consequence, one cannot study
Africans in Jamaica or the diaspora without some appreciation for, and
The Crossing
17
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 18
understanding of, the cultural significance of Africa as source and origin. The term culture has diverse meanings and connotations. Here, culture refers to a group of people who share common properties and
participate in the same institutions and organizations. Culture is also a
continuum of variations and may include different groups of people
who possess commonly shared features but in different ways, to different degrees and in different conglomerations.8 Further, it is imperative
to remember that there is no single African culture. Africa is a continent with vast numbers of diverse ethnic groups. Each ethnic group possesses its own culture a unique language, set of customs (including
dress) and belief system. When the term African culture is used here, it
does not imply that all Africans share a common set of beliefs.
Specifically, to understand Africas diverse and complex dress customs
requires some cultural analysis. Clifford Geertz argues that analysis is
imperative in this case because In the study of culture, analysis penetrates into the very body of the object!9 Geertz explains that cultural
analysis includes Guessing at meanings, assessing the guesses, and
drawing explanatory conclusions from the better guesses, not discovering the continent of meaning and mapping out its bodiless landscape.10
Cultural analysis allows us to peel away the layers and illuminate the
expressive nature of African womens dress and its role as a narrative
form.
Dress in any culture both adorns and protects the body. However,
dress has other functions. Dress is political, in that it brings people
together and also puts them in conflict with others. Mary Ellen RoachHiggins and Joanne Eicher argue that human beings in every society
develop ways of designing and fabricating supplements (dress) for the
body out of materials available in their environment. These supplements
are often used to modify individuals bodies in ways that identify them
with, or distinguish them from, others.11 In this respect, dress differentiates and separates people. Dress can also reflect ones social mobility and
accomplishments. Modifications to the human body are often limited
by the aesthetic standards of the culture. Therefore, what may be acceptable in one culture may not be so in another. Yet artistic expression in
dress is not always defined by the particular culture; it can also be individualistic.12
Although cultural patterns of dress may differ from one society to
another, dress in any culture is a means of communication. Human ecologist Betty Wass stated that
18
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 19
It [dress] conveys messages when members of a society who share a given culture have learned to associate types of dress with given, customary usage.
Through this customary association certain types of dress become symbols
for either specific or class or social roles, with this symbolism changing over
time in different social and ethnic contexts.13
Within Jamaican society dress also functioned as a communications

tool. It expressed not only individuality based on unique physical features and aesthetics but also group affiliation, gender, status and class,
occupation, state of being and religious beliefs. Since dress conveyed
messages, some cultures emphasized appropriate dress for individuals
during specific situations or events such as religious rites.
Dress as a means of communication is part of a long, rich heritage in
cultural expression that goes back to the continent of Africa. It was in
Africa that some of the great advancements were made in the history of
dress and the manufacture of cloth. For example, the ancient Egyptians
were the first to make sleeved tunics, after perfecting short and kneelength kilts for men and a simple shoulder-strap jumper for women, all
made of plain linen woven from bast (flexible fibrous bark) fibres. The
earliest complete garment yet found by archaeologists anywhere in the
world is an Egyptian linen shirt of sophisticated design from the First
Dynasty, c.3000 BC.14 Dress continues to play a vital role in many contemporary African societies and even beyond the shores of Africa. To
explore what aspects of African womens dress were brought to Jamaica
by African slaves during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, some
knowledge of African dress during the same period is essential. The
diversity of West African cultures, each with its unique form of dress,
makes it impossible to include every group and all aspects of their clothing. Therefore, only some common characteristics are highlighted.
The distinctive status, age, sex and occupation of any individual
within a society were often indicated by aspects of dress: ornaments
worn (for example, Ashanti slaves and commoners were not supposed to
wear gold jewellery); facial and bodily scarring and paint; the wearing of
animal skin and leather; fabrics or textiles worn; regalia carried; use of
ceremonial masks; and hairstyles or head coverings worn.15 Since cultural
markers reflected West Africans relationships with each other and with
their environment, many African cultures emphasized appropriate dress.
Among the Yoruba, for instance, fashionable dress was honoured, and
one who donned inappropriate dress was said to aro gi laso [wear cloth
like wood].16
The Crossing
19
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 20
Appropriate dress was central to the social, economic, spiritual and

cultural functioning of the society, in that dress authenticated differentiation and legitimized authority and the creation of cultural norms and
values. As a consequence, dress was closely linked to the daily activities
of many Africans. For instance, among Nigerias Hausaphone Mawri
people, clothing served as a principal medium of communication
between individuals, the community and the spirit world and continues
to be so even today. For the Mawri, dress creates spiritual beings, and
these spirits require particular types of dress. Furthermore, in Mawri
society, the tying of clothing is metaphorically linked with marriage and
reproduction and the initiation of relationships, while untying speaks of
relationships broken and of death, when the clothing belonging to a
deceased person is given away.17 The ritual use of dress is performance in
nature: dress is not only the core but also the medium through which
the human body is redefined over and over. Apart from expressing spiritual or religious affiliation, dress as part of public performance occurred
in funerary rituals, dance, healing, and initiation rites as well as African
drama and folklore.
Textile manufacturing was an important industry in many West
African societies and is still the livelihood of many communities.
Foreign observers have admired the aesthetic sophistication of African
textiles for centuries, since the time of the Greek and Roman presence
in ancient Egypt. In the late fifteenth century, Portuguese navigators
brought home beautiful textiles from Africa along with carpets and silks
from India and China. Textiles and mats from sub-Saharan Africa were
used to decorate the houses of wealthy European merchants and the
elite. During their long history as successful traders, Africans found that
cloth was consistently a much-desired trade item whose production
served as an economic stimulus. Indigenous cloth was used as currency
in the Kongo and Kuba kingdoms, and in some marketplaces it was
exchanged for oil, ivory and gold. Cloth was used as bride wealth in the
marriage ritual, to display a newborn baby, and even to pay fines in
court.18 Local and imported textiles were also bartered for slaves. Arabs
brought, for example, articles of Moorish silk made in Granada, southern Spain . . . obtaining in exchange any number of slaves and some in
gold.19 Clothing production became a source of commercial wealth that
involved both African men and women in buying, selling, tailoring,
appliquing, cut pile embroidering (a complex weave and embroidery
20
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 21
process with raffia palm fibre in the Congo), and creating new and fashionable designs.
In addition to making indigenous textiles, Africans imported fabrics
by means of major trade links such as the Trans-Saharan and East Indian
Ocean trade routes. The empire of Mali encouraged trade with foreign
markets long before Europeans arrived on the West African coast. The
Berbers and Arabs were key players in this early trade, supplying West
Africa with silk and satin fabrics from the east. With the establishment
of the Dutch and British East India Companies and their trade empires
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Indian cottons and silks
were introduced to West Africa in large quantities. Later on, Holland
cloth, Indonesian batiks and their imitations were imported and became
popular. The rise of the Atlantic slave trade and the involvement of the
Portuguese, British and French also facilitated the importation of foreign cloth. Design elements of these imported fabrics were modified,
and new designs were introduced over time throughout West Africa.20
In the nineteenth century, Manchester cloth from Britain captured
the textile trade on the coast, replacing the more expensive Indian cottons. European textile printers made special trips to the West African
coast to bring back examples of indigenous cloth, which they copied and
later traded with Africans.21 Acquisition of West African manufactured
fabrics and fabric-related skills enhanced European textile technology
and enriched European cloth manufacturers. The introduction of inexpensive Europeanized African fabrics led to a decline in the indigenous
textile industry in several areas of West Africa.22 Meanwhile, Africans
wore imported silks and satins to indicate status; these fabrics were often
reserved for the elite.
The Atlantic slave trade resulted in an exchange of not just human
beings but also cultural ideas and technology related to dress. West
Africans were influenced by Islamic and European customs in dress, and
this process led to the synthesis of various dress customs in some African
communities. In 1849 the traveller Frederick Forbes reported that during his mission to the Kingdom of Dahomey, There was a perfect blaze
of dress . . . the principal ladies of the [kings] harem, up to sixteen generations, were magnificently dressed in silks, satins, and velvets, hats and
plumes of the time of [King] Charles the Second.23
Many African rulers and other men of importance received cloth and
clothing as gifts from European visitors and traders throughout the centuries of trade. Captain John Adams, a ships captain and adventurer,
The Crossing
21
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 22
revealed that in 1794 he presented the king of Benin with a fine flashy
piece of red silk damask.24 This custom not only reaffirms that Africans
had knowledge, of and expertise in, trading cloth and clothing a talent some brought with them to the Caribbean but also indicates that
West African dress styles were highly diverse and that Africans were
aware of the value of cross-cultural socialization. Furthermore, some
Africans were apparently familiar with European dress customs long
before arriving in the Caribbean.
Despite foreign competition, African textile manufacturing flourished. Indigenous African textiles often consisted of complex patterns
and designs. In many West African cultures, men did the weaving, on
narrow vertical looms, and women did the spinning. The dominant
fibre used in local cloth production was locally grown cotton. Local silk
was very rare, and some wool was used. Animal skins were worn as
dressed furs and as tanned hides. Leather was fashioned into accessories,
shoes and sandals. Pattern techniques included painting, stamping, resist
dyeing, embroidery, and appliqu as well as weaving. Fabrics were dyed
with juices extracted from tree barks, vegetables, roots and plank. Indigo
and kola nut dye solutions were very popular in many areas. Colours,
including body paint, were used to symbolize a particular state in life,
such as virginity and innocence, or to reflect life passages and events
such as birth, death, mourning, anger, war and rejoicing.25 Some West
African textiles became famous for instance, the kente cloth manufactured by the Ewe and Ashanti people on the Gold Coast [Ghana].
Ashanti kente is recognized worldwide, and kente is still an important
element in contemporary African dress. Kente (a term apparently of
Fanti origin) was originally made from unravelled imported silk fabrics,
which were then locally woven into narrow strips and sewed together to
produce dazzling, complex patterns.26 The visitor John Beecham recalled
in 1841 that the Ashanti purchased the richest silks in order to unravel
and interweave them with their own thread; and their best clothes are
extolled for their fineness, variety, brilliance and size.27
Other types of textiles manufactured in West Africa included barkcloth and fabrics made from plant fibre (bast) and grass woven with
locally grown cotton. The Ashanti also made bark-cloth from the bark
of the kyenkyen tree. The bark was beaten flat and widened and the fibres
felted together. In Ashanti communities, primarily slaves and those of
low rank wore bark-cloth. However, in other areas of Africa, like the
Haya Kingdoms, this was not the case. Bark-cloth was an important
22
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 23
trade good, and the Haya monarchs carefully regulated its trade. The
Haya people wrapped their dead in bark-cloth for burial. The mourners
cut off sections of the shroud and wore them to reflect the state of
mourning, thus identifying the living with the dead. Bark-cloth was also
considered an integral part of a Haya womans bride wealth.28
Another common feature of West African dress was the use of beads.
In 1794 while visiting the kingdom of Benin, Captain John Adams
observed: Coral is a very favourite ornament in the royal seraglio,
which is always well filled; and the women like those of the Heebo
[Igbo] nation, wear a profusion of beads, if they can by any means
obtain them.29
Beads, widely worn by both men and women in African cultures,
included a wide range of forms made from natural media such as animal
teeth, vertebrae, cowrie shells, ostrich shells, nuts and ivory, as well as
drilled and shaped stone. There were also indigenous copper, brass, silver and gold beads. Archaeological sites at Ife in present-day Nigeria
have revealed that glass beads were produced there locally before
European contact, yet it was the trade beads made of glass in Europe
and Asia that Africans used most in both art form and in dress.30
Beads served many functions that varied from one culture to the next.
In some communities both men and women wore beads for their aesthetic value, established by cultural guidelines. The symbolism of beads
their colour, material, size and shape, even where they were worn on
the body helped the wearers to communicate non-verbally their religious beliefs, sex, age, wealth and status. Strings of beads were worn for
protection against evil spirits, as in the case of Ashanti womens waist
beads.31 Among the Yoruba, beads played a significant role once a young
woman was old enough to marry, forming a substantial part of her
dowry and her property. On her wedding day the bride would be dressed
in costly clothes with beautiful beads around her neck and waist.32
Beads were also used to ornament slippers, gowns, caps and special ceremonial outfits for priests and kings. The Yoruba made ornate handsewn beaded crowns, masks and embroidered cloth for their priests and
community leaders.33
Another visual communicator was the headdress. Mens and womens
headdresses in West Africa were highly imaginative. Their designs were
varied and elaborate, and they could be time-consuming to create. From
shaved heads to wigs and extensions, headdresses have been immortalized in African sculpture and art for centuries. Hairstyles, with their
The Crossing
23
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 24
complex configurations of braids, plaits, coils, curls, and cane row (and
cornrow) patterns or even simply rolled into locks spoke a language
that indicated ethnicity, status, wealth, occasion and even occupation.
Cultural historian Mary Jo Arnoldi has argued that, from ancient Egypt
to the present, Africans have regularly invested in this headwork and
its permanent or ephemeral products with heightened value. Africans
did this because headdress can recall myths or historical episodes, while
hats and head coverings can represent the achievements or victories of
an individual or glorify an office.34
Appropriate headdress was required for all occasions and was based
on an individuals social standing, age and artistic expression. John
Barbot, travelling in Senegal in 1732, recalled the fantastic hair treatment, plaited and twisted and adorned with some few trinkets of gold,
coral and glass . . . and a coif standing up five or six inches above their
heads.35 Womens headdress varied from one region and community to
the next. In some cultures, women lengthened their hair, dressed it with
palm oil or melted butter and shaped it with cloth or fibre padding.
Some women wrapped their hair over supports of arched bamboo. One
hairstyle favoured by Yoruba women had multiple partings; each section
was twisted and then tightly wrapped with heavy black cotton thread.36
Fulani women displayed their wealth in hair ornaments and announced
the birth of their first child by wearing their hair plaited at the side and
joined under the chin. Wealthy and married women usually wore the
most elaborate hairstyles.37
Headdresses (including hairstyles) had specific names that were imaginative and reflective of events, objects and situations in life. The
Songhai women gave fanciful names to their coiffures, such as boat of
the sky, bellow of the forge, and spend the night with the one you
love.38
Headscarves (headwraps), worn casually as well as for special occasions, were popular among women throughout West Africa. This form
of headdress varied in style and pattern depending on the circumstances.
Headscarves were functional in that they enabled women to balance
loads on their heads, protected newly styled hair and made one presentable when in haste. Yoruba womens headwraps, known as gele or
oja, often matched their dresses, which were coloured with indigo dye
and had customary bold patterns picked out in white.39
By the eighteenth century, West African cultures had achieved high
levels of refinement, complexity and creativity in their civilizations, as
24
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 25
reflected in their dress. Many Europeans had long believed the racist
propaganda of the period that African people were all naked savages and
thus incapable of any great accomplishment. For some whites, nonEuropean dress and nudity or semi-nudity was a sign of backwardness.
Others felt that animal skins or unsewn lengths of cloth did not constitute clothing. Nudity was socially and culturally acceptable in some
African cultures, since in a very hot climate clothes would be a hindrance while working in the fields. Art historian Helen Bradley Foster
has argued that Arabs and Europeans judged black Africans from the
world-view that equated covering certain body parts with being civilized.40
As a consequence, nudity became the basis on which outsiders could
determine the degree of civilization that Africans had attained. The rich
legacy in African dress was dismissed. Moreover, the racist sentiments of
outsiders fostered stereotypes about the black body and myths about
sensational sexual attributes. Such racist ideas contributed to the drive
to civilize Africans and the insistence that African people adopt
European dress as a sign of civilization. A few Europeans did recognize
the beauty of African customs in dress and realized that Africans were
not naked savages. The nineteenth-century missionary R.H. Stone
had a change of heart when he visited West Africa:
What I saw disabused my mind of many errors in regard to . . . Africa. . . .
[I]nstead of being lazy, naked savages, living in spontaneous production of
the earth, they were dressed and were industrious. . . . The men are builders,
blacksmiths, weavers, . . . hat makers, . . . tanners, tailors, . . . [the] women
. . . most diligently follow the pursuits which custom has allotted to them.
They spin, weave, trade, cook and dye cotton fabrics.41
Africans manufactured textiles that rivalled European and Asian fabrics

in patterns and quality. From the rhythmic and checkerboard textiles
of the Mande and Ashanti people to the intricate hand-sewn beadwork
of the Yoruba, dress was a form of artistic expression. Moreover, the use
of natural elements such as fibre, nuts, shells and beads, combined with
generous use of colours, signalled Africans harmonious relationship
with nature and their environment. However, dress styles and patterns
throughout West Africa, as in other cultures, were not static. Styles and
patterns changed over time as a result of the dictates of fashion, competition, new technology, social changes and availability of resources.
Furthermore, the ability of Africans to incorporate imported materials
The Crossing
25
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 26
into their own manufacture of cloth reflected both flexibility and adaptability.
Enslaved West African men and women brought their dress customs
across the Atlantic. Those slaves who possessed knowledge and expertise
in textile manufacturing, beading, dyeing and tailoring passed their
skills on to their descendants. The transition of West Africans achievements in dress visually enriched Jamaican society and enabled African
slaves to resist deculturation.
Dress, the Body and the Law:

Me Know No Law, Me Know No Sin
The Caribbean is the story of arrivants from across the Atlantic and beyond,
each group bringing a cultural equipage.
Rex M. Nettleford, Caribbean Cultural Identity
African slaves were stripped of their humanity and placed in the holds
of ships bound for the Americas. The African slave Mahommah Gardo
Baquaqua testified: We were thrust into the hold of the vessel in a state
of nudity, the males being crammed on one side, and the females on the
other.42 The symbolic interplay between the human body, dress and
social experience cannot be denied. Africans clothing reflected identity
and relational ties with others within the community. Being stripped,
having the naked body exposed, represented for African slaves their
painful reality: discontinuity and the enforced severance of cultural and
kinship ties. For Europeans, this became a symbolic act of ridding their
captives of their wildness, of humiliating and enfeebling Africans to
gain control. Europeans, who had equated African nudity with backwardness, were now enforcing on Africans the very act they once condemned. This reflected Europeans ambivalence about the black body
simultaneous fascination and abhorrence.
The middle passage was horrific for African slaves, whose naked bodies were exposed, exploited, brutalized and even lynched. Upon arrival
at slave markets and slave auctions, white traders groomed their slaves
bodies to make slaves more attractive to prospective buyers and thus
fetch the highest price possible. Slaves bodies were manipulated, intimately examined, exhibited and finally branded with hot iron. The
26
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 27
absence of clothing and the stench of burning human flesh underlined

white supremacists need to break the black body as one would break
livestock. This task was essential because the sensationalized and grossly
exaggerated sexual attributes ascribed to African men constituted a
threat to white phallocentric supremacy, whereas the African woman
was perceived as libidinous and oversexed, hence a distraction to white
men. In the process of breaking the black body, African men were emasculated and African women were defeminized.
African slaves who arrived in Jamaica entered a slave society that was
very diverse and complex. As Elsa Goveia explains, Jamaican slave society was not a monoculture, but consisted of the ordering of separate
groups all held together within a single social structure.43 Slave society
was divided according to class, ethnicity and even occupation, and the
divisions were reflected in slave dress. Mulatto slaves considered themselves a separate group of a higher social standing than African slaves. As
a consequence, they often chose not to associate with African slaves.
Creole (locally born) slaves viewed themselves as distinct from the newly
arrived enslaved Africans.
Jamaican slave society included different ethnic groups, such as the
Yoruba, the Igbo and the Ashanti people. There were urban slaves, separate from field or plantation slaves. On estates, slaves were divided into
groups based on skill and occupation. For example, some were categorized as domestics, who were distinct from field slaves. These groups of
slaves were held together within the colonial plantocracy and were often
differentiated by dress, as will be discussed later. Furthermore, Jamaican
slave society was not static but, like the larger society, was continually
changing. Edward Brathwaite has pointed out that what was acceptable
in 1770 did not necessarily hold for 1820, 1834 or 1880. Laws in Jamaica
were frequently changed and reforms enacted, and regulations varied
from parish to parish, vestry to vestry and even plantation to plantation.44
Europeans ascribed specific ethnic characteristics or stereotypes to
enslaved Africans. These characteristics were recognizable to whites and
were used by the planters to influence the market price of individual
slaves.45 The Coromantee, for example, were considered to be strong
and thus better workers but prone to rebellion, and therefore dangerous. The Igbo were supposed to be deceitful, crafty, artful, disputative
in driving a bargain, whereas the Mandingo were known for being a
sort of Mahomedan [Muslim].46 Mandingos knowledge of Islam was
The Crossing
27
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 28
imperfect, consisting of a few remembered Arabic prayers. Some could

read and write, while others, according to J. Stewart, could scrawl a few
rude Arabic characters, but without understanding or being able to
explain much of their meaning. He further described their writing as
scraps from the Alcoran [Quran] which they have been taught by their
imams, or priests.47 Some Mandingos were strict in their observance of
Friday as the Sabbath, as is customary in Islam.48
J. Stewarts account of enslaved Mandingos clearly reflects his own
bias against Islam, a bias shared by many European Christians who considered Islam a rival religion to Christianity and a heathenistic faith.
The absence of Muslim slave labour on Fridays would have hampered
the planters ability to maximize production for that day. Muslim slaves
were few in number, however, and lived under the same jurisdiction as
non-Muslim slaves, so those who observed the Friday Sabbath probably
did so with permission from their owners. As a group they were viewed
as non-threatening, and by the planters as too ignorant to understand
anything of the Alcoran, or of the nature of their religion.49 In fact,
there were some very knowledgeable Muslim slaves who possessed good
writing skills. Nevertheless, enslaved Muslims in Jamaica, being a
minority, failed to have a lasting impact on the broader slave society;
many of their beliefs disappeared within a few generations.
Most African slaves lacked writing skills, and the enslaved community did not have the educational infrastructure essential for Islams survival. Other religious constructs brought from West Africa, such as
Myalism and obeah, thrived because their retention and transmission
depended on oral tradition. Most Jamaican planters were opposed to
any form of education, religious or otherwise, for slaves, on the grounds
that it would incite them to rebel. Many enslaved Africans and their
descendants therefore could not read the laws that governed their lives,
nor could they participate in any way in the framing of any laws, including those governing dress. Slaves nonetheless acquired the knowledge of
dress regulations by means of oral proclamations made by the authorities, illustrations or word of mouth. Some depended on special magistrates, clergymen or their owners to inform them. Others learned
through experience, trial and error, or the planters method of brute
force.
Slave owners in Jamaica were required by law to provide their slaves
with sufficient clothing. On arrival in Jamaica, African slaves were provided with at least a shift or loincloth almost immediately after pur28
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 29
chase. On reaching the plantation or place of labour, the new arrivals

were provided with clothes. Europeans were unaccustomed to the dress
requirements of a tropical climate and interpreted semi-nudity to connote backwardness and lewdness. They sought to ensure that their slaves
wore clothes. The procedure of clothing slaves was regulated by the
vestry or parish council of each parish throughout the island (the vestry
consisted of the custos, or chief magistrate of the parish, two or more
local magistrates, sometimes ten vestrymen, and a parish [church] rector).50 The vestry could fine slave owners who did not provide sufficient
clothing for their slaves.
Early laws regarding clothing allowances for enslaved persons specifically stated what articles of dress the slaves should receive. The 1696
laws prescribed: All slaves shall have clothes, men jackets and drawers;
women, jackets and petticoats or frocks once every year, on or before the
twenty-fifth day of December, on penalty of five shillings for every slave
wanting.51
By 1826, the laws regulating slaves dress had become less specific, no
longer mentioning garments such as jackets or petticoats. They stated:
That every possessor of slaves shall furnish to each, once a year proper and
sufficient clothing, to be approved of by the justices and vestries of the parish
under penalty of five pounds for each slave omitted . . . every possessor of
slaves must specify the quantity and quality of the clothes he has furnished
to their [sic] slaves.52
The law remained very much the same in 1831: Every master, owner
or possessor of slaves shall, once in every year provide and give to each
slave . . . proper and sufficient clothing . . . under the penalty of five
pounds . . . to be recovered in a summary manner before three justices
of the peace.53
There are several possible reasons that the law became increasingly
less specific. The growth in the slave population through both natural
increase and steady growth in the number of slaves imported before
1807, when the slave trade was abolished would have made it too
expensive for slave owners to provide ready-made apparel for all their
slaves. By the latter half of the eighteenth century, many planters and
slave owners had begun importing inexpensive coarse European fabrics
and Indian cotton for slave clothing. The paternalistic ritual of clothing
distribution continued, but with fewer ready-made garments and the
addition of the tools, such as needles and thread, necessary for slaves to
The Crossing
29
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 30
stitch their own clothes. The eighteenth-century planter, historian and

local politician Edward Long explained: [Slaves] annually consume a
large abundance of chequed linen, striped hollands, sustain blanketing,
long ells, and baize, Kendal cottons, Oznaburgs [sic], canvas, coarse hats,
woollen caps, cotton and silk handkerchiefs, knives, scissors, razors,
buckles, buttons . . . thread, needles, pins . . ..54
Osnaburg was the fabric most commonly distributed to slaves
because it was the cheapest, most durable cotton fabric for rigorous
plantation work. Durable fabrics lasted longer, reducing cost to the
planter. On the Windsor Lodge and Paisley estates between 1833 and
1837, for instance, 2,676 yards of flax osnaburg were purchased for
slaves.55 Mrs A.C. Carmichael, an Englishwoman who resided on her
husbands estate in St Vincent for nearly three years between 1820 and
1823 and travelled the Caribbean, argued that some planters preferred to
distribute fabrics, adding: The estates in some colonies give out the
clothing ready made to put on, but [in] others, the more common plan
is to distribute cloth with needles, threads, tapes . . ..56 In these other
colonies beyond St Vincent, slaves, then, were expected to sew their own
clothes.
Another factor that may have led to the decreasing specificity of the
law was plantation accessibility. Many plantations with large slave populations were scattered throughout the island. The local assembly naturally relied on the vestry of each parish, which had easier access to
plantations, to regulate slave clothing allowances. For example, in 1832
there were 670 sugar estates with about 155,000 slaves (about 50 per cent
of the slave population); there were also 350 coffee plantations and 30
pimento estates with about 20,000 slaves. These figures do not include
slaves in urban areas and those involved in non-agricultural economic
activities.57
The slave laws regarding dress were left to the parish vestries to interpret and to administer as they saw fit. The vestry members of some
parishes wielded considerable power and decided specifically what slaves
within their parish should receive from their owners. On 6 February
1818, for example, the Vestry Office for the parish of St Elizabeth issued
an order from the Clerk of the Vestry, Matthew Farquharson, who stated
in his decree:
Ordered, that the following be the quantity of clothing to be given by every
owner to each Negro [slave] for the coming year: Every Negro above fifteen
years old, eight yards of Oznaburgh, four yards of Baize or Pennistone, and
30
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 31
one hat or cap and one handkerchief. Ditto, from seven to fifteen years old,
six yards of Oznaburgh, three yards of Baize or Pennistone and one hat for
boys. Ditto, ditto, six yards of Oznaburgh, three yards of Baize or Pennistone
and one handkerchief for girls. Under seven years five yards of Oznaburgh
and one handkerchief.58
Jamaica had no sumptuary laws that is, laws regulating private expenditure that stated exactly what African slaves could and could not wear,
as was the case in some Caribbean islands, such as the Danish West
Indies.59 The Jamaican laws sought only to guarantee the minimum
clothing necessary for each enslaved individual. However, an attempt to
implement at least one sumptuary law was made in 1745. Mr Peyton, a
member of the Jamaican Assembly, presented to the House according
to order, a bill to prohibit the use of silk in burials, and to compel all
persons to use cotton, instead there of .60
No explanation was given for his proposal, and it was never passed
but repeatedly deferred and finally thrown out; we do not know, either,
if it was directed specifically at slaves. Perhaps there was a shortage of silk
on the island; or perhaps people regarded as inferior, free or enslaved,
were using silk in their burial customs. Silk, a mark of status and wealth,
had long been considered the fabric of the elite and rulers in many societies. Mr Peyton may have also been influenced by the slave codes in the
Danish West Indies, where slaves were forbidden to wear silk as well
as gold, silver, precious stones, and lace and other expensive fabrics.61
Slaves caught wearing these items were arrested and the dress articles,
deemed stolen goods, were handed over to their owners. In other
colonies with sumptuary laws that prescribed slaves dress, inappropriate dress such as expensive jewellery was often confiscated by police and
magistrates.62 Slave owners refused to believe that their slaves could have
obtained these items by legitimate means and felt that such dress was
beyond the slaves status. Nevertheless, African slaves continued to
dress up on special occasions, and, in fact, the dress restrictions forced
them to be more creative in the way they made fashion.
Sumptuary laws existed in many societies, primarily to preserve class
distinction. When members of the elite or nobility found their position
encroached upon by those of the lower classes who had attained wealth,
they passed laws to restore respect for the difference in rank. In ancient
Rome, for example, clothing colour and fabric served to denote rank.
Laws were passed restricting the peasantry to one colour, officers to two
The Crossing
31
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 32
colours and members of the royal household to seven colours. Roman

ambassadors were allowed to wear gold rings, and men were forbidden
to wear silk garments of any sort. In France under King Charles IX, only
princesses and duchesses could wear silk. In Elizabethan England, it was
decreed that no man should walk in the streets in his cloak, but in a
gown.63 Sumptuary laws were also used as a means of inducing people
to save money. When nations are at war, rulers take precautions to prevent the people from spending extravagantly on clothing and other luxuries, which could lead the country into bankruptcy.64 Cultural
historians J. Phillips and H. Staley have noted that in many jurisdictions
sumptuary laws increased as fashion changed more frequently, but such
laws were short-lived in many British colonies in the Americas.65 For
example, in South Carolina the slave code of 1740 strictly regulated
dress. However, the authorities never enforced the law; the planters
ignored it; and by the 1840s it was pronounced unenforceable and worthy only of repeal.66
Although sumptuary laws may have regulated dress, they did not necessarily stifle creativity and cultural expression. In the French West
Indies, sumptuary laws facilitated the development of elaborate dress
styles and head-ties among the enslaved population. The styles reflected
a blending of African and Islamic aesthetics with French high fashion.
Lafcadio Hearn, visting the French islands, marvelled at the beauty of
these dresses and argued that their brilliance was due to some curious
sumptuary law regulating the dress of slaves and coloured peoples of free
condition . . . a law which allowed considerable liberty as to material and
tint, prescribing chiefly form. . . . Some of these fashions suggest the
Orient.67
In Jamaica, clothing rations varied according to gender, status and
occupation, as well as from parish to parish, since the parish vestries
determined the minimum amount. Vestry members, being allied with
the planters, cared little about the condition of the clothing the slaves
received. Moreover, the law did not prevent some slave owners from
withholding the clothing allowance as punishment or to reduce their
estate expenses. Such was the case in 1823, when a plantation mistress
and owner in the parish of Portland refused to provide clothing for her
elderly slaves. After she learned that she must allow them the same
clothing and provisions, and comforts which they had always enjoyed,
she ordered the old and good-for-nothing negroes free, as it would save
32
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 33
the expense of maintaining them.68 According to Cynric Williams, the

elderly slaves decided to plead their case:
When the time arrived for giving out the clothing, the four free men made
their appearance with the others, and hoped they were to have their pennistone and Oznaburgh, for they had worked all their lives for mistress and
brought up several children who were now working for her, and they were
old and could not work to buy clothes themselves.69
The old men were eventually kept as slaves. Other elderly slaves in the
same predicament may have suffered a worse fate.
Planters were clearly concerned about the cost of clothing their slaves.
Most preferred to buy their slave clothing from sources in England and
have the goods shipped directly to Jamaica and delivered to the plantation. This proved less expensive than purchasing the fabrics locally at dry
goods stores, which often carried a limited supply and could not meet
the planters needs. Nonetheless, some planters still found the fabrics
very expensive. The Negro Accounts of Hugh Hamiltons estate
showed that in July 1784, 447 yards of osnaburg cost 14 13s. 51/2d. By
December 1787, the price had risen to 101/2d. per yard, and 428 yards
were bought for 18 14s. 6d., along with three pounds of osnaburg
thread at 3s. 9d. per pound. In 1789 the Duckenfield Hall estates
account showed the cost of osnaburg to be 1s. 3d. per yard.70 The huge
demand for fabric to clothe the growing slave population had driven up
the price. As a result, some planters imported cheaper fabrics, such as
pennistone, to cut costs; others blatantly broke the law and refused to
clothe their slaves adequately.
Nor did the slave laws prohibit planters from destroying additional
clothes that slaves obtained by their own means. In a letter to her
brother on 27 March 1836 the missionary Mary Ann Hutchins wrote:
About thirty of our people [Baptist slaves] were thus met, when all was peace,
the table spread, and the candles lighted . . . and in walked their busha
[master/owner]. He began to beat them with a stick, declared there should
be no Baptists there, tore their clothes, took their clean linen out of a
trunk and trampled on it stripped the clothes off one woman, struck two
of them . . .71
Planters cared little about their slaves goods, including their clothing.
Enslaved persons were property and legally could not own anything that
was not their owners. The brutality Hutchins described served not only
The Crossing
33
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 34
to humiliate the slaves but also in ripping the clothes off a womans
back signalled the owners complete power over them, including their
bodies. Slave womens clothing was often the target of the planters anger
and frustration. Planters knew that slaves valued their clothing, which
was not easily obtainable, and therefore punished their slaves by destroying their garments.
Slave men also destroyed clothing as a means of retaliation against
their womenfolk. The planter Matthew Gregory Lewis revealed that one
night on the neighbouring estate of Anchovy, a male slave discovered
that his wife was sexually involved with a younger man. A quarrel developed between the couple. The husband, in a jealous rage, demanded
the clothes to be restored [to him] which he had formerly given her. On
her refusal, he drew a knife and threatened to cut them off her back!72
The dress on the womans body had become more than a mere garment;
its position on the body was symbolic. Her husband, whose masculinity
had been threatened, sought revenge by threatening in turn to expose
her naked body, illuminating her vulnerability and powerlessness and
simultaneously empowering him. Although the clothes were worn by
her and had been given to her by her partner, they were a commodity
that could be repossessed and thereby manipulated. In the process, the
womans body was commodified; she became an object for her husbands
manipulation. Human ecologist Joanne Finkelstein posits that an effective means of weakening an individuals morality and identity [is] to
strip him or her of clothes.73 The stripped individual is not only humbled, humiliated and weakened but vulnerable and accessible to
exploitation. The slave man in this case had appropriated the power relationship between the white planter and the enslaved population; as a
consequence, the woman had become a target for his oppression.
The planters did not encourage African customs in dress, nor did
they provide clothing or cloth that was up to their own standards of
dress. Rather, they distributed minimal European-style clothing and
cheap cloth, both to differentiate themselves from their slaves and to
force slaves to conform to the limited styles provided. Planters sought to
civilize their African slaves, but only to a point: the slaves had to remain
controllable, and their clothing could not be above their status. The
planters concerns reflected their unacknowledged fear of the naked
savage who, if not clothed in the garments of European civility, could
not be controlled. On some plantations white mistresses assisted and
supervised the distribution of slave garments. Mistresses occasionally
34
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 35
gave their familys worn-out clothes to slaves, knowing that the relationship thus created and encouraged a feeling of dependence on whites,
while simultaneously reinforcing and maintaining social distance. Some
mistresses made European-style clothing for their slaves. Mrs Carmichael, for instance, remarked that [slaves] dresses are made up very
often by their mistress and her family: for two months before Christmas,
and also before Easter, I used to be so busy as possible, cutting out
dresses, superintending the trimmings and inventing different fashions
for them.74 However, that custom depended on the size of the estates
slave population and the mistresss other responsibilities. On a large
plantation with hundreds of slaves, it would have been impractical for
the mistress to try to make the necessary amount of slave clothing.
In the southern United States prior to the Civil War, during the offseason periods in cotton production when less labour was needed in the
fields, slaves regularly spun, wove and sewed, assisting their mistresses in
making clothes for the plantations slave population. This was rare in
Jamaica because sugar cane production was a year-round activity that
required a substantial labour force. Assigning slaves to make clothes
would have subtracted from the labour force in the fields, reducing production and preventing planters from realizing the maximum profit.
Furthermore, in the US South there was a large population of white
women who resided on the plantations; in Jamaica, few plantation mistresses stayed in the colony year-round. As plantations grew in size and
the enslaved population increased over the years, it became more costeffective and easier to distribute fabrics, sometimes complemented by
ready-made apparel, and have slaves make their own clothes in their
spare time.75
Clothing designed and made by slaves was frequently scrutinized by
the white elite; Mrs Carmichael remarked that it was easy to trace the
progress of civilization in different negroes [slaves] according to their
style of everyday dress.76 Like many of her contemporaries, Mrs
Carmichael regarded European dress as a mark of civilization and
progress and thus saw as civilized those slaves who dressed in a
European fashion. By this means, Europeans like her dismissed the rich
West African heritage in slave dress.
Not all slaves heeded European influences in dress. Even slave children sometimes rejected the clothing they received. Mrs Carmichael
spoke of one such child under her charge:
The Crossing
35
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 36
The child used to tug at her frock which was all I asked her to wear, and
when by no strength she could undo it, she would go to the boys pantry, and
taking a knife, cut it off making her appearance at the door of my room,
laughing with delight at her adroitness in getting rid of such an annoyance,
and throwing the frock in at the door.77
Mrs Carmichael failed to recognize that the childs dress might have
been very uncomfortable to wear. Cheap, durable fabrics such as
osnaburg were warm, coarse and harsh against the skin. In the US
South, slaves commonly referred scornfully to osnaburg as [d]at ole
nigger-cloth. One slave described the fabrics texture as jus like needles when it was new. Never did have to scratch our backs. Jus wriggle
yo shoulders an yo back was scratched.78 New slave clothing made of
osnaburg or other rough fabrics had to be broken in, or washed several
times to soften the material and achieve some feel of comfort against the
skin. Some children and even young adults would have preferred to go
without clothing rather than tolerate such discomfort.
The inconsistencies across Jamaica in the provision of clothing for
slaves, and the absence of sumptuary laws, provided enslaved Africans
and their descendants with some control over their dress. Slaves who did
not like the clothing they received sold it to other slaves and purchased
refined fabrics if they could afford them. The planter William Beckford
remarked in 1796 that slave women in Jamaica [a]rray themselves in the
finest linen, in the purchase of which they betray a determined extravagance. He added: The women take a pride in the number of their
coats, and are not contented with any but what are made from the best
materials of which likewise their hats and handkerchiefs are commonly
composed.79 Most slaves used their rations of osnaburg and other inexpensive fabrics for work overalls, saving the more refined and softer fabrics, such as muslin, for special occasions and as a means of elevating
themselves within the slave society. Many slaves were aware of their legal
rights regarding their allowance, and when their rations were late, some
protested, demanding what was due to them.80
Since slaves received only the minimum amount of clothing, they
had to supplement their yearly ration. Jamaican resident J. Stewart
reported that the annual ration for most slaves was as much osnaburgh
as will make two frocks, and as much woollen stuff as will make a great
coat.81 Field slaves intensive manual labour, combined with the weathering of garments, hastened the rotting or wearing out of the meagre
clothing slaves received. Planters expected their slaves to obtain any nec36
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 37
essary additional clothing on their own. During the early decades of

slavery, slaves of both sexes who did not have sufficient clothing often
wore loincloths. Others, particularly young children, went naked. The
shortage of clothing combined with the harsh working conditions made
slaves susceptible to various diseases.82 For slave women, the lack of sufficient clothing represented dehumanization and defeminization; at the
same time, the partially clothed slave woman represented the delights of
forbidden sex for the master.
Loincloths became less popular, especially among enslaved women,
by the eighteenth century, as support grew for the idea that slaves should
be treated humanely, including how they were clothed. Fearful that abolitionists and local missionaries would use the issue of inadequate clothing of slaves to gain popular support for their cause in England, planters
provided clothing to their slaves. Another reason that slaves were better
clothed was that planters had learned early on that those without at least
the minimum clothing were at greater risk of disease, which could lead
to serious loss of life among slaves and significant cost to the planters. In
addition, during the same period and continuing into the nineteenth
century, more fabrics were imported and distributed to meet the needs
of the growing enslaved population. In the Atlantic trading network,
clothing and cloth were common commodities, most of which went to
clothing slaves. For example, in 1790 Jamaica imported from the British
Isles 3,563 yards of cambric, 590,990 yards of plain cloth and 1,062
pounds of shoes. In 1792, imported apparel amounted to some 2,592
pairs of gloves, 519 hats, 3,178 pounds of shoes and 4,740,170 items of
linen, cotton and silk manufactured goods.83 The increase in imports
over time paralleled both the natural increase of the slave population as
well as an increase in the yardage of fabrics distributed to each slave. For
instance, the quantities of fabric distributed to slaves on the Harmony
Hall plantation in the years 1799, 1811 and 1813 reflect a substantial
increase over time in the cloth allotment for each slave. For example,
most regular field male slaves received six yards of osnaburg in 1799, but
by 1811 the distribution had increased to eight yards per slave. Although
in 1813 the amount of osnaburg remained the same, the distribution of
baize (to complement the osnaburg) had increased substantially from
three yards in 1799 to five and a half yards by 1813. The account records
for Windsor Lodge and Paisley Estate also reflect increases in distribution. However, these increases were not always consistent and varied
from estate to estate.84 The increase in imported fabrics throughout the
The Crossing
37
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 38
period saw other fabrics introduced, such as pennistone which became

as popular as osnaburg in some areas, and more fabrics and ready-made
apparel were now available with which planters could clothe their slaves.
Despite this, the slave womans body remained a target for sexual
exploitation by the planter.
Some slaves were able to purchase extra clothes with money they had
saved and earned from selling their produce. Cynric Williams, in 1823,
was surprised to see slaves purchasing finery and remarked, [They
were] laying down pieces of money that I had never thought to see in
the hands of slaves . . . gold pieces worth here [in Jamaica] five pounds,
six shillings and eight pence.85 Theodore Foulks reported in 1833 that
[a] slave in the parish of Clarendon admitted that he made by this
means, forty pounds annually.86 The opportunity for slaves to make
their own clothes and buy dress material to suit their own tastes meant
that styles and patterns varied among the enslaved population. Even
more important, it meant that both slave men and women could be culturally expressive in their dress.
Laws regarding provision of slave clothing did not insist on equal distribution of clothing between enslaved men and women. Most vestries
did not seem to care about this matter either. Slave women in Jamaica
generally received less clothing than their male counterparts. Slave men
with skills or those, such as slave drivers, who held supervisory positions
over work gangs87 often received more clothing than other slaves. Mrs
Carmichael stated: Head negroes [usually men] on estates generally
received some present in the way of clothing upon the conclusion of
crop.88 In this manner, planters encouraged and supported the separation of slave groups because it helped them to maintain control over the
enslaved population. The pro-slavery writer Henry De La Beche
observed in 1825 that on the plantations, enslaved people were divided
into four groups when it came time to receive their clothes. The first
group was the slave drivers (headmen) who received twenty yards of
osnaburg and eight yards of blue baize each. The second group was
apparently also male but consisted of the heads of various work groups,
separate from the slave drivers. They received sixteen yards of osnaburg
and eight yards of blue baize each. Women constituted the third class,
each of whom received eleven yards of osnaburg, four yards of blue baize
and five long ells of fabric. The children made up the last group, and
each child received six yards of osnaburg and three yards of blue baize.89
On some well-regulated estates the annual allowance was ten to twenty
38
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 39
yards to every man; seven to fifteen to every woman and in proportion

to the younger people.90
De la Beche does not refer to unskilled slave men; his observation
may require some modification if this group is included. Nor does he
make any distinction between skilled and unskilled female slaves,
instead lumping women together as a group. However, slave women
were not a cohesive group. There were skilled female slaves who worked
as midwives, seamstresses, washerwomen, nannies, cooks and other
domestic servants; these women usually received a higher clothing
allowance than unskilled female slaves but far less than skilled male
slaves.
De la Beches observation was not unique. On the Worthy Park
Estate in 1793, most skilled male slaves, such as carpenters, headmasons
and blacksmiths, received ten yards of osnaburg and three yards of baize.
In fact, a few skilled slave women, such as seamstresses and washerwomen, who did receive the same amount of osnaburg did not receive
any baize. On the Harmony Hall Estate, in the parish of Trelawny, slave
men also received more fabric than slave women, despite the fact that
womens clothing of the period required more yardage. In 1811, for example, male head slaves received twelve yards of osnaburg and six yards of
blue baize each, and each regular male slave received eight yards of
osnaburg. Meanwhile, female slaves received seven yards each and children, five yards. On the same estate in 1813, most men continued to
receive eight yards each; the women, seven yards each.91
It is not known what skilled male slaves did with the extra clothing
they received. It is quite possible that they kept it for themselves, or they
may have sold it to earn some money. Some may have shared the surplus
with family members, including their womenfolk. Single slave women,
however, would not have benefited in this manner. Despite the diverse
talents and skills of slave women, the planters embraced the notion that
women were not as good workers as men, and therefore mens skills and
labour were more valued. Although slave women worked side by side
with their male counterparts in the field, doing the same kinds of work,
they were denied the same clothing rations as slave men. By rewarding
male slaves for their skills with more clothing, the planters reaffirmed
the patriarchal norms of the colonial society and simultaneously reemphasized womens subordination, not only within the colonial order
but also to their menfolk.
The Crossing
39
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 40
Other British Caribbean colonies, such as Barbados, did specify the

minimum dress. However, the slave codes were still vague and inconsistent, so dress styles and clothing allowances varied considerably. The
Barbados slave law of 1825, for instance, required that masters provide
their slaves each year with decent clothing according to the custom of
the island. The Bahamas law of 1824 called for two suits of proper
clothing and sufficient clothing each year; and the Trinidad ordinance
of 1800 stipulated, two shifts of clothing complete.92 British West
Indian planters were committed to maintaining slavery but also tried to
run their plantations as profitable enterprises; they therefore sought to
narrowly restrict expenditures on slaves. They did this by providing the
minimum clothing allowances to their unskilled labourers and rewarding only skilled workers. Throughout the British Caribbean, it was common for tradesmen, slave drivers and similarly privileged slaves to
receive the same fabrics or clothing as other slaves but in larger amounts.
As a result, inequalities and distinctions existed in each territory.93
Historian Barry Higman writes that, at a minimum, men most often
[had] a jacket, shirt, trousers, and hat or cap; and women a jacket, petticoat, and hat. Handkerchiefs were generally used by the women as
head ties, while men wore Kilmarnock caps.94 Higman does not examine the relation between gender and distribution. Many enslaved women
throughout the British Caribbean colonies may have received less clothing than their male counterparts; however, this matter requires further
study.
Because many slave women in Jamaica received smaller clothing
rations than men, they had to find alternative ways of obtaining additional clothing. Some slave women stole clothing from their masters or
mistresses. Mrs Carmichael, for instance, frequently complained that
her washerwomen had a tendency to lose articles of clothing.95 Others
were able to buy extra garments and fabrics with money saved up. These
items could be purchased in open-air linen markets that existed
throughout the region but were most prevalent in the Eastern
Caribbean. A few items were probably available in the regular markets
frequented by slaves (see Figure 1.1).
Fabrics purchased by slaves could be stitched into various styles by
local seamstresses for the slave women who could afford it. Slave women
with sewing skills were thus able to earn money. The planter Thomas
Thistlewood, for example, revealed in 1786 that his slave mistress,
Phibbah, made him a present of 10 18s. 11/2d., all in silver: money she
40
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 41
had earned by sewing, baking cassava and selling muskmelons and

watermelons out of her ground.96 Seamstresses who sewed both for the
mistress in the great house and for the members of the slave community
were often regarded as elite slaves. Archaeological digs at two sites suggest that a thriving cottage industry in clothing manufacture developed
among slaves across the island. The dig at the Drax Hall plantations
slave village, in the parish of St Ann, unearthed large quantities of buckles, brass thimbles, scissors, thread spools and buttons made of bone,
shell, metal, glass and porcelain. The Seville plantation dig also produced buttons made of iron, brass and bone, along with brass and iron
buckles (see Figure 1.2).
A close examination of these artefacts reveals that the brass buttons
and buckles were imported. However,
slaves most likely obtained their brass buttons and buckles by means of trade in the
local markets or from the planter and mistress in the great house. Most buttons
found in the slave village areas were made
of local materials; the large quantity of
bone buttons suggests that bone was the
most common. Animal bone, of course,
would have been cheap and easily obtainable. The bone was cut, cleaned and
rubbed or filed into the desired shape, size
The Crossing
Figure 1.2
Metal buckles
made by slaves
from the Seville
plantation dig
Courtesy Institute of Jamaica
Courtesy National Library of Jamaica
Figure 1.1 The Linen

Market, c.1700s. A
linen market in the
Eastern Caribbean.
Similar markets
may have existed
in Jamaica.
20 mm
41
Figure 1.3 Bone

buttons made
by slaves from
the Seville
plantation dig
42
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 42
and texture. Holes were bored into the object

for easy passage of a needle and thread (see
Figure 1.3).
The beauty, intricacy and precision of the
carving on these buttons bear witness to the
20 mm
talent and the superb craftsmanship that
existed among Jamaican slaves. Thin strips of
iron were also cut, shaped and welded together
to make buttons, and iron was used to make
belt buckles for male and female slaves.
It is not known where slaves obtained the
iron for working; it could have been purchased, stolen, received as a gift or collected
20 mm
from the scrap heap of the estate. The iron
would have been heated to a high temperature
by a craftsman or blacksmith and hammered into the required shape.
Archaeologist Douglas Armstrong points out that the artefacts found at
Drax Hall show a slight increase in the number of clothing items recovered from each successive time period, implying increasing use of manufactured as well as locally tailored clothing. According to Armstrong,
the artefacts reflect a greater degree of personal freedom and perhaps
the development of local cottage industries associated with sewing.97
Some slave women received extra clothing as a reward for bearing
children and to commemorate special events. These women were able to
increase their social standing within the enslaved community, especially
if the clothes were of European style. Matthew Gregory Lewis, for example, gave each [slave] mother a present of a scarlet girdle with a silver
medal in the centre . . . [it] entitled her to marks of peculiar respect . . .
and receiving a larger portion [of dress] than the rest.98 During the festivities to commemorate the opening of the new hospital on Lewiss
estate, every woman received a flaming red stuff petticoat.99 The
planter Gilbert Mathison in 1810 created a formal code for his overseer,
which guaranteed each slave woman who gave birth to a child a calico
or linen frock for herself and two for the child when it reached the age
of one month.100 Although slave women who received extra clothes in
this manner were socially elevated within the slave society, for planters
like Lewis and Mathison, the slave womans body was a matter of economic interest. The more slave women reproduced, the larger the labour
force to increase production and profitability. The exploitation of
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 43
womens labour was not enough; enslaved women were expected to be

breeding machines, reproducing in exchange for the basic necessities of
life. Hilary Beckles argues that the enslaved womans inner world her
fertility, sexuality and maternity were not her own but were placed on
the market as capital assets to be manipulated for the benefit of the
planter class.101
Some slave women received extra clothing from white men in
exchange for sexual favours. The eighteenth-century historian Thomas
Atwood declared that slave women were prostitutes who submitted to
white men in exchange for money or clothes.102 However, as Deborah
Gray White has pointed out, this argument was based on the planters
view that slave women were governed almost entirely by their libido, a
Jezebel character.103 The heading for this section, Me Know No Law,
Me Know No Sin, was the title of a popular eighteenth-century
Jamaican slave song in patois, recorded by the European bookkeeper J.B.
Moreton. In it enslaved women described how some of them received
fine muslin coats from their masters in exchange for sweet embraces.
An extract of this song according to Moretons documents is as follows:
Altho a slave me is born
and bred my skin is black, not yellow
I often sold my maiden head to
many a handsome fellow
My massa keep me once for true,
and give me clothes wid busses
Fine muslin coats, wid bitty too
To gain my sweet embraces . . .
Him, Obisha, him de come one
Night, and give me gown and
Busses; Him get one pickinny, white!
almost as white as missess.
Then missess fum me wid long switch,
And say him for da massa;
My massa curse her, lying bitch!
And tell her, buss my rassa!
Me fumd when me no condescend
Me fumd too if me do it;
Me no have no one for tand
My friend, So me am forcd to
Do it.
The Crossing
43
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 44
Me know no law, me know no sin,

Me is just what ebba them make me;
This is the way dem bring me in;
So God nor devil take me!104
The song gives poignant insight into the painful realities of enslaved
womens lives. Some of them were forced to do it submit to the
planters desires. Worst of all, they had no one for tand my friend [no
friend to turn to for help]. Some slave women submitted to their masters lust for fear of being sold if they rejected him. Such a punishment
would have been excruciating for a woman, separating her from her
family. The fear of being sold and disrupting the slave family unit was
so intense that the slave woman had no alternative but to yield to the
planters desires and to accept the clothes he gave her. The fact that
Jamaican slave women created the song suggests that this was a common
reality faced by many; perhaps the song united and consoled women
who shared similar experiences.
Furthermore, as Deborah Gray White has argued, there was no reason for slave women to disbelieve that even freedom could be bought for
the price of their bodies. As a consequence, some women took the risk
and offered themselves. When they did so, they breathed life into the
image of Jezebel.105 Whether or not slave women desired these relationships is irrelevant; the conventional wisdom was that black women
were naturally promiscuous and they desired such connections.106
Indeed, not all enslaved women who accepted clothing in exchange
for sexual favours were forced. Some slave women used their sexuality to
gain various favours, including European dress, as a means of civilizing
themselves and embracing the dominant white culture. Others probably
accommodated willingly to European dress because they were lured by
the soft muslins and other expensive fabrics. For some slave women,
such a dress enhanced their prestige and influence among fellow slaves.
An example of how European dress served as a mark of social standing was the case of a slave woman named Venus. In 1815 Matthew
Gregory Lewis described his encounter with her. She had been the mistress of the previous estate owner and was famous for her large breasts
hence her nickname, Big Joan. Her status as mistress to the plantation
owner (now Lewis) was usurped by a younger slave woman. Venus confronted Lewis and demanded that the petticoat given to her rival be
given to her. She considered the petticoat essential to maintaining her
status on the estate against her rival. Lewis reported that she argued that
44
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 45
she had always worked for him [Lewis] well, and therefore ought to
have quite as much petticoat. Lewis stated, I tried to convince her that
for Venus to wear a petticoat of blue durant, or indeed any petticoat at
all, would be quite unclassical: but the goddess of beauty stuck to her
point, and finally carried off the petticoat.107 Venuss ability to argue for
and obtain the petticoat was admirable, but the scenario is filled with
complex meanings.
Venus, in both name and symbolism, was a mirror that reflected colonial societys obsession with the enslaved womans body and its nexus
with sexual and racial mythology.108 Hence, the petticoat alluded to an
identity that was constructed and shaped by the colonial discourse that
of the wench. The case of Venus and the petticoat is important because
it shows the ability of enslaved women, despite inferior racial and sexual
status, to manipulate some white men to their own advantage. Venus
was able to argue for and finally command the petticoat from her master. She persuaded him that the petticoat was important to her, and she
succeeded in getting what she wanted. Like Venus, women who bartered
sexual favours in exchange for clothes or other ornaments exercised a
type of power (though the planters argument that the petticoat was not
suitable for Venus because it would make her unclassical represented
his imposition of his own idea of beauty). According to French historian
and philosopher Michel Foucault, sexuality constitutes a particularly
dense transfer point for relations of power, and power is diffuse and
comes from below in manifold relationships of force.109 Although
Foucaults analysis of power enables some understanding of resistance, it
does not refer to the oppression of women embodied in rape and sexual
harassment.
As slaves, African women had few choices. They were forced to do
what was necessary to survive and preserve their family. An enslaved
womans suffering was twofold: by day she was at the mercy of the
planters whip in the fields, and at night her body was considered by the
planter to be both public and available for his pleasure. The constant
exposure of their bodies during whippings and labour in the fields
reduced slave womens function to mere sex objects. The objectification
of slave women disempowered them within the colonial structure and
simultaneously shielded white women from the planters carnal lust. The
slave song Me Know No Law, Me Know No Sin captured the essence
of many slave womens lives. They knew no laws because the laws did
not benefit them but only regulated their exploitation. They knew no
The Crossing
45
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 46
sin because their enslavers already labelled them as promiscuous and sinful. In the planters view, slave women were Jezebels by nature and knew
no better. Despite all this, there was an area of these womens lives that
was not sinful, where they could turn for some sense of freedom and cultural expression: their dress.
The Colour and Fabric of Plantation Dress

[The immigrants to the New World had the] opportunity not only to be
born again, but to be born again in new clothes. . . . The new setting would
provide new raiments of self.
Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark
African slaves could make their own clothes, and some became accomplished at sewing. Edward Long, for example, complimented the slaves
he met by remarking that they were expert at their needles,110 while
Bernard Senior reported in 1835 that slaves, in particular house slaves,
were generally good seamstresses.111 Although the law required slave
owners to provide their slaves with osnaburg fabric, all slaves did not
dress alike. In fact, slave dress reflected diversity, class and differentiation
within Jamaican slave society. Dress among some slaves, especially elite
slaves, varied from plantation to plantation, great house to great house,
as well as between urban and rural areas. Urban slaves, who sometimes
received cast-off clothing from their owners, were often better and more
elaborately dressed than field slaves, and their clothes reflected superior
status. Dress also varied according to slave occupation. Many urban
slave women preferred long, brightly coloured skirts made from refined
cloth such as muslin or cotton rather than osnaburg, with beads and
even gold jewellery as accessories.112
The standard slave dress among rural and field slaves was less elaborate than that of urban slaves, consisting of an osnaburg or checked
frock or smock, a pair of osnaburg or sheeting trousers and a coarse hat
for men, and an osnaburg or coarse linen shift, a petticoat and according to their taste and circumstances a handkerchief to use as a headwrap for women. On a few occasions slaves were provided with a coat.
Shoes were not very common and were reserved for special occasion,
such as dances and carnivals.113
46
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 47
On some plantations the women wore their skirts pulled over a cord
tied around the hips, exposing their legs as high as the knee (see Figures
2.5 and 3.23). This style provided greater freedom of movement,
enabling women to more easily carry out their daily tasks. It also kept
their skirts dry when they were crossing rivers. This outfit, called the
pull skirt, was often complemented by a headwrap and sometimes a
broad-brimmed straw hat placed over the headwrap.114
Many slave women displayed African cultural characteristics in their
dress. Adherence to African styles was reinforced by the continuous
arrival of Africans as slaves until the end of the slave trade in 1807,
and as indentured labourers between 1841 and 1867. The African customs that were brought across the Atlantic to Jamaica reflected both the
resourcefulness and the ingenuity of African people. In Jamaica,
African women used the skills they had acquired in West Africa to
obtain suitable raw materials from their environment for their clothing.
The Africans acquired some knowledge of native plants from indigenous Caribbean people, and they built on this knowledge and developed it further. They also passed it on to their descendants.115 Africans
looked for plants that could be used to make bark-cloth and dyes to
colour the fabrics they received from their enslavers. This required a
process of trial and error until they learned to make fashion with what
was available to them. For slave women, particularly rural slaves, the
nurturing of an African aesthetic in their dress allowed them to dress
up or nice up the drab, plain clothing they received from the planters,
to transform their appearance from a slave aesthetic to a more pleasing
and familiar African mode in dress. Moreover, the less like a slave one
looked, the better the individual was perceived by others within the
colonial society.
Edward Long revealed that Jamaicans dyed fabrics with juices
extracted from roots and plants, just as their African ancestors did.116
Long listed the various dyes and pigments used, some of which were
later adopted by Europeans in Jamaica and even used in local manufacturing. Some Europeans experimented with the natural substances and
produced dye solutions. The plants used by Africans to make dyes and
pigments included indigo-berry, which stained paper or linen a fine blue
colour, and scarlet-seed, a shrubby tree found in the Red Hills and
Spanish Town areas, whose seeds produced a scarlet pigment used by
both dyers and painters. The oil of the cashew nut tinted linen a rusty
colour, and the milky juice from the cashew trunk produced a permaThe Crossing
47
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 48
nent black dye. Other dye solutions were obtained from the annotto or
roucou tree, vine sorrel, acacee (acacia), bissy (kola) bark, logwood,
prickly pear (cactus), prickly yellow wood and the shrubby goat rue.
Juices from the marinade root or yaw-weed were also used to make dye
solutions. Lignum vitae leaves were used to refresh the colours in faded
fabric. Long did provide a substantial list of dyes and pigments, but he
did not give detailed information on all the dyes or the process of making the dye solutions. Nevertheless, the list of plant sources gives an
impression of extensive dye production. Enslaved men and women also
used Jamaican indigenous plants like the smaller mahoe for other purposes, such as making ropes and hammocks.117
Although the process of dye making continued among African slaves
and their descendants, there is no evidence to date to confirm that weaving cotton into textiles, as was done in Africa, was widely practised in
Jamaica. Slaves did weave plant fibre but rarely cotton. At the recent
archaeological dig at Drax Hall plantation, for example, no evidence of
cotton weaving was found. Although some cotton was grown in
Jamaica, spinning was not common either. In some British territories in
the Caribbean, such as Berbice, spinning and weaving were done on cotton plantations by a small number of slaves who also worked in the
fields.118 In the United States, slave women did a lot of sewing, weaving
and spinning of cotton, since, in most cases, slaves in the United States
were expected to make their own clothing. Weaving and spinning were
often done by older slave women who were too weak to work in the
fields, but this work could also be done by younger women on a quota
basis after fieldwork was finished for the day.119
There were several reasons for the absence of widespread cotton
weaving in Jamaica. The amount of cotton grown on the island was too
small to have an impact on the local economy. Furthermore, most
British West Indian economies, including Jamaica, specialized in growing sugar cane. Growing cotton for the purpose of weaving textiles
would have competed with the British cotton industry. Edward Long
recognized this when he stated that
[t]here is little of it [cotton] worked up at the places of its growth, except in
the fabrics of hammocks; and even this little branch has never yet reached
Jamaica. In some parts of the island, as in Vere, a few industrious housewives
make knit stockings with it, for their families; but some few planters spin
their own wick for lamps in crop time; but, probably, not a third of a bag is
spent in this way, as the greater number buy what is imported from Great
48
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 49
Britain . . . which is proof of great value of the West India colonies, which
do not rival Great Britain in manufactures, over those which are dangerous
competitors with her.120
A cotton industry in the colony not only would have competed with
British manufacturers but also would have required slave labour that was
used for sugar production. Therefore, a local cotton industry that
required weaving and spinning skills was not encouraged by the colonial
power. The Jamaican economy was so dependent on sugar production
that attempts in 1841 to diversify and revitalize the declining economy
with cotton and silk manufacturing failed.121
Another factor was that the British West Indian colonies were closely
tied into the Atlantic trading network. The absence of a local textile
industry meant that the colonial society was forced to depend on Britain
for manufactured goods such as cloth and clothing. The trade between
Britain and her West Indian colonies, including Jamaica, provided an
abundance of British apparel and textiles for large numbers of settlers
and colonized people. In addition, the colonies offered Britain both an
easily accessible market for her manufactured goods and a large and rapidly expanding consumer society consisting of a predominantly African
slave population. Slaves consumption of British textiles, along with
their limited spending power to purchase some refined fabrics in local
markets, suggests that their role as consumers from the seventeenth century onward contributed to the economic growth, longevity and prosperity of Britains vibrant textile industry.
African slaves were familiar with the techniques used in the manufacture of cloth and textiles, such as spinning and weaving, since these
were practised in Africa. However, the availability and distribution of
fabrics and clothing to slaves meant that the need for these skills did not
arise in Jamaica. Knitting was introduced by Europeans and was practised by some slaves. This was primarily a European craft, done by a few
industrious white housewives, as Long stated earlier, and taught to
African slaves.122 Knitting is still popular in Jamaica today. The absence
of sources regarding quilt-making among slaves suggest that this activity, too, was rare in Jamaica. Unlike in the US South, where quilting was
a popular occupation for female slaves in winter months, in most of
Jamaica the climate was too warm for quilts. On plantations located at
high altitude or in cool regions of the island, slaves received blankets to
keep warm.
The Crossing
49
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 50
One of the most interesting African dress customs that was maintained and nurtured in Jamaica by African slaves was the production of
bark-cloth and lace-bark. As in West Africa, Jamaican slaves learned to
make clothing from various plant materials as early as the seventeenth
century. The English King Charles II, for example, who reigned from
1660 to 1685, was presented with a lace-bark cravat by Sir Thomas
Lynch, who served as governor of Jamaica from 1671 to 1674 and again
from 1682 to 1684.123 The thriving bark industry was very important to
the livelihood of some slaves and freed people; it required the services of
large numbers of people, from tree spotters, loggers and bark cutters to
artisans, dyers and seamstresses. Undoubtedly, the work involved in bark
production brought some financial rewards to the participants.
According to Edward Long, clothing in the eighteenth century was also
made from coratoe leaf, mahoe bark, date tree, mountain cabbage and
the down-tree-down.124 Long did not elaborate on all the plants or
exactly how most of them were manufactured into clothes, so the details
of the bark-cloth industry remain largely unknown. European settlers
did use the products, and many may well have profited from their slaves
activities in this industry.
In a series of interviews, several elderly Maroons in Accompong Town
explained that often the bark was stripped and beaten soft, and then the
fibre was pulled out, separated, carded or combed to untangle it, and
dried. The fibre was then woven into textile, sewed or tied, and worn.
Banana fibres, obtained from the bark, and coratoe fibre, obtained from
the cactus-like leaves, were treated in the same manner. Other trees
whose bark was used for making fabric included the jimmy, or whitebark, and the trumpet tree. In these cases, the bark was stripped down
to the thin inner layer. This thin strip was beaten, dried and woven
together.125 The exact weaving technique is no longer known; the knowledge has been lost over the decades. Nor do we know if the weaving was
done on looms or if it consisted of twisting and plaiting by hand, similar to the weaving of baskets or mats. It is even possible that the weaving of these plant fibres was similar to the process of making raffia cloth
in the Congo. Long reported that the most popular form of bark clothing made by slaves and freed persons came from the laghetto tree and its
relative, the bon-ace.126
The laghetto, also known as the lace-bark tree, had laurel-like leaves
and was found in the woods of Vere in the parish of Clarendon, and also
the parish of St Elizabeth. It was native to Jamaica, Cuba and
50
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 51
Hispaniola, and grew in woodlands on limestone hills. The tree was valued in all three territories for its medicinal properties and as material for
manufactured products. The tree grew to between five and ten metres
tall.127 The inner bark was of a fine, though very tough, texture and
could be divided into a number of thin filaments, which, after being
soaked in water, could be drawn out by the fingers. It was rolled into
large puff balls, dried and then stretched in the sun to be naturally
bleached white (see Figures 1.4, 1.5, 1.6). The end product resembled fine
lace but could also imitate linen and gauze.128 Edward Long recalled:
The ladies [slaves and freedwomen] of the island are extremely dexterous in
making caps, ruffles, and complete suits of lace with it; in order to bleach it,
after being drawn out as much as it will bear, they expose it stretched to the
sunshine, and sprinkle it frequently with water. . . . It bears washing
extremely well . . . with common soap . . . and [is] equal to the best artificial
lace. . . . The wild Negroes [Maroons] have [also] made apparel with it of a
very durable nature.129
Figure 1.4
Laghetto or
lace-bark branch
showing the fibre
that resembles
lace or linen
The Crossing
51
The bark of the bon-ace tree, found near Montego Bay, spread like the
laghetto bark; however, it was not as durable and therefore not used as
much in clothing. The laghetto, or lace-bark, tree was so durable that it
was used for other products.
The bark and fibre were used to make ropes, hammocks and
whips. The actual lace fibre or filament was used to make doilies
or fern mats to decorate tables and other furniture, and it was
also used in the kitchen as a sieve or strainer. Other clothing
and accessories made from lace-bark included bonnets,
fans and slippers, and both men and women used
laghetto linen for mourning attire.130 The plant fibre
was used most in clothing manufacture. The fact that
lace-bark could be used as regular lace and imitation
linen would have been appealing to many members of
the enslaved community. Like contemporary linen,
clothes made from this type of fibre would have kept
the body cool and relatively comfortable in hot weather,
and would have served as an ideal fabric for dress-up occasions.
Another reason for the popularity of locally made lace-bark
linen could have been its affordability and accessibility there
was an abundance of readily available trees for lace-bark produc-
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 52
tion. Imported European manufactured lace and refined fabrics such as

silk and muslin were expensive and beyond the reach of many slaves.
Moreover, bark-cloth production was not as time-consuming or difficult
as spinning and weaving entire textiles and therefore could be done during slaves free time. The Herbal Council member of the Accompong
Town Maroons, Mrs Caroline Ena Lawrence, remembered her mother
telling her about lace-bark. She recalled that her grandmothers and
great-grandmothers made lace blouses and frills for dresses and skirts,
and that some women wore stylish outfits consisting of a lace-bark
blouse and a banana-fibre or coratoe-fibre skirt.131 Descriptive evidence
of dress patterns or designs made from lace-bark and bark linen is scarce.
Nonetheless, Longs account suggests some European influences on
styles, with reference to suits and frills.
Early records by Sir Hans Sloane and Edward Long reaffirm that the
popular clothing industry based on lace-bark and bark-cloth production
developed early on in Jamaica, and by the eighteenth century, slaves,
freed persons and Maroons were involved. It is logical that the Maroons
were the ones most extensively engaged in this industry by then; sugar
was king by that time, and those working in cane production would
have had little time for other activities. Furthermore, lace-bark forests
were located predominantly in the regions of Jamaica designated as part
of Maroon territories. The peace settlements with the Maroons in the
eighteenth century would have given the Maroons greater control over
the industry.
Edward Long does not mention mens participation in bark clothing
production during this period, which suggests that women not only
made the lace products but also traded and controlled the industry. Men
may have helped with logging and harvesting the bark, but the actual
lace production remained an exclusively female activity, at least for a
while. This enabled women to provide clothing for themselves, their
family and members of the slave community. Most likely, Jamaican
women, both slave and freed, found lace making more profitable and
worthwhile than weaving textiles and concentrated their efforts in the
lace-bark industry when they could. Since male slaves received more
clothing than females did, men may have seen no need to participate in
making clothing. Others, perhaps, chose not to be involved because of
a stigma associated with bark-cloth: in some West African societies, such
as the Ashanti, bark-cloth was made and worn by the poorest slaves.132
From the nineteenth century onward, some male slaves and freedmen
52
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 53
Courtesy David Boxer Collection of Jamaican Photography
got directly involved in lace-bark production, as seen in Figures 1.5 and 1.6,
perhaps influenced by the financial successes of the women in the community.
Bark-cloth production continued to be
an important industry into the early
twentieth century.
Slavery affected men and women in
different ways. Slave women were expected to be creative and flexible. They
worked in the fields during the day and
in the slave household at night. Yet they
kept many customary practices of
African dress alive. Slave womens essential roles as mothers, healers,
teachers and even spiritual leaders within the slave community made
them ideal conduits for the transmission of African customs in dress. As
slaves, African women and their descendants had contributed to the success of the colonial economy, yet they were not allowed to enjoy the
fruits of their labour. Their innovation and experimentation in dress,
such as making and using bark-cloth, was a response to their oppressed
state and a desire to create their own economic sphere. The popularity
of bark-cloth and lace-bark suggests that a trading network and market
system developed, based on bark products. This enabled some women
to trade and be financially independent of their menfolk.
Slave womens labour determined the
standard of living within the enslaved
household. They were expected to take
care of the house, raise the children, and
make the clothes so everyone could be
presentable. They were also responsible
for the personal hygiene of family members, which included caring for clothes.
European propaganda had long portrayed slaves as unclean and filthy, and
perhaps some slaves were demoralized
by their oppressed state and thus indifferent to filth. Yet Africans were familiar
with the importance of cleanliness. West
Africans had a reputation for personal
Figure 1.5
Preparing Lace
Bark, Jamaica,
c.1890s. Photograph taken from
nineteenthcentury postcard
by Astley Smith.
Courtesy University of the West Indies Library
Figure 1.6 A Piece

of Prepared Lace
Bark, c.1890s.
Photograph taken
from nineteenthcentury postcard
by Astley Smith.
The Crossing
53
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 54
cleanliness, whereas many Europeans, especially the English, for a long

time suffered from the reputation for avoiding soap and water.133
Africans, accustomed to bathing daily, could hardly believe the filth of
their European enslavers. The Industrial Revolution brought social
changes in Britain, and people began to take washing more seriously.
The demand for soap increased, and palm oil from West Africa became
the major ingredient in the manufacture of soaps. African slaves and
freed persons took care of their personal appearance, and they enjoyed
looking good and dressing up for special occasions. Slaves regularly surprised their owners by their indifference to their appearance during the
work week and their attention to their appearance for festivities, religious ceremonies and market day. Their attention to clothing suggests a
positive attitude towards their appearance.134
The process of caring for clothes was often tedious and lengthy,
depending on the quantity of clothes and the colour and types of fabrics. Slaves turned to their environment for tools, including plants to
make soap and to assist in the care of their clothes. Edward Long
reported that vegetable soap was made from the coratoe cactus and the
broad-leafed broomweed, and that perfume, for the body and the
clothes, was obtained from muskwood and rosewood. Some plants, such
as soapberry bush and soapwood, were popular for their natural soap
properties and easy availability.135 Soapwood leaves, when rubbed against
clothes in water, produced thick, sweet-scented suds that left clothes
smelling and looking clean. The green leaves did not stain the garments,
and after use they were shaken off the clothes. These plants were also
used in bathing. Other plants used as soap and to create suds were the
lignum vitae leaves, which prevented colours from fading, and choppedup or broken-up young ackee pods.136
The planters clothes were cared for by washerwomen, who were elite
slaves and worked in the great house, sometimes under the supervision
of the mistress. The white elite did not allow their clothes to be mingled
with those of their slaves; their clothes were washed separately, usually
on specific days. Garments were often sorted for washing according to
colour, and undergarments were washed separately. As in Africa, slave
women in rural Jamaica washed clothes in rivers and streams; they beat
the clothes on rocks with a paddle or stones to get rid of heavy dirt and
used carved coconut husk as a brush to get out difficult stains (see Figure
1.7).
54
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 55
Figure 1.7 West Indian Washer Women, c.1779, by Agostino Brunias. Note the washerwomen
beating the clothes with paddles.
The white elite viewed the process of beating clothes on rocks as

backward and primitive, and some felt that this treatment damaged the
clothes.137 Most white settlers preferred their clothes to be washed in
tubs with a scrub-board as was customary in Europe, and the practice
was adopted in urban Jamaica. White clothes were usually scalded
(stirred in boiling water) and then hung in the bright sunlight to bleach.
Dried and crumpled clothes were pressed with a hot iron heated on a
coal or wood stove.138 In some areas of Jamaica, clothes are still washed
this way, although natural plant soaps are no longer popular.
In 1823, the visitor Cynric Williams described an encounter as follows:
The Crossing
55
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 56
I overtook a girl on the road with a veil over her face, which I thought at first
to be lace, but found to be made of the bark of a tree; it is drawn out by the
hand while the bark is green, and has a very pretty effect. I slackened my pace
for the pleasure of conversing with her. She was mounted on an ambling
pony, and was attended by a negro boy on foot. . . . She was herself free, and
the negro boy was her slave.139
Williamss experience with this veiled girl brings up several thoughts

about dress and class in Jamaican colonial society. The girls veil was
most likely made from laghetto bark (see Figure 1.8), and it apparently
was not only pretty but also very thin in texture, like regular lace, so
much so that Williams was deceived at first glance.
What is most interesting, however, is that the girl was wearing a veil.
Evidence of slave or freed women in the British Caribbean wearing veils
is rare. Williams apparently was captivated with the veiled woman and
perhaps found it pleasant to converse with her. His curiosity may also
have been aroused because he had not seen a veiled woman before
Figure 1.8 Freed

woman wearing
lace-bark veil.
Illustration by
author, based on
interpretation of
Cynric Williamss
account.
56
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 57
during his tour of the island, which would suggest that veiling was not
common in Jamaican society.
The young woman could have been wearing a veil for one of several
reasons. Perhaps she wore it to cover facial scarring or disfigurement. It
may have been an adaptation of the mantilla, which was popular among
female immigrants from the Spanish colonies. It may have been a reflection of Islamic influence in dress brought over by early Muslim slaves
from Africa or early Spanish slaves of Moorish descent and adopted by
some Jamaican women over the years. She may herself have been a
Muslim who embraced this Islamic custom. Although we know very little about Muslim slaves in Jamaica, we do know that there was a Muslim
community in the nineteenth century, and that some Muslim slaves, like
Muhammad Kaba in the parish of Manchester, corresponded with
Muslims in Africa.140 Through correspondence, Muslims in Jamaica
were made aware of Islamic dress customs in Africa and could introduce
them to the faithful in Jamaica.
In any case, the girls veil set her apart as an elite woman or a person
of some social standing among the freed black and free coloured population. Although this form of dress was not common, the evidence suggests that some Jamaican slave and freed women may have worn veils as
a mark of their status and wealth, as was customary among some classes
of Muslim women in West Africa.141 The girls veil and her possession of
a slave boy and a pony were signs of some affluence. We know nothing
about this veiled girl travelling to Black River, apart from Williamss reference to her. He did not mention her name but did state that she was
free. He did not refer to her in his usual manner of describing mulatto
women as brown girls, which suggests that she was of African descent
or black. If he had requested more information from her, he might have
appeared inappropriately familiar. Despite this, he managed to learn
that her journey was to lodge a complaint against a white man for having threatened and even offered violence to her person and that she
thought it very wicked and very unlike a gentleman, for the King
George to take away peoples negroes [slaves] without paying them.142
The veiled girls ability to travel to report her problems to the authorities again suggests a privileged status, and her argument for compensation to slave owners for the freedom of their slaves reflected her own
interest as a slave owner. Freed persons who possessed slaves and money
were materially and socially superior to the slave community and sought
to maintain their status.
The Crossing
57
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 58
Like many African women, Jamaican slave women liked beads. The
planter Matthew Gregory Lewis stated that enslaved women were
Decked out with a profusion of beads and corals, and gold ornaments
of all descriptions.143 And another planter, William Beckford, stated:
They [slave women] are particularly fond of beads, coral, glass and
chains with which they adorn their necks and wrists.144 The illustration
Negro Mode of Nursing (see Figure 1.9) shows one example of slave
womens dress and their fascination with beads.
The woman seems to be leaving the plantation. She is depicted holding her young child in one arm, and in the other hand she carries what
appears to be a calabash water holder, perhaps to quench their thirst on
the journey. In the background another woman can be seen carrying a
Figure 1.9 Negro Mode of Nursing, Barbados, c.1830, by R. Bridgens
58
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 59
bundle of what appears to be either grass or cane on her head, in African

fashion. In the nearby distance, a man is seated, smoking, by the slave
cottage.
The scene evokes an image of the tireless, hardworking woman. The
relaxed posture of the man and the quiet background suggest that work
in the fields is over, but the womans work within the slave household
continues. The womans dress is simple, consisting of a blouse and a
piece of striped fabric wrapped around her waist in typical West African
style. Her dress is not typical work garb; instead, she is clearly dressed
up for her journey. She wears a headwrap and is barefoot. Planters did
not distribute shoes to their slaves; they were therefore uncommon
except for long journeys and special occasions, if one could afford it. In
this case, the woman in the illustration may not be going far. Those
slaves who travelled over rocky roads made themselves sandals from
oxhide bound with thongs.145 The most outstanding feature of the
womans dress is her necklace of layered beads. The child in the picture
is dressed in a floral-print fabric wrapped around the waist and tied at
the back. It is interesting to note that the artist depicted the child with
monkey-like facial features. Offensive graphic representation of Africans
was common during slavery and was an attempt to dehumanize the
African race.
Slave women in Jamaica obtained beads by various means. Some were
purchased or bartered for in the local markets. Some were smuggled over
on slave ships, and slave owners and managers gave some as gifts.
Edward Long mentioned that slaves clothing rations included small
glass, ribbons, beads, thread . . . all or most of them of British growth or
manufacture.146 Realizing that slave women were fond of beads,
planters sought to facilitate this aspect of their dress in the hope of pacifying them, thus making them better workers who were less likely to
rebel. During the archaeological dig at the slave village on Drax Hall
plantation, glass beads were the second most common clothing artefacts
found (buttons were the first). Of all the beads found, 42 per cent were
located in house areas and 7 per cent in shed areas. The beads were of
diverse colours. It is believed that beads were placed in slave burials, as
was done in Barbados. The large number of beads found during the dig
at Drax Hall suggests that they were highly valued as items of personal
adornment.147
Enslaved women also wore beads for reasons other than personal
adornment. They were used in slaves religious practices, and sometimes
The Crossing
59
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 60
as a form of protection or to ward off evil spirits. In contemporary

Suriname, for example, this custom has survived in several Maroon
communities. In Jamaica, red beads were worn as protection against
duppies (ghosts), and amber beads were a common talisman in the AfroJamaican cult of Myalism. Beads were strung on strings, cords, thread
and even wire. Other types of beads found at Drax Hall plantation
included turquoise and deep-blue ultramarine beads.148
Creole Dress, European Dress and the Planters

Perspective on Slave Clothing
Fashion has dualities in its formation, a reputation for snobbery and sin.
. . . It is obsessive about outward appearances, yet speaks the unconscious
and our deepest desires.
Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson, Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader
The commingling of European and African dress customs within the

colonial space resulted in the development of a Creole style among the
slave population. Dress was one element of creolization, a process of
complex interactions, contacts, successive conflicts and osmosis that led
over decades to a synthesis of European and African cultural characteristics. The development of a Creole culture led to cultural expansion,
expression and diversity based on the life experience of the enslaved and
colonized. The emergence of a Creole dress as part of Creole culture did
not represent the abandonment or the entrenchment of African dress
customs among slaves but rather led to new creations that were strongly
influenced by African aesthetics. Edouard Glissant, for instance, argued
that Creolization is not an uprooting, a loss of sight, a suspension of
being . . . we do not mean cross breeding, because creolization adds
something new to the components that participate in it.149 The addition of something new strengthened the African characteristics
against the Europeans attempt at complete cultural annihilation.
Furthermore, Creole dress was the product of a conscious effort to
maintain, preserve and support the African elements in dress brought
to the Caribbean. This conscious effort enabled African slaves to successfully adapt to their new and ever-changing environment (see Figure
1.10).
60
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 61
Courtesy of the National Library of Jamaica
Figure 1.10 Creole Negroes, c.1830s, by I.M. Belisario, printed by Adolphe Duperly. The individual
sketches provide a sense of the different fashion styles for men and women during the period.
The outfits are predominantly European except for the African-inspired hat of animal skin and
the womens headwraps.
Creolization, however, was not simply a mere cross-cultural mixing of

various styles, but a complex process that required compromise on the
part of African slaves and their descendants. Slaves, for example, had to
accept the loss or erasure of some of their cultural practices, as is the
norm in any form of cultural amalgamation. Creolization by its very
nature guaranteed the survival of African slaves, including women, and
it was subversive. For instance, creolization prevented one component,
in this case European customs in dress, from taking over the whole. The
battle for dominance between two cultural norms was played out on the
The Crossing
61
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 62
surface of the African body, which, as metaphor for cultural space, was
the desired target of the enslaver, because to control the slave body was
to control the culture of the slave.
Many Europeans did not find Creole dress appealing, regarding it as
a ludicrous parody or caricature of European fashion, which included
clashing styles. In the mid-eighteenth century, for instance, Philo
Scotus, a Scottish gentleman and member of the local militia, was
intrigued by the display of Creole dresses at the races; he also noticed the
reactions of his fellow Europeans. He remarked:
The excitement amongst the mulatto and negro population who were present was most graphic and entertaining; dressed in the extreme caricature of
English fashions, the females in muslins and ribbons of the gayest colours
with caps and turbans of the smartest silks and stuffs, silk stockings and
always red shoes, to which the shortness of their dresses gave ample display,
and above all, the gay parasols of green or pink, which the sable beauties displayed with infinite pride. . . . Their grotesque attempts to imitate the manners of the higher orders were most amusing . . . afforded me endless
amusement and mirth.150
Scotuss description of the colonized womens dresses revealed both

European and African aesthetics, while the styles reflected creativity and
innovation. The womens ability to dress up and make fashion by
blending bright colours of red, green and pink was reminiscent of the
vibrant colours typical of West African dress. Moreover, their shortening
of their dresses and showing off of their red shoes with ample display
was symbolic of the womens rejection of European etiquette at a time
when women were expected to wear long skirts that covered their ankles.
For these women in their Creole dresses, the racetrack was a place to perform, to parade in their European-inspired styles, to compete with each
other and display their outfits with pride. However, both Scotus and his
contemporaries failed to recognize the creativity of the womens dresses.
Nor could they see beyond their biases that this dress style was a product of creolization and the reflection of a vibrant Creole culture among
non-whites. The ruling elite regarded the Creole dress as a poor imitation of superior European fashions and saw these outfits as socially unacceptable and inappropriate for slaves. Therefore, the outfits became a
focus of ridicule during slavery and beyond, a sort of entertainment and,
in the eyes of whites, extreme.
Slave women were able to make fashion and be creative with their
Creole dresses. There were no sumptuary laws to prevent or limit such
62
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 63
cultural expression, and the women were very much aware of the various styles of dresses worn in Europe. They observed what their mistresses wore and were able to adapt these clothes to their tastes and
particular circumstances. Their dress styles reflected creativity and innovation on the part of slave and freed women. House slaves who were
seamstresses and washerwomen had the best opportunity to study the
clothes that their mistresses received from London; they could easily
examine them and copy the styles in their owners absence. This creative
process was the reflection of a fashion consciousness and sense of style
among slave women that was borne out of their experiences as slaves.
They took great delight in dressing up in fashionable clothes when possible, and some became fashion experts who were not afraid to criticize the dresses of their white mistresses. Speaking of Caribbean slave
women in this regard, Mrs Carmichael stated that she was Very amused
by observing what connoisseurs the Negro women are of dress. . . .
Standing near me, at one time, I heard them criticize every thing I wore,
both in the materials and make.151
Just as Africans brought their dress customs to Jamaica, so did the
Europeans transplant theirs from Europe; however, Europeans were very
slow to adapt their dress styles to their new environment. European
dress in Jamaica for the most part was elaborate and unsuited to the climate. As Edward Long revealed, The cool easy dress of the eastern
nations . . . is much easier and better fitted for use in a hot climate than
the English dress which is close and tight. He further added: But such
is the influence of fashion and custom, that one may see men loaded,
and half melting under a ponderous coat and waistcoat, richly bedaubed
with gold lace or embroidery on a hot day.152
Long gave a detailed analysis of European dress during the eighteenth
century in Jamaica, and he asserted that Europeans refused to modify
their dress for the sake of comfort. He even proposed that Europeans in
Jamaica follow the examples of their Spanish neighbours. He argued
that All their clothes are light and went on to state that the Spanish
women dressed appropriately for the weather. Spanish women wear a
type of petticoat called a pollera made of thin silk without any lining,
and over their body a very thin white jacket.153
However, colonial settlers, especially English European women, were
determined to maintain their customs in dress. According to Edward
Long:
The Crossing
63
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 64
Our English belles in Jamaica differ very widely from their madonas
[Spanish ladies]. They [British women] do not scruple to wear the thickest
winter silks and satins; and are sometimes ready to sink under the weight of
rich gold or silver brocades. Their headdress varies with the ton [prevailing
mode] at home; the winter fashions of London arrive here at the setting of
hot weather.154
Unlike African slaves and their descendants, who had to rely to a large
extent on local resources and rations for dress, Europeans ordered their
clothing directly from their homeland. The process of obtaining clothes
from Europe was not always reliable, and the long distance often led to
delays in shipment. As a result, the dress was so inappropriate that
Edward Long remarked: nothing can be more preposterous and absurd
than for persons residing in the West Indies to adhere rigidly to all
European customs and manners.155 Hairstyles among European ladies
mimicked those in Britain during the period. For instance, hairstyles in
early eighteenth-century Jamaica included:
half a yard perpendicular height, fastened with some score of heavy iron pins,
on a bundle of wood large enough to stuff a chair bottom, together with
pounds of powder and pomatum . . . grew into vogue with great rapidity
. . . [and it was] impossible to avoid stooping and tottering under so enormous a mass.156
This elaborate and ornate dress style was not only uncomfortable and
cumbersome in the tropical heat but was also unhealthy.
Although Edward Long was not a medical doctor, he apparently recognized the health risks in wearing such inappropriate dress in hot
weather, and therefore suggested several changes in the dress customs:
The waistcoat and breeches should be of cotton (corded or India dimity for
example), in preference to linen, as it prevents catching cold . . . [and] wear
linen drawers in preference to linings, for the sake of cleanliness . . . Ladies
hats or bonnets should be lined with black as not reverberating on their faces
those rays of the sun which are reflected upwards from the earth and water
and cause occasion [sic] freckles.157
The excessive heat and inappropriate dress would have made many
Europeans susceptible to all kinds of diseases that contributed to the
staggeringly high mortality rate among them.158
European dress throughout the colonial period did change over time,
but only to reflect the summer fashions in Europe. Although European
64
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 65
dress may have seemed preposterous to some, like Edward Long, the
elaborate dress of colonial settlers (including planters) did serve a purpose. The British colonial rulers had long believed that proper dress,
regardless of location or climate, was required for the task of governing
subject people. The incongruous image of Europeans strolling around in
heavy, ornate clothing was a visual reminder of privilege and elitism that
emphasized white dominance and British colonial rule.159
Europeans in Jamaica, including the planters, regarded their dress
customs as superior to those of enslaved persons. Nevertheless, many
Europeans also believed that enslaved Africans and their descendants
were well dressed and therefore content. Some planters justified the
institution of slavery by stating that since slaves were well clothed, slavery was not so bad after all. Stipendiary Magistrate R. Madden wrote:
The negroes we are told [by planters] were so happy . . . so comfortably
provided for, so much better fed, clothed, and housed and so much less
severely worked than the English labourers, that they could not change
conditions with them.160
Lewis also commented on the dress of his slaves: They were all
plainly clean instead of being shabbily fashionable, and affected to be
nothing except that which they really were, they looked twenty times
more like gentlemen than nine tenths of the bankers clerks who swagger up and down Bond Street.161
Long expressed similar views, arguing that slaves in their habitation,
clothing, subsistence and possessions . . . [were] far happier and better
provided for than most poor labourers . . . in Britain.162 Planters constructed these arguments to protect their own economic interests and
status within the colonial state. However, the frequency of slave resistance in Jamaica and elsewhere was a clear signal that enslaved people did
not consider themselves comfortable or contented.163
Slave dress was deceptive. To the European observer, a decently
dressed slave was perceived as happy and contented. But for many slaves,
dressing up was their way of escaping the reality of their suffering and of
attaining some social mobility; it made them feel good and beautiful
despite the adversity of their state. Decent dress among the enslaved
population led to misconceptions among some European observers,
who thought that the conditions of slavery were not as awful as the abolitionists in Britain had stated. In reality, slave labour, especially on sugar
plantations, was intense and brutal. On many plantations, slaves worked
from sunrise to sunset under constant threat of the whip. Some planters
The Crossing
65
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 66
who possessed decently dressed slaves may have assumed that the slaves
were too well cared for and exploited them even more.
It should not be assumed that all slaves in Jamaica were decently
dressed. The Reverend R. Bickell, a local resident, pointed out in 1825
that Some of the slaves in the country parishes . . . dress decently . . .
at their own expense . . . but the greater part of the field negroes have
no better clothing than the humble garb allowed them by their masters.164
Slaves own efforts to control what they wore and to obtain additional
clothing enabled some to be decently clad despite their owners meagre
provisions. The issue of slave dress became an argument that both proslavery and anti-slavery advocates used to suit their political agenda.
Reverend Bickell explained:
I think the clothing of slaves have been much over-rated by the colonists; and
on the other hand, somewhat depreciated by the advocates of the Africans or
abolitionists; for what can be more absurd than to hear it constantly reiterated that the negroes in our colonies are . . . better clothed than the British
peasantry.165
The absurdity in this context was that, unlike the peasants or the lower
classes in Britain, enslaved Africans in Jamaica were not free. They were
the objects of European exploitation and were often abused at the whim
of the white planter. Despite their subjugation, African women were
able to maintain and nurture their own customs in dress. They were also
resourceful and creative in obtaining additional clothing, such as lacebark, from their environment. Nonetheless, slave womens dress served
other purposes than that of cultural retention. Dress was an essential
means of both resistance and accommodation within colonial slave
society.
66
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 67
Chapter 2
Dress as Resistance
The essence of all resistance on the part of slaves was a fundamental tenacity
for life, an appreciation of life itself . . .
Barbara Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society
African Origins of Slave Resistance in Jamaica

West Indian slavery was based not only on inherent racism but also on
Europeans attempt to isolate Africans from their social and cultural heritage. Europeans in slave-owning societies sought to maintain their
dominance within the plantocracy by instilling concepts of inferiority in
their slaves and by denying them rights and privileges so as to subordinate them within the broader society. Despite this, enslaved Africans
who were brought to the Americas, and their descendants, did not
accept their conditions of servitude humbly. Rather, they employed various means to express their anger and resentment towards the institution
of slavery that robbed them of their status as persons. Slave resistance
reflected the slaves fundamental tenacity for life, a deep yearning for
their right to survive and to be free.
Historian Rosalyn Terborg-Penn argues that to comprehend the role
of slave women as resistors, there must be a cross-cultural perspective.
67
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 68
Slave womens contributions to resistance cannot be examined apart

from the womens ancestral home, Africa.1 Terborg-Penn explains that
one needs to apply certain unifying methodological concepts when
studying African womens resistance in the diaspora. For instance, the
study of African descendants abroad is, and should be, treated as an
extension of African history. Therefore enslaved women must be examined within the African cultural context. Moreover, it is imperative to
recognize and acknowledge the existence of a tradition for Africans in
the diaspora to identify themselves with Africa. Such an approach
negates the conventional Eurocentric interpretation of Africa as a recipient and not a donor of cultural heritage.2
This cross-cultural method of analysis is important because resistance
activities found among African women in Africa, as well as in the
Caribbean, show similar patterns. Some of these patterns or values, for
instance, reflected the notion of self-reliance among women, who
depended on each other for support and the creation of survival strategies. These strategies were designed by enslaved women to oppose social,
economic and political oppression. The strategies that were used in the
diaspora were the same ones that were needed and used to fight oppression on the African continent. In the Americas, including Jamaica, as in
Africa, self-reliance encouraged bonding among those of African
descent, while others relied on their inner strength, organizational abilities, cultural expressions and spiritual powers to resist the destruction of
their communities.3
Elizabeth Fox-Genovese adds that any attempt to understand slave
womens resistance must also acknowledge the dreadful paucity of
sources and the complex relationship between individual and collective
resistance.4 Moreover, slave womens tenacious spirit to resist slavery was
part of a continuum that linked Africa to the Caribbean. Nor did resistance to oppression end with emancipation; in fact, womens role as resistors continued throughout the colonial era and even into the present
period. In many African societies, women, whether slaves or not, were
willing and able to use both peaceful and militant tactics against their
oppressors. Historian Edna Bay, among others, has revealed that some
African women were great fighters and warriors, such as the Amazons of
Dahomey, who were the personal guards of the king and were greatly
feared. The explorer Sir Richard Burton, in the mid-nineteenth century,
detailed the Illustrious Viragoes of the Amazon guards, and he recalled
the fierce, warlike nature of the women of other West African ethnic
68
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 69
groups, including the Yoruba.5 The freed Igbo slave Olaudah Equiano
wrote that the women of his home village were warriors who fought side
by side with the men.6
Perhaps the most famous African woman to resist colonial oppression
was Nzinga Mbunde (15821663), who led four decades of warfare
against the Portuguese in Angola. Nzinga formed her own army and
allied her people with the Dutch, thus creating the first AfricanEuropean alliance against a European oppressor.7 African women also
resisted oppression on an individual level. In their pioneering work on
women and slavery in Africa, historians Claire Robertson and Martin
Klein showed that some women resisted servitude by running away.8
Resistance to slavery by African women required great strength,
which was often rooted in African religious concepts. Female deities
were powerful and highly respected in many African religions. It was
believed that women enabled spiritual forces to communicate with the
people. Among the Yoruba, Gelede dances are performed to pay homage to all women, who are believed to have innate power to benefit the
community.9 These dances honour spiritually powerful women who
were elders, ancestors and deities. The Yoruba believe that women possess the secret of life itself, the knowledge and special power to bring
human beings into the world and to remove them. This knowledge
applies not only to gestation and childbirth but also to longevity.
Womens knowledge of life and death demands that Yoruba herbalists
seek their support in preparing medicines.10 A Yoruba priestess
explained: If the mothers are annoyed, they can turn the world upside
down. When an herbalist goes to collect a root at the foot of a tree, the
mothers put it up. And when she climbs up for a leaf, the mothers put
it down.11
The belief in womens spiritual strength is not limited to the Yoruba
but exists among various peoples throughout Africa, many of whom
were captured and eventually enslaved in the Americas, including
Jamaica. In the diaspora, effective resistance to colonial oppression was
often energized by the spiritual power of religious African women,
which provided political unity. The religion was characteristic of precolonial Africa and many other pre-industrial societies.12
Slave owners in Jamaica were aware of the diversity of the enslaved
population and often characterized the different ethnic groups on the
basis of popular opinion and respective capacity to work. In 1823 J.
Stewart revealed that slaves in Jamaica were like The different nations
Dress as Resistance
69
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 70
of Europe, of various characters and dispositions. Some are mild, docile

and timid while others are fierce, irascible, and early roused to
revenge.13 He went on:
The Coromantee is . . . fierce, violent and revengeful under injury and
provocation, but hardy, laborious and manageable under mild and just treatment. The Congo, Papaw, Chamba, Mandingo are of a more mild and
peaceable disposition than the Coromantee, but less industrious and provident than the Eboes.14
Stewarts account clearly shows that all slaves were not alike, that
some were aggressive and inclined to defend themselves against brutal
treatment. Within the slave population, as well, there were conflicts and
hostilities. The planter Matthew Lewis, for instance, revealed that
Africans and Creoles hated each other.15 Lewis recalled an occasion on
which a young slave woman had been punished for biting another
enslaved woman. He asked the young womans mother how she came
to have so bad a daughter, when all her sons were so mild and good.
Oh, massa, she answered, The girls father was a Guinea-man.16
Creole slaves considered themselves superior to their African counterparts and did not hesitate to speak of Africans generally as Guinea
birds and salt water nagurs.17 There is plenty of evidence that the slave
population was not a cohesive group, nor was it passive, and that slaves
did express their frustration and anger.
Women and Resistance to Slavery in Jamaica

In Jamaica, resistance to slavery took many forms and was an integral
part of slave society. The record of slave rebellions in the British West
Indies confirms that enslaved people actively resisted the process of
dehumanization and loss of personal autonomy. Edward Long described
West Indianborn slaves as irascible, conceited, proud, indolent . . .
and very artful and said that they were always trying to overreach
their overseers by thwarting their plans.18 Other enslaved Africans, like
the Coromantyn (Coromantee) were described not only as ferocious but
also as the instigators of every rebellion in Jamaica.19 The rebellions often
resulted in great loss of life among both slave owners and slaves. This
created a financial burden for the colonial regime. The rebellion of 1760
under Tackys leadership, for example, brought about the death of sixty
70
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 71
whites and four hundred slaves. The expense of putting down the rebellion was estimated at 100,000. During the last Jamaican slave rebellion
of 183132, the cost of bringing it under control and the value of property destroyed exceeded 500,000. In addition, Parliament granted a
loan of 300,000 to assist the planters whose plantations had been
destroyed by the slaves.20
Excluding the territory of St Domingue (Haiti), the largest slave
rebellions in the Western Hemisphere were in Jamaica and Demerara
Essequibo (the Guianas). These areas averaged one major revolt every
two years between 1731 and 1832. One reason for the high incidence of
revolts was the absenteeism of plantation owners, which led to greater
depersonalization of slaves and more estrangement between whites and
slaves than in the US South. Slave revolts were more common where
African slaves outnumbered Creoles (native-born slaves).21 The planters
in these areas lived in a state of perpetual insecurity, under constant
threat of slave insurrection. The high African-to-white ratio, combined
with extremely harsh conditions for slaves on the sugar plantations, fostered an atmosphere especially conducive to slave revolts.
Slave resistance, whether conscious and organized or not, challenged
the colonial regimes. However, resistance in itself was complex and
diverse. Sociologist and historian Orlando Patterson has examined the
psycho-cultural processes in slave societies that inspired slaves to resist.
He argues that slaves employed various mechanisms to deceive their
masters and to subvert the system of slavery. Resistance was sometimes
overt and violent, like rebellions, and sometimes covert and subtle, like
feigning illness.22 Enslaved women in the Caribbean employed both
forms of resistance, and they participated with their menfolk in revolts
and running away. The planter Thomas Thistlewood revealed that during Tackys rebellion in 1760, many of the prisoners (rebellious slaves)
brought in by the militia were women, and Matthew Lewis often mentioned his slave woman, Marcia, who became infamous for always running away.23 A few slave women committed suicide as an act of
resistance. The early historian Bryan Edwards remarked that Ebo (Igbo)
slaves, in particular, had the reputation of killing themselves to avoid
servitude.24
Some slave women chose to kill their children to prevent them from
becoming slaves. Infanticide, however, was atypical among slave women,
and the psychological trauma experienced by a woman before and after
killing her child is unimaginable. Some of the women who committed
Dress as Resistance
71
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 72
infanticide were labelled as insane and may, in fact, have been driven to
madness because of their brutal treatment. Others may have been falsely
accused of killing an infant who actually died from some undiagnosed
or unrecognized malady such as sudden infant death syndrome
(SIDS).25 Nevertheless, for some slave women, infanticide seemed the
only option; it provided a final way out of their suffering, if not for
themselves then at least for their children.
Other slave women feigned illness to avoid work. In 1815, Matthew
Lewis was forced to bounce and storm because his slave women pretended to be ill. He exclaimed:
Another morning, with the mill stopped, no liquor in the boiling-house, and
no work done. The driver brought the most obstinate and insolent of women
to be lectured by me; and I bounced and stormed for half an hour with all
my might and main, especially at Whaunica. . . . They at last appeared to be
very penitent . . . and engaged never to behave ill again.26
The mere fact that these slave women confessed and said that they
would never behave ill again suggests an organized strike. By asserting their power as workers, enslaved women disrupted production,
upon which the planter relied for economic and financial survival.
Enslaved women not only knew how to frustrate and harass their owners; they clearly understood the process of negotiation and collective
bargaining that is traditionally associated with industrial wage workers.27 Their obstinacy was evidence of a collective form of non-violent
resistance.
It was sometimes difficult for planters to tell whether their slave
women were ill or pretending. In the case just described, Lewis recognized that the illness was orchestrated because it involved so many individuals. Slave women realized how essential their labour was for the
smooth operation of the estate and sought to sabotage this process
whenever possible. Slave women were more likely than their menfolk to
succeed at feigning illness because they could use childbirth and the
menstrual cycle to their advantage. Nonetheless, many planters refused
to excuse a slave from labour even when faced with the most visible sign
of illness.
Many plantation owners had to deal with insubordination on the
part of their enslaved women, and at times these confrontations were
violent. Matthew Lewis reported that on the neighbouring estate a
female slave attacked the overseer. He explained:
72
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 73
The overseer upon a neighbouring property had occasion to find fault in the
field with a woman belonging to a gang hired to perform some particular
work; upon which she flew upon him with the greatest fury, grasped him by
the throat, cried to her fellows, Come here! come here! Let us Dunbar [kill]
him! and through her strength and the suddenness of her attack had nearly
accomplished her purpose.28
Clearly, when pushed to the limit, slave women did not hesitate to
express their anger regardless of the consequences, even execution.
One example of such determination to be free occurred in 1815. A servant girl of fifteen, named Minetta, was accused of poisoning her master. She was later sentenced and executed for her crime. Most striking
about this case were the young womans refusal to express regret and her
steadfastness until her execution, according to Lewis:
Nothing could be more hardened than her conduct through the whole transaction. She stood by the bed to see her master drink the poison; witnessed
his agonies without one expression of surprise or pity; and when she was
ordered to leave the room, she pretended to be fast asleep, and not to hear
what was said to her. Even since her imprisonment, she could never be prevailed upon to say that she was sorry for her master having been poisoned.29
Minettas actions may have reflected a dark reality rather than an unreasoning hardened attitude. Her merciless determination to kill her
master and her lack of remorse suggest that she had suffered some awful
injustice or abuse, perhaps sexual exploitation.
Enslaved women like Minetta, who laboured in the great houses as
cooks, servants and nannies, came in regular and direct contact with
their masters. Their presence within the masters domain made them
susceptible to sexual exploitation. Moreover, the remote location of the
planters house on some estates made it difficult for these women to flee
to safety. Some slave women fought off an attacker as best as they could,
and undoubtedly many failed. Others, like Minetta, resorted to more
indirect and permanent methods of resistance. Slave women who
worked as cooks in the great houses had access to the food and therefore
the opportunity to poison their owners.
Some slave women went so far as to mutilate themselves in order to
frustrate their owners, as in the case of Jenny. She was ordered to return
to work in the fields, but her master later found that As her wounds
were almost completely well, she had tied packthread around them so as
to cut deep into the flesh, had rubbed dirt into them, and, in short had
Dress as Resistance
73
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 74
played such tricks as nearly to produce a mortification in one of her fingers.30

Perhaps it was females slaves determination to be free that led Mrs
Carmichael to remark in 1833: I regret to have to say, that female
negroes are far more unmanageable than males. The little girls are far
more wicked than the boys; and I am convinced, were every proprietor
to produce the list of his good negroes, there would be in every instance,
an amazing majority in favour of males.31
Mrs Carmichael failed to recognize that enslaved women suffered far
worse exploitation than their men, and being uncontrollable was one
way that they sought to gain their freedom. Despite the threat of severe
punishments such as flogging, hanging, transportation off the island,
imprisonment, branding, gibbeting, rape and dismemberment, enslaved
women continued to resist the institution of slavery. Other resistance
activities employed by women were malingering, lying, stealing, selfpurchase and running away.32
Few enslaved women ran away from the estates; runaways were usually men. Most women chose to stay because they did not want to leave
their children, and making a successful escape accompanied by children
was unlikely. Higmans analysis of the Returns of Registration of Slaves
in 1832 and various plantation records shows that women accounted for
only 20 per cent of runaways. The majority of the women who did run
away worked in field gangs, and many of them failed either to merge
successfully and permanently into a free society or to isolate themselves.
Most women who ran away, in fact, did so to visit kin rather than
intending to remain away permanently. Another reason that women did
not run away was fear of the ramifications if they failed, which could
include separation from their children and even transportation to Cuba,
to hulks (prisons) in England, or to the workhouse.33 Some runaway
women received extremely severe punishments. Such was the case of the
slave Priscilla, who attempted to escape in 1783 and 1784. As a consequence, both her ears were cut off, and she was placed in chains and sentenced to receive thirty-nine lashes on the first Monday of each month
for a whole year.34 The female slaves who chose to stay on the plantations
had to resort to alternative methods of resistance.
Enslavers sought to suppress the slaves by controlling their bodies.
Consequently, slave women realized that they had to protect their bodies from abuse and sexual exploitation. According to historian Verene
Shepherd, this led to a unique, gender-specific set of resistance, with the
74
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 75
whole body being utilized to full purpose. Shepherd argues that enslaved
women did not willingly give their bodies over to the enslavers lust but
used their bodies, minds and voices to resist the institution of slavery.
For instance, they raised their voices in liberation songs as well as to
curse those who bought them or oppressed them.35
Women used body language to mock and taunt their enslavers as well
as to express their anger and resentment at slavery. Cynric Williams
reported in 1823 that a young woman, part of a group of slaves brought
before a magistrate, had complained about being harshly used on
account of receiving 230 lashes. When the magistrate doubted her story,
the sable nymph without hesitation exposed her behind, whereupon
there was no mark whatever; and it appearing that she had done so in
derision and contempt, they ordered her a couple dozen [lashes].36
After the abolition of the Atlantic slave trade, slave womens bodies
became important to ensure the reproduction of slaves for labour and
the continuity of slavery. To end the perpetuation of slavery and to resist
the use of their fertility for the planters economic gain, some women
resorted to gynaecological resistance, inducing abortion by drinking specific herbs. The planter Thomas Thistlewood, for example, revealed that
a slave woman called Mountain Lucy drank contrayerva to abort her
pregnancy.37
The knowledge of herbal concoctions to induce abortions was probably passed on from mother to daughter; in some cases, slave midwives
administered the abortifacients. Several plants were recognized as abortifacients, including cassava, cerasee, wild passion flower and wild
tansey. Strong emetics, such as the seed of the sandbox tree, were used
to bring on menstruation.38 Slave women, whether mistresses of white
men or not, used their bodies to express their discontent and to resist
sexual exploitation. They refused to always submit to the advances of
their enslavers, rejecting or ignoring some overtures. Thistlewood, for
instance, learned that his slave mistress, Phibbah, was not easily seduced.
On 2 February 1754, he wrote, she did not speak to me all day, and
later that same week he stated, Phibbah denied me.39 Slave women like
Phibbah exercised limited control over their bodies and thus experienced some power within the context of the relationship.
The specific contribution of slave women to organized armed revolts
is still unclear. The contemporary history of slave rebellions often
focused on enslaved men, and the mass of slaves was depicted as a faceless, genderless mob. Higman revealed that some twenty thousand slaves
Dress as Resistance
75
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 76
participated in the revolt of 1831. During the revolt two hundred slaves
were killed, and another 312 were later executed. Fourteen whites were
killed, and property valued at 1,132,440 was destroyed. However, the
most interesting feature of the records was that the active participants in
the rebellion were almost exclusively male. Only six women were shot
during the rebellion, and another woman was caught and executed for
her role in the event.40 The invisibility of women in such a major rebellion could be an artefact of the cultural conditioning of the recorders.
Eighteenth-century middle-class European women were culturally
barred from politics or military service, as they were perceived as passive
and weak. Enslaved women may have faced the same predicament,
being considered not worthy of recognition, even though they may have
been present.
Recent scholarship by Verene Shepherd reveals that the invisibility of
women in armed revolts could be due to the fact that many women
played non-military supporting roles that were essential for success in
the armed struggle. In the 183132 rebellion, for example, enslaved men
led the armed assaults, while several women were involved in strategic
manoeuvring. The women supplied water to the rebel fighters and acted
as guides to provision grounds to obtain food for them; they guarded
captives and acted as lookouts and even as go-betweens in the final
stages of the rebellion. Some slave women tried to entrap the colonial
regiments. On one occasion, an elderly lame woman tried to persuade
the soldiers to consume her food. When the woman refused to eat the
food that she had prepared, the soldiers suspicions were confirmed the
food was indeed poisoned.41 Although many enslaved women may have
chosen other supporting roles in armed struggles, it should not be
assumed that no women fought side by side with their menfolk.
The story of Nanny, a legendary Maroon obeah woman, gives us
some idea of the military role some women might have played in armed
resistance. In the 1730s Nanny organized and led her warriors in successful battles against the British, taking English soldiers as captives with
impunity. The British attitude towards Nanny at the end of the first
Maroon treaty in 1739 perhaps explains, to some extent, why so little
documentation exists about the active participation of women in slave
revolts. The British refused to accept Nanny as a spiritual leader and,
instead, insisted on recognizing only the authority of her headmen. This
may be the reason that no other woman ever rose to Nannys prominence and power.42
76
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 77
The absence of women in connection with many revolts was also

rooted in the stereotypes that existed about slave women. As historian
Hilary Beckles explains: Black [slave] women were seen as superordinate amazons who could be called upon to labour all day, perform sex
all night and be quite satisfied morally and culturally to exist outside the
formal structures of marriage and family.43 Slave women never fitted
this mould; instead, as Beckles argues, they forged an anti-slavery ideology based upon their own experiences, consciousness and identity. It was
this anti-slavery ideology that gave rise to Beckless apt term natural
rebel, describing women who were not complacent but resisted the institution of slavery.44 Furthermore, not all slave women resisted in the same
ways, and not all resorted to overt or violent methods. A few women did
run away, as discussed previously, but most chose to pursue alternative
methods of resistance that were not blatant or easily recognizable but
rather subtle. Anthropologist James C. Scott argues that most slaves
resorted to covert resistance because they realized that open insubordination, in almost any context, would provoke a more rapid and ferocious
response than resistance that could be equally pervasive but never openly
contested the formal definition of hierarchy and power.45 Subtle, nonviolent resistance included a variety of activities such as foot-dragging,
false complaints, sabotage and cultural strategies in dress.46
African slaves responses to enslavement were greatly influenced by
African cultural patterns. Historian Walter Rodney has argued that the
culture of Africans was the shield which frustrated the efforts of the
Europeans to dehumanize Africans through servitude, and was an indicator of the tenacity and ability of the subordinate to survive, and resist
the cultural imposition of their white masters by maintaining their
unique identity.47 The preservation of their cultural identity was essential to slaves survival, and dress was a principal means to that end.
Dress as Resistance in Jamaican Colonized Society

If you wear the clothes of your enemy, the spirit of the enemy is weakened.
You are then wearing the spirit of his brothers and then they are weakened.
Herero cultural commentator, Southern Africa
Jamaican colonial society did not encourage friendly social, economic

and political relations between the colonized and the colonizer as well as
Dress as Resistance
77
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 78
between planter and slave. Instead, relations were founded on exploitation and force. Therefore, colonial domination was ultimately grounded
in the notion of a face-to-face relationship between local co-residents.
Dress, as the principal visible element in this face-to-face relationship,
not only portrayed multiple ideologies of the other but also served as
the medium within which colonial relationships were enacted and contested.
Dress was a visually accessed language of the body, in that the way
one dressed was constantly scrutinized and itself provided a narrative,
especially in the absence of a shared spoken language, culture or religion.
What was narrated was not mere fashion but rather style, the bodily representation of the aesthetic of the individual or the community. The significance of dress in colonial society provided possibilities for resistance,
because the semiotic process was never fully controlled by the ruling
elite. As a result, dress and the body, as signifiers of contrasting and complex meanings, enabled oppressed people (including slaves) to symbolically and covertly resist, to make satirical and politically subversive
statements about their identities in relation to the dominant power.
Dress and the body thus could be deliberately manipulated in an effort
to alter social representation and relations of power. As such, they
became persuasive agents of movement towards a moral ethic that would
guarantee freedom, if not completely, at least temporarily.48
Dress as non-verbal resistance was not unique to Jamaica. In fact,
dress has been a site of resistance and confrontation throughout history,
and it continues to be so in many contemporary societies. During the
French Revolution of 1789, for example, men and women signalled their
allegiance to revolutionary change and their rejection of the old regime
by wearing workingmans trousers rather than the knee breeches of the
wealthier classes (thus their nickname, sans-culottes).49 The concept of a
revolutionary dress also arose in the United States of America. Benjamin
Franklins countrified appearance as the American representative to the
court of Versailles, in 1776, reflected a new dress style that embodied the
industriousness and modesty of American society; his clothing bespoke
a republican frugality that symbolized resistance to European domination and its extravagant, corrupting influences.50
In the arena of womens attire, alternative dress styles, such as the
loose-fitting knee-length trousers advocated by Amelia Bloomer in the
1850s, Coco Chanels short skirts and the bobbed haircut of the 1920s,
afforded women greater physical mobility and freedom, and simultane78
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 79
ously sent a visual message that the women who wore them were rejecting the patriarchal norms that had confined them for centuries.51 In
more recent times, who can forget Mohandas Gandhis loincloth, and
his use of the spinning wheel as a symbol of colonial resistance against
the British?52 In the resistance movement after the 1973 coup, poor
Chilean women adapted their traditional needlework to produce
arpilleras, a type of appliqu and patchwork, which often depicted the
ruling junta as vultures among doves.53 The politicization of dress was an
expressive cultural characteristic that represented a means of obtaining
some legitimacy and power. Such covert expressions of resistance, which
were often disturbing or subversive, were common features in the lives
of women who were dominated, silenced and marginalized.
Enslaved women of African descent had the opportunity and the
expertise to use expressive cultural characteristics in their form of dress
to resist the institution of slavery. Such techniques were acquired in
Africa and were maintained and nurtured in the diaspora. Among the
Yoruba of Nigeria and Benin, for example, dress and cloth were important means of expressing both ones situation in life such as war or
occupation and ones emotional state such as anger, sadness or even
defiance. The Yoruba proverb omo laso eda (children are the clothes of
men) reflects the importance of dress by equating it with the Yoruba
peoples most valuable possession their children.54 Their cultural
knowledge of the diverse uses of dress gave Jamaican slave women the
means to resist oppression subtly. Although dress was a popular medium
for expressing resistance by women, slave men also participated in these
activities.
Throughout Jamaica, on numerous occasions, clothes and fabrics distributed or owned by the enslavers were ritually ripped, destroyed or
stolen by slaves. During Tackys rebellion of 1760 in Jamaica, great
houses were attacked, and European clothes were taken and destroyed.
The planter Thomas Thistlewood revealed that a plunder [of ] ruffled
shirts, laced hats, shoes, stockings, cravats, and fine mahogany chests full
of clothes55 was recovered. Much later, Bernard Senior, a visitor to
the island, stated that during the 1831 rebellion, rebels broke into a
house, and each equipped himself with a portion of the wearing
apparel.56 Such actions were not restricted to periods of rebellion but
also occurred during times of calm. In 1813, a slave named Peter was
found guilty of having in his possession some clothing stolen from the
Negro houses of Mr David Nicoll and of rescuing another slave who
Dress as Resistance
79
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 80
was concerned in the theft. He was sentenced to receive fifty lashes in

public.57
Some slaves found creative ways of getting rid of clothes received
from their masters. In a letter dated 4 October 1838, James Swaby of
London reported to Messrs Sweet and Sutton of Lincolns Inn Solicitors
that, when negotiations broke down over their wages, the apprentices
(recently emancipated slaves) on Smithfield Estate in Jamaica immediately disposed of the clothes they had received from the planter at the
Hucksters shops and the money spent in idle drunkenness.58 Some
slaves probably stole their owners clothes for themselves, while others
sold them for money; some stolen clothes were used as disguises by runaway slaves. Others may have been used in religious rituals in which
spells were cast to cause harm or suffering to a brutal slave owner.59
House slaves often tried on their owners clothes secretly, and during
rebellions, slaves might use a planters clothes to ridicule him. This was
the case in 1831 when the head driver of one estate allowed a party of
rebels to burn the great house. He celebrated his newfound freedom by
imitating his master, galloping around the property on his masters horse
and wearing the masters hat.60 The attack on clothes gave slaves an
opportunity to vent their anger and frustration at the planter class and
the institution of slavery. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Eicher
argue that dress confirms identities and communicates positions within
societies particularly when the division of labour is complex, as was
plantation labour.61 The distinctly European dress of the planter and mistress in the great house reflected their status as colonizer, controller and
oppressor within the plantocracy. Thus, to attack the dress of the planter
and mistress was to attack the oppressor, metaphorically speaking.
The slaves act of wearing their oppressors clothes was reminiscent of
the belief among some Africans that clothing had potency and that dress
was strongly connected to the spiritual world. Hence, clothing could be
used to defeat the enemy. Among the Mawri of Niger, for example,
clothes take on a life of their own in mediating relations between deities
and people, and binding an amorphous spirit within the confines of the
human body. In other words, clothes offer a space in which the spirits
can become, in a tenuous and temporary way, substantial entities. In
some cultures that believe in the potency of dress, like the Herero people, the spirit of an individual can be subdued by wearing that persons
clothes. As a result, if one wears the clothes of the enemy, then the spirits of the enemy and the enemys relations are weakened. Some enslaved
80
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 81
Africans in the Caribbean, most likely, were aware of this notion of the
potency of dress and sought to wear and destroy their enslavers clothes
to weaken his spirit. Only when the planters spirit was weakened could
the planter/slave-owner class be defeated, and slaves be freed.62
Some African slaves disguised themselves by cross-dressing to escape
servitude. This activity was popular in both the US South and the
Caribbean. Historian Joan Cashin points out that cross-dressing was one
of the most effective methods by which both male and female runaways
could elude capture. She adds: like the Harrises in Uncle Toms Cabin,
adults, teenagers, and children practiced. . . . women dressed as men and
men as women; girls dressed as boys and vice versa, sometimes changing
gender identities several times to evade slave-catchers.63 According to
Cashin, some slaves put outfits together as they made plans to escape,
while others decided to change genders on the run. On one occasion, a
black man cross-dressed and powdered his face to pass successfully as a
white woman.64
Perhaps the most fascinating case of cross-dressing in Jamaica was
that of the slave man Hurlock, as described by the traveller and retired
military officer Bernard Senior. Hurlock was a wretch . . . [who] actually prowled about the streets in female attire; but so quick was his
movements and his eye, that he was no sooner seen than lost.65 Senior
reported that Hurlock had many skulking accomplices; but none of
equal note with himself .66 During the 1831 rebellion, Hurlock used his
disguise for the benefit of the slave rebels. Dressed as a woman, he successfully deceived every guard in Montego Bay and in the process
acquired strategic information that benefited the resistance movement.
Senior explained:
In disguise, as a water-carrier, seller of segars, and [by] amusing each guard
with some marvelous tale of what was proceeding in the country; [he] learnt
not only the strength of the different detachments, but in many cases, which
were to be their probable routes the following day. Thus he was able to report
to [rebel] headquarters; and the leaders took care that some of their best
marksmen should be lying in ambush at convenient spots.67
The result of Hurlocks efforts was that the rebels were able to defeat
some of the militia before they could fire on the slaves. Hurlocks subversive role as a cross-dresser was successful because he effectively
deceived the whites; his activity may have been viewed by his peers as a
strategic and necessary performance and was therefore acceptable to the
rebellious slaves.
Dress as Resistance
81
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 82
Seniors description of Hurlocks prowling the streets and Hurlocks

apparent notoriety imply that he was comfortable in his disguise and
used it on more than one occasion. Seniors comment on Hurlocks
skulking accomplices suggests that other slaves cross-dressed. Since we
know little about Hurlock, we do not know if cross-dressing was confined to periods of rebellion or whether it represented a sub-culture
among slaves. Nor do we know if cross-dressing was an appropriation by
a few enslaved men of the nineteenth-century dandy fashion that by
1830 was popular among certain wealthy white men.68 In any case, crossdressing was not limited to slaves. James Barry, for instance, was a brilliant and famous European doctor who lived in Jamaica for a while; he
lived his life as a man but was found, upon his death in 1865, to be a
woman.69 Hurlocks ability to pass as the opposite sex suggests that gender might be no more than just that a performance. This type of performance not only transformed the slaves body into a bitter comic but
also was an expressive covert activity that challenged, resisted and destabilized the colonial definitions of masculinity and femininity. For slaves
like Hurlock, cross-dressing was an effective tool for obtaining information and even enabled the possibility of overt resistance. Hurlocks use of
dress reflected not just creativity, courage and ingenuity but also a strong
desire to secure freedom and resist re-enslavement.
Slave women, like their male counterparts, were also creative in their
use of dress as a form of covert resistance. Those slave women who ran
away sometimes disguised themselves by dressing as free or freed women
and, as a consequence, were able to resist being caught. Others carried a
bundle of clothing so they could change their disguise. Clothing was the
most popular item carried by runaway slaves. Some of these clothes were
stolen from their owners or purchased with saved-up money. Urban runaway slaves were more elaborately and better dressed than runaways
from rural areas,70 since they had easier access to their owners clothes
and often received second-hand European-style clothes from their owners. Although there were no laws that regulated dress for either freedwomen or slave women, certain norms of dress were associated with
specific groups of people. For instance, slave women tended not to wear
shoes, since shoes were not part of the clothing rations they received
from their owners. Their clothing often consisted of the inexpensive fabric called osnaburg. Slave women were branded on the shoulder with
their owners emblem or name. These characteristics would mark a
woman as a slave. Yet if a slave woman was fortunate enough not to be
82
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 83
branded on the face or another visible spot on the body, if she obtained
shoes, stockings, and a dress of refined fabric and styled her hair in a certain manner, then, once outside of her familiar circles, she would be perceived as a freed woman. By selling their produce in the local market in
their free time, slave women could obtain money to buy shoes and a nice
dress for special occasions and for a possible escape.
So successful were female runaways at disguising themselves as freed
women that advertisements in newspapers such as the Jamaica Mercury
might describe them as artful and very skilled in deception and warn
whites to be on their guard against them.71 One such success story was
that of the slave woman Mary Sadler, who in 1779 ran away with her two
young sons. The Jamaica Mercury advertisement described her in the following way: She was a Creole sambo woman, has been marked
[branded] MS on top, but is now defaced, on both shoulders, she is 34
and dresses as a free woman, with long earrings, wears shoes and stockings, and a high-crown hat.72
Her master, Isaac Furtado, later discovered that, dressed as a free person, Mary hired herself out to one Jackson, who later died, and she then
lived with a freedman as his wife.73 Women who ran away, dressed well
and spoke good English were rarely caught. These women could move
to the city and, if skilled, get a job. Although every slave was branded,
in the city they could meld into free society unless identified. Moreover,
constables were less likely to question them, assuming they were freewomen or mistresses of white men.74 The dress of runaway slaves over
time reflected transformations in slave culture75 from an African mode
to that of the Creole, which combined African and European influences
for example, Mary Sadlers European-style high-crown hat and stockings and African-inspired long earrings.
Runaway slaves like Mary Sadler were forced to rely on their inner
strength, to be artful in their public performance, if they wished to
escape servitude. Effective deceit required intelligence, ingenuity and
bravery. Runaways provided credible reasons for travelling in certain
areas. They had to look good and assume a friendly, polite demeanour
when dealing with whites.76 Such deception, according to W.E.B. Du
Bois, was a natural defence for the weak against the strong.77 Nor
was the dress of runaway slave women a mere visual fantasy of female
liberation. Rather, the ability of disguised runaways to assume multiple
new identities was an act of empowerment, at least temporarily. But, the
paradox was that to be free, slaves had to be cloaked in the garments of
Dress as Resistance
83
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 84
their oppressors. For women like Mary, dress allowed them to transcend
the class boundaries of Jamaican society and simultaneously resist the
institution of slavery.
A unique case of dress being used as resistance was that of the slave
woman Cubah. In 1760, a major rebellion was planned for the eastern
part of Jamaica. The rebellion was to have involved nearly all of the
islands Coromante slaves. Prominent among the plotters was Cubah,
who belonged to a Jewish woman in Kingston. Curiously, Cubah had a
large following of slaves, and was crowned Queen of Kingston by her
followers.78
Edward Longs account of this serious rebellion of 1760 described
Cubah as of a peculiar nature and stated that she was dubbed . . .
Queen of Kingston at the slave meetings. Long wrote: She sat in state
under a canopy, with a short robe on her shoulders, and a crown on her
head.79 Cubahs public ritual was condemned and she was warned to
stop the charade by the authorities, but she refused. At the time of the
plot, Queen Cubah carried a wooden sword with a red feather stuck to
the handle probably as a symbol of liberation. It was also believed that
she performed the functions similar to those of a West African queen
mother.80 She was later captured and shipped off the island transported for life.81 However, she managed to prevail on the captain of the
transport to put her ashore again on the leeward part of the island.
Cubah remained there for a while but eventually was re-arrested and
executed.82 Longs dismissal of Cubah as peculiar reflected not just his
own biased attitudes but also colonial societys refusal to accept and
acknowledge womens role as resistors. Cubah may have been a mere figurehead, or a carnivalesque caricature and an object of ridicule for
whites, but to her people she represented hope and unity. Her status as
queen among the enslaved population suggests that she had created an
African-style kingdom under the jurisdiction of an African-style aristocracy. The concept of an African slave presiding as a monarch was not
unique to Jamaica, and enslaved men participated in this activity as well.
In Antigua in 1736, a similar situation occurred. A male slave named
Court was crowned king of the Coromantees in the presence of more
than two thousand slaves. On ceremonial occasions he walked in procession and received the homage and respect due a king. Court, too, sat
under a canopy of state and was dressed as an African king. He wore a
cap made of green silk embroidered with gold, and a deep border of
either black fur or black feathers.83 Cubahs role, however, was signifi84
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 85
cant: her active participation in the rebellion and her deep commitment
to the liberation process are clear evidence of womens contributions to
the resistance movement. Her regal dress established her identity as an
authoritative figure among her people, and the act of dressing as queen
was a coded message that visually represented her rejection of the colonial order and signalled her resistance to European hegemony.
Personal adornment and dress were regular features in slave society as
in all other communities. Dress is considered an aesthetic act by many
people; however, for some slave women the act of dressing was a way of
communicating a message. These messages were often coded, covert
expressions and were based on individual relationships with each other
and their experiences within their environment. Coding allowed the
transmission of subversive messages among the subordinate community,
under the very eyes of the oppressor for whom they were either inaccessible or inadmissible.84 Dress thereby enabled slaves like Cubah and
Court to express themselves in a way that reinforced their commitment
to their African heritage and their fellow slaves. Cubahs personal adornment, in this regard, was the embodiment of a recovered selfhood. Her
royal robes enabled her to deal with slave life aesthetically, and simultaneously to convey her own customs, values and beliefs. Such regalia were
symbols of state adopted from her African roots; she used them to support the legitimacy of her authority and to unite African slaves. In fact,
Cubahs dress was a symbolic cry for freedom from the patriarchal expectations that placed African women in a subordinate role and position of
dependency within the colonial structure.
The preponderance of African characteristics in slave womens dress
represented a vibrant form of cultural resistance that visually challenged
white dominance and the denigration of African customs. Slaves transformed and utilized the fabrics they received from their owners to
engage in this activity. On plantations, slaves continued to receive
osnaburg linen from the planters until the end of slavery. On the
Windsor Lodge and Paisley Estates, for instance, between 1833 and 1837,
the estates purchased 2,676 yards of flax osnaburg, 20 yards of white
flannel, 20 pounds of osnaburg thread, 12 pounds of blue thread and 24
dozen handkerchiefs for their slaves, including women.85 The fabrics
received by slaves were styled, fashioned, and accessorized to reflect
African modes or aesthetics.
Women of African descent often appeared during their holidays
decked out with a profusion of beads, corals and gold ornaments of all
Dress as Resistance
85
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 86
descriptions.86 It is not known where the gold came from, but it was
believed that most of it was smuggled over on slave ships and accumulated over the years on the island. Mrs Carmichael added that the jewellery of the enslaved women in the Caribbean was considerable and
consisted of many gold earrings, and rings upon their fingers.87 The resident William Beckford reported in 1796 that slave women equip themselves with a certain degree of elegance. They are particularly fond of
beads, coral, glass and chains, and with which they adorn their necks
and wrists.88 Others, according to Bryan Edwards, proudly displayed
their tribal marks [scarring] with a mixture of ostentation and pleasure,
either considering them highly ornamental or appealing to them as testimonies of distinction [brought from] Africa; where in some cases, they
are said to indicate free birth and honourable parentage.89
On some occasions the women used as beads the seeds of lilac, the
vertebrae of the shark . . . and they sportively affixed to the lip of the ear,
a pirdal or ground nut,90 thus creating their own African-influenced
decorations.
Hairstyles consisted of plaits or braids or of combing the hair into
lanes or walks like the parterre of a garden,91 as is still done in West
Africa. This display of African aesthetics in dress served as a marker to
keep these women, the members of the slave community, separate from
the world, and to identify those who did not belong. This separate
sphere for slave women, as mirrored in their dress, became a site, as bell
hooks describes it, that One stays in, clings to even, because it nourishes ones capacity to resist. It offers to one the possibility of radical perspective from which to see and create, to imagine alternative new
worlds.92
Undoubtedly, the most popular garment in this separate sphere the
garment that represented the continuity of African heritage in dress and
served as a symbol of resistance was the African womans headwrap, or
the tie-head, as it is commonly called in Jamaica. Edward Long, who was
quite impressed with this headdress, even offered his own explanation
for this practice:
They dread rain upon their bare heads almost as much as the native Africans;
perhaps their woolly fleece would absorb it in large quantities and give them
cold. . . . They are fond of covering this part of their bodies at all times, twisting one or two handkerchiefs round it, in the turban form which they say
keeps them cool in the hottest sunshine.93
86
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 87
The headwrap was so popular that even the mulatto women think
themselves not completely dressed without this tiara and buy the finest
cambric or muslin for the purpose.94 Some white women, inspired by
the African womans headwrap, created similar headdresses for themselves. According to Edward Long, The Creole white ladies till lately
adopted the practice so far, as never to venture a journey without securing their complexions with a brace of handkerchiefs; one of which being
tied over the forehead, the other under the nose, and covering the lower
part of the face, formed a complete helmet.95
The white womens helmet-like headdresses, though similar to headwraps worn by enslaved and freed women, reflected some innovation, as
their purpose was to protect the wearers complexions from the sun. In
Jamaica, this fashion trend was short-lived and seems to have been popular with only a small number of ladies. Some white women donned
turbans or other headwraps as part of their costume at masked balls and
carnivals. In the French Caribbean, white women began wearing headwraps after oriental fashions became popular in France, following
Napoleons campaigns in North Africa and the Near East. During this
period, fashionable French women delighted in exotic forms of dress,
including, a turban that reached its peak of popularity between 1795 and
1799.96 Nevertheless, most white women believed that European dress
was superior to African dress, and most continued to dissociate themselves from slave women.
The fact that women of the ruling class imitated slave womens dress
indicates that the trickle-down theory of fashion does not fit all cultural
contexts. Fashion trends are not always set by the elite; they can emerge
from below and be picked up by the upper classes. (In the United States
in recent years, this has occurred with a few styles grunge and street
style, among others.) White women may, in fact, have adopted a headdress similar to that worn by slave and freed women simply because it
provided effective sun protection; others may have been influenced by
the emergence of the Creole culture that included the merging of some
African and European customs in dress.
During slavery, many slave owners considered the headwrap a badge
of enslavement. The stereotypical images of African women wearing a
distinctive headwrap personified by the Negro Mammy and Aunt
Jemima of the US South and the Black Nana and Quasheba of the
Caribbean which were later popularized in advertising and films, were
a result of the connection between the headwrap and enslavement. Slave
Dress as Resistance
87
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 88
women and their descendants, however, have regarded the headwrap as

a helmet of courage that evoked an image of true homeland be that
Africa or the new homeland, the Americas.97 As Helen Bradley Griebel
has remarked, That tying a piece of cloth around the head is not specific to any one cultural group. Men and women have worn and continue to wear some type of fabric head covering in many societies. What
does appear to be culturally specific, however, is the way the fabric is
worn.98
This head covering, according to Bradle Griebel, usually covers the
hair and is held in place by tying the ends into knots close to the skull.
Although women of African descent sometimes tie the fabric at the nape
of the neck, their styling always leaves the forehead and neck exposed;
by leaving the face uncovered, the headwrap usually enhances the facial
features. The womans headwrap works like a regal coronet, drawing the
lookers gaze up rather than down. Thus, women wore the headwrap as
a queen might wear a crown (see Figure 2.1). The effect is similar to the
one achieved with a hairstyle worn by many African women, wherein
the hair is pulled back to expose the forehead and often drawn into a
high mass on top of the head.
As in Africa, headwraps in the Caribbean were diverse in styles and
colours, and some were very ornate. Some headwraps had specific
names. Their style and artistry were determined by length of fabric and
colours used, as well as cultural norms. Among the Yoruba, for instance,
during Gelede performances, women wore elaborate headwraps in a
spectrum of bright colours, tied in various ways.99 African women who
arrived in the Americas as slaves retained particular styles of headwraps
that may have been distinctive to their particular ethnic group.
The style of a headwrap could be the product of an individual
womans creativity and ingenuity, along with her ability to dye fabrics.
This individuality would have contributed to a broad spectrum of ornamental styles and a rainbow of colours. In some areas of the Caribbean,
as in parts of West Africa, headwraps were fixed by tradition: the way the
fabric was tied and how it was styled on the head conveyed specific messages or meanings about the wearer to the observer. For example, in
Martinique and Guadeloupe, the headwrap conveyed the womans occupation. There were specific headdresses for the cane-cutter, the laundress, the nurse, the house servant and the field worker. In St Lucia, the
style of a headwrap reflected the marital status of a woman. Personal
style and individual creativity did allow for subtle variations in each
88
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 89
Figure 2.1 The

simple headwrap.
Illustration by
author, based on
interpretation of
Helen Bradley
Griebels description of the
African womans
headwrap.
design.100 Coded headwraps were also an important part of religious

dress; these were often distinct in colour and style from the headwraps
worn daily and at secular events. The codes or meanings in headwraps
varied from country to country and even between regions in a specific
country.
The most fascinating coded messages associated with secular headwraps had to do with love and romance. The headwrap was considered
part of a formal art of flirtation. In the French West Indies, for instance,
a headwrap indicated whether a woman was available and single; it
could mean that she was engaged but might change her mind, or that
she might be unfaithful if she liked you well enough!101 These headwraps
Dress as Resistance
89
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 90
were so popular that, as late as the twentieth century, male travellers to

these regions were warned not to get their signals crossed.102
In Dutch Guyana (Suriname) during slavery, headwraps were beautiful, ornate and diverse. They often consisted of several different brightly
coloured fabrics tied together. Each style had a specific name and meaning some of which were very funny. For example, the headwrap (also
known as angisa in Suriname) called Wacht me op de hoek (see Figure
2.2) would be worn on special occasions such as the wearers birthday.
This headwrap was tied so that after the head was wrapped closely with
a scarf, the loose folds of the scarf were gathered and twisted together to
stand out from the head.
The result of this manipulation was a phallic symbol that was meant
to evoke a sense of the erotic. When a woman wore this headwrap, it
meant that she was going to meet her lover at the corner. The style called
Feda let them talk (see Figure 2.3) consisted of wrapping the head
closely with a scarf and leaving three corners of it loose and sticking out.
Each corner apparently represented the human tongue, and the three
Figure 2.2 Surinamese headwrap: Wacht me op de hoek. Illustration by author, based on observations of and conversations with Surinamese women, as well as pictures in Ilse Henar-Hewitts
Surinaamse Kotos en Angisas.
90
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 91
Figure 2.3 Surinamese headwrap: Feda let them talk. Illustration by author, based on observations
of and conversations with Surinamese women, as well as pictures in Ilse Henar-Hewitts
Surinaamse Kotos en Angisas.
tongues implied chatter, idle talk or gossiping. The woman wearing

this style sent a message to her admirers and observers including her
rivals or those who enjoyed gossiping about others that you can chat
about me as much as you wish, I do not care.103 Some headwraps that
were popular throughout slavery can still be seen occasionally in
Suriname, worn by older women, at festivals and national celebrations.
In Jamaica, too, headwraps were diverse and ornate and reflected the
stylists creativity. They were popular with both adult women and young
girls. Several early illustrations of slave womens dress portray some of
the various styles that continued after slavery was abolished. The diversity of Jamaican headwraps can be seen in a captivating photograph,
taken in the period 186570, of four Jamaican girls, dressed in what
appears to be their Sunday best. One of the girls is clutching a large
book, perhaps a Bible (see Figure 2.4). The simplicity of the girls dresses
and the absence of shoes identify them as peasants. Each child is wearing a distinct style of headdress, perhaps suited to the personality and
taste of the wearer. On two of the girls, the headwraps cover most of
Dress as Resistance
91
Figure 2.4
Four Girls,
c.186570, by
J.S. Thompson
92
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 92
their hair and foreheads, while on the

other girls these areas are exposed. The
scarves of the two figures on the left are
knotted on top and on the side of the
head. The headdresses of the two girls
on the right seem to be tucked in, possibly pinned in place.
Although headwraps in Jamaica during slavery were diverse, there is no evidence to date that they were coded or
had specific meanings and names, as in
Suriname and the French West Indies.
Nonetheless, the prevalence of coded
headwraps throughout many areas of the
Caribbean suggests otherwise. We also
do not know if there were specific headwraps for children and young girls, separate from those for adults, but it is
likely, since social custom required children to be dressed appropriately for their
age. The photograph offers tantalizing evidence of headwraps in the
post-emancipation era and perhaps also during slavery. In contrast to the
slavery period, coded headwraps did exist in the post-emancipation era
for instance, the market womans tie-head, which will be discussed
later.
An illustration from the British Caribbean island of St Vincent provides more evidence of diverse headwraps, and a clue to what may have
also existed in Jamaica (see Figure 2.5).104 In Slaves Merrymaking there
are several types of headwraps, some of which are very ornate and extend
from the base of the head high up into the air. The enslaved villagers
seem to be celebrating the holidays with music and dancing; however,
the most impressive features are the slave womens dress and the headwraps displayed. The contrast in fabrics and bright patterns in their
dress fosters a sense of lightheartedness and exuberance. The three principal social classes, based on race, are represented in the gathering. Those
of African descent can be seen to the left, while in the background several Europeans observe the merrymaking. On the right, a group of
mulatto women can be seen, wearing the most ornate headdresses in the
group. The dress and elaborate headwraps of the mulatto women set
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 93
Figure 2.5 St Vincentian Villagers Merrymaking, c.177579, by Agostino Brunias
them apart from the rest of the merrymakers and convey their elite
status. For slave women, and particularly mulatto women, acquiring the
most expensive and elaborate dress was often a way of achieving differentiation and social mobility. The rarity of the outfit usually commanded social admiration within the community.
The illustration portrays two types of dress styles. The first is Creole
dress, achieved through the merging of European and African characteristics. On this occasion, the mulatto women are wearing long skirts
and shawls, as was popular among working-class women in Britain, and
one woman is wearing a laced-up corset. Most of the outfits have been
accessorized with African-style headwraps. The second dress style represented reveals the continuation of an African aesthetic in dress. The
semi-nudity, headwraps and draped cloth around the waists were all
African customs which had been maintained and nurtured. The dress of
these merry slaves reflects transformations in slave culture from a primarily African aesthetic to a Creole aesthetic. Creole dress was subversive by nature. In fact, Creole dress was fundamentally radical because it
defied easy categorization. In essence, it visually and symbolically challenged the colonial regimes apparent deep-seated desire to divide the
colonial world into clear-cut opposites of black and white, or European
and African.
Dress as Resistance
93
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 94
The headwraps depicted in the illustration are exquisite in terms of

style and patterns. Headwraps, furthermore, were not exclusive to
women in the Caribbean. Some enslaved men wrapped their heads with
a scarf or handkerchief, as shown by the male slave dressed in knee
breeches, dancing with a slave woman. The knee breeches were most
likely received from the slaves owner. A few women imitated the
European high style of some years before, wearing a straw hat perched
on top of a headwrap an interesting synthesis in dress customs. Such
a headdress could have been a popular trend or a fashion statement
among some slave women, or even a symbol of the wearers wealth, status and prestige within the community.
For enslaved and freed women, the headwrap served many important
and practical functions. Apart from adornment and its role in flirtation,
it absorbed perspiration in the same way a bandanna tied around the
neck does. The headwrap, or tie-head, was used to hide and protect, or
prevent, injuries to the head, as well as to keep infestations of lice and
other scalp conditions in check and under cover. It was an expedient
article of clothing that could be used as a quick cover-up when there was
not enough time to make the hair presentable. The headwrap also protected newly styled hair. For some women, a tightly tied headwrap cured
headache or pressure in the head. Headwraps provided essential protection for women carrying loads on their heads. A piece of cloth or
dried banana leaves would be coiled and shaped into a doughnut, called
a cotta, and placed on top of the headwrap to assist with balancing
loads. This was an African custom imported wholesale. Edward Long
was so impressed with the ability of Jamaican slave women to carry loads
in this manner that he remarked:
This custom enlarges and strengthens the muscles of their necks, in an amazing degree; and it is really wonderful to observe, what prodigious loads they
are able to carry in this manner, with the greatest apparent ease; in so much,
that they will even run with them, and affirm, at the same time, with a laugh,
that they feel no weight.105
According to Long, the cotta also served another purpose. When a couple decided to divorce, a cotta would be cut into two and each party
would take half as a means of expressing the eternal severance of their
affection.106 For some women, since hair exemplifies the sexual self, the
headwrap served to evoke eroticism and sensuality, while for others it
was closely associated with festivals and religious ceremonies. The head-
94
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 95
wrap, including turbans, continues to be one of several special head coverings worn by women and men in Afro-Caribbean religions such as
kumina and Revival. Headwraps were, and are, also worn to Christian
services.107
The headwrap worn by millions of enslaved African women and their
descendants in the diaspora served as a uniform of communal identity,
but its most elaborate role was its function as a uniform of rebellion,
signifying absolute resistance to the loss of self-definition and deculturation.108 The headwrap in Jamaica also served as an important emblem
and tool in armed resistance movements. Among the Moore Town
Maroons, women wrapped their heads in a specific way to signal an act
or state of war when fighting the British. Their leader, Nanny, was said
to have tied her headwrap in such a way not only to reflect her status as
spiritual and political leader but also to use as a safe place to store her
bullets during the Maroon wars. According to oral tradition, Nanny
would use her magical powers in battle to catch the bullets fired by the
British at her and her warriors; she then cooled them in a large bowl of
water and stored them in her headwrap. Legend has it that she stored as
many as a thousand bullets there.109 Nanny was able to use these bullets
against her enemies and successfully defeated the British. The British
militia could not figure out where Nanny got her bullets or where they
were stored. The use of the headwrap in this way and the aesthetics of
the slave womans dress were, as social scientist Gwendolyn ONeal
argues, shaped by the particularities of the unique cultural experiences
of being African, or of African descent, and surviving as a disenfranchised people in a Eurocentric culture.110 The continuity of African
styles of dressing, whether it be the headwrap or beads and coral necklaces, created and maintained a vital link to slave womens roots and
simultaneously helped them to resist the system of slavery that sought to
rob them of their pride, their dignity and, most of all, their African identity.
Besides the headwrap, there were other examples of dress being used
as a form of communal or collective resistance. Bernard Senior, for
instance, reported that the leaders of the 1831 slave rebellion in Jamaica
wore scarlet jackets.111 Roach-Higgins and Eicher explained that the
fervour of a political campaign or a popular uprising or protest of some
political act or policy may result in an individuals flaunting of political
affiliation by use of pins, badges, armbands, and other forms of identifying dress.112 The dress of the resistance leaders was a uniform that
Dress as Resistance
95
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 96
functioned in the same way as contemporary military attire, in that it

indicated group ties and status, while the red colour represented a state
of war, as was customary in some West African cultures. This dress code
for battle was important, because it signalled some level of organizational and military sophistication on the part of slaves, and it served as
a uniform statement of resistance.
In many societies, colours are important because of their cosmetic,
artistic and symbolic functions. Red ochre and other ferrous oxide
colours such as orange and yellow are probably the most widely used
pigments in the history of humankind.113 In several African societies, red
was not only symbolic of strength and courage but was closely associated
with resistance and religious dress. The Yoruba priests who serve
Orunmila, the god of divination, for example, wear red beads to reflect
their religious status within the society.114 Among the Ashanti, red was
associated with heat, anger, grief, mourning, witchcraft and warfare.115
The slaves in Jamaica partook of these symbolic meanings and used
these colours in their dress as part of the resistance movement. Martha
Beckwith reveals that in the slave religion known as obeah, red was worn
by the obeah man (priest) for protection against all threats, from physical harm to duppies.116 Therefore, for Jamaican slaves to wear red in battle was not just an act of war but also an appeal to their religion for
protection against white aggression.
Some Jamaican women camouflaged themselves to resist capture and
possible enslavement. Among the Moore Town Maroons, women joined
their menfolk in tying the carcoon bush117 and leaves over their bodies
so they could ambush their enemies or move their camp through the
mountains without being detected by the British. The carcoon bush was
used for this purpose because its leaves and branches remain green for
several days after it is cut. Today, the Moore Town Maroons consider the
carcoon bush a symbol of their people, and on special occasions both
men and women tie or wrap it on their bodies to commemorate the
Maroon victories over the British. These special occasions include feasts
in honour of their ancestral founder and leader, Nanny.118
Slave Carnival: Jonkonnu and Set Girls

Thanks to possession, the slave becomes a king or queen just as in carnival;
the masque propels its wearer into the subjunctive world of vicarious royalty.
96
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 97
The head adorned, magnified, enhanced, is the sign, or rather the embodiment, of a recovered selfhood, of a self, empowered by the dispossession of
one self and its repossession by another.
Richard D.E. Burton, Afro-Creole: Power, Opposition, and Play in
the Caribbean
Enslaved Africans and their descendants in Jamaica held Crop-Over

ftes and evening dances, and they celebrated Christian holidays with
masquerade carnivals. These activities were a well-loved part of African
slaves popular culture. Slaves travelled for miles after their daily labour
was over to attend these festive occasions, and returned to their owners
plantation the next day, ready for the usual labour in the fields. Festive
spaces gave slaves the opportunity for fun and merriment as well as
a cover, both for organizing violent protests and for expressing antislavery sentiments in a non-confrontational way.119
Slave carnivals reflected the blending of traditions that included
African and European masquerade along with British mumming plays
and Shakespearean monologues. Carnival dress or costume was a mirror
of creolization, or cultural adaptation, in action; queens and kings were
often depicted among the characters. These carnivals were part of the
play tradition in Caribbean culture that included tea meetings,
Christmas mumming plays, sports and ritual speech-making. In each of
these play elements a form of ritualized conflict is performed.120 During
the performances, language, dress and the body became agencies for
empowerment, ridicule and resistance.
Many plantations and urban centres held carnival by law during three
days of free time for slaves; Christmas Day, Boxing Day and New
Years Day. These days were very festive and provided the enslaved with
the opportunity to show off their best clothes. Matthew Lewis stated
that carnivals were so important for the slaves that they [slaves] reserve
their finest dresses and lay their schemes for displaying their show and
expense to the greatest advantage.121 He further remarked on their festive nature:
I never saw so many people who appeared to be so unaffectedly happy. In
England, at fairs and races, half the visitors at least seem to have been only
brought there for the sake of traffic, and to be too busy to be amused, but
here [in Jamaica] nothing was thought of but real pleasure. . . . At eight
oclock, as we passed throughout the market-place, there was the greatest
illumination [fireworks] and which of course was most thronged.122
Dress as Resistance
97
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 98
Lewis was clearly surprised to see such gaiety and celebration among the
enslaved population though it should not come as a surprise that slaves
who were forced to labour intensely for much of the year wanted to
make the best of the holidays. On these holidays many of the great
houses were opened, and slaves were invited inside to drink and make
merry with their masters and mistresses. African slaves and Europeans
danced together to African music, and the enslaved often attended a
banquet that included a ball or a theatrical event and masquerades.123
During carnival periods, the plantation was plunged into a liminal state
in which customary boundaries and constraints were nominally suspended.124 These events were far more than mere entertainment. In
fact, masquerades and carnivals provided controlled outlets for slaves
aggression; they also allowed the slaves to mock or poke fun at whites
and the colonial society and, in the process, subtly resist the institution
of slavery. Carnivals illustrated forms of accommodation and therefore
had ambiguous meanings.
In Jamaica, carnival celebrations included masquerades, called
Jonkonnu or John Canoe, that consisted of masked troupes, dancers,
actors and processions of women, called Set Girls, in their finest dresses.
They were accompanied by slave bands, which provided music for the
spectators and the performers. The entertainers as well as the masked
participants were usually slaves or freed persons of non-European
descent.125 The carnivals were packed with the sound of negro drums
and horns, the barbarous music and yelling of different African tribes,
and the more mellow singing of the Set Girls.126 Aesthetically, the slave
carnivals emphasized dress: the parade consisted of distinctively costumed segments, each with its own colours, style and floats. Such an
image suggests communal harmony, but class differentiation was maintained based on race and dress.
For some African slaves, carnival was an opportunity to return to
their roots, to reminisce about the use of masks in mediating between
the supernatural and human society. Michael Scott described a distinctly
African aspect of Jonkonnu masquerade, pointing out that the masks
and outfits worn in carnival were similar to those used in West African
rituals and festivals: Two gigantic men dressed in calf-skins entire,
head, four legs and tails. The skin of the head was made to fit like a
hood, the two fore-feet hung dangling down in front.127
Edward Long remarked that some of the masqueraders wore
grotesque habits, and a pair of ox-horns on their head. He added: In
98
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 99
1769, several new masks appeared with the Ebos, the Papaws, having
their respective cannus male and female, who were dressed in a very
laughable style.128 The dress of the leading male street masquerader of
the troupe, also known as Jonkonnu, consisted mainly of an elaborate
headdress a horse head, a cow head with horns, a model house or a tall
hat and a mask, with a tinselled or jingling multi-coloured outfit.
During the dancing the leader of the troupe often rushed at or otherwise
frightened onlookers.129
Jonkonnu has its roots in West Africa. Among the Mende, Igbo and
Yoruba, masks were used in religious ceremonies, festivals and initiation
rites. Yoruba ritual masks were very elaborate in design, consisting of
human features frequently combined with animals, snakes or geometrical forms.130 In the Gold Coast (Ghana), Fante masquerade contained
satirical critiques of the colonial regime. Slave carnivals existed throughout much of the Caribbean and other parts of the colonial empire, from
Belize in the southwest to Bermuda and North Carolina in the north.
Known as Junkanoos in the Bahamas, in some parts of the Caribbean
these festivals were called Gombay or Goombay, since much of the
dancing was done to the drumming of the gombay, a drum made of
goatskin. These masquerades had a long and complicated history.
However, the origins of the name Jonkonnu are still unclear. Long
explained this celebration among the slave population as an honourable
memorial of John Conney, a celebrated cabocero at Tres Puntas in Axim,
on the Guinea coast.131
Conney, a successful Gold Coast merchant, ruled over three
Brandenburg trading forts on the West African coast Pokoso, Takrama
and Akoda, on the coast of present-day Ghana. By 1724, the Dutch had
taken control of his official residence, the Great Fredricksburg Castle.
Conney moved inland and took up residence at the court of Opoku
Ware, the Asantehene of Ashanti. Africans who arrived from the Gold
Coast as slaves and were sold throughout the Caribbean retained stories
of this celebrated African merchant. But the phonetic transformation of
the name John Conney to variations such as John Connu or Jonkonnu
is still a topic of debate.132 Richard Allsopp suggests that Jonkonnu is
more likely related to the Yoruba word Jonkoliko (one elevated as a figure for fun or disgrace). This seems more logical, especially since many
of the Jonkonnu masks in Jamaica were similar to the annual Yoruba
masquerade festival Egungun.133
Dress as Resistance
99
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 100
One interesting feature of the slave carnivals in Jamaica was the Set
Girls. In urban areas female slaves divided themselves into parties distinguished by colour, such as the Red Set and the Blue Set girls. The
respective colours were worn in the form of tie-heads or headwraps,
hats and handkerchiefs, along with white aprons. The women who
attended but did not participate in the costumed parade dressed up in
their finest outfits, which often consisted of calamanco or woollen
coats, which they called daccasses. Some wore their own costumes
which included white shirts or bed gowns of various kinds on which
were sewed provocative representations of the human figure.134 Some of
the representations may have been explicit or implicit coded messages
meant for the members of a particular colour or set, or for lovers and
friends. These codes would have reflected enslaved womens experiences
and an essentially female understanding of colonial society.135 Lewis
described the origins of the blues and the reds as based on an old rivalry
between British admirals who wore red and Scottish admirals who wore
blue. This eventually developed into a fashion competition. Parties
fought over the best outfits, and the floats sought to outdo each other
with the most dazzling costumes. Lewis explained that All of Kingston
was divided into parties . . . the rival factions of blues and the reds who
contend for setting forth their processions with the greatest taste and
magnificence.136
Despite the festive occasions, the social classes remained very much
divided. Cynric Williams in 1823 argued that On all these occasions of
festivity the mulattoes kept aloof, as they disdained to mingle with the
negroes. . . . Yet they seem to cast many a wistful look at the dancers.137
There was a set for housekeepers who disdained to participate, while
others did dance in the parade through the streets. Set Girls in urban
centres considered themselves superior in taste, manners and fashion to
those on the plantations.138 Far from being a cohesive group, some members of the enslaved community considered themselves better than others by virtue of their skills, occupation and even dress.
Some free mulattoes allied themselves with a particular set and wore
those colours, and also sent their own slave women to help out if necessary. This was the case with a Miss Edwards, who, according to Lewis,
was rank Blue to the very tips of her fingers, and had, indeed, contributed one of her female slaves to sustain a very important character in
the show.139 During the carnival the Set Girls progressed through the
town with their bands and flags, halting only when invited into a house
100
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 101
to dance and sing. At nightfall the festivities would end with a ball and
splendid entertainment.140
Analysis of an 1836 illustration by I.M. Belisario provides some
insight into the magnitude and splendour of these slave events and the
nature of the costumes worn. The costumes retain African elements but
also show definite signs of accommodation in their predominantly
European character. In the illustration Set Girls and Jack in the Green (see
Figure 2.6),141 slave women can be seen parading in their costumes as Set
Girls.
The Set Girls in the illustration are dressed in similar style, with
broad-brimmed hats, feathers, shoes and parasols. During the parade the
Set Girls proceeded two by two, the tallest first and then tapering down
to the smallest child, all dressed in the same colour. Each set was dressed
alike, and carried parasols or umbrellas of the same colour and size.142
This was reminiscent of womens age set solidarity rituals in many
West African societies. Captain John Adams described a parade in 1823
in which the Fante women dressed in their best garments and paraded
through the town.143 Today, Set Girls are still observed at festivals along
Figure 2.6 Red Set Girls and Jack in the Green, c.1837, by I.M. Belisario. From Sketches of
Character in Illustration of the Habits, Occupations and Costume of the Negro Population in the
Island of Jamaica.
Dress as Resistance
101
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 102
the West African coast. During the Igbos Njenji (masked parade) in
Afikpo, age set members compete among themselves for the first position in line. These Igbo girls usually dress elaborately and carry Westernstyle handbags. Unlike most other Igbo performers, who go barefoot,
the Set Girls wear shoes. Due to the intense competition among the
Igbo sets, the costumes of each set are usually made in secret.144 In
Belisarios illustration, the slave women performing as Set Girls are
depicted in shoes, unlike their fellow masquerader, Jack in the Green,
who has none. In the centre of the dancing Set Girls, Jack in the Green
can be seen wearing a costume composed of coconut-palm leaves. This
costume has distinct African resonances.
The womens costumes, however, with their puffed sleeves and
tapered shoes, resemble the styles popular in Britain during the 1830s.
The same sort of European influences can also be seen in Belisarios figure of the queen, or Maam, of the Set Girls, created in 1837 (see Figure
2.7). Each set of girls was led by a queen elected for the occasion. In this
illustration, the queen, or Maam, is more elaborately dressed than the
Set Girls. Instead of a sceptre, she carries a whip decorated with ribbons,
and her hat has a huge, imposing plumage. The intricate roses and decorative rosebuds sewn onto her dress make her costume even more fascinating. Unlike the other women, she is wearing stockings, and she
carries a Western-style handbag. The queens hat and her dress, with its
broad-shouldered silhouette, heavily puffed sleeves and low neckline,
were imitations of British styles of the 1830s.145 Further observation of
the queens dress indicates that she is wearing numerous petticoats
underneath her skirt to maintain its fullness and flounce. In both illustrations, the womens dresses end well above their ankles; they may have
been shortened to allow freedom of movement while dancing. The
queens dress, with its elaborate designs, clearly sets her apart from the
other women and signals both her role as a leader in the parade and her
wealth and prestige.
Many of the carnival costumes and even the parades themselves were
sponsored by planters and wealthy European residents. Lewis pointed
out that Several gentlemen [white men] in the neighbourhood at Black
River had subscribed very largely towards the expenses of the show; and
certainly it produced the gayest and most amusing scene that I ever witnessed, to which the mutual jealousy and pique of the two parties
against each other contributed in no slight degree.146
102
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 103
Figure 2.7 Queen

or Maam of the
Set Girls, c.1837,
by I.M. Belisario.
From Sketches of
Character in
Illustration of the
Habits, Occupations and
Costume of the
Negro Population
in the Island of
Jamaica.
The funding provided by white sponsors and slave owners enabled

the slaves to go all out with their dress and create elaborate outfits and
masks for the occasion. It also heightened the fashion competition
between the various groups of enslaved women, and fostered intense loyalty to their respective colours. Similarly, the competition between the
Set Girls was so fierce that a Red Girl remarked that though the Reds
were beaten, she would not be a Blue girl for the whole universe!147
Dress as Resistance
103
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 104
Europeans sponsoring these slave carnivals had the opportunity to influence the dress of the masqueraders, especially since some slave women
received their costumes directly from their owners. Belisario confirmed
this, commenting on the queen of the Set Girls: The Queen was
invested with absolute authority, which . . . she exercises with unsparing
severity. . . the ornaments displayed are probably the loan of her mistress, the remainder of the dress invariably purchased by herself.148
Cynric Williams explained that the queens were decorated with
ornaments, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets of their mistresses, so that
they carry much wealth on their persons for the time.149 It is also possible that slaves purchased their entire outfits with the money they saved
up from selling their ground provisions in the market, or from gifts
received during the previous years festivities. Festival masqueraders
received a ritual gift, usually money, from spectators (similar to the
Aguinaldo received by masqueraders in Spanish territories). The planter
Matthew Gregory Lewis remarked that during one such carnival, Mr
John Canoe carried off a couple of his dollars and that It was usual
for the master of the estate to give them [performers] a couple of guineas
apiece.150 Some slave owners probably benefited from the financial gifts
received by their masquerading slaves during these festivities.
The strong European influences on Jonkonnu masquerade contributed to its ambivalence in terms of representation of resistance and
accommodation (see Figure 2.8).
Art historian Judith Bettelheim has argued that because of European
sponsorship, Jamaican Jonkonnu and its associated activities were
increasingly transformed to embrace characteristics of British folklore.151
Slaves and freed women embraced these European influences as a survival strategy that allowed them to appropriate the symbols of their colonizers while appearing to assimilate, and then using the symbols
against them. Members of the slave community appropriated British
symbols in their costumes and floats. On one occasion, there was a
Nelsons Car and a Trafalgar, and a slave dressed as a Strange
uncouth kind of glittering tawdry figure, all feathers, and a pitchfork
and painted pasteboard . . . turned out to be no less a personage than
Britannia herself, with a pasteboard shield covered with the arms of
Great Britain, a trident in her hand, and a helmet made of pale-blue silk
and silver.152
The fact that Europeans, many of them slave owners, sponsored the
slaves masquerades suggests that they got something out of these events;
104
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 105
Courtesy of the National Library of Jamaica
Figure 2.8 Koo,

Koo or Actor Boy,
c.1837, by I.M.
Belisario. From
Sketches of
Character in
Illustration of the
Habits, Occupation and
Costume of the
Negro Population
in the Island of
Jamaica.
they also simultaneously contributed to the rivalry between slaves.

Wealthy European residents may have put up the funds for carnival
because they found it funny and entertaining. The subsidies further
objectified the slaves and provided the white elite with their own dancing clowns. There may also have been rivalries between white sponsors
Dress as Resistance
105
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 106
anxious to outdo each other. Undoubtedly, different sponsors had different motivations, but we really do not know what they were. We also
do not know to what extent the sponsors controlled the content of the
costumes or, in fact, the behaviour of slaves themselves. Regardless, slaves
were able to be creative and culturally expressive in their carnival attire.
Carnival dress among slaves was ambiguous in its meanings; it is difficult to determine exactly what slaves intentions were. Satire is, in itself,
ambivalent. Slaves who dressed as their owners, caricaturing their owners dress and actions, may have been criticizing the system and also
reflecting a desire to assume the role and power of their owners. Some
slaves may have embraced European characteristics during carnival to
experience power and control. Others may have seen carnival simply as
an opportunity to have fun and enjoy the festivities. The concept of
dress as both resistance and accommodation was rather complex.
Accommodation and resistance were not polar opposites but melded
together or overlapped. In fact, accommodation, or the embracing of
European symbols and aesthetics in carnival dress on the part of a few
slaves, represented not a desire to be like whites but an act of escapism
that allowed slaves to resist their status as slave at least temporarily.
Carnival dress, therefore, had multiple layers of meaning, functioning
both as resistance and as accommodation to European culture.
Carnival dress also functioned as a mask that transformed the persona, permitting individuals to do wild, uninhibited things, such as
mocking their owners with antics, taunts and pelvic gyrations.153
Michael Scott described an occasion during a slave carnival when a masquerader
skipped up to us with a white wand in one hand and a dirty handkerchief in
the other, and with sundry moppings and mowings, first wiping my shoes
with his mouchoir [handkerchief ], then my face, (murder, what a flavour of
saltfish and onions it had!) he made a smart enough pirouette, and then
sprung on the back of a non-descript animal [masquerader].154
In 1823 Williams recalled, Slaves sang satirical philippics against their

master, communicating a little free advice now and then; but they never
lost sight of decorum.155 Although such carnivals were in themselves a
satire, they also provided a performance space that allowed slaves,
including women, to contest and resist the norms of the colonial society. Slaves sang satirical and subversive songs, and they could also be verbally aggressive and abusive in the name of fun.
106
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 107
Likewise, some slaves used the occasion of carnival to plan armed

revolts and to celebrate aspects of their African heritage. This type of
subversive activity was not limited to Jamaica but was widespread
throughout the Caribbean. In Antigua in 1776, whites were shocked to
learn that a slave masquerade had been the organizing opportunity and
the means of concealment for an attempted overthrow of white rule. In
Cuba, cabildos church-sponsored confraternities for the religious
instruction of urban slaves that emerged in the late sixteenth century
evolved into all-purpose associations that offered Afro-Cubans the
opportunity to worship the orichas of Africa, under the guise of the
Catholic saints, with music, dance and carnival procession.156
Behind the mask of fancy dress, slaves could act freely and sometimes
even mimic their owners. They could be outrageous, going beyond the
normal strictures of buckras morality. Moreover, carnival facilitated
the creation of elaborately dressed kings and queens an African aristocracy as part of the entertainment and street parades. This was a conscious symbolic inversion of the plantation and colonial hierarchies,
placing African slaves in a position of prominence and subordinating the
planter class. In this manner, slave women experienced some control, if
only temporarily. Being queen for a day was a way of having a taste of
power, even if it was mock power and fleeting.
As in West Africa, the colours of the masqueraders outfits were both
symbolic and closely associated with slave religion. Among the Yoruba
Gelede masqueraders, red was used principally to represent heat and
aggressiveness and to reinforce the notion of warriors. The use of red was
an integral part of the rituals in honour of powerful spiritual mothers.157
Knowledge of symbolic colours among African slaves and the importance of red as a resistance colour may have contributed to the term liberation colours, which was popular with some slaves during carnival
festivities.158 A second factor that may have led to the notion of liberation colours was the influence of refugee servants from Haiti whose masters fled that country during the French and Haitian revolutions. These
Haitians established their own Set Girls, called the French Set Girls.
It is surprising that the ruling class allowed the licence that was associated with carnival activity. Slave carnivals became boisterous as masqueraders spanked their long whips and whistled loud and long.
Emblems and implements such as the whip, swords, axes, hatchets, flags
and drums were fundamental to the procession as symbols of power.159
The most pervasive and emotionally infused emblem in the parade was
Dress as Resistance
107
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 108
the whip. For the slaves, who were often stripped of their clothes and
lashed on their naked bodies by their owners, the whip represented torture and the planters sadistic lust. During the symbolic role-reversal of
planter and slave within the confines of carnival performance space, the
whip, once possessed by the planter, was now possessed and controlled
by the slave. In the process, the slave was liberated and empowered. This
was not a benign activity but a symbolic method of chipping away at the
institution of slavery. Energetically and creatively, slaves used their free
time for fun to express their resentment at their enslavement and to
exasperate their owners. A few Europeans noticed this and were, perhaps, uncomfortable or concerned for their safety. The writer Michael
Scott, for instance, called carnival activities an insurrection of the slave
population mayhap . . . especially since every man and officer in the regiment had a tumbler [of beer] . . . at his head.160
In most cases, the slaves got away with this carnival activity.
Folklorists Joan Radner and Susan Lanser explain that interpretation is
a contextual activity.161 Therefore, what in one environment may seem
clear or unambiguous, in another is not. For example, slave womens use
of fancy dress as a form of resistance may have gone unnoticed or been
dismissed because it was read in contradictory ways. Many planters
like Lewis, who described these carnivals as very gay162 may not have
recognized any threat to their established social order. However, as
anthropologist James C. Scott argues, Resistance is greatly influenced
by the existing forms of labour control and by beliefs about the probability and severity of retaliation.163 Therefore, masking allowed slave
women the chance to ridicule the political establishment while not
threatening the essential equation of the colonial society and thereby
risking the wrath of the slave owners. Scott says, Their safety lies in
their anonymity.164 It is also possible that planters saw slave carnivals as
a way of controlling dissent what Victor Turner has called the theory
of liminality.165 The planters may have thought that if the slaves were
allowed to have some fun and vent their grievances in harmless satire,
they might diffuse their anger and be ready for work at the end of the
holiday. As the Reverend H.M. Waddell stated in 1829, It was hoped
that the result of this free time and license would prepare slaves for
another year of toil.166
Nevertheless, dress as a form of masking contained subtexts that were
not obvious to whites but were expressive of what is known today as the
politics of subalternity. For some slaves, dress carried a discreet message
108
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 109
of resistance so hidden that when they were face to face with their
enslavers, their motives and thoughts were concealed.167 For many slave
women, dress as resistance was not a frontal or destructive attack on the
colonial system, but rather an opportunity for specific advantages the
celebration and maintenance of their African heritage and the possibility of transgressing boundaries. In this study, resistance and accommodation are discussed separately for the purpose of analysis. Nonetheless,
the separation should not be exaggerated. Dress had layers of meaning;
carnival dress, with all its ambiguity, allowed accommodation to be used
for resistance and vice versa.
Resistance was a continuous process in the daily lives of slaves; all
slaves, including women, resisted servitude. Despite the contributions of
women to resistance movements in Africa, their role as resistors in the
Caribbean was often denied or dismissed. Vincent Harding argues that
this was partly because, from early in their enslavement, women were
seen as no threat. On the middle passage, for instance, The men, except
for prescribed times, were kept chained in the communal hole between
the decks and the women were allowed to move around the upper decks
by day . . . why? Partly because they were judged less dangerous than the
men . . . [therefore] white men from captain to the cooks helper could
unleash their lust against them.168 But these women were not passive
beings who lacked feelings; they expressed their anger and frustration at
slavery in various ways. Indeed, they were natural rebels. As Beckles
claims, The slave mode of production by virtue of placing the black
womans inner world her fertility, sexuality and maternity on the
market as capital assets, produced in them a natural propensity to resist
and to refuse was part of a basic self protective and survival response.169
Women played central roles in the slave community. They were
wives, mothers, healers and spiritual leaders. It was the threat to their
community that forced women to the front of cultural resistance. Slave
women realized that to resist European attempts at deculturation and
dehumanization, they had to retain their African cultural heritage and
adapt it under slavery. As historian Barbara Bush states, If the cultural
base of any community is threatened, then resistance becomes essential
to survival.170 Cultural alienation for slaves certainly meant psychic
annihilation,171 or even social death.
In order to justify slavery, the planters dismissed the vitality of AfroCaribbean culture and instead perpetuated stereotypes about people of
African descent, particularly characterizing female slaves as passive and
Dress as Resistance
109
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 110
promiscuous. This provided a convenient rationale for the adulterous

activities of white men with their female slaves.172 Nonetheless, slave
women refused to accept these stereotypical images. The persistence of
African aesthetics in the Jamaican womans dress represented not only
her pride and dignity but also her rejection of the colonial order and its
moral judgements. Furthermore, the use of dress as resistance guaranteed slaves survival by enabling them to express their anger at slavery
without disrupting the social hierarchy. As James C. Scott says, The
goal, after all, of the great bulk of resistance is not directly to overthrow
or transform a system of domination but rather to survive today, this
week, this season . . . .173
110
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 111
Chapter 3
Dress as
Accommodation
I have always thought that fashion resulted to a large extent from the desire
of the privileged to distinguish themselves, whatever the cost, from the
masses who followed them.
Fernand Braudel, The Structures of Everyday Life
Dress, Accommodation and the New Social Order

Emancipation in 1838 gave rise to a new social order in Jamaica that
affected the lives of all ex-slaves. The social structure created new challenges for freed persons and established its priorities based on white
supremacy. The hegemony of British culture derogated the African heritage of Jamaican people, including their appearance and physical attributes. European entitlement spawned racial images that contributed to
the subordination of an entire population. As a consequence, large numbers of the colonized in Jamaica realized that the only way to escape their
subordinate status was to embrace or accommodate European culture
and standards.
Frantz Fanons famous title Black Skin, White Masks1 alludes to the
phenomenon of accommodation. Although Fanon universalizes his
arguments and treats colonized societies as a monolithic group, his work
nevertheless provides a useful frame for this discussion on dress as
111
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 112
accommodation. Fanon argued that colonized people of African descent

had to wear a white mask to survive, or to be somebody, within the
white-dominated society. Accommodation occurs once the colonized
person has been culturally alienated and is forced to confront the culture
of the colonial power. Fanon stated: Every colonized people in other
words, every people in whose soul an inferiority complex has been created by the death and burial of its local cultural originality finds itself
face to face with the language of the civilizing nation; that is, with the
culture of the mother country.2
Susan Gubar elaborates further on Fanons argument and suggests
that accommodation was, in fact, Racial impersonation and masquerading in a destiny imposed on colonized black people who must
wear the white mask of customs and values, of norms and languages,
of aesthetic standards and religious ideological created and enforced by
an alien civilization.3 Thus, for colonized people, the reality of their
lives was a complex one in that Not only must the black man [or
woman] be black, Fanon claimed, but he [or she] must be black in
relation to the white man.4 Furthermore, for many colonized people,
wearing a European mask was a way of whitening the African race, making it more Europeanized and simultaneously preventing Africans and
their descendants from falling back into the pit of niggerhood.5
To fully comprehend the complexities of racial subjectivity and interactive categories in post-slavery Jamaican society, some analysis of the
white mask and its cultural ramifications is necessary. Susan Gubar
emphasizes that masking was more than an attempt to elevate people of
African descent. Embracing European culture was also a way to experience or taste a bit of the Other and to pursue the promise of recognition and reconciliation.6 In post-emancipation Jamaica, dress was
symbolic of this mask that reflected freed persons ability to accommodate or to embrace European culture.
In every society there are aesthetic patterns that reflect that societys
ideal of beauty. They are based on cultural standards that members of
society use to evaluate each other. But as Harry Bredemeier and Jackson
Toby explain, the existence of standards also means that some people are
considered desirable while others are rejected by the community for not
conforming or not being beautiful enough.7 Dress as a reflection of cultural standards is important because it signals identity and differentiation, as seen earlier.8 It does not, however, always make this distinction.
In other words, dress can transcend class boundaries and can be decep112
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 113
tive. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Eicher state that Just as
verbal language can be deceptive, so can the language of dress.
Individuals can assume disguise to deceive the observer.9 Many runaway slaves, of course, accommodated to European attire to escape servitude. In that context, dress as accommodation not only deceived the
observer but also tested the boundaries between racially defined identities and reinforced as well as challenged the social norms of Jamaican
colonial society.
After emancipation, creolization continued among some groups of
people, while others rejected Creole elements in favour of complete imitation of, or accommodation to, European standards. Furthermore, the
freed women who chose to wear a white mask did so for a variety of
reasons. The use of dress as accommodation cannot be examined based
solely on the social changes in Jamaica but must be placed in the context of Jamaicas relationship with Britain and the influence of British
cultural and social forces on the lives of Jamaican people.
The new social order in Jamaica consisted of three socio-economic
groups, which correspond to the tripartite racial division of the plantation economy. At the top of Jamaican society was the white minority.
They owned most of the land and were accustomed to controlling the
Jamaican economy. They were the ones who set all social and cultural
standards. This group was diverse, consisting of locally born whites,
colonial officers and a few white immigrants. As during slavery, there
were rich whites and poor whites. The members of this group considered themselves to be British, and most supported the representatives of
the Crown in ruling Jamaica. Whenever possible, the members of this
class sent their children to schools in Britain, and they made every effort
to maintain cordial relations with the colonial power.10
The large brown-skinned group called mulattoes or coloureds made
up the majority of the emerging middle class. Over time, prosperous
Afro-Jamaicans were included in this class. Though mulattoes were the
products of sexual relations between slaves and their white owners, this
group was not a homogeneous body but was divided by profession, education and economic status. It should be noted that in Jamaica the general pattern of miscegenation was the forced subjection of enslaved
women to the sexual desires of white males; however, it must be
acknowledged that mulattoes also resulted from sexual intercourse
between white women and slave men.11 By 1820 this group outnumbered
the white population. For the middle class, colour and phenotype were
113
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 114
key characteristics that distanced them from the lower classes. Mulattoes
were usually born into the legal status of slaves since they inherited the
status of their mothers, but their white parents sometimes granted or
purchased their freedom and provided for their education and upkeep.
Some mulatto women who were the mistresses of their owners also
received their freedom. In 1780 it was decreed that after three generations, a mulatto had all the privileges and immunities of white subjects.12
Some mulattoes who received financial backing from their white parents
or sexual partners got involved in some type of economic activity. Some
coloured or mulatto women offered health-care services to sick travellers
and strangers,13 while others worked as managers and housekeepers of
lodges, inns and taverns.
A few mulatto women owned their own inns and became wealthy.
For instance, in the census of 1844, the total number of boarding houses
in Jamaica was 157; of these, women owned 88, men owned 26 and the
sex of the owners of the rest was not identified.14 Meanwhile, references
to female lodging-house keepers were many. The planter Lewis, for
example, was cared for by several of these brown girls women like
Miss Cole, Judy James and Miss Edwards.15 Lady Nugent, the Americanborn wife of the governor of Jamaica from 1801 to 1806, often sent her
guests to a lodging house owned by Charlotte Beckford, a mulatto
woman.16 The men of this class, according to James M. Phillippo, were
of talent and accomplishment who would do honour to any community. He added: They fill the public offices, practice as solicitors and
barristers in the courts of law; they are found among our tradesmen,
merchants, and estate proprietors; are directors of our civil institutions;
and are enrolled among our magistrates.17 As they had during slavery,
mulattoes continued to see themselves as a separate and distinct group
and therefore dissociated themselves from the lower classes of Jamaicans.
In fact, mulattoes themselves owned fifty thousand slaves on the eve of
emancipation.18 In post-emancipation Jamaica, the mulattoes began to
challenge the white elite for political and economic power, and they
allied themselves with the Jews.19
The majority of Jamaicans lived in another world, rooted in slavery,
deprivation and African heritage. Emancipation freed 320,000 slaves,
who were then forced to provide for themselves without the advantages
of property, skills and education. Nevertheless, many managed to
acquire land with the assistance of missionaries who created free villages,
and they earned wages from seasonal work.20 The newly emancipated
114
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 115
became members of the labouring and peasant class.21 This group was
not a cohesive class, and not all its members were involved in agricultural labour. After emancipation, on plantations and in urban areas
women continued to serve as cooks, domestic servants, seamstresses,
washerwomen, midwives, nurses, healers and milkmaids.22
During slavery, slaves cottages, gardens or provision grounds, medical care and clothing were provided by the planter who owned them.
The end of slavery meant the end of the planters responsibilities for
their slaves well-being. Many freed persons stayed on the plantations to
work for wages as either regular or seasonal labourers.23 Women, who
constituted the main field-labour work force, were often ejected from
regular estate work when wage labour was established after emancipation. They were evicted from their cottages and provision grounds and
were the first to be taken out of regular employment and used instead as
casual labour. This was evident at Worthy Park Estate, where out of the
145 female ex-slaves retained on the estate through the apprenticeship
period of 183438, only 77 women were kept on; well over half were no
longer on the estate list by 1842.24 However, not all women who left the
estates were evicted. Some women chose to leave because of the brutal
treatment they had received under slavery, while others preferred to perform agricultural labour for their families rather than for an employer.
The Reverend Bean Underhill observed that some women in rural areas
worked as traders in markets and as street vendors, selling fish and produce for their families. Those freed women who were evicted and could
find no work migrated to urban centres, where many entered domestic
service or got involved in trading. Some women became prostitutes,
entertainers, barmaids and waitresses. In Kingston, freed women also
worked as washerwomen and bakers, while others broke stones for road
construction and loaded and unloaded vessels on the wharves.25
Urban freed women, according to Douglas Hall, often looked for
husbands to save them from dire economic straits and they languished
in towns when they could find none. Hall added that lower-middleclass women were those whose husbands had left them with little financial provisions for the future and were incapable of work and too
ashamed to beg.26 Urban centres became a showcase for the middle and
lower classes to display their social standing, and more specifically their
accommodation to British culture.
As these urban centres took on a more British character, a wedge
developed that divided the classes, giving rise to two distinct sets of
115
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 116
social features what Philip Curtin has described as the two Jamaicas27
and this class difference was reflected in dress. On one side there
existed the elite and the middle class, who were considered civilized;
on the other side were the labouring and peasant class, the uncivilized,
whose universe included a Christian God that coexisted with African
beliefs and practices. The process of adaptation and melding of various
African ethnicities went on for hundreds of years and was key to producing a vibrant Jamaican Creole culture, which was passed down to
each new generation just as it had been passed on to new arrivals from
Africa.28 Many Jamaicans, for instance, continued to nurture and maintain African spiritual systems such as obeah and myalism.29 For many,
Afro-Jamaican religions not only maintained a link with the ancestral
homeland but also offered some hope in a colonized world.
Emancipation did not end class conflicts; white supremacy was maintained. The ruling oligarchy considered white hegemony to be an integral part of the social order and believed that, to maintain social stability,
the freed population needed guidance. Many also believed that progress
was linked to race; therefore, descendants of Africans could not achieve
success without the help of whites. The large exodus of planters from
Jamaica after emancipation and the decline of many estates forced the
few remaining white elite to concern themselves with the instruction of
the newly emancipated ex-slaves. In a letter to Prime Minister Gladstone
in 1850, the Honourable E. Stanley stated: Where the white proprietor
has failed, the negro will not succeed, more especially if deprived of the
instruction and example of Europeans by their gradual abandonment of
the island, he is left to retrograde, as there is but little doubt that he will
do, into his pristine condition of African barbarism.30
Similar sentiments were held by Herbert George De Lisser, who
wrote that the negro, if left altogether to himself will make no
progress.31 Emancipated and freed Jamaicans were now seen as subject
people to be assisted and civilized, and as historian Patrick Bryan has
argued, their [freed persons] environment had become the mission
frontier.32
Britains desire to civilize the newly emancipated Jamaicans was
embedded in the social and intellectual climate of the period, specifically
in the notions of social Darwinism and positivism. Bryan has argued
that social Darwinism was an appropriate companion of positivism,
since the former explained white hegemony as a product of physical or
biological fitness to survive and to dominate the weak, while the latter
116
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 117
justified the social structure necessary for one class to dominate

another.33 These ideological tools not only justified empire and the push
to civilize subject people; they also reaffirmed and endorsed European
hegemony.
The ruling planter class in Jamaica believed that to successfully civilize the freed population, specific policies had to be implemented to
maintain the former slaves customary obedience and subservience.
Therefore, the planters kept firm control over land resources and added
to the labour force immigrants from India. In addition, they sought to
control freed persons by encouraging values that legitimized the system
of colonial rule.34 These values affected all aspects of peoples lives, particularly their appearance and how one dressed. Those who kept the old
plantation styles and African cultural characteristics in their dress were
relegated to the realm of the uncivilized, while those who dressed
according to European standards of beauty were seen, in some cases, as
civilized. But how did one become civilized, and what were the social
and cultural forces that made it possible to do so?
The Rise of a Consumer Society and the

Commercialization of Fashion
Popular consumerism swept through England during the early modern
period, centering first on appropriate apparel. Clothing in a wider breadth of
fabrics and fashions was increasingly the article of choice among a range of
classes well below the social median.
Beverly Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce
The birth of a consumer society and the commercialization of fashion in

Britain triggered similar activities in Jamaica. In Britain, a consumer revolution accompanied the Industrial Revolution that began in the third
quarter of the eighteenth century. Wealth from the colonies poured into
Britain to help fund a rising standard of living for much of the British
population. More men and women than ever before enjoyed the experience of acquiring material possessions. Particular styles of dress, which
for centuries had been achievable only by the privileged rich, could now
be emulated by the larger society. What men and women had once
hoped to inherit from parents they could now buy for themselves. In
117
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 118
addition, what was once bought at the dictate of need was now bought
at the dictate of fashion. Goods that had been available only on specific
days from markets, county fairs or street peddlers could now increasingly be bought from shops. This change in British society saw large
numbers of women entering the clothing manufacturing industry, and
many participated as traders and sellers of ready-made and recycled
apparel. The desire to consume was not an eighteenth-century concept;
what was new was the increased opportunity and ability to consume.35
The consumer revolution in Britain included the commercialization
of fashion. Many in Britain believed that no other nation in Europe
could match the British in luxury of apparel. The Britons great fondness for dress was described as the characteristic folly of the age. But
the folly was so epidemic that many spent all they had earned on ribbons, ruffles, necklaces, fans and hoop petticoats.36 The democratization
of fashion allowed many of the lower classes in Britain, in both town and
country, to imitate in their leisurewear the styles developed by the upper
classes, but work clothes still reflected class differences. One contemporary reported that a hat, a coat, or a shoe, once deemed suitable to be
worn only by a great grand sire, is now soon put on by a dictator of fashion.37 The popularity of the British fashion doll and mass production of
fashion magazines, along with an increase in numbers of clothing shops,
contributed to new levels of consumption in the growing market.38
The dress styles that emerged in Britain throughout the period of this
study were diverse, elaborate and indicative of class differences. The disparity between mens and womens clothes in terms of comfort and
ornamentation is perhaps a reflection of the periods vast difference
between male and female roles. The Industrial Revolution had created
the need for a large labour force of men whose clothing was standardized, tailored and reasonably comfortable, as in the case of the business
suit or work overalls. In contrast, the new class of women who were nonworking housewives could wear nonfunctional clothing, unsuitable for
the servants who performed the household chores. Womens clothes of
the upper and middle classes became display pieces, like furniture,
intended to reflect wealth and social standing. Dress styles over time
became ensembles, increasingly and overwhelmingly ornamental, accessorized, stuffed-looking and very uncomfortable.39
The Napoleonic era popularized the relatively simple classical look,
with a bustle just below the waist, symbolizing traditional order within
the context of democracy. The classical woman applied rouge freely and
118
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 119
wore curly wigs over short-cropped hair. By the 1820s the classical or
Grecian style was transformed into Romantic dress. During the early
1830s in London, the popular Romantic dress had elaborate details consisting of daggered sleeve trim and a broad-shouldered silhouette, accessorized with a hat with lavish plumage (see Figure 3.1). This ankle-length
dress disguised the body with tight lacing, padding and fussy trimmings.
The Romantic dress represented lightheartedness, and made the woman
appear to bounce rather than glide, and the dress seemed much larger
than the body. The ensuing long Victorian era of respectability, prosperity and middle-class strength saw increasingly diverse dress styles over
time.
By the 1840s the broad-shouldered silhouette and enormous sleeves of
the Romantic style had been replaced by tight, fitted sleeves. The distended bell-shaped skirt was extended by four or five inches and reinforced with petticoats and sometimes padding placed just over the back
of each hip. Later crinolines of the 1860s were accompanied by
bell-shaped pagoda sleeves, inspired by a renewed interest in
the English Tudor period of Elizabeth I. Dress
styles of the 1840s to the 1860s became known as sentimental dress in the United States of America. This
dress reflected the mingling of various European styles
of different periods. Victorian leg-of-mutton sleeves
gave way to short, tight sleeves that often restrained the
arms; skirts became fuller and waists were cinched.
For the Victorian woman in her sentimental
dress, rouge became unfashionable, heeled
shoes went out of style and gloves grew shorter.
Parasols, muffs and folding fans shrank in size
but remained popular accessories.40
In 1856 the collapsible steel-cage hoop was
invented. The hoop enabled skirts to be even
wider, and increased flounce was achieved by
adding numerous underlayers of heavily
starched or otherwise stiffened crinolines. Vast
amounts of material were gathered into the
plainest of skirts, and elaborate ones were
often layered to create a tiered effect. This
layered motif was often repeated in bell sleeves
that hung loosely over intricate lingerie. The use of
Figure 3.1 The

Romantic dress.
Illustration by
author, based on
interpretation
of dress styles
observed at
Fashioning the
Future: Our
Future from Our
Past, exhibition
at Ohio State
Universitys
Snowden Gallery,
April 1997.
119
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 120
so much material for both under- and outer garments reflected the affluence of the wearer, who could afford not only the fabrics but also the
long hours of dressmaking labour and fittings required to construct each
garment.41
The hoop skirt quickly took over British fashion. The skirt was popularized by the Empress Eugenie of France, and was designed by Charles
Frederick Worth. Gowns inspired by the empress were noted for their
variety of ornamentation including lace, tulle, velvet ribbons, feathers
and jewels.42 The dresses of the 1870s and 1880s were perhaps the most
garish and least comfortable. The garish effect was produced by the
often inexpert use of many colours and textures. It was not unusual for
garments during this period to be constructed of five or six different
materials in three or four different colours, including one with a shiny
or glittery surface, several types of lace, tulle and various vertical and
horizontal trimmings. The dress of the 1870s often included a long,
heavy train; occasionally, the result was a work of art (see Figures 3.2 and
3.3).43
Figure 3.2 Dress of the 1870s. Illustration by author, based

on interpretation of dress styles observed at Fashioning the
Future: Our Future from Our Past, exhibition at Ohio State
Universitys Snowden Gallery, April 1997.
120
Figure 3.3 Dress of the 1880s. Illustration by author, based

on interpretation of dress styles observed at Fashioning
the Future: Our Future from Our Past, exhibition at
Ohio State Universitys Snowden Gallery, April 1997.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 121
Towards the end of the nineteenth century, separates became popular, consisting of skirts, blouses, sweaters and jackets. Simultaneously,
the dress lines became less complicated, and the visual image was more
relaxed compared to earlier dress styles. The dresses of this period had
bustles and draping, which allowed the skirts to fall smoothly over the
hips and slant out to the hemline. Bodices were now trimmed with a
simplicity, and the emphasis on the puffed sleeves created a leg-of-mutton image. Nonetheless, skirts were excessively long and tight around
the hips, and full sleeves immobilized the arms (see Figure 3.4).44
With the re-introduction of the corset from several decades earlier,
womens dress became even more confining. Several women lost their
lives in house fires as a result of wearing skirts too full or too tight to run
in, and certainly unfit for performing any work.45 The corsets of the
nineteenth century created an image of curves flowing out in both directions from a tiny waist. Small waists had a special erotic significance,
related to the potent suggestions of idleness, fragility,
dependence and, more perversely, bondage.46 The
corset, made with fabric inserts called gussets, helped
give roundness to the bust and hips. A broad piece of
whalebone (later steel), called a busk, was inserted
up the centre front of the corset as a shaping device.
Narrow pieces of whalebone were also inserted up
the centre back and sometimes in various positions
along the sides. The corset was usually laced tightly
up the back to avoid disturbing the dress line in the
front. Corset styles did change over time, and by
1878 the less time-consuming buttoned corsets
had become popular.47 Ladies of fashion
required their servants help to don their
corsets, whether buttoned or laced.
The dresses of British women reflected
contemporary views about their place in
society and the ways in which they were
expected to behave and were perceived.
More than almost any other material
item, dress acted as material manifestation of an amalgam of expectations and Figure 3.4 Dress of the 1890s. Illustration by author, based
on interpretation of dress styles observed at Fashioning
assumptions.48 Women were expected the Future: Our Future from Our Past, exhibition at
to follow the dictates of fashion, which, Ohio State Universitys Snowden Gallery, April 1997.
121
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 122
by virtue of the confining styles of the day, presumed women to be fragile creatures, subordinate to men. Similar dress styles adopted by white
women in the Americas, including Jamaica, raised concerns among
women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton that the restriction of movement
placed on women by their dress contributed to their dependency on
men. Stanton commented in 1859:
Womans dress . . . how perfectly it describes her condition! Everything she
wears has some object external to herself. The comfort and convenience of
the woman is never considered; from the bonnet string to the paper shoe, she
is the hopeless martyr to the inventions of some Parisian imp of fashion. Her
tight waist and long, trailing skirts deprive her of all freedom of breath and
motion. No wonder man prescribes her sphere. She needs his aid at every
turn. He must help her up stairs and down, in the carriage and out, on the
horse, up the hill, over the ditch and fence, and thus teach her the poetry of
dependence.49
Other women of the period saw their dress as more than just a social
problem. Some saw it as a health risk. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps remarked
in 1870:
[Physicians] assure me of the amount of calculable injury wrought upon our
sex by the weight of skirting brought upon the hips, and by thus making the
seat of all the vital energies the pivot of motion and centre of endurance.
. . . I see womens skirts, the shortest of them, [when the wearer is seated]
lying inches deep along the foul floors, which man, in delicate appreciation
of our concessions to his fancy in such respects, has inundated with tobacco
juice, and from which she sweeps up and carries to her home the germs of
stealthy pestilences.50
Further risks to womens health could have resulted from tight corseting;
social norms prescribed corseting even for obviously pregnant
respectable women, which posed the risk of injury to both the foetus
and the mother. Very tight corseting sometimes resulted in broken ribs
and spinal injury.51
The need to dress according to fashion demonstrated an allegiance to
social order and the desire to fulfil the European concept of feminine
beauty. For the Victorian woman in the age of respectability, ideal
beauty was often based on appropriate dress, regardless of its discomfort or health risks. No other garment reflected or embodied the British
notions of beauty, civility and femininity more than the long skirt, held
out by numerous petticoats. The age of popular consumption and the
122
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 123
commercialization of fashion in Britain articulated contemporary ideals

of beauty, and the colonial elite abroad followed the trends. The British
concepts of beauty eventually affected the lives of vast numbers of colonized people.
Sailors, travellers and colonists throughout the Caribbean routinely
arranged for shipments of garments from British suppliers; when more
goods arrived than they could use, the excess was sold locally. The
clothes of European settlers could well have been provided by the few
local contractors; however, there was no distribution centre for readymade wearing apparel equal to that of London. In Jamaica, a readymade apparel industry did not develop until after emancipation. Cities
such as Bristol were major shipping ports for garments that included the
latest styles from Britain. Large quantities of shoes, hosiery and hats
were exported to the colonies from the seventeenth century onward,
increasing steadily to meet the demands of growing populations.52 The
Atlantic trade between Britain and her colonial possessions did not
include just the exchange of manufactured goods for raw materials and
plantation products but also acted as a conveyor of British cultural characteristics, including those associated with dress and feminine beauty.
Dress as Accommodation during Slavery

Clothing, right from our first direct evidence twenty thousand years ago, has
been the handiest solution to conveying messages visually, silently, continuously.
Elizabeth Barber, Womens Work: The First 20,000 Years: Women,
Cloth, and Society in Early Times
Throughout slavery, some enslaved women sought to accommodate to

European standards of beauty in their dress as a way of improving their
social standing, and some enslaved brown skin women went as far as
bleaching their skin to complement their European dress.53 Some slave
women were able to buy European dresses with money they had saved
up from selling their produce in the local markets. Cynric Williams
stated in 1823: I was surprised to see so many Negroes purchasing finery [cloth and clothes] for the approaching holidays.54 A decade later,
Theodore Foulks remarked: A slave in the parish of St Dorothy asked
123
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 124
permission to go to a ball, adding that she hoped to be allowed to

attend, as she had bought a gown for the occasion for the sum of three
pounds.55 Other slaves received hand-me-downs from their owners as
gifts. In 1801, for instance, Lady Nugent wrote in her journal that she
distributed to the women gowns, petticoats and various presents56 so
they could attend her wedding celebration. Some whites took steps to
make sure that their house slaves were dressed well as a reflection of their
own wealth and prestige. The dress of these house slaves signalled their
elite status in the enslaved community. Earlier, we saw that some slave
women received European-style dresses from their owners in exchange
for sexual favours, as in the case of Phibbah, who received numerous
gifts of clothes from the planter Thomas Thistlewood, including six
pairs of shoes and much cloth for herself .57 Enslaved women like
Phibbah were able to combine European-style clothes with African aesthetics in dress.
Enslaved women imitated and appropriated the dress styles of white
women in Jamaica, but they transformed and restyled these dresses to
reflect an African aesthetic, both to suit their taste and, consciously, to
make their own fashion. The dress styles of white women in Jamaica
were based primarily on summer fashions in London. However, the
summer weather in Jamaica was so hot that even the London summer
fashions that arrived required minor alterations. Bernard Senior in 1835
advised European ladies visiting Jamaica for the first time during the
summer months to wear the lightest summer dresses, but principally
white, and the coloured ones ought to be such as require washing but
seldom, as the exposure to the tropical sun by negro washer-women, will
ruin the prettiest patterns in a single operation; bonnets of leghorn, chip
[wood or woody fibre split for making hats] . . . to shelter the face . . .
boots and shoes of jean [twilled cotton cloth].58 Senior and others
blamed the inevitable fading of clothes under the tropical sun on the
washerwomen. Tropical mildew could also easily ruin clothing that was
not dried and stored properly.
Those slave women who were fortunate enough to know how to read
were able to gain information about European dress from the local
newspapers. Some women also observed dress styles in pictures in fashion magazines and advertisements. Some relied on others to inform
them. Various local newspapers such as the Falmouth Post were full of
advertisements of goods for sale, including clothes from London.59 The
latest dress styles in London for each month were published regularly in
124
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 125
Jamaica. In September 1831, the Royal Gazette described the London

fashions for August:
Morning dress included a white jaconet muslin dress; the corsage square and
gathered round the top into a band which is lightly embroidered at each edge
. . . while evening dress consisted of a dress of mousseline de soie [silk], white
figured in gold colour, the corsage cut plain and square behind, and in
crossed drapery and very low in front. For carriage, dress was of white muslin
dress, the corsage made low but not extremely . . .
A walking dress was a printed muslin dress; a white ground with perpendicular wreaths of foliage interspersed with bouquets of violets . . .
And for the Opera A dress of citron colour gros de Naples, printed in
detached sprigs of foliage.60
Such advertisements were geared towards elite urban white women who
aspired to maintain their social standing in the colonial society, and who
could afford the luxury of changing clothes several times a day, according to the activity of the moment.
The elite ladies of fashion were envied by other women; however, to
be fashionable required a large wardrobe with dresses for every occasion
and activity. Upper-class women were constantly on the run between
dress changes and social activities. The large numbers of dresses required
to be fashionable were expensive, and several styles were not easily available in Jamaica. Elite women who were fortunate enough to be married
to absentee landlords had access to fashionable dresses during their residence in Britain. Some white women who resided year-round on isolated plantations in Jamaica had little opportunity to see and emulate
new styles which were often inappropriate for the rigours of plantation
life. Newspaper and magazine advertisements provided a window on the
world of London high society, and perhaps some excitement and wishful fantasy for women who lived far away in the colonies. These advertisements mirrored the reality of womens lives during the period,
illustrating how womens bodies were controlled and confined by the
dictates of fashion.
Only a few enslaved women had access to European-style dresses.
The visitor (and, later, resident) J. Stewart pointed out that
all who can afford it appear in very gay apparel . . . the women in white or
fancy muslin gowns, beaver or silk hats and a variety of expensive jewellery.
But only a small portion can afford to dress this finely . . . but all of them
who can afford to buy a finer dress, seldom appear, excepting when at work,
in the coarse habiliments given them by their masters.61
125
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 126
While most slave women could not afford European dresses, some white
women in Jamaica ordered their apparel from local merchants and from
British manufacturers in London. They ordered elaborate gowns for
special occasions, such as the dinner and ball held at the governors residence, Kings House, in Spanish Town. On several occasions Lady
Nugent received cargoes of European clothes, including French designs,
directly from London.62 Consequently, she was able to entertain in
clothing appropriate to her role and status within the colonial order
that of the governors wife. Several slave women relied on their ability to
copy the British dresses of their white mistresses. This was not always
easy, since ready-made European clothes and refined fabrics available for
retail purchase locally were limited and often prohibitively expensive or
unsuitable for the hot weather. Some slave women managed on what
was provided for them by their owners. After 1838 all this changed.
Freed Womens Education for Accommodation

A stitch in time saves nine.
Popular proverb
In post-slavery nineteenth-century Jamaican society, beauty was defined

based on idealized images of European attractiveness. As a result, colonial institutions urged citizens to conform. Some members of the ruling
white elite embraced the popular mid-nineteenth-century doctrine of
physiognomist Johan Lavater, who professed that physical beauty and
moral excellence were firmly connected. Lavaters creed required
respectable and moral ladies to be physically beautiful by wearing
proper European attire, and to cultivate a beautiful complexion, not
with rouge or cosmetics but by ablution, exercise and temperance in
food and drink. This regimen would allow womens beautiful thoughts
and sentiments to shine through their skin. The blush of honesty and
the glow of love, however, could be perceived only in white skin.63
Some women with dark complexions bleached their skin to be perceived
as moral; others thought that morality could be achieved, if not by complexion, then by proper dress. The London dresses worn by white
women in Jamaica established the acceptable standards of beauty, and
colonial newspapers with their European fashion advertisements enticed
the literate members of the freed population to conform.
126
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 127
Christian missionaries also developed schools that taught European

concepts of feminine beauty and dress norms as part of their policy of
Europeanization. Although missionaries preached against the vanity of
an excessive preoccupation with grooming, a presentable appearance was
considered very important. Many believed in the precepts of religion
that insisted on the duty of living cleanly in dress and person. For the
missionaries, purity ruled appearance and piety ruled thought. Thus,
nothing was more disgusting than to see a person with dirty hands or
face or, more shocking, a girl in dirty clothes. Missionaries considered
their schools to be the final triumph of civilization, instruments necessary to spread Anglo-Saxon morality and a Christianity that preached
cleanliness is next to godliness.64
During slavery, the ruling planter class had neglected the education
of enslaved and freed persons in Jamaica. Education of the slave population was discouraged by the planters on the grounds that it would
make slaves unfit for labour and more likely to revolt. They followed the
policy of keeping enslaved Africans servile through illiteracy. Post-emancipation attempts to establish a public educational system suffered from
the fact that people with means sent their children to Britain for all but
the most elementary education. The staggering task of providing basic
education for the freed population was left to the Baptist, Methodist,
Wesleyan, Moravian and other missionaries who had worked among the
slaves.
A few schools were established in Jamaica through the assistance of
London missionary societies, with trust funds left by some wealthy
European settlers, and through British government grants given directly
to the missionaries. In 1841 there were 186 day schools for children, 100
Sabbath schools, and 20 or 30 evening schools primarily for adults. Of
the day schools, twenty-five were established by the Wesleyans and sixtyone by the Baptists. Curriculum was left to the missionary organizations, which emphasized religious instruction as well as deportment and
dress based on European customs. These early schools were unable to
meet the educational and practical needs of the entire freed population.65
Middle-class Jamaicans who could afford it sent their children to
Britain for education, though some who sent their children off to
Europe later found themselves unable to continue the payments. Girls
were more often educated at home than boys. A few wealthy families
hired governesses; in other families, other arrangements were made for
127
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 128
teaching reading, writing and deportment at home. By 1890 there were

a few special schools for girls, such as the Trelawny Girls School.
English ladies in Britain promoted the school, where the course of
instruction embraced all branches of a thorough English education for
girls. This included French, drawing, needle and fancy work, dressmaking and other domestic skills. European music and dancing were
also encouraged as part of a young ladys education.66 Children of
working-class parents who were fortunate enough to get into a missionary school, such as the Saint Catherines Ragged Schools, sometimes received second-hand European clothing, and girls were taught
British techniques of sewing and needlework.67 Some young ladies of
this social class were encouraged to join self-help projects to learn further sewing skills.
In schools affiliated with the United Brethren Church of Jamaica,
teachers were rewarded with additional funds for providing extra
instruction in sewing. Several missionary societies published magazines,
such as the Jamaican Moravian: A Christian Monthly Magazine and the
Moravian Messenger, that extolled the virtues of the obedient wife and
occasionally offered domestic advice on such activities as sewing. A few
missionary societies also established self-help and outreach centres for
women, like the Upward and Onward Society of the Women of Jamaica,
founded by the Moravians at the end of the nineteenth century to unite
all women and promote womanly virtue and family purity. Upward and
Onward, as its name implies, sought to uplift the freed population out
of a state of degradation by teaching young women domestic skills.
These skills were expected to instil in the home purity, temperance,
righteousness, high thinking and proper living. It was believed that these
qualities would eventually spread and influence the entire freed population. In Upward and Onward classrooms and group meetings across
Jamaica, women were taught, among other things, laundry skills, hat
making, Victorian dressmaking and needlework crafts that included
intricate stitch designs, baby boots, crochet and embroidery for tea
cloths and pantry towels. The crafts and clothing the women made were
exhibited on special occasions, along with well-ironed shirts.68 A few of
these outreach centres were founded by influential individuals. In 1879,
Lady Musgrave, wife of the governor of Jamaica, established an organization for Afro-Jamaican women known as the Womens Self-Help
Society, in which elite white women taught freed women shell crafts,
needlework, appropriate dress styles and decorum. Crafts using bark128
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 129
cloth and lace-bark were also included by the society ladies in their
instruction of Victorian needlework and dressmaking skills.69
The self-help societies, outreach centres and missionary schools all
influenced freed womens dress and encouraged them to conform to
British cultural standards. They taught basic skills that enabled some
freed women to gain employment as seamstresses a profession that was
becoming redundant. The main aim of these institutions was to foster
virtuous, moral young women who would in turn uplift the freed population, as Fanon put it, out of the pit of niggerhood. The paternalistic attitudes of missionaries and white women were a result of their own
racist conditioning and a firm belief in British cultural, racial and religious superiority, which they impressed upon their inferiors through
educational efforts. Colonized women of all classes sought this education because no one wanted to be stigmatized for ignorance or miss out
on the opportunity for social mobility. Freed women were now perceived by missionaries as the beacons of hope, the uplifters of their race
and the ones who could bring salvation to the freed population. In fact,
African women have long been the uplifters of their people. In Africa
and in the diaspora, their roles as guardians, healers, resistors and conveyors of African culture were all meant to better their race.
Dress as Accommodation after Emancipation

Fashion is the voluntary slavery which leads us to think, act, and dress
according to the judgment of fools and the caprice of coxcombs.
Godeys Ladys Book70
Economic changes after emancipation rapidly transformed the social

fabric of Jamaican society. The disappearance of many sugar estates, the
introduction of wage labour and increased urbanization all contributed
to the emergence of a consumer society and a vibrant middle class that
demanded more material possessions. This group also wanted greater
access to British goods such as clothing. The visitor W.P. Livingstone
revealed that, as a consequence of this demand,
there was [sic] now springing up everywhere stores stocked with the common
necessaries of life. Many provincial merchants began to import their own
goods and to open up small branches wherever the opportunity occurred.
129
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 130
This process went on until the entire country was dotted over with sources
of supply.71
Courtesy David Johns Collection
As Britain had earlier, Jamaica began to experience its own commercialization of fashion, and many freed persons, both men and women,
regardless of their class, became more fascinated with European dress.
The demand for European-style clothes was so great that some stores
could no longer wait for weeks for their goods to arrive. The industrial
age saw the building of larger and faster ships that could carry larger
quantities of goods and deliver them in a shorter time. New markets
were established and old ones were revitalized. A large group of urban
merchants emerged, rivalling the planter class in wealth and political
ambition. This group included wealthy mulattoes, Syrians, Lebanese,
and a powerful Jewish contingency that had long dominated commerce,
money lending and foreign currency transactions.72 Since British policy
discouraged colonial industry, these merchants operated as entrepreneurial middlemen in the selling of manufactured goods from Britain to
the colonies. The new economy was now oriented towards wholesale
and retail commerce. As early as the 1870s, merchants began to import
larger quantities of clothing from major North American cities such as
New York and Philadelphia. These new imports complemented the
London supplies and offered customers a wider variety of goods at competitive prices.73
Most large clothing shops were located in Kingston, along King
Street, Duke Street and Harbour Street (see Figures 3.5 and 3.6). This
area became the centre for fashion and for buying fashionable readymade as well as custom-made clothes.
Figure 3.5 King

Street, Jamaica,
c.1900, by A.
Duperly and Sons.
Reprinted from
Jas. Johnston,
Jamaica, the New
Riviera: A Pictorial
Description of the
Island and Its
Attractions.
130
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 131
Figure 3.6
Harbour Street,
Jamaica, c.1900,
by A. Duperly
and Sons. Reprinted from
Jas. Johnston,
Jamaica, the
New Riviera:
A Pictorial
Description of the
Island and Its
Attractions.
Most shop clerks were white, coloured or Middle Eastern men. Store
employment was considered a respectable job for men of the upper
classes, who dressed in suits and ties for work. Shop employees were
expected to be professional and abide by the rules of store etiquette.
Many large stores were furnished with chairs for customers to sit on
while being served. Store employment, however, was restricted for
women. Although some stores hired a few single women to work in their
ladies clothing departments, Victorian mores prevented upper- and
middle-class married women from working.74
Stocks in these stores included suits and ties for men and dresses for
ladies, as well as hats, gloves, hosiery, corsets, fabrics, shoes and drapery.
Some of the popular stores that emerged in the mid-nineteenth century
were Waterloo House and Excelsior House on Harbour Street, famous
for their fancy flowered silks, corsets and embroidery trimmings;
Metropolitan House, also located on Harbour Street, well known for its
fashionable millinery, Parisian dresses and white mariposa stripes (mariposa flower and butterfly design on striped fabric); Eureka House, considered the pride of King Street; and DAzevedos and Alexandra House,
which stocked a wide selection of footwear, from canvas shoes and
sturdy leather boots to exquisite court shoes (see Figures 3.7, 3.8 and
3.9).75
Store owners enticed potential customers with regular advertisements
in various local newspapers such as the Falmouth Gazette and the Daily
Gleaner. For example, in 1879 the store Dick and Abbott had the best
suit of tweed for 10s. 6d., and beautiful serge suit at 12s. 6d., while the
131
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 132
Figure 3.7 Nathan, Sherlock & Co. Ltd, Metropolitan House, Shoe Department, c.1890s1900.
Note the height of the shelves, the employees dress and the chairs for customers to sit while
being served. Female clerks are noticeably absent. Reprinted from Jas. Johnston, Jamaica, the New
Riviera: A Pictorial Description of the Island and Its Attractions.
Figure 3.8 Alfred Pawseys store advertisement, c.1890s1900. Reprinted from Jas. Johnston,
Jamaica, the New Riviera: A Pictorial Description of the Island and Its Attractions.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 133
Figure 3.9
Nathan, Sherlock
& Co. Ltd,
Metropolitan
House,
Dress Goods,
c.1890s1900.
Reprinted from
Jas. Johnston,
Jamaica, the
New Riviera:
A Pictorial
Description of the
Island and Its
Attractions.
Metropolitan had printed delaine, striped and checked mohair, cashmere and silk at 6d. per yard. Stores required payment in cash, but some
trustworthy and well-known customers could open an account or purchase clothes on credit.76 Most of the fashionable stores catered to members of the upper class and others who could afford their high prices.
Many who could not afford the prices in these high-end stores, except
for special occasions, shopped for clothes and fabrics in less elegant
shops in other areas of the Kingston central business district along
Luke Lane, Princess Street and Haywood Street. These stores catered to
the needs of their lower-class customers and rarely advertised in the
major papers, unlike the larger stores with more financial resources.77
Haberdasheries across the island supplied much of the rural population
with clothes and textiles. There were also peddlers who sold ribbons,
laces, cloth and trimmings out of grips78 tied to their bicycles, and small
cloth traders who sold textiles obtained from wholesale merchants. In
some markets like the Jubilee, a few vendors sold accessories such as
laces, buttons, squares of tie-heads (scarves) and handkerchiefs.79 These
retail enterprises represented the emergence of a vast local network in
textile and clothing commerce that must be factored into the development of the post-emancipation economy.
Some members of the white elite did not view the growth of clothing
facilities favourably. Livingstone, for instance, was concerned with its
133
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 134
impact on the social attitudes of the lower classes: These facilities

[shops] were leading them [freed persons] unconsciously into higher
habits. Their supreme desire was to appear well in the eyes of their superior classes, and they were thus tempted to spend a large part of their
money on dress.80
Livingstone stated that shopping for clothing had become a consuming pastime for emancipated persons: dress [was] at present their chief
social passion.81 During the period of transformation from slavery to
freedom, clothing continued to be an important commodity in the
material and social lives of ex-slaves. A decent wardrobe enabled a more
pleasing public appearance, while in banking and business, dress and
appearance often served as a visual confirmation of ones credit and
financial success. Livingstones assessment of this spending spree reflects
both his racist attitude towards freed people and a reluctance to accept
the democratization of fashion. Although Livingstone may have been
surprised by the uncontrolled spending of the lower classes, he seemed
more concerned with the lower classes desire to appear well in the eyes
of their superior classes. Most likely, ex-slaves were seduced by the
material goods once denied to them and the ease with which they could
now purchase these objects. The fact that ex-slaves now had easier and
greater access to European clothing meant that the old class distinctions
reflected in dress were disrupted and white privilege threatened.
One of the most interesting phenomena of the early post-emancipation era was that many freed women, particularly those in urban centres,
began to embrace European styles of dressing and the Victorian concept
of feminine beauty. Although accommodation to European cultural
characteristics in dress was not new, what was different after emancipation was the large number of women, far more than before, who chose
to accommodate. Since the ultimate definition of beauty, civility and
femininity was based on European values, those who accommodated
were attempting to become presentable within colonial society. If land
was inaccessible to many, at least clothing served as a tangible object that
could improve status. As during slavery, dress in the post-emancipation
era continued to convey class differences and status. For some, spending
on education, which also became popular, had the same effect.
By the 1840s in Jamaica, many freed persons, especially among the
new middle class, had abandoned the old plantation ways of dressing.
James Phillippos illustrations of 1843, depicting women of the period,
reveal that the osnaburg or checked linen pull-skirt and other slave gar134
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 135
ments had been discarded. Mulatto women in the emerging middle class
now wore full skirts, long enough to hide their feet, held out by numerous petticoats. As in Britain, bonnets now hid the face except from a
frontal view. The neck was covered by a veil attached to the bonnet, the
shoulders by large shawls when outdoors, and the hands by gloves to
protect them from the sun.82
Emancipation had increased Eurocentrism, and the new social order
incorporated dominant white values. The more European one looked,
the more civilized one became. As Rex Nettleford points out,
Eurocentrism placed everything European in a place of eminence, and
things indigenous or of African origin in a lesser place.83 As a result,
many African dress characteristics for instance, womens headwraps,
dyed fabrics, and beads or necklaces made from shells and corals were
now abandoned by vast numbers of women, especially among the middle class. Freed women who wanted to be socially acceptable and civilized did not want to be associated with slave dress and therefore
adopted European-style clothes.
A fine example of the use of dress as accommodation to British cultural standards in beauty is the illustration Betty of Port Royal by an
unknown artist (see Figure 3.10).84 The
setting appears to be the garrison at Port
Royal, since soldiers carrying rifles are in
the background. Betty is beautifully and
elaborately dressed in an ensemble consisting of a shawl, gloves, jewellery and
handkerchief, with ribbons in her hair,
which has been neatly pulled back and
possibly straightened. Her dress mirrors
the British fashion of the late 1850s to
1860s known as the sentimental dress.
The neckline is low, and the small, Vshaped waist implies a tight corset
beneath. Whereas the previous dress
style in Britain, classical dress, had
focused less attention on the body, the
sentimental dress distended and contrived body shapes; the sentimental
Figure 3.10 Betty of Port Royal, c.1860s, illustrator unknown.
womans form was rigid, slender and Bettys dress reflects European influences and a high degree
of accommodation to European ideals of beauty.
fragile (see Figure 3.11).
135
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 136
Bettys arms are severely constrained, her

legs and ankles are invisible and her face
is free of make-up. The line and ornamentation of her dress are simple compared with previous European styles,
and quietly harmonious in hue.
Accessories were small or few, and jewellery was kept to a minimum. The sentimental dress abandoned the fussiness
of the Romantic style, and the sentimental woman, like Betty of Port Royal,
did not bounce but glided in an attitude
of drooping restraint. The style of the
dress prohibited active physical movement, and women like Betty were less
active than at any other period in the
century. Bettys dress exemplified the art
of expressing emotions by graceful attiFigure 3.11 Mrs Louis Verley, c.1860s, photographer
tudes rather than by movement. Social
unknown. A member of the Jamaican elite in a fashionable
dress of the period, and similar in style to the dress worn
dictates required women like Betty of
by Betty of Port Royal.
Port Royal to behave in a genteel manner and to avoid boisterous behaviour.
Instead, it was fashionable to be ostentatiously emotional and to succumb to the occasional fainting spell in a moment of crisis.85
In spite of her constricted waist, Betty appears quite poised. Her
wide, bell-shaped skirt suggests that she is wearing the collapsible steelcage hoop invented in 1856. Such a skirt, as was customary in Britain,
required several underlayers of heavily starched petticoats, called crinolines, for extra stiffness. Bettys dress reflects her identity and social
standing within the community. The grandeur of her dress compared
with that of the washerwoman in the background implies that Betty was
a middle-class woman of wealth and leisure. Her dress also reflects her
accommodation to the Victorian concept of feminine beauty. The
absence of Bettys last name is also interesting. Slaves and servants were
referred to only by their first names, so this may be a put-down by the
artist, possibly a European: she may look grand, but shes only coloured
Betty. By contrast, white women at this time were referred to by title
and last name (Mrs William T. Armbruster or Miss Rose Williams, for
136
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 137
example) or by Madam; to refer to them otherwise would have been a

breach of etiquette.
Women, like Betty of Port Royal, who accommodated to Europeanstyle clothing were sometimes viewed by whites as improved and civilized. James Phillippo expressed these sentiments when he described
these women as a group during the early emancipation era:
Relieved from those proscriptions by which they had been enthralled and
bowed down, they as a body immediately began to advance in the scale of
civilization. . . . In their houses, dress, personal appearance (complexion
excepted), general deportment . . . [they] are on an equality with the most
respectable of whites.86
Phillippo not only believed that these women came one step closer to
being civilized because of their dress but also compared them to his
white contemporaries. He suggested that this change was good, and
added: As an evidence of the improvement which has taken place, the
decencies of society are no longer outraged by insufficient and filthy
apparel . . . in every respect [it is] as good as that worn by persons of the
same class during the summer in England.87
Phillippos statements were perhaps meant as a compliment to the
freed women who accommodated, but his views only reflected his own
biases. By using white standards to measure the level of civilization
among freed persons, he discredited and dismissed the rich legacy of
African culture in Jamaican society. His views illuminate a sad truth for
those who chose to be part of the new civilized Jamaica: that they must
reject their African past and adopt an alien white culture.
Freed women who rejected their African past in favour of expensive
and elaborate dresses, like Betty of Port Royal, were sometimes viewed
as extravagant and excessive in their taste. Freed persons who resisted
Europeanization often considered those who accommodated as sellouts, traitors to their race and even collaborators with the colonial
oppressor. Debates over European standards of dress and appearance in
relation to identity and race were very divisive during the period, particularly over the notions of hair care. By the twentieth century, products by Madam C.J. Walker, founder of the African-American hair-care
industry in the United States, and her successors had affected the lives
of freed women throughout North America and the Caribbean.
Jamaican women, especially rural peasants who could not afford the luxury of manufactured hair-care products, used natural resources from the
137
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 138
environment in the care of their hair as they had during slavery. They
used extracts from the aloe (sempervive or single-bible) and tuna cactus,
as well as castor oil from the oil-nut tree to wash their hair and to obtain
sheen and softness.88
Many women who straightened their hair were criticized for trying to
look white. Women who treated their hair to get rid of its nappiness and
kinkiness89 reaffirmed the white supremacists notion that African hair is
bad. Yet, for some women, this process became a way both to make
their hair more manageable and to re-invent themselves during the transitional years after slavery. Since dress and appearance were important
symbols of freedom, plantation attire and hairstyle were simply not
appropriate for their new lives as freed women. The debate over hair
straightening continued into the twentieth century and beyond. Back to
Africa Movement founder Marcus Garvey, for example, denounced hair
straightening in the 1920s as an affront to race pride, even though many
Garveyite women continued to use hair-straightening products; and the
black consciousness movement proponents in the 1960s also felt that
the African hair-care industry in the Americas promoted white ideals.90
Not all freed women accommodated for the same reasons. Some
chose European dress not necessarily to reflect Europeanization of the
person but to reflect style choices in a multicultural society. Some
women may have been tempted by the thought of wearing expensive
fabrics and dresses, while others wanted to be seen as civilized and thus
equal to their white colonizers. Others saw accommodation as a means
of uplifting themselves within the colonial structure, and in the process
creating their own privileged space in a society that had long exploited
them and denied them basic rights. Whether as slaves or as freed people,
African women and men were marginalized in that their ideas, beliefs
and culture were dismissed and the values of the privileged white planter
class were celebrated. The constant attack on African heritage, beauty
and intelligence gave rise to negative self-images and stereotypes that
included characteristics such as laziness, worthlessness, unreliability and
backwardness.91 Many women therefore sought ways to elevate their
position in society and, in the process, receive some validation for themselves and their race.
Although the negation of Africanness encouraged large numbers of
freed people, especially the middle class, to accommodate to British
standards in dress, accommodation was not merely an attempt to elevate
the freed race out of the pit of niggerhood. It also provided the oppor138
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 139
Courtesy Michael T. Gardner
tunity for freed persons to experience the Other, to play the role of
whites, and to show that they too could be beautiful. Freed persons, who
had encountered invisibility and namelessness during slavery, now
sought to show that people of African ancestry were like whites except
in skin colour, thereby attempting to eliminate differences between the
races.92 It could be argued that since expressions of wealth and status like
elaborate houses and land ownership were denied to most freed persons,
dress, being more accessible, became that much more important (see
Figures 3.12 and 3.13).
For the middle class, skin colour, class, money and dress were socially
important status symbols. While women whose complexions were light
enough could pass as white, others took the extreme step of bleaching
their skin, to increase their social standing and their attractiveness to
potential suitors. A freed man, in contrast, might try to marry a woman
of more European appearance and lighter complexion than himself, in
order to raise the status of his family and advance socially.93 Women who
bleached their skin could choose from a wide selection of cosmetic
creams on the market for this purpose. In 1882, for example, Jamaican
women who used Barrys Pearl Cream were assured in newspaper advertisements that dark skin [would be] made clear, pure and white as
alabaster, and youth restored.94 The economic and educational successes of mulattoes or browns led many to seek closer identification
with whites in appearance. The obsession of middle-class Jamaicans with
social standing and light or brown complexion indicated the importance
Figure 3.12 Fun
day for a group
of middle-class
Jamaicans,
c.19001905.
Photographer
unknown.
139
Courtesy Michael T. Gardner.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 140
to them of making themselves part of society. As E. Franklin Frazier explains,

Society [status] is a phase of the world of
make-believe which represents in an acute
form the Negros long preoccupation with
social life as an escape for his [or her] subordinate status.95 The world of makebelieve was a place where one pretended to
be the Other in this case, European or
white. Freed persons who accommodated
hoped for affirmation in the dominant culture and the possibilities of material and
mainstream success. The white establishment, on the other hand, saw the mulattoes as allies against the threat of the
African masses.
Dress as resistance and as accommodation were not polar opposites, as we have
seen seen with carnival dress. In fact, these
paradigms continued to reflect complexiFigure 3.13 Mrs A. Bush, middle-class Jamaican
ties in meaning as they had during slavery.
woman in European dress, c.1900, by A. Duperly and
Some women, for instance, saw accommoSons. Mrs Bushs dress is accessorized with a fan and
charming hat, while her hair appears to have been
dation and adaptation of European cultural
straightened and curled.
standards not as reflecting a desire to be
like whites but as resistance in itself, because to accommodate was a
political act that marked them as not slaves. In other words, resistance
required accommodation. Many freed people did not want to be seen as
slaves a downtrodden, subordinate class. Obviously, some freed persons sought to rid themselves of all the negative representations associated with them during slavery. They were now free people, no longer in
chains, and they wanted to share the rights and privileges of their white
colonizers. Cornel West summarizes this point nicely: Europeanization
was their way to resist misrepresentation and caricature of the terms set
by uncontested, non-black norms and models, and [to] fight for selfrepresentation and recognition.96 Those who resisted and those who
accommodated were not necessarily different people but often the same
people using different strategies to suit the occasion. As Verene Shepherd
has argued, resistance and accommodation were often the same coin,
just different sides; not that dichotomous.97
140
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 141
Figure 3.14 A
View of King
Street, c.1844.
Adolphe Duperly,
Daguerrian
Excursions in
Jamaica.
141
Freed women were not the only ones who sought self-representation
and recognition. Freed men also used dress to accommodate to
European standards. Livingstone wrote: The men wear ordinary
English attire, even sometimes the top hat and frock coat.98 Adolphe
Duperlys prints and lithographs of urban lifestyles, done in 1844, depict
freedmen dressed in the finest of British attire (see, for example, Figure
3.14).99
This form of resistance on the part of freed women and men was a
widespread community activity based on the desire to be completely free
of the segregated past. This battle, according to Cornel West, was moral
in character, because it was a fight to dispel the stereotypes used to suppress African people and to win positive representation and legitimacy.
West goes on to argue that, in spite of that, this form of communal
resistance was problematic because the response rested on the homogenizing impulse that assumed that all people of African descent were
really alike, thus eliminating differences in class, gender and sexual orientation.100
Nor was accommodation always physically easy for the middle class
or for Afro-Jamaicans. The rigours of regular hair and skin treatments
were costly, tiresome and, at times, even dangerous. The way clothing
was cared for also changed, and the process of doing laundry became
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 142
industrialized, especially among the urban elite. The old ways of caring
for clothes washing them in the river, using plant products to create
suds and to brighten colours gave way to the new: cleaning them at
home with industrial soaps, chemicals and solutions. The middle-class
and peasant women who embraced these new customs in their laundry
appeared well-dressed and advanced in the eyes of the white elite, but for
washerwomen and domestic servants, the task may have seemed more
daunting than before.
Newspapers and ladies home journals, such as Good Housekeeping,
regularly ran articles that offered useful tips on how to care for clothes,
while missionary outreach centres offered classes in these new laundry
techniques to young women. The new procedures were not always safe,
as was revealed in an 1888 article published in Good Housekeeping:
Delicate blues may be saved from fading by putting an ounce of sugar of lead
into a pail full of water. Let the article soak in it for an hour or two, then dry
it . . . but be careful and do not put your hands into the water. If there should
chance to be a scratch or cut, or the skin off the hands, the sugar of lead will
poison you. Put the cloth under the water with a wooden spoon or clean
stick. Take it from the water in the same way, and throw it across the line out
of the sun. When it is drained a few moments, pull it out smooth on the line
by a prudent use of the fingers.101
The number of women who could have been accidentally burnt or

harmed by harsh chemicals while doing their washing is unimaginable.
Other tips included cleaning mildewed linen by soaping the spots and
covering them while wet with powered chalk, and removing paint from
clothing by saturating the spots with spirits of turpentine, letting it
remain several hours and then rubbing it out. Powered borax mixed in
water prevented the fading of red stockings and bright-coloured calico
or muslin dresses. Imported commercial soaps for washing clothes were
also available, including Sunlight Soap, which was said to be used in the
royal laundries in London, and the peculiarly named Monkey Soap.
These soaps became very popular as a result of advertising campaigns in
local newspapers.102 Rural peasant women who continued to wash in
rivers and streams, as during slavery, were viewed by the elite and middle class as backward. As late as 1890, they were thought to be recklessly
destroying clothes by pounding them and grinding them between
stones. It was believed that clothes should be treated with more tenderness while washing (see Figure 3.15).103
142
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 143
Figure 3.15 Washing Day on the White River, c.1890s1900. Reprinted from Jas. Johnston,
Jamaica, the New Riviera: A Pictorial Description of the Island and Its Attractions.
By the 1850s through to the 1880s, accommodation was so widespread

that it changed the physical appearance of many urban centres in
Jamaica. Middle-class and elite white women became the embodiment
of leisure. The middle-class women who lived in the hills surrounding
Kingston, on the plains, became known as the hill ladies. They
delighted in slipping on their riding skirts and visiting their neighbours
for lunch, or entertaining officers from Camp with tea and iced claret
cups.104 Despite the leisure activities of middle-class and elite women,
however, they were still governed by the rigid expectations of the
Victorian era. At the end of the nineteenth century, little had changed
in this respect. Gentlemen did not tell off-colour or lewd stories in front
of ladies, and family prayers were still said in many homes.105
While the dresses of upper- and middle-class women reflected a social
standing and a life of leisure, women in the labouring class, such as higglers, traders and domestic servants, made a clear distinction between
working clothes and Sunday best. The photograph by Adolphe Duperly
titled Nineteenth Century Negro Woman, Lydia Ann, depicts a workingclass Jamaican woman in her glamorous Sunday best (see Figure 3.16).
Lydia Anns dress is an excellent example of the Creole dress that
harmoniously merged European and African aesthetics. Her AfricanDress as Accommodation
143
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 144
Figure 3.16 Nineteenth Century Negro Woman, Lydia Ann, c.186465. Photographer identified as
Adolphe Duperly by David Boxer, National Gallery of Jamaica. Lydia Anns dress is a fine example
of the Creole dress style.
inspired tie-head, made of bandanna fabric, is covered by a decorated

straw hat of the type fashionable among white women during the
period. Her headdress complements her European-style dress, which is
held out by a stiff crinoline underneath, and her shoes and socks are
exposed. This shorter dress style was not typical of the period (compare
with Figure 3.11) and therefore represents her own, and perhaps other
Jamaican womens, adaptation of the European fashion of the 1860s.
144
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 145
Courtesy Jamaica Archives
Lydia Anns dress is accessorized with a small parasol that was fashionable at the time.
James Phillippo remarked that the very best clothes among workingclass women were worn on the Sabbath, at funerals, as at meetings of
friendship and during public holidays.106 For the workday, these
women created their own fashion; they would Tie a handkerchief
round their hips, and draw their skirts through it thus forming a furbelow round their waists . . . and they step out in a style which would gladden the heart of the most exacting drill sergeant.107 In addition to
working-class womens work attire, there were special uniforms for professionals and certain labourers. Uniforms portrayed a persons occupation and affiliation to the place of employment, as well as status or rank
within the profession. Specific types of dress were prescribed for servants
of particular categories, and the clothing was usually supplied by
employers. Coachmen, for instance, who worked for the elite, wore tall
boots, tight white breeches, a long black coat, a top hat and gloves (see
Figure 3.17). In the 1870s bowler hats became popular with elite and
middle-class men, later to be replaced by the homburg of the 1890s. Men
who were day labourers, however, wore a jippi-jappa (fine-textured
straw) hat and coarse blue dungarees with large patch pockets, called
shall I or old iron.108
Figure 3.17 G.M. Campbell and Servants, Spanish Town, c.1890s, photographer unknown. The servant women are dressed in Creole style, while the manservants attire reflects dominant European
influences in dress, as seen by his top hat and long coat.
145
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 146
As in Britain, the local militia wore uniforms based on rank, while in

the courts and the judicial system, judges and barristers dressed in robes
and wigs according to their station. Women who were nurses wore white
dresses and white caps and were differentiated in their dress from their
superiors, matrons and sisters, who wore falls (a type of headdress).
Whiskers and beards were an important feature of mens appearance;
they were heavily groomed, and mustaches were waxed. Coloured and
Afro-Jamaican solicitors and tradesmen wore morning coats, waistcoats
and bowler hats. There were no wristwatches yet, but those who could
afford them wore pocket watches. Even in sports, dress played a major
role. The game of cricket, for instance, once considered the gentlemens
game, required a bleached white shirt and white pants. Such appropriate dress enhanced the image of the perfect gentleman in Jamaican colonial society.109
The Glory of Wearing Hats

We just know inside that were queens. And these are the crowns we wear.
Felecia McMillan on hats, in Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in
Church Hats
I know inside that I am a queen . . . and so a hat completes me.
Lady Junie, Jamaican singer
Hats are like people: Sometimes they reveal and sometimes they conceal. A
hat expresses something about a woman, but it can also mask something.
Shirley Manigault, in Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in Church
Hats
In post-slavery Jamaican society, hats became popular for the entire family, including children. A womans hat was considered her crowning
glory. During slavery the ruling elite wore hats as in Britain, and on
some estates hats and caps were distributed to slaves as part of their
annual clothing allowance. Edward Long recalled that slaves received
hats and caps, and slaves on the Radner coffee plantation received
Kilmarnock caps. Early illustrations depicted some slaves wearing
146
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 147
broad-brimmed straw hats, suggesting the existence of an informal cottage industry in straw-hat making within the enslaved population.110
Slaves also made hats from lace-bark and from animal hide. In Figure
1.10, for example, one of the male figures is wearing a hat of unusual
design made from animal skin. Some slaves received second-hand
European-designed hats and caps from their owners, and others stole
fashionable hats to use as part of their disguise to run away.
Most European-style hats and caps worn in Jamaica during and after
slavery were manufactured in Britain. London was one of the worlds
principal sites of hat production from the seventeenth century onwards.
Hats were made from felt, fur (obtained primarily from the Hudsons
Bay Company) and satin. Chip hats (hats made from wood or woody
fibre) were covered with appropriate material.111
The distinction between a cap, a bonnet and a hat is sometimes
blurred. For many, however, hat was a generic term that referred to any
type of head covering that was not a head-cloth or headwrap. This
included caps, visored hats and bonnets. A cap was made of soft material and fitted closely to the head, often without a brim. A bonnet was
usually tied under the chin by a ribbon, and in some cases had no brim
at the back. The word bonnet was rarely used in association with
enslaved women in Jamaica; however, after emancipation the term was
embraced by middle-class women. Eventually, bonnet was replaced by
the more general term hat. Some women considered a bonnet less stylish than a hat, while others felt the opposite was true, and in some areas,
women wore bonnets and men wore hats. As hairstyles in Britain
changed, so did hat styles, and colonized Jamaican women followed the
latest trends.112
For women there were two types of bonnets. One was a simple work
or garden hat. This bonnet had a large brim, usually woven from plant
fibre, and was commonly called a straw hat or a sun bonnet. The second
type was the trimmed bonnet, made from refined fabric, that was worn
on special occasions. These bonnets changed with the fashion trends
over time. Until the mid-nineteenth century, fashionable bonnets were
lavishly trimmed with flowers, feathers and bows or loops of ribbon.
The bonnet of the mid-nineteenth century drew attention to the face by
framing it with a simple oval line. Bonnet brims progressively became
smaller and more circular, and the high, distracting crowns, designed for
the elaborate hairstyles of earlier decades, got smaller. One of the most
popular designs of the period was the poke bonnet, which had a
147
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 148
brocaded gauze veil that covered the bonnet but not the face. During the
1850s other bonnets emerged, including the bibi or cottage bonnet, the
spoon bonnet, the gipsy bonnet and the chip straw bonnet, named after
their shapes and the materials used in their manufacture. By the later
part of the nineteenth century, broad-brimmed or visored hats, lavishly
decorated with ostrich plumes and large bows and ribbons, became popular. These hats were kept in place on the head with ornate hatpins.113
The photographs by A. Duperly and Sons of sisters Marie and
Josephine Gray provide evidence of hat styles in Jamaica (see Figures 3.18
and 3.19). In both photographs the women are wearing dress styles popular at the end of the nineteenth century. The womens dresses have tight
bodices and elephant sleeves, and Josephine Grays small waist implies
tight corseting underneath. The most fascinating and visually captivating aspect of each womans appearance is her hat. In both portraits, the
hats are lavishly decorated with heavy plumage that beautifully complements the rest of the outfits to create a sense of elegance and grace. The
ladies hats, along with their charming dress styles, identifies them as
members of the middle class.
Figure 3.18 Miss Marie Gray, c.1900, by A. Duperly

and Sons. Marie is wearing a fashionable hat of
European design decorated with plumage.
148
Figure 3.19 Miss Josephine Gray, sister of Marie Gray,

c.1900, by A. Duperly and Sons. Josephine is wearing a
lavish hat that harmonizes beautifully with her dress.
Her appearance identifies her as middle class.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 149
Numerous hat shops emerged in Jamaica during the post-slavery era.

On Harbour Street in Kingston, shops such as The Hepburn and
McCarthy and Company sold ladies hats in the most approved designs;
and Metropolitan House captivated its customers with stylish trimmed
hats, ornate bonnets and toques direct from London and Paris. Most
millineries in Jamaica carried gentlemens beaver hats, straw sailor hats,
trimmed chiffon hats and bridal hats with lace. The popularity of hats
and bonnets led to hat-making classes organized by Christian ladies
organizations such as the Upward and Onward Society. Among middleclass and elite women, hats reflected wealth and social standing,
and women in polite society competed with each other for possession of
the most stunning hat. Heavily trimmed hats were worn on special
Figure 3.20
Middle-class
Jamaican
woman in a
stylish hat,
c.19001905,
by J.W. Cleary
149
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 150
occasions church services, the races, garden parties and afternoon teas
(see Figure 3.20). Less lavish hats were worn for leisure activities like gardening, lounging by the sea or relaxing at the mineral baths.114
Labouring-class women of some financial means wore less expensive
hats, and locally woven cream-coloured straw hats called jippi-jappa, or
panama, hats were very popular (see Figure 3.21). These hats were worn
over a tie-head during workdays. Peasant women also wore straw hats;
however, they reserved their hats for baptisms, weddings, funerals and
especially Sunday services, and during the week they preferred their tieheads.
Women wore hats to church services for several reasons: to shine or
compete with other women, to make a statement, to make fashion,
and because their hats made them feel good about themselves and
instilled a sense of pride and dignity. Hats also served practical uses. A
Figure 3.21 Native Jippi-Jappa Hat Maker, c.1890s1900. Reprinted from Jas. Johnston, Jamaica,
the New Riviera: A Pictorial Description of the Island and Its Attractions.
150
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 151
hat protected the head; it also concealed the hair on a bad-hair day and
hair that had turned brittle or that was short and uneven. On a Sunday,
one could wear a hat all day. Hats reminded some women of their
African ancestors tradition of covering the head during religious events.
Hats were thus considered appropriate dress in the context of Sunday
services. Some saw hats as part of traditional church dress, as in Britain;
for others, wearing a hat was rooted in the Christian scriptural teaching
that a womans head should always be covered in church during services.115 Wearing a hat to Sunday services is still an ingrained custom in
Jamaican society, especially in rural areas.
While lower-class women were fixated on hats, some members of the
middle class were preoccupied with the latest fashionable swimwear.
Swimsuits for recreational bathing became popular in Jamaica with the
middle class and elite during the late nineteenth century. During the
pre-emancipation era, both slaves and members of the elite enjoyed
recreational and public bathing in freshwater streams, at waterfalls and
rivers, for hygiene and for fun. Since slaves were not given swimwear and
had no access to bathing dress, they often bathed nude or in their undergarments. On washdays, slave women and washerwomen working by
the rivers entered a world of their own, where they bonded together and
escaped the harsh realities of plantation life through the ritual of washing and public bathing. Most members of the plantation elite also preferred to bathe nude because British bathing costumes were of coarse,
heavy material and of similar style to their normal clothes most
uncomfortable when wet.
In Europe, by the mid-eighteenth century, recreational bathing in the
sea had become popular, as it was advocated for health reasons. As a
result, bathing dress in Britain became increasingly more comfortable.
After emancipation, the new middle class in Jamaica embraced fashionable bathing dress and wore it when going to the seaside, a mineral bath
or a pool. Seaside holidays in Jamaica did not become popular until
much later, in the early twentieth century. Early tourists to Jamaica did
not visit the island for its beaches but rather for its scenic beauty. Most
early visitors were naturalists, and their favourite destination was Port
Antonio, famous for its lush vegetation and vibrant urban centre, energized by the banana trade.116 Most elite and middle-class Jamaicans preferred to vacation in the mountains, and by 1890 the town of Mandeville
was a well-known resort area for those who spend a month or two in
the summer at a pretty villa or at the excellent hotels . . . enjoying the
151
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 152
cool mountain air and the magnificent scenery of the vicinity.117

Although the concept of seaside holidays became popular much later in
Jamaica than in Britain, the few members of the middle class who went
swimming wore the appropriate outfit. In the 1880s swimwear for men
consisted of a striped knee-length body suit with short sleeves; women
wore a blue serge bathing costume consisting of a thigh-length dress
with short sleeves, gathered at the waist, over a pair of knee-length
bloomers. The costume was completed by shoes, stockings and a cap
with lace and braid trimming.118
Those who did not swim but preferred to enjoy the sand and the sun
wore their normal clothes. For ladies, this consisted of a dress of light
fabric with flounces, underlain by petticoats, crinolines and bustles, and
a flowered, beribboned hat. For men, boots and a three-piece suit with
a stiff collar and tie were required. In 1870, a rubber-soled canvas shoe
for wear on the beach was produced in Britain and adopted in Jamaica.
This footwear was called sand-shoes. At the end of the nineteenth century, bathing dress had changed very little. In Jamaica bathing suits for
men still had sleeves to the elbows and shorts down to the knees. Ladies
wore stockings to sea-bathe, and lots of skirts and frills to hide their figures from the bold masculine gaze though mixed bathing was not yet
popular. Gentlemen swam across the Kingston harbour on Sunday
mornings despite the risk of sharks. While the middle class donned the
latest swimwear from Britain, many members of the lower class, especially in rural areas, continued to bathe nude or in the least cumbersome
garments possible, such as underwear.119
Many aspects of urban society in post-emancipation Jamaica had
taken on a British flair; to complement their physical appearance some
members of the middle class acquired an exaggerated British accent,
pompous speech and mannerisms.120 The emphasis on dress, especially
among the middle class and elite, was taken so seriously that some men
wore jackets and tails and women wore evening gowns for all formal
occasions, including dinners and society balls. No event reflected this
rapid transformation in Jamaican society better than the Royal Jubilee
celebrations, held annually to commemorate the coronation of Queen
Victoria.
At Jubilee events, especially balls held at the governors residence,
Kings House, freed women and men of means wore their finest
European outfits. The centre of attention at these functions was the governor, the queens representative and a figure of pomp and ceremony.
152
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 153
When he entered or left the room, the guests rose. The governor was
often dressed in his Imperial uniform, which was bedecked with medals
and other decorations, to impress the colonized (see Figure 3.22).
Events hosted by the governor were attended by whites, mulattoes
and privileged Afro-Jamaicans, who themselves became caricatures of
Imperial display. Men had to wear full evening suits with starched shirts
and standing collars, white waistcoats and tails. Women wore the latest
British fashions direct from London, and were able to exercise some
choice in colour, textile and design as long as they kept to models appropriate for the occasion. The royal court dictated the appropriate dress for
events, and all subjects of the Crown were expected to abide by the dress
code. Privileged individuals invited to state and royal events received formal invitations, or Royal commands, that literally stated the dress code
for the particular occasion. Official events throughout the colonial era
were characterized by parades and ceremonies, where the women were
ultra-feminine and the men ultra-masculine in their form of dress.121
Such public display of colourful pageantry and grandeur in dress may
have attracted some Afro-Jamaicans to accommodate to European dress.
Imperial domination, with its policy of divide and rule, was full of
spectacles, rituals and mass ceremonies that displayed the authority of
the British and yet subtly incorporated those subordinates who were
Figure 3.22
Governor of the
Leeward Islands
and officers in
Imperial dress,
c.1900. Photographer and date
unknown.
153
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 154
Europeanized enough to be part of such a cultural display. Imperial rule

developed a culture that included not only these special ceremonies but
also patterns of discipline and order, best displayed by appropriate dress.
Elaborate dress became a significant way of displaying authority in
colonies. In 1887, for instance, at the opening of Jubilee Market in
Kingston, the governor appeared in his Windsor uniform, which distinguished him from all others present. Many of the gentlemen wore their
navy and army uniforms, while others wore sashes and aprons trimmed
with gold lace to reflect their affiliation with specific social orders and
clubs.122 The symbolism of dress served to maintain social exclusiveness
by visibly reflecting distinctions of rank and position. Moreover, the
uniforms and appropriate dress at these gatherings served as a reminder
of British rule and emphasized British supremacy.
As the privileged classes indulged their fantasies in Imperial displays,
many Afro-Jamaican women continued to combine African and
European aesthetics in their dress, as during slavery. The African headwrap remained a key feature of the dress of many lower-class and urban
working-class women. Phillippo noted of this synthesis of European and
African elements in dress: The dress of the women generally consists of
a printed or white handkerchief tied in a turban-like manner round their
heads and a neat straw hat trimmed with white ribbon; while some especially the young women wear straw bonnets and white muslin
dresses.123
In Adolphe Duperlys A View of King Street (see Figure 3.14), women
are portrayed wearing ankle-length skirts without numerous petticoats,
a shawl over their shoulders, somewhat in the manner of European
working-class women, and the headwrap. Other figures in the illustration wear a straw hat over their headwrap, as was done sometimes during the days of plantation slavery. This Creole style of dressing
continued through the post-slavery era, as seen in Duperlys photograph
of Lydia Ann in the 1860s.
The Creole dress had class-coded content; in general, the higher the
social aspirations, the fewer the African elements in dress. Moreover, this
dress had long represented cultural retention, and it also portrayed a
continuum of overlapping and competing cultural norms, battling for
control of cultural space. Edward Brathwaite, however, saw these cultural norms not as a struggle over cultural space but more as the combining of European and African qualities to create a new culture and a
new way of seeing society: not in terms of white and African, planter
154
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 155
and slave, but as contributing parts of a whole. Brathwaite argued that

the estrangement between the white elite, the middle class and the mass
of Jamaican people during slavery made it difficult for Creole culture to
be absorbed by the higher classes, so it never gained dominance.124
Edouard Glissant agreed, adding that creolization does not mean mere
suspension or lack of belonging; in fact, it was a process that had unpredictable results. What was more important, according to Glissant, was
that this process was a way for the subordinate to survive and try to
maintain their identity in the face of cultural alienation imposed by the
oppressor.125
Brathwaite and Glissant provide some insight into the nature of creolization, but both their arguments fail to address the social contradictions and conflicts implicit in creolization. For example, as the colonial
regime promoted the policy of Europeanization or the whitening of the
African race, hybridization became more of a contradiction, in that it
strengthened the polarization between the upper classes, who rejected
anything African, and the peasant class, whose dress remained predominantly Creole. Creolization did not lead to social acceptance, even
though it was a new cultural form and included some accommodation
to European characteristics. For the mass of Jamaican peasant women,
Creole dress continued to reflect selective appropriation of African and
European styles; it symbolized both their devotion to their African heritage and their desire to be part of the new civilized Jamaica.
Furthermore, Glissant and Brathwaite do not acknowledge the complicated discursive processes involved in creolization, which included
innovation, erasure, embellishment and even fragmentation of some
African elements, as seen in the selective dress elements mentioned by
Phillippo, to blend with other cultural norms. Creolization included
appropriation, as in the case of carnival costume, and also accommodation, which saw African slaves embrace aspects of European dress to create their own fashion. Likewise, the emphasis on the creation of a new
cultural unity that was neither African nor European, for the purpose of
supporting a new wholeness, risked the danger of masking the tensions
between European and African. We know that these tensions existed and
were the basis for slave resistance. Tensions were also played out on the
body surface, where there was no pure dress custom but rather a compromise, achieved through amalgamation of African and European cultural aesthetics. This compromise in dress both differentiated the
creolized from the elite and became a marker of advancement in the
155
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 156
colonial society, perhaps far more than before. As we have seen, during
slavery, slave women who mixed styles were never accepted because their
dress placed them along the spectrum divide between whiteness and
blackness, African and European, civilized and primitive.
Emancipation, however, encouraged freed persons to choose where to
position themselves within the dual society dominated by white values.
This positioning both shaped and determined the survival and success
of individuals. Positioning might have included holding onto the cultural characteristics that were rooted in slavery, poverty or Africa, or it
might have consisted of adapting, embracing or accommodating
European cultural beliefs and norms. Cornel West suggests that for some
colonized people there was a middle road that included selective appropriation, incorporation and re-articulation of European ideologies, cultures and institutions alongside an African heritage.126
The desire of many mulattoes to accommodate to European standards in dress at first led to a surge in the number of seamstresses in
urban areas. During slavery, seamstresses were elite slaves who were
highly valued for their skills both in the great house and within the slave
community.127 The status and prestige of seamstresses changed drastically in post-emancipation society. Seamstresses and needle workers who
flocked to urban centres after emancipation sought opportunities other
than agricultural wage labour. Some used their skills to establish independent businesses, while others became domestic workers. These
women became members of the respectable lower middle class, but their
status was greatly undermined by their growing poverty.128 The Reverend
Edmondson of Kingston, in a letter to Mr Austin at the Colonial Office
on 20 April 1865, expressed concern over the plight of seamstresses. He
wrote:
There is another class whose circumstances should be represented . . . and
have not a friend who can afford them help. . . . Hundreds of females in this
city avoid other parishes [and] are obliged to eke out a miserable existence by
sewing, and of this very little can be obtained even at low rates of remuneration. This is well known to those [who] occasionally visit them in their
homes, habitually miss them in places of public worship and witness the
eagerness to obtain employment when offered by public institutions.129
Douglas Hall noted that their wages were extremely unstable and sporadic, and substantial only during the holidays.130 Wages were low
because of the oversupply of women who chose this profession and the
156
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 157
limited clientele. The number of seamstresses in Jamaica had increased

from 14,565 in 1871 to 18,966 by 1891.131
There was yet another factor that affected the lives of seamstresses
the sewing machine. Edmondson explained: The importation on a
larger scale of ready-made clothing, the introduction of the sewing
machine, and the contracted income of better circumstanced families
militate seriously against the comforts of this class.132 Despite the hardships caused by the introduction of the sewing machine and ready-made
clothes, seamstresses continued to produce excellent work and were
praised for their sewing skills. Miss B. Pullen-Burry, a resident of
Jamaica, remarked that the dressmakers were very smart and excellent
copyists and clever machinists.133 She went on to say:
Provided they have a good pattern they will turn out a well made skirt for
about six shillings and a blouse for a little less. Many people coming out
from England employ them and there is this to be said in their favour, they
do not keep you waiting long for your dresses, but generally send them back
to you in two or three days.134
Many seamstresses kept track of the latest styles in London and produced similar styles for their local clientele. It was this sector of highly
skilled women who first developed home-based businesses; they later
worked in the textile manufacturing industry.135
Peasant Women and Dress

They too had waited longingly for the gift of a Sunday morning. Now they
stroll up and down the aisles of the church, stars of splendor, beauty beyond
measurement. Black ladies in hats.
Maya Angelou
When I get dressed to go to church, Im going to meet the King, so I must
look my best.
Addie Webster
While middle-class women were imitating British culture and wearing

European attire on a regular basis, the mass of Jamaicans who were peasants (including rural labourers, domestic servants and road-builders)
157
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 158
lived in a world of poverty. Peasant womens dress reflected their status

within the broader society, and it was primarily among this class that
Afro-Jamaican religions were kept alive and African characteristics in
dress were maintained. Despite their poverty, peasant women accommodated to European aesthetics in dress when they could afford to, usually only on special occasions. For many of this class, the ritual of
dressing up was important.
In the fields and on the few surviving estates, unlike the urban areas,
peasant women still wore osnaburg clothing as everyday dress. In other
areas, cotton fabric had replaced osnaburg, but the pull-skirt and the tiehead remained popular among peasant and rural labouring-class
women, as depicted in the fascinating portrait Nineteenth Century Negro
Girl, Celia by Adolphe Duperly (see Figure 3.23).
Likewise, bark-cloth production and the use of bark-cloth for clothing continued among this class, but unfortunately, very little is known
about the industry during this period. It appears that as ready-made
European clothing became more accessible and affordable, the demand
for bark clothing declined. Moreover, as bark-cloth was not considered
a viable commercial item by major stores, it was never embraced by the
retail industry that emphasized European imports. Eventually barkcloth production evolved into a form of folk art geared towards the
emerging tourist market. The Maroons continued to make clothing
from bark-cloth for a while, but overuse of the tree made it scarce, bringing an end to the industry.136
The contrast between rural and urban dress was vast. In the 1890s,
W.P. Livingstone commented on the dress of the rural population: In
the field their dress was of ordinary material, Oznaburgh or white drill
and caps in the case of the men, printed cottons and bandannas in the
case of women.137 Like urban women, peasant women emphasized
appropriate dress, reserving their best clothes for Sunday church services
and special events. Missionaries often encouraged the members of their
congregation, especially women, to avoid bright colours and to wear
white clothing to church and religious events as a symbol of their devotion and piety. On the eve of emancipation, for instance, at the religious
service in Fairfield, the superintendent recalled, About 1,800 negroes,
clad in white, stood in the ranks, in the greatest order and silence imaginable, such a sight I had never before witnessed in the open air.138
Livingstone also remarked that, On Sundays the majority appear in
white, relieved by coloured ribbons or sash, or a spray of flowers.139
158
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 159
Figure 3.23 Nineteenth Century Negro Girl, Celia, c.186465. Photographer identified as Adolphe
Duperly by David Boxer of the National Gallery of Jamaica. Celia is barefoot, dressed in a cotton
print pull-skirt and a tie-head. Her dress marks her as a member of the peasant class.
While white dress was preferred for church services, wedding celebrations provided an occasional break from the austere religious principles that guided church dress. A wedding also provided the opportunity
to purchase a new outfit. Labourers and peasants, who could not afford
a new dress, wore their Sunday best or a special frock kept for such an
event. Weddings created another space in which people of all classes
could compete with each other and simultaneously enjoy the festivities.
Wedding dress among the peasants, for both men and women, was
159
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 160
elaborate and formal in design, compared to their work overalls and

daily attire, but restricted by affordability. This form of dress reflected
high levels of accommodation to European styles, as a result of missionary influences. In most situations, women getting married were encouraged to wear a white dress and veil, as was customary in the Anglo-Saxon
Christian tradition (see Figures 3.24 and 3.25).
Undoubtedly, peasants found white appealing because of its close
association with African religions. Among the Ashanti, white represented innocence and rejoicing. White clothing also became a main feature of Afro-Jamaican religions. For some women, wearing white
enabled them to move freely and undetected between the established
church and the Afro-Jamaican religions. White is the dominant colour
for church attire in Jamaican religious circles to this day.
Many peasants rarely wore shoes except on special occasions like
funerals, weddings and religious services. Many of the rural poor felt
that if they had only one pair of shoes, it should be reserved for church,
and they therefore chose to go barefoot the rest of the time.140
The emphasis on wearing ones Sunday best for religious services and
special events has its roots in Africa. Within the Yoruba and Ashanti
communities, ritual dress, whether for religious or initiation rites, was
considered the most important dress. Ritual dress required the finest
Figure 3.24 A Negro Wedding in the Country, c.1900, photographer unknown. The wedding guests
and couple are members of the peasant class; their dress-up clothes reflect European styles.
160
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 161
Figure 3.25 Native Wedding Party, c.1900, photographer unknown. The guests and couple are
members of the rural labouring class; their dress portrays strong European influences.
woven cloth available, in the right colours, and accessories appropriate

for the occasion. Africans brought to the Americas maintained the
importance of ritual dress and eventually integrated it into the AfroCaribbean religious experience.141 Since evangelical church dress in the
British tradition was also formal, these customs were easily combined.
The disparity between the dress of the peasant and labouring classes
and that of the middle and upper classes was great. In the illustration
Task Workers Breaking Stone (see Figure 3.26),142 a group of labourers,
mostly women, is depicted breaking stones to be used in road construction by the roadside. A white woman dressed in the European fashion of
the period observes the labourers. Her dress contrasts sharply with the
dress of the women labourers. They are wearing the pull-skirt and headwrap, while she is dressed in Victorian dress of the 1880s, with crosswise
draperies extending from the waist to the knee. The white womans stylized dress, along with her position in the scene, both differentiates her
from the workers and signals her status as a member of the elite.
Peasant women who were market traders wore garments that
reflected their social standing and occupation. They also wore the pullskirt and headwrap. Once crops were harvested, women travelled for
miles either by foot (without shoes) or by donkey to the nearest market
161
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 162
Figure 3.26 Workers breaking stone by the roadside, c.1880s, photographer unknown
to sell their produce. Goods for sale were often carried on the head, balanced with the aid of a headwrap and a cotta. The headwrap worn by
lower-class women had changed by this time. The tie-head was now
made from red or yellow and orange checked cotton and was commonly
called a bandanna. The cotton was Madras cloth, originally an Indian
fabric that British manufacturers copied and mass-produced for the
colonial markets. It was very affordable and was worn in Jamaica by
both indentured labourers from India and peasant women. Madras
cloth was available by the yard and in square pieces in select stores, while
peddlers and vendors sold squares of the fabric in some urban markets,
for use as handkerchiefs and tie-heads. Madras cloth was also popular in
West Africa, several areas of the Americas and other Caribbean territories including the French West Indies. The cloth was used to make
dresses and blouses but became most associated with headwraps. Unlike
during slavery, where headwraps varied in style, in post-emancipation
Jamaica, bandannas became increasingly similar in style and colour
among day labourers. This is evident in early illustrations of peasant
women (see Figures 3.27 and 3.28).143
The new tie-head fabric became a fashion trend that peasant women
found most appealing and suitable for daily wear. Among market
162
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 163
Figure 3.27 On the Way to Market, c.1900, photographer unknown. Many of the peasant women
are wearing similar tie-heads and pull-skirts, and are walking barefoot.
women in Jamaica, bandanna headwrap was a coded dress form that

conveyed marital status and occupation. It was a uniform marker that
identified these women as traders and labourers, differentiating them
from others. The headwrap was made by folding a squared piece of
starched Madras cloth, as much as a yard in length, into a triangular
shape and then placing the cloth over the head and knotting it at the
back of the head. The knots were tied so as to leave two folds of the
Figure 3.28 On the Road to Market, c.1902, photographer unknown. The peasant women are
dressed in the pull-skirt and bandanna tie-head.
163
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 164
fabric draped to the shoulders or centre of the back. The upper fold
would be peaked and then curved to hang, suggesting the shape of a
roosters tail. Some market women called this style the peacock, but
the most common name was the cocks tail144 (see Figure 3.29). The
stiffer the fabric, the more pronounced the style and the easier it was to
obtain the desired shape. To help stiffen it, cassava juice was boiled for
a long time and used as a starch.145
The cocks tail was usually reserved for married women, while single
and younger women in the market tied their heads more tightly, with
the knot or bow to the side of the head, without hanging folds. This
bandanna style reflected their single status and signalled their availability to potential suitors. Older, or big market women wore a more pronounced cocks tail with a high peak, symbolic of wealth and social
standing in the market domain.146 Most women reserved their expensive
fabrics and elaborate headwraps for special occasions, especially for AfroJamaican religious rituals in kumina and
Pocomania (Puk kumina). These headwraps reflected the individuals creativity,
status and role in the religious community.147 While the bandanna cocks tail is
no longer seen in most markets, bandanna
is one of the fabrics used in national costumes and even in some peoples dress.148
In the marketplace, in addition to their
pull-skirt and bandanna, peasant women
who were traders wore a bib. This was a
long apron consisting of two pockets for
holding coins during trading, similar to
the cover cloths worn by East and West
African women over their skirts. One
pocket was reserved for silver coins and
the other for copper coins. Paper money
was placed either in the womans tie-head
or in a small cloth money-bag called a
Figure 3.29 Jamaican Market Woman with Basket,
tred-bag, which was tucked into the
c.19001905, photographer unknown. The market
womans attire identifies her as a trader and a member of
traders bosom.149 Contemporary West
the peasant or labouring class. She wears the coded
African market traders often secure their
Madras bandanna style called the cocks tail, a bib and a
necklace of beads.
money in a piece of cloth tucked into
164
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 165
their bosom. For many of these Jamaican traders, the marketplace was
their world and, like women in West Africa, they dominated the market.150
As mulatto and elite women in towns pursued a lifestyle of leisure,
most peasant women led strenuous lives. In 1872, Rob Morris described
the hard life of these women:
The little work which is accomplished is done mostly by the women.
Barefooted and bare-armed, with their frocks wrapped in a roll round their
bodies [pull-skirt], and their heads tied in the handkerchief usually worn by
both sexes, they toil from morning till night at the severest labour, and never
seem to repine at their lot. They may often be seen carrying head loads of
fruits or vegetables to market, while the men ride after them on otherwise
unburdened mules. I saw a dozen black and brown women mending the carriage road . . . and, besides their ability as road-makers, they are excellent
hands at coaling ship.151
Morris indirectly chastised the men for not doing more, but this type of
womens activity as labourers was not unique to post-emancipation
Jamaica. During slavery women made up a large segment of the plantation work force, toiling side by side with slave men doing the same types
of work.152 Jamaican womens role as hard-working labourers is part of a
legacy that stretches beyond the shores of Jamaica, back to Africa. In various African societies women did most of the agricultural labour and
were highly valued for their productive capabilities.153
Although peasants style of dressing had not changed much since
slavery, their physical appearance was considered good. Commenting on
the conditions of this class six years after emancipation, Sir Charles
Metcalfe, governor of Jamaica, stated in 1842: Their behaviour was
peaceable and in some respects cheerful. They were found to attend
divine services in good clothes.154 This construction of the peasant
woman as peaceable and unthreatening to whites was based on her
accommodation to British standards of dress. Peasant women sought to
imitate their white superiors when they could afford to do so, because
they wanted to increase their social standing. Livingstone stated that
some imitated the ladies of the upper classes and further noted:
During the Christmas season gay costumes are common and More
money is spent on the adornment of the person than in the gratification
of the appetite.155 The Honourable S. Mais of Port Royal added: Upon
a Sunday it is a matter of great astonishment to see those in a very
165
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 166
humble sphere of life closely imitating their superiors. Domestic servants in particular stint themselves of necessary food and clothing for
the gratification of a flimsy fashionable extension.156
These women realized that to progress within the new social order
and to escape the negative images long associated with them, they had
to adopt some European characteristics. As Fanon explains, The colonized is elevated above his jungle status in proportion to his adoption of
the mother countrys cultural standards. He [or she] becomes whiter as
he renounces his blackness.157 To be elevated above their jungle status,
Jamaican peasant women had to be fashionable, even if it meant wearing some flimsy . . . extension. Yet at the same time, accommodation
provided the peasantry with the opportunity to adorn their bodies, to
feel good, and to temporarily escape their poverty and subordinate position. Roach-Higgins and Eicher explain that, although dress confers
identities on individuals as it communicates positions within social
structures, these identities are not always easily recognizable.158 Thus, if
a labouring-class or peasant woman wore a nice dress outside her familiar circles, among strangers she may have been perceived as upper-class.
In this manner, dress functioned as a mask that shielded and concealed
the wearers identity and at the same time deceived the observer.
Labouring-class women regularly stinted on necessary food and
basic clothing to purchase expensive fashionable dress, a reflection of
the importance of appearance in enhancing social status. The old
Jamaican proverb Brown man wife nyam cockroach a corner, fe save
money fe buy silk dress illustrates how far some women went to
accommodate. In other words, some women went hungry so they could
save their food money to buy pretty clothes. The proverb also suggests
that there were women who suffered from lack of food because what little money they received was needed to clothe themselves, an experience
shared by many women in poor communities today. Some of these
women really had no choice, since nice clothes were necessary to secure
decent employment. Depriving oneself of food was not restricted to the
poor, though it had severer implications for the poor than for the upper
classes. Many elite women of the period often gave up certain foods in
order to keep their figures and fit into their corsets and the latest
European-style dresses.
Accommodation to British-style clothing among the peasant class
was restricted by their lack of money. By the 1860s the living conditions
of lower-class women had worsened, and their ability to purchase
166
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 167
European clothes became increasingly difficult. Jamaica was thrust into

a deep economic depression, culminating in a major rebellion in 1865.
The Sugar Duties Act of 1846, combined with growing competition
from sugar beet and other countries that produced sugar, weakened the
Jamaican sugar industry. Significant price drops in Britain also began to
have an impact. The price of sugar, excluding duty, fell from 26 10d.
per hundredweight in 1860 to 23 5d. in 1861 and continued to fall for
the next two years.159 To complicate matters further, the American Civil
War affected regional commerce, especially the textile trade, and hampered the flow of supplies from North America. Wages fell, while the
increased influx of indentured labourers from India, which had begun in
1845, led to a reduction in estate jobs offered to Afro-Jamaicans. The situation worsened when, in May and June 1864, the annual spring rains
were heavier than usual, resulting in floods that damaged crops, roads
and bridges. This calamity was followed by a severe drought, and the
price of provisions rose in almost every parish of the island.160
No other group of Jamaicans suffered as much from these catastrophic events as the peasant class did. Their inability to earn good
wages or to afford goods such as cloth and ready-made clothes greatly
affected their physical appearance. The situation among the lower class
was so dire that concern over their plight was expressed by local ministers and magistrates. In a letter dated 3 March 1865, the Reverend M.
Davidson informed his bishop of the appalling conditions of the lower
classes:
Labourers very commonly find great difficulty in providing themselves and
their families with clothing. . . . Their work-day raiment is often ragged and
dirty. . . . I am credibly informed that young persons are sometimes kept
within doors for the want of clothes fit to appear in. Attendance at church
and school has been unfavourably affected by this circumstance.161
The Honourable Rich Hall echoed these sentiments in a letter to the

Colonial Office in 1865 addressing the impact of the American Civil War
on the clothing trade:
The cost of clothing is enhanced to more than double it was before the
American War. . . . Five years ago the Bale now imported at 97 was invoiced
at 33. Common cotton prints are nearly trebled in cost by the yard . . . and
Osnaburghs, a hempen fabric used [by] the old and the young has been
increased in price from 42 to 92 [4 to 9 pence].162
167
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 168
So bad had things become for the Jamaican peasants that some literally
had to go naked. This horrifying situation was described by Mr Justice
Kremble, who informed the governor that, as a consequence of the
present high prices of cotton goods, it is as far as my observation enables
me to judge and not an exaggeration to say that vast numbers of the people have been reduced to such abject poverty as to have become ragged
and even naked.163
Despite economic hardships, not all Afro-Jamaican or peasant
women suffered extremely. Clothing conditions among the poor varied
across the island. Some women were still able to save their best clothes
for church, and in urban areas the conditions of the poor may have been
masked by the affluence of the elite and middle class. The Honourable
S. Mais of Port Royal explained: The peasantry attend [church] neatly,
but not so gaily clad. In the city of Kingston the large and well stocked
drapery establishments, all apparently flourishing, certainly give an
undeniable contradiction to the existence of poverty in the town, and in
several districts of neighbouring parishes.164 Maiss account highlights
the vast difference between urban and rural areas during the depression.
While the poorer classes struggled to clothe themselves, the city and its
urban elite apparently continued to flourish. Moreover, the reference to
the well stocked drapery firms during the economic crisis suggests that
the demand for fabric and clothing remained high among the upper
classes.
Some women who could no longer afford fashionable dresses turned
to their churches and the local missionaries for support in obtaining
clothes. The Reverend Edward Bean Underhill, a missionary visitor to
Jamaica, pointed out:
Some [women] doubtless join the Church of England for avaricious motives.
No contributions are required of them, and there is a frequent distribution
of gifts and clothing. . . . Many of the youth especially young brown women
will not attend church unless they are well dressed. When their clothes are
faded or worn out, they absent themselves till again supplied.165
Distribution of clothing to the peasants was a charitable and humanitarian activity undertaken by Christian missionaries, as noted by
Livingstone: During the years of depression the missionaries instead of
receiving offerings are compelled in sheer humanity to distribute money,
food and clothing to many of their people.166 Livingstone failed to recognize that the distribution of clothing by missionaries was more than
168
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 169
an act of charity. It provided the missionaries with the opportunity to

influence the African aesthetics of the peasant womens dress and simultaneously pursue Europeanization of the large peasant class. European
missionaries had long considered themselves the bearers of civilization,
and they sought to spread it by whatever means possible. During the
1860s Jamaica experienced renewed interest in Anglo-Saxon Christanity,
which some people had hoped would crush the last remnants of African
heritage on the island. The leader of the Anglican Church, Bishop Enos
Nuttall, revitalized the perception of Anglo-Saxon civilization and
Imperial rule as positive elements.167
The avaricious motives mentioned by Underhill suggest indifference and perhaps lack of belief among the recipients of missionary aid.
Some may, in fact, have sought to take advantage of a system that provided the less fortunate with the opportunity to have nice clothes.
Others may have viewed this missionary activity as reminiscent of the
paternal ritual of clothing distribution on the plantation, a legacy of a
brutal past and a means of creating among the poor some dependency
on missionary aid. Many peasants still mistrusted the churches, like the
Church of England, that had a history of alliance with the oppressive
planter class; those peasants who had once been slaves certainly remembered the cruel treatment they had received under slavery. Nor did they
forget that a minister of one of the leading denominations, now holding an important position in the city, preached at the insurrection [in
1831] a vigorous sermon in defence of the Divine institution of slavery.168 For many peasants, their painful memories of slavery made them
suspicious of officials and cautious in their dealings with the established
elite. Some of them may have considered indifference an effective means
of getting back at the ruling elite for their sufferings under slavery. As
bell hooks reminds us, Memory sustains a spirit of resistance,169 and
many Jamaicans continued to support Afro-Jamaican religions. AngloSaxon Christian missionary activity failed to conquer obeah and
kumina, which remained popular among various sectors of Jamaican
society.
Women of the labouring and peasant classes, like their middle-class
sisters, felt that to embrace Christianity meant social progress; hence
church-going was more an act of social respectability than a religious
necessity.170 The sanctuary and the churchyard on a Sunday became a
performance space in which to display their best white frock and hat,
and for those in the latest European-style dress, to aspire to be the
169
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 170
fairest of them all. Sunday-best clothes made poverty invisible. One

could lack money, decent housing, food or medical care and still be
decently dressed. Even some Jamaicans with very low wages were nevertheless able to appear prosperous and thereby transcend their class temporarily.171 Poor, fair-skinned Jamaican women who considered
themselves racially superior desired the latest British fashions so that
they could outdo dark-skinned women in their dress. For many poor
Jamaican women, dressing up and wearing a hat, especially for church
services, was more than a way to escape their poverty. It made them feel
good, provided some fun and stimulated a sense of self-worth and pride.
As one woman remarked when asked why she dressed up for church, It
mek me feel so good.172
The Failure of Accommodation as a Strategy

for Social Mobility
Clothes are but a symbol of something hid deep within.
Virginia Woolf, Orlando
Jamaican women who accommodated, because it made them feel good

or because they believed it would enable them to uplift themselves in the
colonial society, soon realized that accommodation to British cultural
traits did not eradicate the racial stereotyping of African women. This
can be seen in Livingstones description of womens dresses in the 1880s.
He said:
In the matter of dress considerable progress soon became visible . . . their
sense of harmony, however, was in its rudimentary stage, and the result was
sometimes sufficiently bizarre. This was particularly the case on Sundays and
holidays when they arrayed themselves in costumes which excited the
ridicule of the whites, and earned for the fashion, the contemptuous designation of monkey style.173
Livingstone characterized rural freed women who aped European dress

as sufficiently bizarre and having an inclination . . . towards monkey
style.174 Yet in the towns things were different. According to
Livingstone, the examples of the whites, many of whom had in selfdefence assumed the quietest of costumes, was making an impression on
170
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 171
the more intelligent negroes.175 Those who set the trends purposely differentiated themselves from those whom they saw as their inferiors.
Therefore, freed women, by virtue of their race, could never catch up.
Their attempts to resist the negative images long associated with them
from the time of slavery, and to uplift themselves by means of dress and
education beyond their jungle status, could not succeed in overcoming the racist and stereotypical ideas of the colonial white supremacists.
It was the rudimentary stage and the sufficiently bizarre nature of
their dress that branded them as stupid, childish or even monkey people, who lacked grace and refined taste. African use of vibrant colours
was foreign to European eyes, and only the closest conformity to
European dress was acceptable.
Livingstone acknowledged that womens dress had changed, apparently for the better, irrespective of its rudimentary sense of harmony.
However, he credited this development among Afro-Jamaicans, especially the intelligent negroes in urban areas, to white influence.
Livingstone, like so many of his contemporaries, reiterated the belief
that Afro-Jamaicans could not advance socially without white assistance.
Thus womens capabilities of adaptation, innovation and creativity in
their dress were neither valued nor encouraged.
Perhaps the most striking observation Livingstone made was that
some white women, in self-defence [against freedwomen], assumed
the quietest costume. Afro-Jamaican women who accommodated
threatened white womens dress boundaries. In the colonial realm, an
individuals security was based on conforming and knowing where he or
she belonged, distinct from others. Dress both marked ones status and
reflected ones social role. As Kurt and Gladys Lang point out, Where
custom rules, and the society is clearly stratified, people learn how to
dress, express themselves, behave, and think as befits their station.176
The Afro-Jamaican women who broke the customary rules in dress disrupted the social balance of society and threatened white privilege. The
preservation of white elitism and cultural dominance was based on the
racist ideology that African women could never be somebody. For
Afro-Jamaican women this situation reflected a dissonant colonial mentality: they lived in a world that promoted whiteness and Europeanization, but they could never fully Europeanize because of the colour of
their skin.
At the end of the nineteenth century, E.A. Hastings, a visitor to
Jamaica, described the women who accommodated to the European
171
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 172
aesthetic in dress on Sundays: Next morning everyone turned out in

their Sunday best. Big hulking negresses were attired in gorgeous silks
and satins, and truly wonderful hats with broad brims and feathers, and
ribbon. . . . The wooly locks under all this fashionable headgear were
pathetically ludicrous.177 Afro-Jamaican women looked silly and
pathetically ludicrous because they were not dressed appropriately for
their race. Despite their fashionable headgear, it was their Negroid hair
that made their outfits socially unacceptable. Accommodation to
European culture and standards in dress did not always improve race
relations.
As slaves, many women had sought to subvert the institution of slavery; then as freed women they sought to carve a space for themselves in
the new social order. Middle-class and peasant-class women used dress
to reflect their degree of accommodation, to resist misrepresentation and
to demonstrate that they could be as beautiful as white women. Despite
their limited resources, they paraded in their Sunday best, and through
their appearance they were sometimes able to transcend the boundaries
of class. For instance, in 1891 a street vendor was overheard saying to a
friend, When a lick on me silk frock and fling me parasol over me
shoulders and drop into Exhibition Ground, you will know wedder I is
a lady or not.178
Accommodation to European customs in dress did not lead to social
acceptance. The races remained very much divided in colonial postemancipation society. Nor did European dress, as a white mask, end
racial stereotyping of freed women. In fact, those who accommodated
became a type of racial hybrid, part African and part white, who were
brought to the brink of civilization but never fully inducted.179
Adopting European dress was a way for some middle-class and peasant
women to look white or European, and in the process avoid Fanons pit
of niggerhood. Needless to say, the attempt to whiten the race failed.
Accommodation revealed a harsh reality freed women and men could
never be white, no matter how hard they tried to accommodate.
Langston Hughes reiterated this point, stating: This imitation of whites
leads to an imitation life for blacks, that can only be understood as limitation.180 This limitation was a result of racism. No matter how
respectable in circumstances, character or dress, a freed person who
entered the church pew of the lowest-class white could be instantly
ordered out.181 In hospitals, prisons and grave-yards where it sleeps the
last sleep, racial prejudice haunted its victims.182 Racism had survived
172
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 173
emancipation and continued to affect the lives of all those of African

ancestry. The abolitionist and missionary James Phillippo reaffirmed
this notion: In whomsoever the least trace of an African origin could be
discovered the curse of slavery pursued him [or her], and no advantages
either of wealth, talent, virtue, education, or accomplishment, were sufficient to relieve him [or her] from the infamous proscriptions.183
Regardless of any European cultural markers that freed women chose
to adopt, they could never assimilate or transcend the racial boundaries.
They were bound by racial prejudice, which haunted Afro-Jamaican
women and men throughout the colonial period and beyond. Freed persons were not the equivalent of free persons, no matter how much they
adopted symbols of equality such as dress.
173
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 174
Chapter 4
Conclusion
When people put clothes on their bodies, they are primarily engaged in
making pictures of themselves to suit their own eyes, out of the completed
combination of clothing and body.
Anne Hollander, Seeing through Clothes
If you wear the skin of the leopard after it has been purified, the journey will
be shorter.
Dahomey voodoo priest, Cotonou, Benin
From Slavery to Freedom: A Long Road Travelled

Enslaved African women were stripped of their humanity, and in their
nakedness they were forced on a long journey into an alien world based
on white privilege. Slave women, like their menfolk, received the fabrics
of servitude. On plantations they were restricted, exploited and confined
by the chains of white patriarchy that sought to take from them their
identity as persons and as Africans. However, Europeans attempts at
complete deculturation of enslaved Africans, as a means of maintaining
control, failed. African slaves brought their customs in dress to Jamaica
and were able to maintain and nurture them. The absence of sumptuary
laws gave African slave women and their descendants more flexibility
174
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 175
and control over their dress, hence facilitating cultural expression, retention and adaptation.
Cultural expression reflected both individual and collective creativity.
Such creativity forced attention on dress and the body, in that the way
the colonized dressed and the styles constructed became a performance
space for slave and freed women to contest, conform or resist in a
racially segregated environment. African women and their descendants,
in this respect, were the principal agents of change and transformation
in Jamaican colonized society. Moreover, for enslaved women, the politics of representation was important, because dress was a visual display
of a popular desire that sent a message about the wearer to the observer.
Enslaved women worked on themselves, and their ritual of dressing up
enabled them to look and feel good, as well as to affirm and validate
themselves with in the colonial society.
The survival and retention of African customs in dress required innovation and creativity. Although enslavement prohibited the complete
transfer of African cultures, enslaved Africans brought with them skills
and knowledge, the things they could remember, and adapted them to
their environment. For example, African slaves retained the techniques
of textile dyeing and bark-cloth and lace-bark production, and they
transmitted these ideas to their descendants in the diaspora. Perhaps
Jamaicans love for linen fabric today has its roots in the bark-cloth
industry. Bark-cloth clothing and other clothing made from plant fibre
should not evoke an image of the primitive of Jamaicans wearing grass
skirts. What is significant is the sophistication, complexity and ingenuity that were employed in this industry to produce visually exquisite outfits that were desired by many people.
Enslaved women established codes in their dress that enabled a
unique communication among them.1 Their ornate headwraps, for
example, had distinct names and meanings, and they provided a code by
which women could communicate with each other.2 These headwraps
could signal to other women a womans marital status, or whether she
was planning to meet her lover. The nurturing of these African customs
in dress enabled women to maintain a vital cultural link with their
ancestral homeland and, in the process, to resist the institution of slavery which denied them basic human rights.
Under the colonial laws regarding dress, slave women were not provided with sufficient clothing rations, nor were women rewarded with
clothes for their skills as much as slave men were. Because they received
Conclusion
175
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 176
less clothing than their male counterparts, slave women found alternative ways of obtaining additional dress. Some enslaved women were able
to buy extra clothes with money they had saved up from selling their
produce in the local market. Others received clothes from white men in
exchange for sexual favours. Skilled slave women worked as seamstresses,
making garments for the people in the great house as well as members
of the slave community, and a cottage industry evolved in clothing manufacture and sewing. This clothing industry created a separate sphere for
women, cushioning them from some of the harsh realities of slavery, and
provided them with income and some financial independence. Despite
the humiliations of the whip and sometimes sexual exploitation by their
masters, enslaved women were able to meet the economic demands
placed upon them by the planter and at the same time take care of their
families.
Undoubtedly, the principal transmitters of African customs in dress
were women. Melville Herskovits pointed out that a distinctive characteristic of African societies in the New World was the role women played
as the principal exponents and protectors of African culture.3 The roles
that women customarily played in West African societies agricultural
workers, mothers, teachers, healers and spiritual leaders equipped
them with the opportunity, knowledge and expertise necessary to be not
only mainstays of the family but also conduits for the transmission of
African knowledge. Slave women were more resistant to European influences in dress than men because more women than men worked in the
fields on plantations, where the African elements among cultivators were
very strong. Planters were not concerned when their slaves retained certain aspects of their African culture, such as dress, since these cultural
elements emphasized the differences between Africans and whites; as
well, they did not want to provide more expensive clothing. Women
who worked in the fields returned to their cottages at the end of the day;
there they had some autonomy to pursue their tasks as they wished and
to teach their children culturally appropriate content. Slave women, as
field workers, were thus less prone to assimilation than skilled slave
men.4
Slave women were resilient and assertive, contrary to popular white
belief, and they employed resistance and accommodation activities in
their daily lives. Slave women also participated with their menfolk in
various forms of resistance. Throughout this study the paradigms of
resistance and accommodation have been addressed separately for the
176
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 177
purpose of analysis. However, as we have seen, this separation should

not be emphasized, because resistance and accommodation were complex and intertwined processes. In other words, accommodation was
also a form of resistance. These concepts reflect a continuum that spans
the history of Jamaica and continues into the present. Resistance and
accommodation occurred in the lives of both enslaved and freed people.
From the moment of enslavement, Africans embarked on a series of
resistance strategies that were diverse, complicated and sometimes puzzling. For too long, scholars have taken a simplistic approach to the
study of resistance, ignoring the intricacies of adaptive mechanisms like
accommodation. Clearly, accommodation as a resistance strategy cannot
be dismissed, because it was effective and essential to the survival of
African slaves and their descendants.
During slavery, for instance, runaway slaves accommodated to
European dress so they could pass as freed persons. Carnival attire
involved appropriation, accommodation and adaptation of European
folk and dress elements, as in the case of the Set Girls and the Queen, as
well as the carnival floats. These accommodation strategies in masquerades and slave attire allowed slaves to transgress boundaries and to experience power, while they mocked their enslavers with taunts and pelvic
gyrations. For African slave women who were fortunate enough to
receive European-style clothes, like the mistresses of white men, their
accommodation guaranteed some social mobility and simultaneously
enabled them to deceive, to be perceived as the Other and ultimately to
escape their slave status, at least temporarily. Resistance and accommodation activities were not necessarily carried out by separate individuals
but by the same person as the need arose. In a society that was based on
white privilege, slaves had to accommodate to survive; the appearance of
assimilation was a tactic they used against their oppressors. The survival
of Africans in the diaspora is a testament to the success of all forms of
resistance, including accommodation strategy.
Slave and freed women also appropriated the symbols of their colonizers. Appropriation in this respect involved some aspects of what
Barbara Babcock has called symbolic inversion. Babcock argues that
symbolic inversion is an expressive behaviour which inverts, contradicts,
abrogates or in some manner presents an alternative to commonly held
cultural codes, values and norms.5 Slaves appropriation of white symbols enabled them to destabilize the colonial discourse and thus demonstrate the futility of attempts to exclude them from society.6 Enslaved
Conclusion
177
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 178
women like Cubah, who refused to conform, used their dress to signal
their rejection of European hegemony and to reaffirm their commitment to their African roots.
African women, as slaves, sought to subvert the system of slavery by
means of accommodation strategy in their dress; as freed women, after
emancipation, they tried to carve a space for themselves in the new social
order by using the same technique. Despite the new challenges and
opportunities that emerged, their use of dress as an expressive cultural
strategy did not end. During the post-emancipation era, the policy of
Europeanization or whitening of the African race encouraged large
numbers of freed women to accommodate to European standards in
dress (see Figures 4.1 and 4.2). The old plantation ways of dressing disappeared, and more women donned the fashionable Victorian dresses,
with their heavy skirting held out by crinolines. Many women did this
as a means of civilizing themselves and to increase their social standing; the labouring-class and peasant women accommodated when it was
possible and affordable. For the lower classes, the ritual of dressing up
was a temporary escape from their poverty. Some freed women, as during slavery, saw accommodation in itself as a form of resistance, in that
acculturation or accommodation was a political act which marked them
as no longer slaves. Needless to say, accommodation did not eradicate
freed womens oppression; instead, it reinforced some of the negative
stereotypes long associated with the African body.
Those women who refused to abandon Africanisms combined
aspects of African and European dress customs. This synthesis, as discussed, gave rise to a Creole dress, which included the long, full
European skirt complemented by the African headwrap or tie-head,
which became the dominant dress style among the peasant class.
Colonial Jamaican culture was not merely a blending of these two elements but is best described as having a distinction between deep and
surface structure. Deep structure was African, whereas surface structure
was influenced by other cultures with which Africans had been in contact.7 This analogy, according to Mervyn Alleyne, enables us to see
beyond the mere mixing of African and European elements to an understanding of the process or the movement in other words, the
rhythm in all aspects of Jamaican culture, including dress.8
Creole dress, however, represented more than deep and surface structure. Although the deep structure of the African elements cannot be dismissed, we cannot ignore the European surface structure that may have
178
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 179
Figure 4.1
Jamaican woman
in separates,
c.1900, by
J.W. Cleary
been a less embedded, but nonetheless essential, element of this dress.

Furthermore, we should note that these deep and surface structures were
not permanent states but were always shifting to suit individual tastes
and levels of accommodation. For example, in the post-slavery society
that promoted whiteness, the African deep structure became shallower
and was eventually eclipsed by European characteristics, as seen in the
case of many middle-class women who abandoned Creole dress in the
name of progress and civilization. In addition, these characteristics in
dress, whether African or European, were not static. They were constantly being reshaped and adapted to new situations.
Conclusion
179
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 180
Private collection
Figure 4.2 A fashionable Jamaican

lady in Europeanstyle dress, c.19015,
by Adolphe
Duperly
Creole dress was vibrant, colourful and innovative. It was also the
essence of resistance and accommodation. It resisted complete deculturation by visually declaring the survival of African aesthetics, and at the
same time, it portrayed accommodation by adapting European norms as
a subtle survival mechanism that was used against the enslavers. In this
respect, Creole dress, like carnival dress, was ambiguous. Creole dress
was political because it represented cultures in conflict. It differentiated
people in a society that was polarized between the elite and ultraEuropeanized, who rejected anything African, and the peasant class,
steeped in a deep-structured world that was African.
180
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 181
In this study I have tried to show how African elements in dress survived during slavery, and how dress served the ends of both resistance
and accommodation in the lives of enslaved and freed women.
Throughout history, in many societies, dress has been used to denote
age, sex, rank, status and group affiliation. However, as much as dress
discloses, it can also conceal. Within Jamaican slave society, for instance,
class identity could be concealed if a slaves acquired and wore garments
that were not typical of their rank and social circle. By concealing their
identity in this manner, some women were able to transform themselves
by appearing to be an elite or freed person, and thereby they achieved
some power and advantage within colonial society.
Limitations of the Study

In emphasizing resistance and accommodation, I have skimped on discussing the important sexual implications of dress. Sexuality embodies
whole vocabularies of resistance and accommodation, but the nature of
the sources from the slavery and post-emancipation period made it difficult to analyse Jamaican womens dress from this perspective. Different
societies have different sexual connotations associated with dress and
exposure of parts of the body. We can assume that in the West these
notions were different from those held in West Africa, as they are in contemporary societies. However, the sources for Africa and Jamaica do not
give sufficient information to make conclusions possible.
This study also did not include an analysis of free coloured womens
dress, the clothing of slaves manumitted during slavery, mourning dress
and burial shrouds used by Africans and Europeans in Jamaica, or the
ritual clothes associated with the dead in Afro-Jamaican religions. The
focus of this study was the secular dress of African slave women and
freed women and its legacy in Jamaican society.
Non-European Influences
Although this study has focused on the two dominant aesthetics that
influenced Jamaican dress African and European other groups
of people also brought their dress customs to Jamaica from the mid-
Conclusion
181
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 182
nineteenth century and onwards. These dress customs were not always
viewed favourably in Jamaican society. Patrick Bryan reveals that the
indentured labourers from India who arrived in Jamaica between 1845
and 1916 and wore their dhotis and pungarees were contemptuously
viewed as half-nude and a bad moral influence, and the long-haired
Chinese were hostilely described as wearing oilskin pajamas. The colourful dresses of the Syrian women, in contrast, met with great approval
from the white and middle-class elite.9 Most Indian women eventually
gave up their customary dress for the long European skirt of the period
(see Figure 4.3); many Indian women also adapted the African womans
tie-head.10
Figure 4.3 Mrs Maria Gray in European-style dress, c.1900, by A. Duperly and Sons. Mrs Gray is
the mother of Marie and Josephine Gray and is of Indian ancestry.
182
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 183
Indian indentured labourers were not a monolithic group. Historian

Verene Shepherd has argued that Indian labourers came from different
linguistic and cultural zones, but the only clear cultural distinction eventually was religious, between Muslims and Hindus.11 Indians high
degree of acculturation was manifested on the segregated estates, and
was successful because the presence of the Indians larger cultural forms,
such as religion, language, music and dance, was so weak.12 The shortage of Indian women who could act as conduits for cultural transmission was also a major factor.13 Indians were greatly influenced by African
customs in dress because they received generous contributions of clothing from black Jamaicans. Furthermore, their harsh living conditions
and experiences lead Indian indentured labourers on the sugar estates
during this period to forge a bond with members of the labouring and
peasant classes who had not forgotten their own experiences as slaves.14
The Continuum: A Reflection on Contemporary

Jamaican Dress
The endless transformation within female clothing constructs female sexuality and subjectivity in ways that are at least profoundly disruptive, both of
gender and of the symbolic order, which is predicated upon continuity and
coherence.
Kaja Silverman, Fragments of a Fashionable Discourse
Within the context of the politics of representation, slave and freed

womens use of specific cultural aesthetics and characteristics in their
dress allowed them to resist the institution of slavery as well as to conform or accommodate to Victorian concepts of beauty. In contemporary
Jamaica, the way one dresses continues to contest, confront and conform, and in the process shapes and transforms society. The power of
style enables us to express our individuality, to fit in or be fashionable,
as well as to show group affiliation. Despite European attempts at deculturation and Europeanization of African slaves and their descendants,
African customs in dress survived and continue to be a vibrant feature
in Jamaican society today.
Many Jamaicans are fundamentally locating their relationship to
style. This requires constant reassessment of how we make fashion by
Conclusion
183
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 184
creating new meanings, by accommodating or adapting and recycling

meanings from each section of Jamaican culture and by appropriating the
dress patterns of the Other, both past and present. This process of borrowing and combining styles in new ways is creolization in action, a way
to define an identity that expresses personal and cultural experiences. The
process has given rise to complex subcultures where the layered meanings
of style and appearance are important features of the subcultures identity.
Some emerging styles are considered by some people to be highly radical
or extreme, subversive and even disruptive. Some of these styles can be
interpreted as resistance to the dominant culture; however, others are little more than fads that may vary between regions and even cities. Fads
tend to be short-lived, many being derived from music videos, cable television, rap and dancehall musicians, which regularly generate fads and
street style as part of their musical improvisation and innovation.15 Music
conglomerates and record companies are always in search of new styles as
well as talent, since image is an important market commodity.
The concept of subversive dress is not unique to any country. In the
United States, for example, the hippie fashions of the 1960s were subversive because they symbolized resistance to the social, political, economic and sexual conventions associated with the 1950s. According to
sociologist Diana Crane, this type of subversion is generally subtle and
takes various forms. The hippies expressed anti-establishment attitudes
by choosing garments associated with the working class and by wearing
clothing that was often considered unclean, unkempt or disordered.16
The Jamaican males street style is another example of subversive dress
style. Like many urban black males in the United States and Britain,
large numbers of Jamaican black men now wear elaborate braids, multiple piercings, shaved or shaped eyebrows and oversized pants hanging
off their bottoms to expose their designer underwear. Hair newly styled
for a special occasion is often protected with a piece of silk stocking,
later removed for the event. For some men, the goal is to be the first
among their peers to acquire the latest fashionable items being marketed
by the fashion industry. Maintaining their appearance requires a lot of
time, effort and money. Those who cannot afford to purchase such
costly items rely on their relatives abroad to send them money or the latest trends in shoes and clothes.17
It may seem surprising that a dress style with such feminine characteristics is acceptable among heterosexual black males in a society
steeped in homophobia. However, Jamaican street style is more com184
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 185
plex. This dress reveals that the Jamaican male is obsessed with style and
is constantly reconstructing his image. Street style is a symbol of the
contemporary dandy, who questions existing definitions of masculinity
and experiments with gender identities and lifestyles. Like his nineteenth-century counterpart, the dandy dresses in a style usually associated with women and is generally associated with the arts. The novelists,
poets and painters of a century ago have been replaced by icons of popular culture, which today means advertising, film, television, video and
popular music.18
The Jamaican black males masculinity is not threatened by this fashion. Street styles androgynous subversion of sexual conventions, represented by extreme, overt masculinity with feminine trappings,
challenges and counters the image of the crippled, broken and emasculated black male. As a consequence, the black male body becomes a celebration of prowess, virility and potency. Simultaneously, this dress
differentiates the urban, often lower-class young black male from the
uptown professional male in his grey suit and tie. Street style represents
a rejection of the socially acceptable masculinity prescribed by schools,
offices and churches. However, not all members of the street-style subculture see it as subversive. For some young men, this style is a matter of
personal taste rather than a political statement. Others simply like wearing loose clothing that facilitates freedom of movement and complex
dance manoeuvres. Some men consider street style a way to be part of
the fashionable in crowd, while others see it as a way to be different,
an outlet for individual expression. As street style crosses over and
becomes popular among all social classes, it is gradually becoming
depoliticized.19
Dress as resistance and accommodation remains a strong cultural
phenomenon in Jamaica. Two other segments of Jamaican society that
reflect this clearly are Rastafarianism and dancehall. Rastafarianism
emerged in the 1930s as a political and philosophical movement that
sought to liberate Jamaica from the clutches of colonial elitism and the
intolerance of the established Christian church.20 By appropriating the
symbols and colours of Ethiopia in their dress, Rastafarians spoke their
resentment of the established social and religious order and signalled
their rejection of their subordinate status. Consequently, their secular
and religious dress became highly subversive and simultaneously represented the specific lifestyle that they had chosen. Rex Nettleford explains
this further:
Conclusion
185
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 186
[They] cultivate a ferocious theatricality complete with dreadlocks of matted

braids and knitted woollen headgear . . . bearing revolutionary colours of the
brightest red, green, gold and black, as if to amplify their anguish . . .
through the device of programmed high visibility . . . and defiant exterior
masks [were] an organic protest against the Caribbeans sufferation committed against our people.21
Like African slaves and their descendants, Rastafarians used dress to

challenge the colonial order by rejecting the social norms set by the ruling elite. Rastafarians visibility, like slave womens and freed womens
dress, was a constant reminder of their discontent and their determination to resist all forms of oppression, including the dominant white cultures values. It was the Rastafarians determination to be free that fuelled
the process of decolonization and ultimately contributed to Jamaicas
liberation. In a society that long celebrated Eurocentric values and white
aesthetics in beauty, Rastafarian dress is a celebration of the African
identity that is such a rich part of Jamaican cultural heritage. In this celebration, blackness, both physical and of the mind, and naturalness are
validated and affirmed. Rastafarian dress, with its bright colours of
black, red, green and gold, remains a constant visual reminder of black
Jamaicans cultural link to Mother Africa.
African aesthetics are also an integral part of dancehall culture and
dress. Dancehall dress has multiple meanings: it reflects a complex style
that conforms to the particular subculture, and it contests and resists
societal norms about dress and sexuality. Moreover, dancehall dress
emphasizes and eroticizes the body, with its tight and revealing clothing;
some people see it as objectifying and commodifying the female body.
In 1996, when I first visited the dancehall scene, I was amazed and captivated to see the many Africanisms that have survived and are being
nurtured in this form of Jamaican popular culture, where appearance is
everything, the body is cultural expression and movement is art. In this
sense, dancehall is a stage on which popular desire is played out, symbols of the elite are appropriated and the body is celebrated, confined,
exposed, manipulated and bleached. The body surface has become a
canvas that is painted and worked on.22
The politics of representation in dancehall require that black womens
bodies be beautiful according to the African aesthetic. Although this aesthetic has its roots in the racism of the nineteenth century, when white
misogynist attitudes assumed all African women to have big bottoms
and big breasts,23 Jamaican black women who have been voiceless and
186
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 187
invisible embrace it because it assures them of validation and recognition on the social and cultural terrain of dancehall. Like enslaved and
freed women of decades ago, who sought to do what was necessary to be
acceptable within the broader cultural context, contemporary black
women resort to various means to fit in. Some go so far as to take hormones (the chicken pill) to develop big bottoms and breasts. In
dancehall culture, body parts may be transformed and reconstructed by
artificial means, and anatomical protrusions are accentuated by tight
clothing to attain the desired shape an African aesthetic of the body
so the woman can don her blond wig, feel good and bubble in her
batty rider.24
Like carnival, dancehall embodies the masquerading tradition that
has survived in Jamaica. The fancy dress of dancehall, with its brightcoloured, shiny acetate and mock-satins, fake or inexpensive materials
that have been made into futuristic fashions with fancy brassieres over
body stockings or plain skins,25 for some Jamaicans, reflects the process
of liberation from neo-imperialism and resistance against elitism. But
dancehall dress is gradually being depoliticized as it becomes increasingly popular across class and racial boundaries and is available with
fancy designer labels at high prices in expensive stores. At the moment,
dancehall dress at its very core aims to act upon the environment, to
annoy, upset and ultimately liberate middle-class and elite society from
its stuffy sartorial and social conventions more specifically, from its
racist mentality. Dancehall dress is indicative of a political style of
provocation.26 This type of provocation and masquerading, like carnivals during slavery, provides a fleeting sense of power to the participants,
as well as the opportunity to get beyond the norms of society, let loose
and have some fun.27 Whether at an uptown soca carnival or a downtown jam session, the sequins, bright and robust jewellery and beads
that make up fancy dress in Jamaica today are reminiscent of Jonkonnu
and African masking.
Bleaching the skin has become a popular cosmetic activity in some
dancehall circles and beyond. Bleaching is not a recent phenomenon
and is not unique to Jamaica. According to Mervyn Alleyne, blackskinned young women in other areas of the Caribbean and in North
America bleach their skin to lighten their complexions to brown.
Alleyne argues that white is not the goal, but rather brown, which is
becoming, aesthetically and erotically, the desired colour the world
over.28 Interestingly, white people, both men and women, bleach to
Conclusion
187
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 188
remove dark-pigmented spots. In Jamaica, several reasons are cited for

bleaching the skin: to clear up skin ailments, to look cool, and to be
more acceptable among ones peer group. The most popular reason
seems to be the desire to be browning. The newly acquired skin tone
is often complemented by a change in hairstyle and hair texture.29 Even
though bleaching is said to be big business in Jamaica and is celebrated
in popular music, insufficient research has been conducted on the topic.
When I first read about this phenomenon, I thought of Pecola, the
eleven-year-old protagonist in Toni Morrisons novel The Bluest Eye, who
prays for blue eyes to make her beautiful. Singer Curtis Mayfield asked
in a song, if you had a choice of colours which would you choose, black
or white?30 Needless to say, the follow-up question is, Why? In contemporary Jamaica, the choice of colours is between black and brown. In a
society where white represents financial and economic privilege but the
numbers are too small to have an impact, and black is no longer in style,
brownness has become, far more than before, the symbol of aesthetic
beauty. I learned this one afternoon after walking to visit an old friend,
who remarked, Dont let the sun turn you dark, you have such nice
brown complexion.
As seen earlier, the act of bleaching goes back to the days of slavery
and early post-emancipation, when some freed women bleached their
skin to complement their Victorian-style dress and to conform to
European notions of beauty. Some did it because they thought it would
grant social mobility and acceptance. Since they could never attain a
white complexion, brownness became the desired skin tone. Today,
Jamaican black women bleach in order to elevate themselves, to look
beautiful in a society that values brownness or high colour and to find
a partner in a culture where most men still prefer brown women.
Browning, some people have argued, represents a continuation of the
slave mentality.31 Cultural and literary critic Carolyn Cooper has argued,
however, that bleaching is a rational response to the racism in Jamaican
society.32
Bleaching the skin is more than ornamentation, a desire for self-validation or even a reflection of identity confusion, as some have argued.
In fact, the politics of representation are far more complex. For instance,
some women bleach their skin, regardless of the damage it may cause,
not because they want to be brown or to conform to middle-class aesthetics of beauty, but rather to resist the negative representation of
blackness and to demystify the cultural politics of difference.33 In this
188
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 189
context, bleaching is a provocative, political act of resistance that disrupts the racial boundaries of Jamaican society and allows for movement
between brownness and blackness. A black woman may bleach her skin
and acquire a brown complexion, but if she stops the process her natural skin colour will reappear.34 This fluidity between blackness and
brownness forces us to re-examine our construct of race and our definitions of racial categories. Browning is a mask that conceals and deceives.
For some black Jamaican women, browning allows them to elevate
themselves out of the pit of niggerhood by concealing their identity
and allowing them to pass, or be perceived, as brown and middle class.
In the process, they experience the Other and obtain at least temporary
validation. Black womens bleaching is also a symbolic inversion of the
leisure activity of light-skinned women who regularly sit in the sun,
regardless of the risk of skin cancer, to achieve the ideal shade a tan
that is not too dark, but just enough to hide the paleness.
When I was a child, every Sunday morning my mother took great care
to get my siblings and me dressed up in our Sunday best for church a
habit I have maintained to this day. My mother particularly checked to
see if our seams were straight and our shoes nice and clean. Before we
left the house, we had a quick inspection to make sure all buttons were
buttoned and shirts tucked in nicely. My grandmother seemed to have
the same difficulty every week as she tried to decide on the right hat for
church. She never considered going to church bare head. A few years
ago, when I asked her why she wears a hat to church, she replied, I
must look good and have a little style when I praise the Lord. My
grandmother, like so many other Jamaican women both long ago and
today, follows the rich tradition that a hat is a womans crown.
I often wondered why so much fuss occurred over clothes, especially
after I learned that many of my Sunday school peers had similar experiences. There seemed to be so many tasks associated with dress from
the long, tedious process of washing clothes, which often involved scalding white garments in a kerosene tin on an outdoor wooden fire, to the
laborious chore of starching and ironing collars. These tasks were carried
out predominantly by women, who often designated specific days for
washing and ironing. Today, even with the use of washing machines and
the availability of domestic help, the care of clothing is still done mostly
by women.
Conclusion
189
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 190
Jamaicans fascination, even obsession, with dress extends to incorporating dress customs and information about the care of clothing into
songs, folklore and even daily life. For instance, some people still believe
that sewing dirty clothes will make someone ill, and that if you mend
your clothes while wearing them, people will walk all over you or
oppress you.35 My childhood rituals and Jamaicans fixation on dress are
all part of a rich legacy rooted in slavery and West Africa, which has been
passed down to the present. This legacy is a testament to the survival of
Africanisms in dress and is important because it bridges the past and the
present.
The activities of dressing up and dressing down were not unique to
Jamaica but were prevalent in African communities throughout the diaspora. What is culturally specific among black people is the power of
style,36 a rhythmic pattern of colours and complex messages interwoven
with African aesthetics. Dressing up, which goes back to West Africa,
continues to provide poor Jamaicans with opportunities to temporarily
escape their poverty and tribulations. Dressing down allows the elite and
middle class to be free of social conventions that often confine and
restrict them. Dressing up or dressing down fosters moods that may be
associated with particular occasions or events and makes people of all
classes feel good about themselves.
No other single garment is as symbolic of the survival of African dress
customs as the African womans headwrap. Like their forebears during
slavery and in West Africa, Jamaican black women continue to wear the
headwrap for various reasons. It is still worn for the protection of newly
styled hair and to make one look presentable. It has also continued to be
used by traders and other women to assist with carrying and balancing
heavy loads on the head. In Afro-Jamaican religions, both men and
women wear headwraps, commonly referred to as turbans; however, for
secular activities, headwraps are rare among men in contemporary
Jamaican society. Some young men have adopted a less elaborate but
comparable style of tying a handkerchief around their head, as a fashion
statement and to absorb perspiration.
The African womans headwrap, along with matching attire, has
remained a symbol of the ancestral homeland, one that evokes a sense of
pride and dignity as well as solidarity with other women of African
descent and those in Africa. At formal receptions during the 1997 state
visit to Jamaica of the Ghanaian president Jerry Rawlings, many black
women wore elaborate headwraps in diverse styles, colours and patterns.
190
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 191
So spectacular was this African parade of dress that cultural critic and
playwright Barbara Gloudon remarked, in patois:
Yuh waan see African dress.
Man! Me never know say is so much
Jamaican-African deh bout. Headwrap
fe days. But yuh know how we love
excitement.37
Jamaicans do love excitement, especially when it involves dressing up for

an occasion that provides an opportunity to display ones fashionable
outfits. However, one cannot forget the role that the black-consciousness movement of the 1960s and the Afrocentric movement of the 1970s
onward played in nurturing, encouraging and stimulating greater awareness of and interest in African dress. Such movements, for example,
rejected the negative attitude towards nappy or kink (kinky) hair,
which led to renewed interest in African-inspired hairstyles, such as the
Afro, and headwraps. These styles were embraced by women at all levels
of Jamaican society, including Beverly Manley, the wife of Jamaicas former prime minister. In the 1970s African-style headdresses were often
worn with kente cloth fashions and dashikis.
Nowadays in Jamaica, African and Indian dresses are frequently seen
at formal occasions. Some women wear them because they are pleased
by the thought of ethnic or exotic dress and the opportunity to have a
taste of the Other, to be different or to make a statement. On other
women, these fashions can also be interpreted as a rejection of creolization and Europeanization, and even as dressing down.38
The popularity of ethnic or alternative dress is evidence of Jamaicas
multi-cultural society and of Jamaicans appreciation for cultural diversity. Jamaicas history has long been one of the blending of diverse cultures, beginning with indigenous people and Europeans, followed by
Africans, Chinese, Indians, and Middle Easterners. The merging of
diverse people to form one nation is embodied in Jamaicas motto, Out
of Many, One People, which is intended to both reflect our experience
and unite all Jamaicans but actually presents a false notion of a harmonious society. Jamaican society is multi-cultural, but the multi-culturalism masks tensions and the absence of dialogue between various groups.
Jamaican society is divided socially, economically and politically. The
fact that some ethnicities are given more legitimacy than others is problematic.39
Conclusion
191
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 192
Some people make clear distinctions between Western dress and the
dress styles of the Other; however, alternative fashions in dress exist
simultaneously in countries around the world. According to Joanne
Eicher, what is often thought of as Western dress is not always completely Western, since some styles have their origins in non-Western
cultures. Trousers and open coats, for example, are believed to have
developed in Asia.40 Although dress styles can be culturally specific, as in
the case of the Japanese kimono, even these styles were often influenced
over time by contact with other cultures. The dress customs of the Other
were either rejected or adapted to suit the cultural taste and standards of
the community. The Western-versus-ethnic paradigm as related to dress
marginalizes the Other, when, in fact, all dress styles can be considered
as ethnic.41
Migration, technology, commerce, the mass media and tourism have
brought Jamaicans into greater contact with fashions from around the
world, many by means of our close ties with Europe and the United
States. As societies become increasingly multi-cultural, international
fashions become more common. Some fashions American blue jeans,
T-shirts and Nike athletic shoes, for instance become wildly popular
the world over. Globalization brings diverse fashions together and also
sets them apart. Those who can afford the popular international fashions
are usually the elite and the middle class, while the dominance of some
styles, like American blue jeans, especially among certain age groups,
blurs the visual boundaries between cultures and classes. Thus, in some
places, indigenous dress is no longer the norm and is relegated to the
realm of folk attire.42
Despite the survival of the African womans headwrap, specific styles
of tie-head once popular with black women, such as the Madras cloth
bandanna, have all but disappeared. This headdress was once proudly
worn by many market women and was elegantly worn, along with
matching outfits, by Jamaican performer Louise Bennett. Market traders
say that the bandanna lost favour because of changes in hairstyles, especially the Jheri Curl, which would have been crushed by the tie-head. A
few traders argued that it was because the fabric became scarce and too
expensive; others said it was a question of fashion.43 Today, bandanna
fabric is primarily ceremonial and symbolic. It is usually part of the
national costume worn by women representing Jamaica in beauty pageants, official ceremonies and festivals. The womens national costume
consists of a bandanna skirt with a white peasant blouse and a bandanna
192
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 193
tie-head, topped with a wide-brimmed straw hat. The costume for men
includes a loose bandanna shirt, trousers and a straw hat.
Mrs Beth Lenworth Jacobs of St Anns Bay began promoting the idea
of a national costume in 1953, during a meeting of the St Anns Parochial
Board to plan for the Queens visit to the town. The local government
gave permission and approved the usage of the term national in association with the bandanna dress. The national dress was first worn during the royal visit, by a bevy of girls in that parish. Mrs Lenworth
Jacobs and her committee selected the bandanna plaid because they
wanted a costume designed to flatter the many types types that go
to make up the Jamaican woman.44 By 1955 the idea had caught on and
become popular among various groups of women across Jamaica and
across class lines. During the Singer Sewing Machine Companys
annual Sewing Week in 1955, the national dress its style and role was
the principal subject of discussion. This was followed by regular newspaper advertisements of numerous bandanna dress creations aimed at
the Jamaican housewife.
These designs were worn with a crinoline underneath, as was typical
of the period. The crinoline was an underskirt of stiff fabric, either in
several layers or with a wire hoop, to hold out the skirt in the desired
shape and for extra bounce.45 But the bandannas popularity as everyday
attire was short-lived and the dress remained symbolic, perhaps because
it was associated more with folk or peasant attire.46 Some Jamaicans are
now searching for a more appealing national fabric, and several designers have experimented with the colours of the Jamaican flag. However,
so far nothing has caught on to replace the bandanna as national dress.
In all of this, the question arises: does Jamaica really need a national
dress? Some people argue that a national dress undermines other dress
forms, that such a dress is nostalgic and impractical. However, bandanna
fabric has regained some popularity as a form of religious dress. In some
Revival groups, dresses and turbans made from red bandanna fabric are
worn on specific feast days because the colour red has religious significance.47
Dress in Jamaica continues to be an integral part of our lives; it fosters style and rhythm that allow us to express ourselves, to show our
innovation and creativity, to make a statement and to transform ourselves. Dress allows us to do these things both collectively and individually as in the case of my mother, who put on a black frock and walked
barefoot in the wet streets during the rain after my father died, as a
Conclusion
193
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 194
symbolic act of releasing the man she loved. Regardless of whether one
lives in the ghetto and wears ghetto fabulous outfits48 or is at the
funeral celebration of a don with an elaborate and fashionable
entourage, the innovative and creative process of expression through
dress is part of us as Jamaicans.
The deep-structure Africanisms that have been maintained do not
survive alone; they are part of a continuous process of osmosis that combines aesthetics in dress from many cultures. Jamaican dress style today
is diverse and cosmopolitan by nature. It is a style that reflects a rich history and a multiplicity of experiences. Jamaican dress is not simply
African-European; it is uniquely Jamaican. Every woman in Jamaica
from the sister in her prayer wrap going to the revival meeting and the
Rasta woman in her knitted multi-coloured tam, to the uptown office
worker in her cutwork linen suit and the dancehall queen in her lam
microskirt is part of this dress custom. Jamaican dress, with its
rhythm, colour and diversity, is symbolic of a people restructuring and
reshaping their own identity to find meaning for their own existence in
a global society.
The nurturing and retention of African elements in dress within
Jamaican culture is important. It is the ultimate testament to the survival
of those who began a long journey at the moment of enslavement and
continued it on the middle passage. They crossed the oceans in chains,
and yet African slaves and their descendants dared to survive. As I think
of my own childhood and those Sunday-morning dress rituals, I realize
that these acts were all part of a continuum, a rich legacy of love and
hope that moulds us as a people and in the process strengthens us for the
next part of our journey from the present into the unknowable future.
194
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 195
Appendix 1
Natural Substances and Plants Used in the

Manufacture and Care of Clothing in Jamaica
The following information is taken from Edward Long, The History of

Jamaica or General Survey, and C.D. Adams, Flowering Plants of Jamaica.
Only common or popular names are listed.
Sources for perfume
Musk wood
Musk okra
Prince wood
Rose wood
Sources for vegetable soaps
Broad-leafed broomweed
Coratoe
Lignum vitae leaves
Soap-tree
Soap wood
Soapberry bush
Sources for dyes and pigments
Anatto
Bastard saffron
Cashaw, bark and root
Cashew and cashew tree
Flower fence
Fustic
Indigo
195
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 196
Indigo berry
Lignum vitae leaves (also used for refreshing flowers)
Logwood
Morinda root or yaw-weed
Mountain or Suriname calalu
Prickly pear
Prickly yellow pear
Scarlet seed
Shrubby goat-rue
Vine sorrel
Yellow wood
Substances for clothing
Bon-ace bark
Carotoe leaf
Cocoa-husk
Cotton wood
Down-tree-down
Laghetto bark
Mahoe bark
Mountain cabbage
Red sorrel bush
Silk grass
Substances for tanning leather
Black olive bark
Button tree (buttonwood tree)
Dogwood
Mahoe bark
Red mangrove
White bully bark
196
Appendix I
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 197
Appendix 2
Selected Jamaican Proverbs and Sayings

Associated with Dress
The following information is taken from Izett Anderson and Frank

Cundall, Jamaican Proverbs and Sayings, and Martha Warren Beckwith,
Jamaican Proverbs. There are variations in interpretations of these
proverbs.
Clothes cober character Looks may be deceiving because clothing
covers or hides a persons true character.
Pretty face and pretty clothes no character Similar to Not all that
glitters is gold; someone may look nice or attractive and wear pretty
clothes but have a bad personality or no character.
Barefoot man noffe mash macka A man who is barefooted must not
step on prickles, meaning that people whose own conduct is open to
criticism should not criticize the conduct of others.
De lard gib beard a dem who na hab chin fe wear i Some people
have advantages that they cannot make use of.
What de use you da shawl up when you character gone It is no use
to pretend to be better than one really is.
No hang you clothes all pon one nail Similar to Dont put all your
eggs in one basket; do not rely only on one source or thing but always
have an alternative.
You wait pon gentleman you wear blue coat If you serve people
who are honorable, you will be certain of a reward.
Too much hair no suit lilly face A weak person should not assume
an appearance of importance.
197
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 198
Hansome face an good luck no all one It is not beauty that brings
good fortune.
Only shoe knowing if tockin hab hole The wearer alone knows
where the shoe pinches.
Cry shoe no good fe lisner Shoes that squeak will betray a person
who comes to eavesdrop.
Beautiful ooman, beautiful trouble A woman who is beautiful will
bring a lot of trouble.
Follow fashion mek monkey cut him tail It is not necessarily good
to imitate others because it may lead to trouble.
Shaat nee noh fit ebrybaady Short-kneed trousers do not fit everybody; therefore, not all fashions are becoming on everyone. We should
wear only garments that enhance our appearance.
A stitch in time saves nine Immediate action guarantees efficiency;
if you take care of a problem immediately, it will be less of a problem
later.
Who hab cloes spread out, a dem look fe rain Those who have
their clothes spread out are looking for rain. Some people go out of
their way to look for trouble.
Brown man wife nyam cockroach a corner, fe save money fe buy silk
dress A fair-skinned mans wife deprives herself of food to buy a silk
dress. Some women will do almost anything to look good and please
their husband, even if it means they have to suffer.
Needle mek clothes, but needle naked himself Sometimes the very
person who makes your clothes is in need of clothes; or, the person
who helps you may just need your assistance as well.
198
Appendix 2
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 199
Notes
The abbreviation CO refers to documents in the United Kingdom Public
Record Office, Colonial Office group. NLJ refers to the National Library of
Jamaica and UWI to the University of the West Indies.
Introduction
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
Steven Lubar and W. David Kingery, eds., History from Things

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), viiixvii, 16.
Henry Glassie, Studying Material Culture Today, in Living in a Material
World: Canadian and American Approaches to Material Culture, ed. Gerald
L. Pocius (St Johns: Institute of Social and Economic Research, Memorial
University of Newfoundland, 1991), 253.
Verene Shepherd, Petticoat Rebellion? The Black Womans Body and
Voice, in In the Shadow of the Plantation: Caribbean History and Legacy,
ed. Alvin O. Thompson (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 2002),
19.
Glassie, Studying Material Culture Today, 254.
Lubar and Kingery, introduction to History from Things, ix.
Ibid., viiiix.
Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson, eds.,
Dress and Identity (New York: Fairchild, 1995), 710.
Ibid., 11.
Jules David Prown, The Truth of Material Culture: History or Fiction?,
in History from Things, ed. Steven Lubar and W. David Kingery
(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), 3, 4, 17.
Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books,
1973), 13.
Prown, The Truth of Material Culture, 4.
Joan W. Scott, Experience, in Feminists Theorize the Political, ed. Judith
Butler and Joan W. Scott (London: Routledge, 1992), 33.
Barbara Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society 16501838 (Kingston,
Jamaica: Heinemann, 1990), 4.
Monica Schuler, Akan Slave Rebellion in the British Caribbean, Savacou 1
(1970): 831; Michael Craton, Testing the Chains: Resistance to Slavery in the
British West Indies (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1982); David Barry
Gaspar, Bondsmen and Rebels: A Study of Master-Slave Relationships in
199
3/6/2004
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
200
1:53 PM
Page 200
Antigua (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985); Richard Hart,

Slaves Who Abolished Slavery: Blacks in Rebellion (1985; reprint, Kingston,
Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2002); Hilary Beckles, The
Two Hundred Years War: Slave Resistance in the British West Indies: An
Overview of the Historiography, Jamaica Historical Review (1982): 110;
B.W. Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 18071834 (1984;
reprint, Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 1995); Brian
Moore, Cultural Power, Resistance and Pluralism: Colonial Guyana 18381900
(Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 1995).
Gad Heuman, Between Black and White: Race, Politics and the Free Coloreds
in Jamaica, 17921865 (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1981).
Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, Strategies and Forms of Resistance in In
Resistance: Studies in African, Caribbean and Afro-American History, ed. Gary
Y. Okihiro (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1986); Darlene
Clark Hine and Kate Wittenstein, Female Slave Resistance: The Economics
of Sex, in The Black Woman Cross-Culturally, ed. Filomena Chioma Steady
(Rochester: Schenkman, 1981); Deborah Gray White, Arnt I a Woman?
Female Slaves in the Plantation South (New York: W.W. Norton, 1985).
Arlette Gautier, Les Esclaves femmes aux Antilles francaises, 16351848,
Reflexions Historiques 10, no. 3 (Fall 1983): 40935.
Lucille Mathurin Mair, The Rebel Woman in the British West Indies during
Slavery (Kingston, Jamaica: Institute of Jamaica, 1975); Hilary Beckles,
Natural Rebels: A Social History of Enslaved Black Women in Barbados (New
Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1989); Bush, Slave Women in
Caribbean Society; Marietta Morrissey, Slave Women in the New World:
Gender Stratification in the Caribbean (Lawrence: University Press of
Kansas, 1989); Janet Momsen, ed., Women and Change in the Caribbean
(Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1993); Verene Shepherd
Maharans Misery: Narratives of a Passage from India to the Caribbean
(Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2002) and her
edited volume, Women in Caribbean History (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers, 1999); Patricia Mohammed, ed., Gendered Realities:
Essays in Caribbean Feminist Thought (Kingston, Jamaica: University of the
West Indies Press, 2002); Patricia Mohammed and Catherine Shepherd,
eds., Gender in Caribbean Development (Kingston, Jamaica: Canoe Press,
University of the West Indies, 1999); Brian Moore, B.W. Higman, Carl
Campbell and Patrick Bryan, eds., Slavery, Freedom and Gender: The
Dynamics of Caribbean Society (Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West
Indies Press, 2002).
Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 110. Bush includes an overview
of Caribbean historiography.
Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher, Dress, Adornment,
and the Social Order (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965); Anne
Hollander, The Fabric of Vision, Georgia Review, (Summer 1975),
41455.
Notes to pages 56
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 201
Juliet Ash and Elizabeth Wilson (eds.), Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992); Shari Benstock and
Suzanne Ferris (eds.), On Fashion (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers
University Press, 1994).
Hildi Hendrickson, ed., Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in
Colonial and Post-Colonial Africa (Durham: Duke University Press, 1996),
18.
bell hooks, Black Looks: Race and Representation (Boston: South End, 1992).
Eugene D. Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll: The World the Slaves Made (New
York: Vintage Books, 1976); Gerilyn G. Tandberg, Field-hand Clothing in
Louisiana and Missippi during the Ante-Bellum Period, Dress 6 (1980):
89103; Sally Graham Durand and Gerilyn G. Tandberg, Dress-Up
Clothes for Field Slaves of Ante-Bellum Louisiana and Mississippi,
Costume 15 (1981): 4048; Helen Bradley Griebel, The African American
Womans Headwrap: Unwinding the Symbols, in Dress and Identity, ed.
Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson (New
York: Fairchild, 1995); Helen Bradley Foster, New Raiments of Self: African
American Clothing in the Antebellum South (Oxford: Berg, 1997).
Edward Brathwaite, The Development of Creole Society in Jamaica, 17701820
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971) and The Arrivants: A New World Trilogy
(London: Oxford University Press, 1973); Michael Craton, Searching for the
Invisible Man: Slaves and Plantation Life in Jamaica (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1978); Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean;
Roderick A. McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture of Slaves: Goods
and Chattels on the Sugar Plantations of Jamaica and Louisiana (Baton
Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1993); Steeve O. Buckridge, The
Colour and Fabric of Jamaican Slave Womens Dress, Journal of Caribbean
History 33, nos. 1 and 2 (1999): 84124.
Glory Robertson, Pictorial Sources for Nineteenth-Century Womens
History: Dress as a Mirror of Attitudes to Women, in Engendering History:
Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective, ed. Verene Shepherd, Bridget
Brereton and Barbara Bailey (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers,
1995); Glory Robertson, Pictorial Sources for Nineteenth-Century
Womens History: Dress as a Mirror of Attitudes to Women, in
Engendering History: Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective, ed. Verene
Shepherd, Bridget Brereton and Barbara Bailey (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers, 1995); Patrick Bryan, The Jamaican People 18801902:
Race, Class and Social Control (London: Macmillan, 1991); Carol Tulloch,
Fashioned in Black and White: Womens Dress in Jamaica, 18801907,
Things 7 (Winter 199798): 2953.
Joseph Graessle Moore, Religion of Jamaican Negroes: A Study of AfroJamaican Acculturation (PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1953);
Edward Seaga, Revival Cults in Jamaica: Notes Towards a Sociology of
Religion, Jamaica Journal 3, no. 2 (1969): 313.
Notes to page 6
201
3/6/2004
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
202
1:53 PM
Page 202
Rex Nettleford, Caribbean Cultural Identity: The Case of Jamaica (Los

Angeles: UCLA Latin American Center Publications, 1978) and Fancy
Dress from Jonkonnu to Dance Hall (typescript, Office of Deputy Vice
Chancellor, University of the West Indies, Mona, Jamaica, 1996); Judith
Bettelheim, Jonkonnu and other Christmas Masquerades, in Caribbean
Festival Arts, ed. John W. Nunley and Judith Bettelheim (Seattle: University
of Washington Press, 1988); Richard D.E. Burton, Afro-Creole: Power,
Opposition, and Play in the Caribbean (Ithaca: Cornell University Press,
1997); Hilary Beckles, Crop Over Fetes and Festivals in Caribbean
Slavery, in In the Shadow of the Plantation: Caribbean History and Legacy,
ed. Alvin O. Thompson (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 2002).
Sidney W. Mintz, Caribbean Transformations (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1974), 7579.
Hendrickson, Clothing and Difference, 116. The ideas for some of these
questions are based on the introduction in Hendricksons text and my own
professional experience in the field of Caribbean history.
A Revival shepherd or shepherdess is the spiritual leader of the faith community.
Moore, Religion of Jamaican Negroes. Moore gives a comprehensive
account of Afro-Jamaican religions, and the significance of dress as well as
specific colours to the religions.
Martha Beckwith, Black Roadways: A Study of Jamaican Folk Life (1929;
reprint, New York: Negro University Press, 1969), 108.
Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion: The Invisible Institution in the
Antebellum South (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), 1315.
Ibid.
Beckwith, Black Roadways, 118. Newborns are still dressed this way in
Jamaica, according to information obtained during a series of interviews
and casual discussions with female family members, students at the
University of the West Indies and an obeah follower who wishes to remain
anonymous.
Ibid., 35.
Philip D. Curtin, Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical Colony,
18301865 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1955), 2225, 4243. See
also Edward Brathwaite, The Development of Creole Society in Jamaica,
17701820 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971), 1056, 16768; and B.W.
Higman, Slave Population and Economy in Jamaica 18071834 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1976), 13941. All three authors describe in
depth the racial composition of Jamaican society and the privileges of each
group.
See Mervyn C. Alleyne, The Construction and Representation of Race and
Ethnicity in the Caribbean and the World (Kingston, Jamaica: University of
the West Indies Press, 2002), 193 (hereafter cited as Race and Ethnicity), for
a discussion on the racial divide throughout Jamaicas history.
Definitions taken from Random House Websters Dictionary, 3d ed.
Notes to pages 610
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 203
Elizabeth Wayland Barber, introduction to Womens Work: The First Twenty

Thousand Years, Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times (New York: W.W.
Norton, 1994), 1113.
Dr David Boxer, curator and director of the National Gallery of Jamaica,
conversation with author, 19 November 2002.
Verene Shepherd and Glen L. Richards, eds., introduction to Questioning
Creole: Creolisation Discourses in Caribbean Culture (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers, 2002), xixxi.
Roach-Higgins, Eicher and Johnson, Dress and Identity, 2.
Ibid., 12, 19, 13435.
James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985).
Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 9.
Dancehall is the new popular culture in Jamaica. Like reggae, it emerged in
the poor areas of Kingston. It has its own music, dress and linguistic terms.
This is discussed further in chapter 4. For more information, see Carolyn
Cooper, Noises in the Blood (London: Macmillan, 1993).
Chapter 1
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
There were three waves of African migration to Jamaica, the third of which
occurred during the period 184165. Some ten thousand Africans arrived
after emancipation as indentured labourers. I did not include them in this
analysis because the focus of this chapter is cultural retention during slavery the period prior to 1838. The diverse groups of Africans who came
were known by different names. Coromantee was the same as Kramanti or
Coromantyn and referred to Ashanti-Fanti people of the Gold Coast. Igbo
were Ibo, also known as Eboc or Ebo, from the Niger Delta. Papaw were
the same as Popo, now known as Ewe. Mandingo were the same as
Malinke, from the region between the Niger and Gambia. Congo, also
spelled Kongo, were Bantu from the Congo River basin. Anago or Nago,
now known as Yoruba, were from the Oyo and Benin empires in western
Nigeria. For further details, see Mervyn Alleyne, Roots of Jamaican Culture
(London: Pluto Press, 1988), 28, 52.
Franklin Knight and Margaret Crahan, The African Migration and the
Origins of an Afro-American Society and Culture, in Africa and the
Caribbean: The Legacies of a Link, ed. Margaret E. Crahan and Franklin W.
Knight (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), 11.
Higman, Slave Population and Economy, 18, 3641.
Robert Farris Thompson, Flash of the Spirit (New York: Random House,
1983), xiv.
Melville J. Herskovits, The Myth of the Negro Past (Boston: Beacon Press,
1958), 29299.
Notes to pages 1117
203
3/6/2004
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
204
1:53 PM
Page 204
Leonard E. Barrett, Soul-Force: African Heritage in Afro-American Religion

(New York: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1974), 1.
Alleyne, Roots of Jamaican Culture, 7.
Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures, 15.
Ibid., 20.
Roach-Higgins and Eicher, Dress, Adornment, and the Social Order, 13.
Betty M. Wass, Yoruba Dress in Five Generations of a Lagos Family, in
The Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed.
Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz (New York: Mouton
Publishers, 1979), 331.
Barber, Womens Work, 13435. See also Duncan Clarke, The Art of African
Textiles (San Diego: Thunder Bay Press, 1997), 89.
M.D. McLeod, The Asante (London: British Museum Publications, 1981),
143. The spelling Ashanti is used in the text because it is most popular, but
there are variants such as Asanti and Ashante.
Henry John Drewal, Pageantry and Power in Yoruba Costuming, in The
Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine
M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz (New York: Mouton Publishers,
1979), 190.
Adeline Masquelier, Mediating Threads: Clothing and the Texture of
Spirit/Medium Relations in Bori, in Clothing and Difference: Embodied
Identities in Colonial and Post-Colonial Africa, ed. Hildi Hendrickson
(Durham: Duke University Press, 1996), 911.
Clarke, Art of African Textiles, 817, 4648. The introduction to this study
provides an excellent overview of the richness and sophistication of African
textiles.
Basil Davidson, The African Slave Trade (New York: Back Bay Books,
1980), 58.
See Clarke, introduction to Art of African Textiles.
Ruth Nielsen, The History and Development of Wax-Printed Textiles
Intended for West Africa and Zaire, in The Fabrics of Culture: The
Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine M. Cordwell and
Ronald A. Schwarz (New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979), 46869.
See A.G. Hopkins, An Economic History of West Africa (London: Pearson
Professional Education, 1973) for some details on manufacturing industries
such as textiles.
Frederick E. Forbes, Dahomey and the Dahomeans (1851; reprint, London:
Frank Cass, 1966), vol. 1, 6465.
John Adams, Remarks on the Country extending from the Cape Palmas to the
River Congo: Including observations on the manners and customs of the inhabitants (London: Whittaker, 1823), 113.
See Clarke, introduction to Art of African Textiles; Bradley Foster, New
Raiments of Self, 3968.
Notes to pages 1722
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 205
See McLeod, The Asante, 153. For a further discussion on dyes, see Maude
Wahlman and Enyinna Chuta, Sierra Leone Resist-Dyed Textiles, in The
1979), 458.
John Beecham, Asantee and the Gold Coast (1841; reprint, New York:
Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1970), 147.
Brad Weiss, Dressing at Death: Clothing, Time, and Memory in Buhaya,
Tanzania, in Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in Colonial and
Post-Colonial Africa, ed. Hildi Hendrickson (Durham: Duke University
Press, 1996), 13941.
Adams, Remarks on the Country, 115.
Ila Pokornowski, Beads and Personal Adornment, in The Fabrics of Culture:
The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine M. Cordwell and
McLeod, The Asante, 145.
Pokornowski, Beads and Personal Adornment, 111.
Ibid., 10613; Henry John Drewal and John Mason, Beads, Body and Soul,
Art and Light in the Yoruba Universe (Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum
of Cultural History, 1997), 3252, 91187.
Mary Jo Arnoldi and Christine Mullen Kreamer, eds., Crowning
Achievements: African Arts of Dressing the Head (Los Angeles: University of
California Fowler Museum of Cultural History, 1995), 913. For a discussion of contemporary hairstyles in West Africa and the influence of African
hairstyles on contemporary popular culture in the United States, see Mary
Tannen, The Braided Bunch: Identity Politics or Fashion, New York
Times Magazine, 20 May 2001, 7677.
Angela Fisher, Africa Adorned (London: Collins Harvill, 1987), 14849.
Marilyn Hammersley Houlberg, Social Hair: Tradition and Change in
Yoruba Hairstyles in Southwestern Nigeria, in The Fabrics of Culture: The
Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine M. Cordwell and
Fisher, Africa Adorned, 14849.
Ibid.
R. Galletti, K.D.S. Baldwin and I.O. Dina, Clothing of Nigerian Cocoa
Farmers Families, in Dress, Adornment, and the Social Order, ed. Mary
Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher (New York: John Wiley
and Sons, 1965), 92.
See Foster, New Raiments of Self, 2129. Although Foster examines AfricanAmerican dress the author also provides a brief discussion of Islamic and
Arabic influences on black Africans dress.
Thompson, Flash of the Spirit, 3.
Robin Law and Paul E. Lovejoy, eds., The Biography of Mahommah Gardo
Baquaqua: His Passage from Slavery to Freedom in Africa and America
(Princeton: Markus Wiener, 2001), 153.
Notes to pages 2226
205
3/6/2004
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
58.
59.
60.
61.
62.
206
1:53 PM
Page 206
Quoted in Edward Brathwaite, Jamaican Slave Society: A Review, Race 9,

no. 3 (1968).
Ibid.
Curtin, Two Jamaicas, 24.
J. Stewart, A View of the Past and Present State of the Island of Jamaica: With
Remarks on the Moral and Physical Condition of the Slaves, and on the
Abolition of Slavery in the Colonies (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1823), 250.
Ibid.
W.J. Gardner, A History of Jamaica: From Its Discovery by Christopher
Columbus to the Year 1872 (London: E. Stock, 1873), 175.
Stewart, The Past and Present State, 250.
Bryan Edwards, The History, Civil and Commercial of the British Colonies in
the West Indies (London: J. Stockdale, 1794), 2: 5. The freeholders elected
the vestrymen annually; the funds necessary for all purposes were raised by
taxes on the property of the inhabitants, and by colonial duties on the articles imported.
Laws of Jamaica, Act 37 (1696), 57.
Bernard Martin Senior, Jamaica as It Was, as It Is and as It May Be, by a
Retired Military Officer (London: T. Hurst, 1835), 162.
The Laws of Jamaica, An Act for the Government of Slaves, CAP 25 (19
February 1831), 45.
Edward Long, The History of Jamaica or General Survey of the Ancient and
Modern State of the Island: With Reflections on its Situation, Settlements,
Inhabitants, Climate, Products, Commerce Laws and Government (London:
T. Lowndes, 1774), 2: 493. Long lists several types of fabrics that were distributed for instance, perpetuana, a durable wool fabric manufactured in
England beginning in the sixteenth century; and Oznaburgh (also spelled
Oznaburg, Oznaberg, or osnaburg), a coarse linen originally made in
Osnabruck, Germany. See the glossary in this text for further information
on these textiles.
Invoices, Accounts, Sales of Sugar etc. Jamaica Windsor Lodge and Paisley
Estates (183337), Manuscript collection, 32, NLJ.
Mrs A.C. Carmichael, Domestic Manners and Social Conditions of the White,
Coloured, and Negro Population of The West Indies (London: Whittaker,
Treacher and Co., 1833), 1: 155.
Higman, Slave Population and Economy, 1415.
MS 2952, Dickenson Papers, University of the West Indies Library,
Kingston, Jamaica.
Neville Hall, Slave Society in the Danish West Indies: St Thomas, St John, and
St Croix, ed. B.W. Higman (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1992), 116, 149.
Journal of the Assembly of Jamaica 4 (174546): 45.
Hall, Slave Society, 149.
Beckles, Crop Over Fetes and Festivals, 256.
Notes to pages 2731
63.
64.
65.
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
82.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 207
Elizabeth B. Hurlock, Sumptuary Law, in Dress, Adornment, and the

Social Order, ed. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher
(New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965), 29697.
Ibid., 296.
J.W. Phillips and H.K. Staley, Sumptuary Legislation in Four Centuries,
Journal of Home Economics 53 (October 1961): 67377.
Genovese, Roll, Jordan, Roll, 559.
See Lafcadio Hearn, Two Years in the French West Indies (London: Harper
and Brothers, 1900), 39; also Costumes at NLJ. The women of the French
West Indies were greatly admired for their beautiful and elaborate dresses,
diverse styles and brilliant colours. Hearn argues that the styles were so
similar to some in the east that some might be tempted to believe they
were introduced into the colony by a Mohammedan [Muslim] slave.
Cynric Williams, A Tour through the Island of Jamaica from the Western to
the Eastern End in the Year 1823 (London: Hunt and Clark, 1826), 17475.
Ibid., 176.
Quoted in McDonald, The Economy and Material Culture of Slaves, 120.
Mary Ann Hutchins, The Youthful Female Missionary: A Memoir of Mary
Ann Hutchins (London: Wightman and H. Adams, 1840), 126.
Matthew Gregory Lewis, Journal of a West India Proprietor, Kept during a
Residence in the Island of Jamaica (London: John Murray, 1834), 199. The
term husband in this context is prescribed by Lewis.
J. Finkelstein, The Fashioned Self (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), iii.
Stripping someone of clothing was meant to humble, humiliate and control an individual. This practice was common during the Holocaust. Jewish
minorities were stripped of their clothing and possessions when entering
concentration camps. Convicts are stripped of their civilian clothes and
made to wear prison clothes that identify them as prisoners.
Carmichael, Domestic Manners, 1: 148.
Many Caribbean texts deal with absenteeism and its impact on the socioeconomic situation of the colonies. See, for example, Higman, Slave
Populations of the British Caribbean, 11213, or Bush, Slave Women in
Caribbean Society, 24, 53, 58, 69, 112. For some understanding of slaves role
in clothing production in the US South, see Foster, New Raiments of Self,
ch. 2.
Ibid., 153.
William Beckford, A Descriptive Account of the Island of Jamaica (London:
T.J. Egerton, 1790), 2: 386.
Stewart, The Past and Present State, 269; Douglas Hall, In Miserable Slavery:
Thomas Thistlewood in Jamaica, 175086 (London: Macmillan, 1989), 285.
Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 22425, 34647, 376.
Notes to pages 3237
207
3/6/2004
83.
84.
85.
86.
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
98.
99.
100.
101.
208
1:53 PM
Page 208
Edwards, The History, Civil and Commercial, 2: 60216. So many shoes

were imported that they were calculated according to weight in pounds
instead of numbers of pairs.
See Harmony Hall Estate Account Book, MS 1652, vol. 1, List of Slaves for
6 June 1799, NLJ. See also Invoices, Accounts, Sales of Sugar etc., Jamaica
Windsor Lodge and Paisley Estates, MS32 (Montego Bay, 183337), NLJ.
Williams, A Tour through the Island, 3.
Theodore Foulks, Eighteen Months in Jamaica with Recollections of the Late
Rebellion (London: Whittaker, Treacher and Arnott, 1833), 107.
On the plantations, slaves were divided into three gangs or groups in the
fields. The first gang consisted of the stronger men and women; their duty
was to clear, dig and plant cane. In crop time they also cut and transplanted the cane and attended in the millhouse. The second gang comprised bigger boys and girls, pregnant women and others who could not do
heavy work. They weeded the cane and did lighter activities. The third
gang of slaves consisted of young children. They weeded the gardens, collected food for the animals and did trivial duties. Male drivers supervised
the first two gangs with a whip. The third was under the care of an old
slave woman who used a long switch. See Gardner, A History of Jamaica,
17677.
Henry T. De la Beche, Notes on the Present Condition of the Negroes in
Jamaica (London: T. Cadell, 1825), ii. De la Beche does not specify which
fabric was distributed in five long ells. See also Orlando Patterson, The
Sociology of Slavery: An Analysis of the Origins, Development and Structure of
Negro Slave Society in Jamaica (London: MacGibbon and Kee, 1967), 223.
Brathwaite, Development of Creole Society, 232.
McDonald, Economy and Material Culture of Slaves, 11319. See also
Harmony Hall Estate Account Book, MS 1652, vol. 1, NLJ. Worthy Park
Plantation Books, 4/23, No. 1 (178387), 4/23, No. 2 (178791), JA.
Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 223.
Jerome S. Handler and Frederick W. Lange, Plantation Slavery in Barbados:
An Archaeological and Historical Investigation (Cambridge: Harvard
Quoted in Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 61.
Hall, In Miserable Slavery, 231.
Douglas V. Armstrong, The Old Village and the Great House: An
Archaeological and Historical Examination of Drax Hall Plantation, St Anns
Bay, Jamaica (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990), 178.
Lewis, Journal of a West India Proprietor, 125.
Ibid., 343.
McDonald, Economy and Material Culture of Slaves, 121.
Hilary Beckles, Sex and Gender in the Historiography of Caribbean
Slavery, in Engendering History: Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective,
Notes to pages 3743
102.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
108.
109.
110.
111.
112.
113.
114.
115.
116.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 209
ed. Verene Shepherd, Bridget Brereton and Barbara Bailey (Kingston,

Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1995), 137.
Gray White, Arnt I a Woman, 2746.
J.B. Moreton, West India Customs and Manners, 2d ed. (London: J. Parson,
1793), 153. See also Cooper, Noises in the Blood, 1922. Cooper analyses the
song and places it within the contexts of orality, gender and the vulgar
body of Jamaican popular culture. She also explores how the lexicon, grammar and syntax of the song may have changed over time. Here is a brief
translation of the extracted verses. Although I was born and raised a slave,
my skin is black not yellow, I often sold my virginity to many handsome
men. My master keeps me as his mistress, and he gives me clothes with
bustles, and fine muslin coats to gain my sweet embraces. The master came
one night and he gave me a gown with bustles. I got pregnant and bore
him a child who was almost as fair skinned as the masters wife (my mistress). My mistress came with a long whip and asked if the child is for the
master. My master denied it, called her a lying bitch and told the mistress
to beat me. I dont know if I should not condescend, and I dont know
what happens if I do. I have no friend to turn to, so I was forced to do it. I
do not know any laws, I do not know any sin. I am just whatever they
want me to be. This is the way they have made me. So God or the devil
can take me!
Ibid., 38.
Michel Foucault, introduction to History of Sexuality, trans. Robert Hurley
(London: Allen Lane, 1978), vol. 1.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 2: 280.
Senior, Jamaica as It Was, 29.
Williams, A Tour through the Island, 22; see also Higman, Slave Populations
of the British Caribbean, 257.
Several early illustrations of slave women show this dress style. The pullskirt was popular throughout the British Caribbean. I was introduced to
the term by Glory Robertson. See, for example, the illustration and photograph St Vincentian Villagers Merrymaking, N/11578, NLJ. Working-class
women in Europe also wore shorter skirts than the upper classes, for ease of
movement.
We do not know exactly what Africans learned from indigenous people
about clothing materials, but it is quite possible that they learned about
some plants and their uses. Columbus revealed that the indigenous people
made, dyed and wore some cotton fabrics, and they may well have passed
some of this knowledge on to Africans.
Notes to pages 4349
209
3/6/2004
117.
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
123.
124.
125.
126.
127.
210
1:53 PM
Page 210
Ibid., 731, 857. I have used only the common or local names of the
Jamaican plants; Long included the botanical names as well.
Gray White, Arnt I a Woman, 115. C.C. Robertson, personal communication, 7 July 1998. See also Claire Robertson, Africa into the Americas?
Slavery and Women, the Family, and the Gender Division of Labour, in
More Than Chattel: Black Women and Slavery in the Americas, ed. David
Barry Gaspar and Darlene Clark Hine (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1996), 21, 23.
Gardner, A History of Jamaica, 412.
Foster, New Raiments of Self, 12224.
Georgina Pearman, Plant Portraits, Economic Botany 54, no. 1 (2000):
46. See also Sir Hans Sloane, A Voyage to the Island of Madera, Barbados,
Nieves, St Christopher and Jamaica (London: B.M., 170725), 2: 2223.
Sloane did not give the date of the governors presentation to the king.
Sloane recognized that bark-cloth production was not unique to Jamaica
but could also be found in other parts of the West Indies and in Africa. He
mentioned particularly a tree called the enzanda, a sort of mangrove tree in
the Congo, whose bark, when beaten, cleaned and stretched lengthwise,
was used for clothing like the Jamaican lace-bark.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 858. See also Sloane, A Voyage to the Island
of Madera, 2: 2223, Appendix.
Mrs Caroline Ena Lawrence, Mr Joseph White, Mr Curry, Buywood,
Deputy Colonel Robinson and John Wright, interviews with author,
Accompong Town, Jamaica, 11 November 2002.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 858. See also Pearman, Plant Portraits,
46. See also Clarke, Art of African Textiles, 5253, for more on raffia cloth.
See Charles Dennis Adams, Flowering Plants of Jamaica (Kingston, Jamaica:
University of the West Indies, 1972), 484. The tree grows only in Cuba,
Jamaica and Hispaniola, in limestone areas. It is not certain to what extent
slaves in Cuba and Hispaniola used lace-bark to make clothing. Nor do we
know if some informal inter-island trade connections existed in relation to
this industry this possibility requires further research. In Jamaica the tree
is very rare, having been overused for its lace and bark. Lace-bark clothing
production was a thriving industry in Jamaica until 1938, and ropes were
made from the tree until 1941. Other factors that led to its demise are
urban sprawl, deforestation and its use as vine sticks for yam hills. The
Bark of Trees (Sale Prevention) Act of 1929 offered little protection to the
lace-bark. Only a few young trees have been found recently, in Portland
and in the Cockpit Country. For more details on lace-bark in Jamaica, see
Patrick Browne, The Civil and Natural History of America in Three Parts
(London: T. Osborne and J. Shipton, 1756), 371. See also Pearman, Plant
Portraits, and Sloane, A Voyage to the Island of Madera, 2: 2223. The common names for many of these plants and trees were not consistent across
Notes to pages 4851
128.
129.
130.
131.
132.
133.
134.
135.
136.
137.
138.
139.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 211
the island, varying from region to region. Most likely the same is true for
Cuba and Hispaniola.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 74748; Sloane, A Voyage to the Island of
Madera, 2: 2223.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 74748. There is a collection of lace-bark
products on display in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, in Britain. The
last lace-bark item donated to the gardens, in 1948, was a whip from the
nineteenth century. See Georgina Pearman, Plant Portraits, 46.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 74748. Lace-bark production has become
a lost art form; many people today do not remember the process or know
very little about it. A few men in the Cockpit Country still make ropes
with the bark, but doilies and strainers are no longer made. The availability
of and easy access to imported lace, ropes and strainers has led to a loss of
interest in this craft. Furthermore, the tree is very scarce. Information
about the use of the tree and the location of a few young plants was
obtained from several people including Dr G.R. Proctor and Mrs Tracy
Commock of the Institute of Jamaica, the Accompong Town Maroons, and
Mr DOwen Grant and Mr Lawrence Nelson of the Jamaica Forestry
Department head office. See also the exhibits of lace-bark and its products
in the Institute of Jamaica Natural History Museum, in Kingston, Jamaica.
Mrs Caroline Ena Lawrence, interview.
Ibid., 55255.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 857. Long listed the plants used to make
soap. For some, he discussed the process of making vegetable soap, but he
said little about the soapberry bush and soapwood. These plants can be
found in several areas of Jamaica, including the Cockpit Country. Long
also provided the botanical names for these plants. For more details on the
plants, see Adams, Flowering Plants of Jamaica, 440, 546, 560.
Information based on interviews and field research by the author,
Accompong Town, 1113 November 2002. Several of these plants grow in
the area, and the Maroons assisted me in locating them. According to
Accompong Town Maroon resident Buywood, some farmers still wash with
soapwood in nearby streams after a long day working in their grounds.
For the white perspective, see The Land We Live In: Jamaica in 1890, ed.
Brian Moore and Michelle A. Johnson (18891890; reprint, Kingston,
Jamaica: Social History, University of the West Indies, 2000), 27, 76.
Information based on numerous interviews with elderly people, retired
domestics and washerwomen, and on personal observations while travelling
in rural Jamaica. Slave women washing clothes is a popular theme in several early prints and illustrations (for example, West Indian Washer Women,
N/11270, NLJ). These illustrations portray the women beating the clothes
with stones and sticks or a paddle.
Notes to pages 5156
211
3/6/2004
140.
141.
142.
143.
144.
145.
146.
147.
148.
149.
150.
151.
152.
153.
154.
155.
156.
157.
158.
212
1:53 PM
Page 212
Although we know very little about Muslim slaves, we have evidence that
some were communicating with fellow Muslims in Africa. See R.R.
Madden, A Twelve Months Residence in the West Indies during the Transition
from Slavery to Apprenticeship (1835; reprint, Westport, Conn.: Negro
University Press, 1970), 2: 199201; Philip D. Curtin, Africa Remembered:
Narratives by West Africans from the Era of the Slave Trade (Prospect Heights,
Ill.: Waveland Press, 1997), 16367. The correspondence of these Muslim
slaves took place over periods of forty and sixty years, respectively. See also
the works of Sultana Afroz of the Department of History, University of the
West Indies, Mona, for more information on Islam in Jamaica.
For a discussion of how dress communicates positions within social structures, see Roach-Higgins, Eicher and Johnson, Dress and Identity, 13.
Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 2: 386.
Ibid., 493.
Armstrong, The Old Village and the Great House, 17681.
Beckwith, Black Roadways, 144. In spring 1998 the author visited a Maroon
community in Suriname. Many children were observed wearing waist
beads as a form of protection against evil spirits. In Jamaica the custom of
wearing protective beads has survived in some Afro-Jamaican religions,
such as obeah. However, guard beads are not popular. In contemporary
Jamaica beads are worn as personal adornment and locally produced for the
tourist trade.
Edouard Glissant, Creolization in the Making of the Americas, in Race,
Discourse, and the Origin of the Americas: A New World View, ed. Vera
Lawrence Hyatt and Rex Nettleford (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1995), 269.
Quoted in Maria Nugent, Lady Nugents Journal: Jamaica One Hundred and
Thirty-Eight Years Ago, 3d ed., ed. Frank Cundall (London: West India
Committee, 1939) (see the introduction by Frank Cundall, xciii), but taken
from Philo Scotus, Reminiscences of a Scottish Gentleman, Commencing in
1787 (London, 1861). The original source was brought to my attention by
Glory Robertson.
See Carmichael, Domestic Manners, 1: 46. See also Costumes, NLJ.
Ibid., 521.
Ibid., 522.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid., 523.
Higman, in Slave Population and Economy, 129, discusses the environmental
factors that contributed to the high mortality rate among Europeans.
Notes to pages 5764
159.
160.
161.
162.
163.
164.
165.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 213
Helen Callaway, Dressing for Dinner in the Bush, in Dress and Identity,
ed. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson (New
York: Fairchild, 1995), 195207.
Madden, A Twelve Months Residence in the West Indies, 2: 168.
Rev. R. Bickell, The West Indies as They Are; or A Real Picture of Slavery: But
More Particularly as It Exists in the Island of Jamaica (London: J. Hatchard
and Son, 1825), 5458.
Ibid., 5458.
Chapter 2
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, Black Women in Resistance: A Cross-Cultural

Perspective, in In Resistance: Studies in African, Caribbean and AfroAmerican History, ed. Gary Y. Okihiro (Amherst: University of
Massachusetts Press, 1986), 188209.
Ibid., 189.
Ibid., 18990.
Elizabeth Fox-Genovese, Strategies and Forms of Resistance, 14751.
Edna G. Bay, Servitude and Worldly Success of the Palace of Dahomey
(PhD diss., Boston University, 1977). See also Richard Burton, A Mission of
Gelele, King of Dahomey, memorial ed., 2 vols., ed. Isabel Burton (London,
1892), 34.
Henry Louis Gates, Jr., ed., The Classic Slave Narratives (New York:
Mentor, 1987), 1719.
Taken from the twentieth-anniversary special of Budweisers publication of
Great Kings and Queens of Africa, 1995. See also Terborg-Penn, Black
Women in Resistance, 188209.
Claire C. Robertson and Martin A. Klein, Womens Importance in
African Slave Systems, in Women and Slavery in Africa, ed. Claire C.
Robertson and Martin A. Klein (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1983), 1112.
Terborg-Penn, Black Women in Resistance, 191.
Henry John Drewal and Margaret Thompson Drewal, Gelede: Art and
Female Power among the Yoruba (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1983), 8.
Ibid.
Terborg-Penn, Black Women in Resistance, 191.
Ibid., 251. Note that Eboes were the same as Igbo, and the Papaw were
the same as the Popo.
Notes to pages 6570
213
3/6/2004
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
214
1:53 PM
Page 214
Ibid.
Ibid., 5152.
Madden, A Twelve Months Residence in the West Indies, 2: 169.
See Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 69; Higman, Slave Population
and Economy, 17683, 21232.
Mathurin Mair, introduction to The Rebel Woman; Patterson, The Sociology
of Slavery, 260.
Lewis, Journal of a West India Proprietor, 110. See also Hall, In Miserable
Slavery, 105.
Edwards, The History, Civil and Commercial, 2: 89.
Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 14748. See also Toni Morrison,
Beloved (New York: Penguin, 1987), a novel about a woman who killed her
child and the resultant trauma.
Shepherd, Petticoat Rebellion, 24.
Lewis, Journal of a West India Proprietor, 183. Dunbar was a planter killed
by a few of his slaves prior to this. The remark let us Dunbar him suggests the slave womans desire to kill the overseer in the same manner.
Ibid., 179.
Ibid., 204.
Ibid. See also Williams, A Tour through the Island, 339.
Shepherd, Petticoat Rebellion, 24. See also Hall, In Miserable Slavery,
145.
Barbara Bush, Hard Labor: Women, Childbirth, and Resistance in British
Caribbean Slave Society, in More than Chattel: Black Women and Slavery
in the Americas, ed. David Barry Gaspar and Darlene Clark Hine
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996), 207.
Verene Shepherd, Petticoat Rebellion? Women in Emancipation in
Colonial Jamaica, Churches Emancipation Lecture 2001, 29 July 2001, 12.
(All other references to Petticoat Rebellion are to the published article.)
Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 6970. Also see Terborg-Penn,
Black Women in Resistance, 199200.
Beckles, Sex and Gender, 134.
Ibid., 137.
Scott, Weapons of the Weak, 3234.
Ibid.
Notes to pages 7077
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
58.
59.
60.
61.
62.
63.
64.
65.
66.
67.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 215
Walter Rodney, Upper Guinea and the Significance of the Origins of

Africans Enslaved in the New World, Journal of Negro History 54 (4
October 1969): 327.
Hendrickson, Clothing and Difference, 69.
Mary Louise Roberts, Samson and Delilah Revisited: The Politics of
Womens Fashion in 1920s France, American Historical Review 98, no. 3
(June 1993), 664.
Michael Zakim, Sartorial Ideologies: From Homespun to Ready-Made,
American Historical Review 106 (December 2001): 155386.
Roberts, Samson and Delilah Revisited, 65862.
Zakim, Sartorial Ideologies, 1553.
Joan Newlon Radner, ed., Feminist Messages: Coding in Womens Folk
Culture (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993), vi.
Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz, eds., The Fabrics of Culture:
The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment (New York: Mouton
Hall, In Miserable Slavery, 101.
Royal Gazette, 31 July 1813, 748. Available at NLJ.
Smithfield Estate business (accounts/records), MS 806, Manchester, 4
October 1838, NLJ.
In some areas of Jamaica, even today, it is believed that one should be careful not to leave ones clothes outside overnight lest they be stolen and used
by ones enemies to harm one. The notion of using someones clothing to
cast spells is common to several African religions, including voodoo. This
information was received from a Jamaican obeah believer who wishes to
remain anonymous, and confirmed in a series of interviews with voodoo
believers and practitioners, conducted in Dahomey/Benin, West Africa,
during the summer of 2001.
Mary Rockford, The Slave Rebellion of 1831, Jamaica Journal 3, no. 2
(June 1969): 30.
See Masquelier, Mediating Threads, 6693, and Hildi Hendrickson,
Bodies and Flags: The Representation of Herero Identity in Colonial
Namibia, in Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in Colonial and
Post-Colonial Africa, ed. Hildi Hendrickson (Durham: Duke University
Press, 1996), 21321, for a discussion on the potency of clothing within the
African context.
Joan E. Cashin, Black Families in the Old Northwest, Journal of the Early
Republic 15 (Fall 1995): 456.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Notes to pages 7781
215
3/6/2004
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
82.
83.
84.
85.
86.
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
216
1:53 PM
Page 216
Diana Crane, Fashion and Its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in
Clothing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 193.
See Rachel Holmes, Scanty Particulars: The Life of Dr James Barry (London:
Viking, 2002), an interesting examination of the life of Dr Barry, who was
celebrated for performing one of the first successful Caesarean sections
known in Western medicine.
John Hope Franklin and Loren Schweninger, Runaway Slaves: Rebels on the
Plantation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 21920.
Mathurin Mair, Rebel Woman, 2327. See also Jamaica Mercury
(NovemberDecember 1779), NLJ.
Mathurin Mair, Rebel Woman, 25.
Ibid.
Beckles, Natural Rebels, 168.
Franklin and Schweninger, Runaway Slaves, 223.
Ibid., 224.
W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk, ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr, and
Terri Hume Oliver (New York: W.W. Norton, 1999), 128.
Transportation for life was the punishment given to the most intransigent
troublemakers. They were transported to Nova Scotia or even Australia,
which became a convict settlement. See Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean
Society, 72n.
Burton, Afro-Creole, 23032.
Joan Newlon Radner and Susan S. Lanser, Strategies of Coding in
Womens Cultures, in Feminist Messages: Coding in Womens Folk Culture,
ed. Joan Newlon Radner (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993), 3.
Invoices, Accounts, Sales of Sugar etc., Jamaica Windsor Lodge and Paisley
Estates, MS 32 (Montego Bay, 183337), NLJ.
Beckford, A Descriptive Account, 2: 38586.
Edwards, The History, Civil and Commercial, 2: 152.
Ibid., 234.
bell hooks, Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics (Boston: South End
Press, 1990), 150.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 3: 413. Contemporary wisdom supports the
idea of covering ones head in the hot sun to prevent sunstroke.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Foster, New Raiments of Self, 28284.
Bradley Griebel, The African American Womans Headwrap, 445.
Notes to pages 8288
98.
99.
100.
101.
102.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
108.
109.
110.
111.
112.
113.
114.
3/6/2004
1:53 PM
Page 217
Ibid., 446.
Drewal and Drewal, Gelede, 120.
Antonia McDonald-Smythe, from St Lucia, and other women of her family, conversations with author, autumn 1996. See Juliette Harris and Pamela
Johnson, Tenderheaded: A Comb-Bending Collection of Hair Stories (New
York: Pocket Books, 2001), 14142.
See Derek Walcott, When Love Comes Along: The Ends of the Head-Tie
Give a Cue to Your Chances, with sketches by Derek Aleong, Trinidad
Guardian, 8 December 1961. Walcott was lamenting the demise of this
fascinating cultural expression.
Ibid.
In a series of discussions and interviews conducted with various Surinamese
women, I learned about some of their African headwraps. Although these
headwraps are no longer popular with young Surinamese women, they are
still worn by older women, and occasionally they may be seen in the
Paramaribo market. In Suriname, a woman always wears a dress (koto) that
matches her headwrap, and the colours are based on her age. Each year
there is also a Miss Alida contest, where women compete against each
other for the best koto and angisa. For further details, see Ilse HenarHewitt, Surinaamse Kotos en Angisas (Paramaribo: Offsetdrukkerij
Westfort, 1997). The text includes English translation.
Slaves Merrymaking in St Vincent, c.177579, NLJ.
Ibid.
Moore, Religion of Jamaican Negroes. Moore analysed dress and headwraps in some Afro-Jamaican religions in Jamaica. He included descriptive
accounts as well as revealing colour symbolism in some of the religions. See
also Foster, New Raiments of Self, 249.
Bradley Griebel, The African American Womans Headwrap, 446.
Mrs Muriel Whynn, interview by author, Kingston, Jamaica, 16 August
1997. Mrs Whynn, a direct descendant of Nanny of the Moore Town
Maroons, claims to be the only person who knows the well-kept secret of
how Nanny tied her headwrap.
Gwendolyn S. ONeal, African-American Aesthetic of Dress: Symmetry
through Diversity, in Aesthetics of Textiles and Clothing: Advancing
Multidisciplinary Perspectives, ed. M.R. Delong and A.M. Fiore, ITAA
Special Publication, no. 7 (Monument, Colo.: International Textile and
Apparel Association, 1994), 186.
Justine M. Cordwell, The Very Human Arts of Transformation, in The
1979), 64.
Pokornowski, Beads and Personal Adornment, 107.
Notes to pages 8896
217
3/6/2004
115.
116.
117.
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
123.
124.
125.
126.
127.
128.
129.
130.
131.
132.
133.
134.
135.
136.
137.
138.
139.
140.
141.
142.
143.
144.
218
1:53 PM
Page 218

Beckwith, Black Roadways, 92108, for details about duppies and the practices of obeah and other slave religions in Jamaica.
Mrs Muriel Whynn, interview by author, Kingston, Jamaica, 14 August
1997. Caroon bush is an indigenous plant that grows in the mountains of
eastern Jamaica.
Ibid.
Beckles, Crop Over Fetes and Festivals, 24852.
Burton, Afro-Creole, 169. Burton also discusses the concept of ritualized
conflict in these play elements.
Ibid., 58.
Judith Bettelheim, The Afro-Jamaican Jonkonnu Festival: Playing the
Forces and Operating the Cloth (PhD diss., Yale University, 1979), 210.
See also Burton, Afro-Creole, 77, for a discussion of how Africans and
Europeans danced to African music.
Bettelheim, The Afro-Jamaican Jonkonnu Festival, 210.
Michael Scott, Tom Cringles Log (New York: William Blackwood, 1895),
34647.
Ibid., 347.
Long, The History of Jamaica, 2: 425. For more on Jonkonnu in Jamaica see
also Sylvia Wynter, Jonkonnu in Jamaica: Towards the Interpretation of Folk
Dance as Cultural Process, Jamaica Journal 4, no. 2 (June 1970): 3448.
Richard Allsopp, ed., Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1996).
Allsopp, Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage.
Radner and Lanser, Strategies of Coding, 2.
Richardson Wright, Revels in Jamaica, 16821838 (New York: Dodd, Mead,
1937), 246.
I.M. Belisario, Sketches of Character in Illustration of the Habits of the Negro
Population of Jamaica (Kingston, Jamaica, 1837), NLJ.
Scott, Tom Cringles Log, 363.
Adams, Remarks on the Country, 3940.
Simon Ottenberg, Analysis of an African Masked Parade, in The Fabrics
of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine M.
Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz (New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979), 180.
Notes to pages 96102
145.
146.
147.
148.
149.
150.
151.
152.
153.
154.
155.
156.
157.
158.
159.
160.
161.
162.
163.
164.
165.
166.
167.
168.
169.
170.
171.
172.
173.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 219
See also Fashioning the Future: Our Future from Our Past (exhibition
catalogue) (Columbus: Snowden Gallery, College of Human Ecology,
Ohio State University, 1997), 1225.
Ibid.
Belisario, Sketches of Character.
Judith Bettelheim, ed., Cuban Festivals: A Century of Afro-Cuban Culture
(Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 2001), 47. See also Lewis,
Journal of a West India Proprietor, 5051.
Pelvic gyrations were provocative movements of the hips, but the meaning
was not necessarily sexual. Such movements were also popular in some
West African societies as a way of teasing, ridiculing or mocking, and for
fun.
Professor Rex Nettleford, discussion with author; Nettleford, Fancy Dress
from Jonkonnu to Dance Hall.
Burton, Afro-Creole, 240
Ibid., 36.
Victor Turner, Dramas, Field and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human
Society (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1975), 23170.
Francisco A. Scarano, The Jibaro Masquerade and Subaltern Politics in
Puerto Rico, American Historical Review 101, no. 5 (December 1996):
143031.
Vincent Harding, There Is a River: The Black Struggle for Freedom in
America (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981), 12.
Beckles, Sex and Gender, 137.
Barbara Bush, The Family Tree Is Not Cut: Women and Cultural
Resistance in Slave Family Life in the British Caribbean, in In Resistance:
Studies in African, Caribbean and Afro-American History, ed. Gary Y.
Okihiro (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1986), 117.
Ibid., 232.
219
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 220
Chapter 3
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
220
See Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, trans. Charles Lam Markmann
(New York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1967).
Ibid., 18.
Susan Gubar, Race Changes: White Skin, Black Face in American Culture
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 38.
Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, 110.
Ibid., 47.
Gubar, Race Changes, xxi.
Harry C. Bredemeier and Jackson Toby, Ideals of Beauty, in Dress,
Adornment, and the Social Order, ed. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and
Joanne Bubolz Eicher (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965), 34.
Kurt Lang and Gladys Lang, Fashion: Identification and Differentiation
in the Mass Society, in Dress, Adornment, and the Social Order, ed. Mary
Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher (New York: John Wiley
and Sons, 1965), 33839.
Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubloz Eicher, The Language of
Personal Adornment, in The Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of
Clothing and Adornment, ed. Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz
(New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979), 10.
Katrin Norris, Jamaica: The Search for an Identity (London: Oxford
Alleyne, Race and Ethnicity, 203; Verene Shepherd, personal communication, 13 March 2003.
Alleyne, Race and Ethnicity, 205.
James M. Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State (London: J. Snow,
1843), 150.
Paulette Kerr, Jamaica Female Lodging House Keepers in the Nineteenth
Century, Jamaica Historical Review 18 (1993): 7.
Nugent, Lady Nugents Journal, 219.
Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 150.
Norris, Jamaica: The Search for an Identity, 913.
J.H. Parry, Philip Sherlock and Anthony Mingot, A Short History of the
West Indies, 4th ed. (London: Macmillan, 1987), 16970. See also the works
of Swithin Wilmot, such as (with Claus Stolberg) Plantation Economy,
Land Reform and the Peasantry in a Historical Perspective: Jamaica 18381980
(Kingston, Jamaica: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 1992), for the missionaries
and their role in the creation of free villages.
Ibid., 913.
Sheena Boa, Urban Free Black and Coloured Women: Jamaica
17601834, Jamaica Historical Review 18 (1993): 4.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 221
Douglas Hall, Free Jamaica, 18381865: An Economic History (New Haven:

Yale University Press, 1959), 1723.
Joan French and Honor Ford-Smith, Women, Work and Organization in
Jamaica, 19001944 (Kingston, Jamaica: Sistren Research, 1986), 31132.
Edward Bean Underhill, The West Indies: Their Social and Religious
Condition (London: Jackson, Walford and Hodder, 1862), 188, 230. See also
Edgar M. Bacon and Eugene M. Aaron, The New Jamaica (Kingston,
Jamaica: Aston W. Gardner, 1890), 94.
Hall, Free Jamaica, 23234.
For a detailed analysis of the social groups in Jamaican society, see Curtin,
Two Jamaicas, 2352, 10121.
Ibid., 24.
Joseph Williams, Whisperings of the Caribbean: Reflections of a Missionary
(New York: Benziger, 1925), 282.
John Bigelow, Jamaica in 1850 (New York: George P. Putman, 1851), 144.
H.G. De Lisser, White Man in the Tropics, Century Review (February
1900), NLJ, Jamaica pamphlets.
Bryan, introduction to The Jamaican People, x.
Ibid.
Neil McKendrick, John Brewer and J.H. Plumb, The Birth of a Consumer
Society (London: Europa Publications, 1982), 13. See also Beverly
Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce: The English Clothing Trade Before the
Factory, 16601800 (New York: St Martins Press, 1997), 43145, for an
analysis of womens role in the clothing trade and manufacturing business
in Britain.
McKendrick, Brewer and Plumb, The Birth of a Consumer Society, 95.
Ibid., 9495.
Ibid., 98.
Kathryn Weibel, Mirror, Mirror: Images of Women Reflected in Popular
Culture (New York: Anchor, 1977), 17677. See also Fashioning the Future:
Our Future from Our Past, 1224. Both the catalogue and the exhibition of
the same name provided great insight into the dress styles of the period of
this study.
Karen Halttunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women: A Study of MiddleClass Culture in America, 18301870 (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1982), 7580; see also Weibel, Mirror, Mirror, 17677.
Weibel, Mirror, Mirror, 18283. Weibel also discusses the impact of the
steel-cage hoop on womens fashion.
Ibid., 18384. Charles Frederick Worth (182595), the father of haute
couture, was born in England and later moved to Paris, where he created
one of the most famous fashion houses. He has long been credited with
designing the hoop skirt, but this continues to be a debate among scholars.
Ibid., 186.
Ibid., 192.
221
3/6/2004
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
57.
58.
59.
60.
61.
62.
63.
64.
222
1:54 PM
Page 222
Ibid., 178. Illustrations by author (Figures 3.1 through 3.4) are based on
Weibels descriptive accounts, art books from the period, and the Ohio
State Universitys dress exhibition, Fashioning the Future.
Ibid., 180.
Ibid., 18081.
Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce, 67.
Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, The Social Symbolism of Womens Dress, in
The Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, ed.
Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz (New York: Mouton
Ibid.
Helene E. Roberts, Exquisite Slave: The Role of Clothes in the Making of
the Victorian Woman, Signs 2, no. 3 (Spring 1997): 55469.
Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce, 3137.
See Heuman, Between Black and White, 15.
Foulks, Eighteen Months in Jamaica, 109.
Nugent, Lady Nugents Journal, 21 October 1801, 48.
Quoted in Hall, In Miserable Slavery, 285.
See, for example, Falmouth Post, 8 March 1836, for advertisements of
European goods and clothing for sale.
Royal Gazette (Kingston), 24 September 1831 (MF) 940, NLJ.
See Nugent, Lady Nugents Journal, 1720, 34, 149, 174, 239. Throughout
the text there are references to Lady Nugent receiving the ladies of the
island for dinner and receptions. These functions were major gatherings of
the islands elite. Printed invitations informed guests of the appropriate
dress for these functions.
Halttunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women, 71, 8889. Halttunen discusses the relationship between physical beauty and morality as it was
viewed by the sentimentalists of the period. Johann Kaspar Lavater
(17411801) was a Swiss theologian and mystic who wrote several books on
metaphysics, but he is chiefly remembered for his work on physiognomy,
the art of determining character from facial characteristics. For example, a
womans complexion could say a lot about her feelings: the blush of honesty and purity, the sudden glow of love, the hues of sorrow and despair
were all visible through the transparency of a clear skin.
See Catherine Clinton, The Plantation Mistress: Womans World in the Old
South (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982), 99101, for a discussion of the
impact of Christian teachings on white womens dress customs in America.
Although Clinton focuses on plantation mistresses in the antebellum
South, missionaries and laypersons from America and Britain brought the
same principles to Jamaica. Many Jamaican schoolchildren were taught to
memorize the proverb cleanliness is next to godliness. Cleanliness became
65.
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 223
a major part of schools curriculum, to promote better health and discipline. The regimen included dress inspections to see if the childrens
clothes were clean, neat and ironed and regular trips to wash hands and
face. Improper attire or dirty clothes sometimes led to punishment or a
meeting with the students parents. This type of emphasis on cleanliness
has disappeared from many contemporary Jamaican schools.
Underhill, The West Indies, 29597.
Gardner, A History of Jamaica, 20410. See also Moore and Johnson, The
Land We Live In, 3941.
Samuel J. Hurwitz and Edith F. Hurwitz, Jamaica: A Historical Portrait
(New York: Praeger, 1971), 12133. See also Curtin, Two Jamaicas, 5657,
and Underhill, The West Indies, 296n, 440n, for information on type of
instruction and the teaching of sewing to girls. For the Annual Report of
Saint Catherines Ragged Schools, CO 137/390, December 1864, West
Indies Collection, UWI.
See the Rules for Teachers Employed in the Schools of the United
Brethren in Jamaica, 1880 and the Upward and Onward Society magazines, reports and minutes of meetings in the Moravian Collection,
National Archive of Jamaica. In an interview conducted on 2 January 2003
with Sharon Gardner, the wife of a Moravian minister, I learned that the
Upward and Onward Society for young ladies still exists in Jamaica. Many
of the nineteenth-century activities are still taught, including sewing and
needlework in the British fashion, making pantry towels, and baking
scones. Some Jamaican cooking is also taught. Mrs Gardner considers
many of the activities not practical.
Bryan, The Jamaican People, 165, 205. See also Clinton Black, History of
Jamaica (London: Collins, 1965), 225; Womens Self-Help Society, Daily
Gleaner, 13 January 1886.
Godeys Ladys Book was published in the United States and was popular
from the 1830s through the 1860s. In this publication, sentimentalists criticized the lifestyles of the middle class and their obsession with fashion.
They considered fashion a form of hypocrisy but a necessary evil in a society based on the promise of social mobility. Quotation from Halttunen,
Confidence Men and Painted Women, 67.
W.P. Livingstone, Black Jamaica: A Study in Evolution (London: William
Clowes and Sons, 1899), 106.
Large numbers of Middle Easterners were involved in the retail business,
according to an elderly long-time employee at Bardowells, a clothing and
shoe store in Kingston. Horace Coke, conversation with author, 10 March
2003. See also Carol S. Holzberg, Minorities and Power in a Black Society:
The Jewish Community of Jamaica (Lanham, Md.: North South Publishing,
1987), 12630; Swithin Wilmot, A Stake in the Soil: Land and Creole
Politics in Free Jamaica The 1848 Elections, in In the Shadow of the
Plantation: Caribbean History and Legacy, ed. Alvin O. Thompson
(Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 2002), 32527; Glen O.I.
223
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
82.
224
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 224
Phillips, The Changing Role of the Merchant Class in the British West Indies,
18341867 (1975, microfilm, West Indies Collection, UWI).
Falmouth Gazette, 23 May 1879 (West Indies Collection, UWI), includes
numerous store advertisements of clothes for sale direct from New York
and a few other places.
Professor Patrick Bryan, personal communication, 4 March 2003. In photographs from the period of major stores in Kingston, there was a noticeable absence of female clerks. Shelves in stores were stacked high, almost to
the ceiling, and clerks needed to reach these goods with ladders. Women
were not yet allowed to wear trousers, and it was considered inappropriate
for women to climb high ladders in public since it would risk exposing
beneath their skirts.
See the Falmouth Gazette, 23 May 1879. Based on authors analysis of stores
advertisements and addresses. Most of the major stores were on Harbour
Street and sections of King Street that also had government offices.
Ibid. See also the issues of the Daily Gleaner for the month of December
1899 (West Indies Collection, UWI).
Ibid. Store advertisements, including prices and stocks, provide useful
information about the stores and their customers. Mr Coke remembered
that the rich shopped on Harbour and King Streets, while the lower classes
shopped in other areas.
A grip was a suitcase used for storage or to carry clothes.
Mr Michael Webb, consultant to the Kingston and St Andrew Corporation
Markets Company Limited, personal communication, 10 March 2003; also
conversations with several market traders, June 1996. Ms Myrtle, a retired
third-generation market trader whose great-grandmother sold ribbons and
hair accessories in the market, remembered seeing some clothing in the
markets, especially Madras cloth tie-heads. However, Jubilee and other
major markets in Kingston sold primarily produce, meat and fruits. Jubilee
Market was previously named Sollas Market. It was destroyed by a hurricane in 1886; the following year it was rebuilt and renamed in honour of
Queen Victorias Golden Jubilee. The new structure had thirty covered
stalls and was lit by ten powerful gas lamps. The market was enlarged in
1894. Brian L. Moore and Michelle A. Johnson, eds., Squalid Kingston,
18901920: How the Poor Lived, Moved and Had Their Being (Kingston,
Jamaica: Social History Project, University of the West Indies, 2000),
172n8.
Livingstone, Black Jamaica, 106.
Ibid., 190.
Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 151. See also Robertson,
Pictorial Sources for Nineteenth-Century Womens History, 11122.
Phillippo gives a comprehensive analysis of womens dress of the period,
based on his own observations. His work also includes sketches of black
womens dress, as observed during his own travels throughout the island.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 225
83.
Rex M. Nettleford, Caribbean Cultural Identity: The Case of Jamaica (Los

Angeles: UCLA Latin American Center Publications, 1979), 3.
84.
Betty of Port Royal, N/15656, NLJ.
85.
See Halttunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women, 79, for a further
description of the sentimental dress of the period.
86. Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 150.
87.
Ibid., 230.
88.
This information is based on my childhood experiences in the country and
conversations with several elderly women; my grandmother used these substances in her hair. Extracts from these plants are still used for hair care in
many areas of rural Jamaica, and today some are used as ingredients in
manufactured hair-care products such as aloe vera shampoo. There are
variant spellings and names of single-bible, including singgl-baibl and
simple-bible.
89.
Foster, New Raiments of Self, 24550. Straightening refers to using a hot
comb, whereas creaming or processing means applying chemicals to
straighten the hair. Over the decades, the treatment of hair has taken on
many meanings, and hairstyles continue to change in Jamaica. Today, the
natural look is favoured, and twisting, plaiting and dreadlocking are popular. Sharon Gardner, conversation with author, 2 January 2003.
90. Mark Higbee, The Hairdresser and the Scholar, in Tenderheaded: A
Comb-Bending Collection of Hair Stories, ed. Juliette Harris and Pamela
Johnson (New York: Pocket Books, 2001), 1114.
91.
See Bush, Slave Women in Caribbbean Society, 5, 9, 1122, 5253. Bush
discusses the stereotypes and negative images long associated with black
women in the Caribbean and how they have affected womens lives.
92. Cornel West, The New Cultural Politics of Difference, in Out There:
Marginalization and Contemporary Cultures, ed. Russell Ferguson, Martha
Giver, Trinh T. Minh-ha and Cornel West (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1990),
27.
93.
94. Ibid., 10. See also Daily Gleaner (1882). The vast numbers of advertisements
in local newspapers for creams and lotions such as Barrys Pearl Cream
suggest that there was a large market for these products. Another cream,
Osmhedia Cream, a high life perfumery, promised to ensure its faithful
customers eternal youth and fair complexion.
95.
E. Franklin Frazier, Black Bourgeoisie (Glencoe, Ill.: Falcons Wing, 1957),
25. For further discussion on the quest for upward social mobility and the
negation of blackness and Africanness, see hooks, Black Looks, 17.
96. West, The New Cultural Politics, 27. See also Sidney W. Mintz, Tasting
Food, Tasting Freedom, in Slavery in the Americas, ed. Wolfgang Binder
(Warzburg: Khonigshausen and Neumann, 1993), 271n6.
97. Verene Shepherd, personal communication, 13 March 2003.
98. Livingstone, Black Jamaica, 190.
225
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 226
99. Adolphe Duperly, Daguerrian Excursions in Jamaica (Kingston, Jamaica:

n.p., 1844). Duperlys collection focuses on urban scenes. He took his
daguerreotype photographs in Jamaica and then had them lithographed,
under his direction, by the most eminent artists in Paris. His collection was
self-published in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1844.
100. West, The New Cultural Politics, 27.
101. Good Housekeeping, March 1888. Information found in the Moravian
Collection, JA.
102. Ibid.; see also Daily Gleaner, 230 December 1899 (West Indies Collection,
UWI) for soap advertisements.
103. Moore and Johnson, The Land We Live In, 7576.
104. Tulloch, Fashioned in Black and White, 33.
105. Simeon MacLatte, Jamaica in 1914, Daily Gleaner, 24 September 1938.
Jamaica Description collection, NLJ. MacLatte refers to the continuation
of Victorian and Edwardian concepts in Jamaica as late as 1914.
106. Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 231.
107. Quoted in Bryan, The Jamaican People, 85.
108. Ibid., 8586.
109. Ibid. See also MacLatte, Jamaica in 1914, for a description of how
Jamaica changed during the period and some analysis of dress at the end of
the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth. See the photograph
collection at NLJ for examples of professional uniforms.
110. See Long, The History of Jamaica, 2: 493; Radner Coffee Plantation Journal,
January 1822February 1826, MS 180, NLJ. Although some planters gave
hats and caps to their slaves, because of the absence of slave testimony and
the paucity of sources, not much is known about styles of the caps or the
criteria used to determine who received a cap or a hat. Questions about
slave headwear need further investigation. It is unlikely that planters would
have provided slaves with fashionable hats and caps of comparable quality
to those worn by Europeans. Perhaps slaves received caps similar to those
worn by peasants in Britain, or to the soft mob caps worn indoors by
women during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, which consisted of a circular cloth drawn together with a string to cover the hair. The
Kilmarnock cap derives its name from the fabric it is made from a
woollen serge named after the town of its origin, Kilmarnock in westcentral Scotland. Some illustrations of Caribbean slaves show both men
and women wearing wide-brimmed straw hats. See Foster, New Raiments
of Self, 255, for more on hats and caps in the American South.
111. Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce, 33, 159.
112. See Foster, New Raiments of Self, 269, for a discussion on the different
words for hats. See also Doreen Yarwood, The Encyclopedia of World
Costume (New York: Scribner, 1978), 65.
113. Halttunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women, 8687; Foster, New
Raiments of Self, 255; Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 151;
Yarwood, The Encyclopedia of World Costume, 4042.
226
114.
115.
116.
117.
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
123.
124.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 227
Advertisements of the period show the various types of hats available to

customers. Some advertisements listed the styles, such as bowler hats, wedding bonnets and so on. See local papers, such as the Falmouth Gazette, 23
May 1879, for examples. For information on women being taught how to
make hats, see the printed reports of the Upward and Onward Society. In
many secondary schools, the school uniform included a small version of
the jippi-jappa hat, a cap or a soft, visorless cap like a beret.
This information was gleaned from interviews with several church women
who enjoy wearing hats, and a conversation with Sharon Gardner, the wife
of a Moravian minister. See Foster, New Raiments of Self, 269, on the
African-American womans love of hats. Some churches, such as the
Church of God, interpret the Bible literally and therefore require women
to cover their heads in church, after 1 Corinthians 11:116. For women who
do not have a hat, a headwrap will do. In many parts of Africa, people
made straw hats from plant fibres and decorated caps from refined fabrics.
Moore and Johnson, The Land We Live In, 145.
Ibid., 9293.
Yarwood, The Encyclopedia of World Costume, 2627, 3031.
The absence of swimsuits in stores newspaper advertisements during the
1870s to 1890s in Jamaica suggests that beach bathing was not yet popular.
Public pools were rare; by 1914 there were no other bathing pools similar to
those at Bournemouth and Springfield in Jamaica, which also had enclosed
beach areas for swimming. During the first few decades of the twentieth
century, middle-class Jamaicans began to enjoy holidays at the seaside, and
hotels such as the Titchfield Hotel in Port Antonio became a favourite destination. For further description of swimwear from the period, see
Yarwood, The Encyclopedia of World Costume, 2627, 3031; and MacLatte,
Jamaica in 1914. Even though MacLattes article focuses on 1914, it gives
some sense of the changes in dress styles over the previous decades. His
description, compared with Yarwoods analysis, shows that bathing dress
had changed very little over the decades and reveals the similarities between
Jamaican bathing dress and that worn in Britain at the time.
Callaway, Dressing for Dinner in the Bush, 195207. Callaway gives an
interesting account of the roles Imperial dress played in colonized societies.
In Jamaica today, guests invited to Kings House for state ceremonies
hosted by the governor general, in honour of visiting dignitaries, royals or
honourees, are required to follow the appropriate dress code for the event.
Invitations, for example, will specify lounge suit, national dress, uniform or
decorations such as badges, sashes or medals and how to wear the various
insignias. This is part of the colonial legacy that continues to survive. This
information courtesy of the Office of the Governor General, Kings House.
Bryan, The Jamaican People, 8586.
227
3/6/2004
125.
126.
127.
128.
129.
130.
131.
132.
133.
134.
135.
136.
137.
138.
139.
140.
141.
142.
143.
228
1:54 PM
Page 228
Glissant, Creolization in the Making of the Americas, 26975.

West, The New Cultural Politics, 27.
See Hall, In Miserable Slavery, 170, for an example of how some slave
women contributed to the earnings of their masters by sewing.
CO 137/391, 20 April 1865, West Indies Collection, UWI.
French and Ford-Smith, Women, Work and Organization, 145.
CO 137/391, 20 April 1865, West Indies Collection, UWI.
B. Pullen-Burry, Jamaica as It Is in 1903 (London: T. Fisher, 1903), 48.
Although Pullen-Burry was writing later, in her discussions on seamstresses
she implied that the women in that profession had maintained a long
tradition of excellence.
Ibid.
French and Ford-Smith, Women, Work and Organization, 14145.
Bark-cloth was not sold in the major stores in Kingston. There is no reference to it in store advertisements in the local newspapers throughout the
nineteenth century. However, bark-cloth craft was mentioned in books of
the period published specifically for the tourist market. See, for example,
advertisements in the following books: Souvenir of Jamaica (London: C.W.
Faulkner and Co., c.1900); Jas Johnston, Jamaica, the New Riviera: A
Pictorial Description of the Island and Its Attractions, Imperial Direct West
India Mail Service (London: Cassell, 1903).
See also S.U. Hastings and B.L. Macleavy, Seed Time and Harvest: A Brief
History of the Moravian Church in Jamaica, 17541979 (Barbados: Cedar
Press, 1979), 55.
Phillippo, Jamaica: Its Past and Present State, 217. The notion of reserving
ones best shoes for Sunday services continues in many areas of Jamaica.
Information obtained during interviews conducted in summer 1996 with
family members and other elderly Jamaicans raised in rural areas.
Drewal, Pageantry and Power in Yoruba Costuming, 19092. See also
NLJ, N/3481.
An examination of the womens headwraps reveals that the styles are all
similar. See also Clarke, Art of African Textiles, 112, for a discussion of the
role of British manufacturers in copying and mass-producing indigenous
textiles such as Indian Madras cloth. Information on bandannas worn in
the marketplace was obtained in a series of conversations with several elderly women who were market traders (see note 144, below) and with some
Jamaican women who shopped in Kingstons Jubilee and Coronation
Markets. It is also based on recollections of childhood visits to the market
with my mother. The bandanna headwrap is no longer popular in Jamaica
and is rarely seen in the marketplace.
144.
145.
146.
147.
148.
149.
150.
151.
152.
153.
154.
155.
156.
157.
158.
159.
160.
161.
162.
163.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 229
This information was obtained during a series of interviews conducted on

10 April 2003 with several elderly market traders, during slow periods and
between sales, in Kingstons urban markets. Kingston and St Andrew
Corporation Market Company Limited provided assistance in locating
these traders. The interviewees at Coronation Market included Ms Myrtle
Turner (fifty years a trader), Ms Viola White (more than forty years a
trader) and Ms Elaine Johnson (more than fifty years a trader); at Jubilee
Market, I talked with Ms Barbara McNeil (forty-five years a trader). These
women have been selling in the markets since they were children or young
women, and some are second- and third-generation traders.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Moore, Religion of Jamaican Negroes. Moore describes ritual dress in
Afro-Jamaican religions, focusing on colours and elaborate headwraps and
their significance within the religions.
For more on the bandanna, see Let It Be Our Costume and Not Her
Costume, Sunday Gleaner, 16 October 1955; African Costumes for
Independent Jamaica?, Star, 29 May 1962, 10; and National Costumes,
collection of articles, NLJ. For more on Madras fabric, see chapter 4 and
the glossary to this text.
Dr Olive Lewin, interview by author, Kingston, Jamaica, 12 August 1997.
Dr Lewin provided insight into the role of market women as traders and
the folk songs associated with these women. In addition, I observed these
methods of securing money being used by many contemporary market
traders.
See, for example, Claire Robertson, Ga Women and Socioeconomic
Change in Accra, Ghana, in Women in Africa, ed. Nancy Hafkin and
Edna Bay (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976), 11133; Margaret
Katzin, The Business of Higglering in Jamaica, Social and Economic
Studies 9, no. 3 (1960): 197331.
Rob Morris, Negro Life in Jamaica, Harpers New Monthly Magazine 44,
no. 262 (March 1872): 554.
Robertson and Klein, Womens Importance in African Slave Systems,
325.
CO 137/391, June 1865, UWI.
Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, 19.
Ibid., 23943.
CO 137/391, March 1865, UWI.
CO 137/390, March 1865, UWI.
CO 137/391, June 1865, UWI.
229
3/6/2004
164.
165.
166.
167.
168.
169.
170.
171.
172.
173.
174.
175.
176.
177.
178.
179.
180.
181.
182.
183.
1:54 PM
Page 230
CO 137/391, April 1865, UWI.

Bryan, The Jamaican People, 60. Bryan examines Bishop Enos Nuttalls
Imperial policies and his notions of Anglo-Saxon civilization.
hooks, Black Looks, 136.
Michael Harrington, The Best-Dressed Poverty, in Dress, Adornment, and
the Social Order, ed. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher
(New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965), 16365.
Masie Walker, conversation with author, Kingston, Jamaica, 4 August 1994.
Ibid., 106.
Ibid.
Lang and Lang, Fashion: Identification and Differentiation, 339.
E.A. Hastings, A Glimpse of the Tropics (London, 1900), 24142.
Gubar, Race Changes, 21.
Ibid., 24.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Chapter 4
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
230
Radner, Feminist Messages, 2.

Ibid.
Quoted in Bush, Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 153.
Ibid., 158.
Barbara Babcock, ed., The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and
Society (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978), 14.
Alleyne, Roots of Jamaican Culture, 149.
Ibid.
Lakshmi Mansingh and Ajai Mansingh, Indian Heritage in Jamaica,
Jamaica Journal 10, no. 2 (197677): 12.
Verene Shepherd, Transients to Settlers: The Experience of Indian Settlers in
Jamaica, 18451950 (Leeds: Centre for Research in Asian Migration,
University of Warwick/Peepal Tree Books, 1994), 46.
See Shepherd, Transients to Settlers, 104, for a discussion of population size
and low birth rate among the Indians in Jamaica.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 231
See Hall, Free Jamaica, 56. Over the decades this bond has dissolved, as
racial and ethnic hostilities developed between Indians and Afro-Jamaicans.
In contemporary Jamaica, Indians consider themselves superior to AfroJamaicans. See Alleyne, Race and Ethnicity, 21013, for discussion of race
relations between Indians and the black population in contemporary
Jamaica.
Diana Crane, Fashion and Its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in
Clothing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 18385.
Ibid., 189.
Ibid., 190, for a discussion of street styles, which the author also observed
in Jamaica. See also bell hooks, My Style Aint No Fashion, Z Magazine,
May 1992, 2729.
Crane, Fashion and Its Social Agendas, 193.
Ibid.
Leonard Barnett, The Rastafarians (Boston: Beacon Publishers, 1977).
Nettleford, Caribbean Cultural Identity, 187.
hooks, My Style Aint No Fashion, 2729.
See, for instance, Zola Maseko, The Life and Times of Sara Baartman, the
Hottentot Venus (1998), a documentary film that sheds light on the relationship between the black womans body and early science. Maseko examines
the life of Sara Baartman, who has been mentioned in numerous books.
Her body was exploited by science in the nineteenth century, and she
became the first major example of scientific racism.
At first I thought the hormone story was urban legend, but it is true. My
information on the chicken pill came from interviews with several
Jamaicans, including Carolyn Cooper. The phenomenon has been written
about in the Jamaican newspapers and continues to be a topic of debate.
No serious medical studies have been conducted to determine the effects of
taking this type of hormone, normally given to chickens on chicken farms,
nor is it known how popular the practice is, but it is not confined to
dancehall circles. Batty rider is a tight pair of shorts, and to bubble
means a particular way of dancing that accentuates the bottom.
Nettleford, Fancy Dress from Jonkonnu to Dance Hall.
Emily Braun, Futuristic Fashions: Three Manifestos, Art Journal 54, no. 1
(Spring 1995): 34.
Cooper, Noises in the Blood, 193.
Information learned in a discussion on dancehall and bleaching during the
University of the West Indies History Departmental Seminar, 4 April 2003.
Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye (New York: Plume, 1970); Curtis Mayfield,
Choice of Colors, performed by Curtis Mayfield on Soul Legacy (audio
CD, March 2001).
Bleaching products include various manufactured creams and lotions, but
individuals also make homemade mixtures for instance, toothpaste and
laundry bleach. For more information on this and the politics of image and
231
3/6/2004
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
232
1:54 PM
Page 232
representation, see Alleyne, Race and Ethnicity, 2046; Verene Shepherd,

Image, Representation and the Project of Emancipation: History and
Identity in the Commonwealth Caribbean, in Contending with Destiny, ed.
Kenneth Hall and Denis Benn (Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers,
2000), 5364; Neil Persadsingh, Bleaching and Self-Identity in Jamaica,
Daily Observer, 9 September 2002, 9.
Carolyn Cooper, discussion with author, University of the West Indies,
Mona, Jamaica, 10 January 2003. See Cooper, Noises in the Blood, for more
on dancehall.
West, The New Cultural Politics, 2628.
Bleaching can be very harmful to the skin, and not all women are fortunate
in this respect. Sometimes the skin has been so badly damaged that, even
when one stops bleaching, little can be done to cure the condition. See the
works of Neil Persadsingh for a medical perspective on this issue.
Beckwith, Black Roadways, 6667.
Gwendolyn S. ONeal, The Power of Style: On Rejection of the
Accepted, in Appearance and Power, ed. K. Johnson and S. Lennon, Dress,
Body, Culture Series (New York: Berg, 1999), 12739.
Barbara Gloudon, Nuff Jamaican-African Deh Bout, Weekend Observer, 8
August 1997, 7.
Verene Shepherd, personal communication, March 2003.
Susan Mains, conversation with author, 12 May 2003
Joanne Bubolz Eicher, Cosmopolitan and International Dress, in Dress,
Adornment, and the Social Order, ed. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and
Joanne Bubolz Eicher (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965), 461.
Mains, conversation.
Eicher, Cosmopolitan and International Dress, 46162; Mains, conversation.
Market traders, interviews.
See chapter 3, note 148, above.
Ibid.
Verene Shepherd and members of the Jamaica Historical Society, discussion
with author, 22 April 2003.
Mains, conversation, on the relevance of a national dress; also interviews
with market traders, many of whom are Revival members, including
Barbara McNeil, Jubilee Market, 10 April 2003.
This term and its shorter form, ghetto fab has become popular among
African-Americans in some parts of the United States and is frequently
heard on African-American television shows. It refers to the fashions of the
inner cities and the ghettos. It is a term of endearment and assertiveness
that reflects the uniqueness of a particular style embodied in rap, street
style and dancehall cultures.
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 233
Glossary of Selected Terms
Definitions and information obtained from Helen Bradley Foster, New

Raiments of Self: African American Clothing in the Antebellum South; Beverly
Lemire, Dress, Culture, and Commerce: The English Clothing Trade Before the
Factory, 16601800; Doreen Yarwood, The Encyclopedia of World Costume; and
Edward Long, The History of Jamaica.
Baize, baise
Coarsely woven woollen or cotton fabric napped to

imitate felt and dyed in solid colours. This was distributed to slaves on many plantations.
Bandanna, bandana
The word comes from the Hindi word bandhnu,

which refers to a method of dyeing in which the cloth
is tied in places to prevent it from receiving the dye.
This process produces a dark red or blue ground and
white and yellow spots. In the nineteenth century,
cotton bandannas were produced by chemical means
that resulted in a checked pattern of the same colours.
In the Caribbean the term bandanna was merged with
the term Madras to refer to the popular tie-heads
worn by many women. Bandanna became very popular in post-emancipation Jamaica, used for neck cloths
and tie-heads. Bandanna is part of the Jamaican
national costume/dress.
Barege
Gauze-like semi-transparent fabric, originally made at

Bareges, in the French Pyrenees, in the 1850s.
Brocade
A luxurious fabric, loom-woven in an all-over pattern

of contrasting colours on a background of satin or
twill weave.
Brocardels
Brocade made in a combination of yarns, with the

design, in high relief, of silk or linen on plain or satin
ground.
233
234
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 234
Basque
On a womans dress, an extension of the bodice below

the waist to form a short overskirt or tabs.
Bib
A type of apron worn by market women in Jamaica,

consisting of two large pockets, one for silver coins
and the other for copper coins. This is similar to the
corner cloths worn by some women traders in East
Africa.
Bloomers
Word coined from the reform dress promoted by Mrs

Amelia Jenks Bloomer and designed by Elizabeth
Smith Miller. Designed to allow women greater freedom of movement, it consisted of a jacket and kneelength skirt over full Turkish-type trousers. The
campaign to popularize this outfit failed. The term
was later revived in the 1890s when women began to
wear knickerbockers with a blouse and jacket for
cycling and walking these bloomers were also called
rationales.
Bustle
A sort of frame made for pushing out the skirts of

ladies gowns, usually placed at the back just below the
waist.
Calamanco
Glazed woollen fabric made in Flanders in the sixteenth century. Often checked in the warp so that the
checks are visible on one side of the material. By the
nineteenth century, highly glazed and made of a mixture of cotton and wool. Some enslaved women wore
dresses made from this fabric on special occasions.
Calico, calycot
Cotton cloth originally imported from India and

named after its city of origin, Calicut, on the Malabar
Coast. In England the name refers to a plain white
cotton cloth; in the Americas, to a printed cotton.
Calico was popular during and after slavery and is also
used in the Jamaican national costume along with
bandanna or Madras fabric.
Cambay, cambaye
Coarse cotton cloth made in India.
Cashmere
Soft, lightweight woollen cloth, often twilled.
Chemise
A womans loose-fitting, shirt-like undergarment; a

type of dress with an unfitted waist. A smaller version
was made for young babies, and in some AfroJamaican religions, a red chemise is believed to keep
evil spirits away.
Glossary
Chiffon
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 235
Very soft fine velvet.
Chints, chintss, chintz Printed or spotted cotton cloth.

Corsage
The upper part or bodice of a womans dress, which

extends from shoulder to waist.
Cotta, catta
A piece of cloth or dried banana leaves rolled and

shaped like a donut and placed on the head to aid in
the balancing of heavy loads. During slavery in
Jamaica, some women signalled the end of a relationship by cutting their cotta into two and giving their
estranged partner one half as a symbol of an eternal
end to the union. This is no longer done, but the cotta
is still used when carrying heavy loads.
Cottonade
A nineteenth-century term for certain coarse cotton

fabrics.
Crepe
The term comes from the French word creper, to

crimp or frizz. This term was used to describe all kinds
of fabrics wool, cotton, silk that have a crinkly,
crimped surface.
Crinoline
Originally from the Latin crinis and the French crin

for hair, the material used in the 1840s for making
stiffened petticoats worn by women to support the
weight of other petticoats. Later this was replaced by
the cage-crinoline, made of quilted materials stiffened
with whalebone, and in 1857 by the flexible steel hoop.
Daccasses
Calamanco woollen coats worn by some slave women

during carnival and festive occasions. The style or
design of these coats is not known.
Damask
In the Middle Ages, this was used to describe silk fabrics of elaborate design, worn in Damascus. Later the
word was applied to fabrics made of wool, linen or
cotton that displayed light and shade effects by the use
of contrasting shiny and matte surfaces. Damask
dresses were popular among some slave women and
were worn during holidays and on special occasions
such as carnivals and masquerades.
Delaine
An abbreviation of the French, moussline de laine,

which is a lightweight dress fabric resembling woollen
muslin. Originally of wool, later of wool and cotton.
Ells or ell
An old European measure of length, used for cloth,

which varied from one country to another. For exam-
Glossary
235
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 236
ple, the British ell was 45 inches, but in Scotland it

was 37 inches.
Flounce
Dress element consisting of strips of material, gathered or pleated and attached to the garment by one
edge, with the other edge left to flare. This was very
fashionable on womens garments of the mid-eighteenth century.
Gauze
A sheer fabric of cotton, silk or linen used since the

early Middle Ages for veils and over dresses.
Holland
This fabric was made in Holland and was a type of

linen which when bleached was called brown
Holland. The term Holland cloth was also used
broadly to describe manufactured cotton fabrics from
Holland. Plain and striped Holland cloth was distributed to slaves on some plantations.
Jaconet
Plain, light- to medium-weight cotton, originally

from India but later made in Britain.
Kendal
Green woollen cloth named after its town of origin in

northwestern England. Kendal was distributed to
slaves on some Jamaican plantations.
Kilmarnock
Woollen serge named after the town of its origin,

Kilmarnock in Scotland. This fabric was used to make
Kilmarnock caps, which were distributed to slaves.
The style of these caps is unknown.
Laghetto, lageto,
lace-bark or bark-lace
236
Glossary
Fine lace derived from the laghetto trees bark. The

plant fibre also resembles gauze and linen. The bark
was cut, soaked and beaten, and the thin filament
between the outer and inner core of the bark was then
pulled out with the fingers. The material was dried in
puffballs and then stretched in the sun to bleach
white. It was used to make lace clothing, slippers and
accessories. Slaves, Maroons and freed persons in
Jamaica used the bark material to make clothes for
daily attire, and both men and women used it as
mourning linen. The bark of the tree had medicinal
properties. The bark-cloth industry was very vibrant
in Jamaica from the seventeenth century onwards and
lasted in Jamaica until the early twentieth century, but
eventually died primarily because the bark was over-
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 237
harvested. Unfortunately, the Bark of Trees (Sale

Prevention) Act of 1929 offered little protection,
hence the scarcity of the tree today.
Madras
A vividly coloured silk and cotton kerchief, patterned

in plaids and checks in red, blue and white, without
borders. The dyeing process involved was the bandanna technique. Consumers in different areas preferred different colours. Originally made in Madras
and other parts of South India, Madras fabric was
traded by the Portuguese for more than four hundred
years, and it became popular on several continents by
different names. It is called real Madras handkerchief in India and Indian Madras in the United
States and Britain; in West Africa it is called George
by the Igbo and Injiri by the Kalabari of Nigeria,
which means Real India in their language. British
textile manufacturers eventually copied this fabric and
mass-produced several cheaper grades of Madras for
the colonial markets. Madras was imported into the
Caribbean and other parts of the Americas. There is
no evidence to suggest that it was popular among
slaves in Jamaica; however, several sources refer to the
importation of Indian cottons. Madras became popular with freed women, especially those of the labouring and peasant classes. In the nineteenth century,
stripped or checked muslin also named Madras
appeared. In the Caribbean, the term Madras cloth
was merged with the term bandanna to mean tie-head
or headwrap, and Madras was used by Jamaican
women primarily for tie-heads.
Millinery
A business where hats are made; the hat maker is

called a milliner. Both terms come from the word
milaner, an inhabitant of Milan, Italy, and later meant
a vendor of articles of apparel, especially bonnets,
made in Milan. Later the term came to be applied to
the designers of ladies hats and bonnets.
Mohair
A fabric woven or knitted from the wool of the

Angora goat.
Mousseline
French muslin. In English, it refers to a fabric of cotton, wool or silk which is soft and generally very fine.
Muslin
This fabric is named after the city of Mosul on the

River Tigris in Iraq (formerly Persia), where the fabric
Glossary
237
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 238
was made. Later, muslin became a general term covering a broad spectrum of fine cotton imported into
Western Europe from India. Slave and freed women
who could afford it and who had access to refined fabrics wore muslin dresses on special occasions.
Osnaburg,
Oznaburgh, Oznaberg Coarse, durable linen or cotton originally made in
Osnabruck, Germany. Osnaburg was the cheapest
grade of cotton and was used for bagging and industrial purposes. It was the fabric most commonly distributed to enslaved Africans throughout the British
Caribbean and parts of the US antebellum South.
Peasants and other poor people in some parts of
Jamaica wore osnaburgh after emancipation.
Penniston,
pennystone
Perpetuana, perpets,
petuna
238
Coarse, heavy woollen cloth originating at Penistone

in Yorkshire and used for outdoor wear in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries. This fabric was distributed to slaves in Jamaica, and by the late
eighteenth century it was as popular as osnaburg on
some plantations.
A durable, glossy-surfaced woollen cloth made in
England after the late sixteenth century. It was worn
especially by the seventeenth-century Puritans in
England and later in the American colonies. Some
slaves received this fabric as part of their clothing
rations.
Satin
A silk fabric of close texture with a glossy face and dull

back. It has been worn for hundreds of years.
Finishing the fabric between heated rollers produces
the glossy surface.
Serge
A twilled worsted with a smooth clear face and pronounced diagonal rib on the front and back, made in
various weights in wool, cotton, or silk and used especially for suits, coats and dresses.
Silk
The finest and most sought-after of all natural fibres,

and the only one to be available in a natural continuous filament. Silk originated in China. There are two
major sources of silk, the cocoons of wild silkworms
Glossary
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 239
and those of the silk moth. The cultivation of silk was

a well-guarded secret for hundreds of years in China.
Taffaty, taffeta,
taffeties
Rich, thin, lustrous silk of plain weave and several finishes.
Toque
A brimless hat.
Tred-bag
A small moneybag made from cloth and used by

many Jamaican women traders in the marketplace. It
was used to store paper money or cash and then
tucked into the traders bosom.
Tulle
A fine bobbin net made of silk and cotton thread,

used in the nineteenth century, chiefly for indoor caps
and later for veiling.
Underwear
Before the nineteenth century, womens underwear

consisted of a loose chemise or long shirt, drawers or
pants and even stockings. From the end of the 1830s
until the 1870s, an increasing number of garments had
to be worn underneath dresses and skirts. Underwear
for women included a brassiere, chemise, corset,
drawers, elastic pantaloons and petticoats, chiefly
made from white and partly starched cambric, calico
or flannel. Enslaved women received some readymade undergarments from their owners; however,
most made their own undergarments, in the style of a
simple chemise, from the fabrics they received.
Velvet
Silk textile with a short, dense, smooth pile; a luxury

fabric. In French it is called velour, but in English,
velour describes a velvety pile fabric made from linen,
cotton or wool. There are several types of velvet.
Worsted
Smooth, compact yarn spun with an average to hard

twist from long wool fibres that have been carded and
combed. Worsted was used especially for napless fabrics and knitting wool.
Glossary
239
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 240
Selected Bibliography
Abbreviations
CO
IOJ
JA
MF
MS
NLJ
UWI
Public Record Office, London, Colonial Office group

Institute of Jamaica
Jamaica Archives and Records Department
Microfilm
Manuscript
National Library of Jamaica
University of the West Indies Library, West Indies Collection
Manuscripts
Dickenson Collection, Vestry Proceedings, MS 2952, UWI.
Harmony Hall Estate Account Book, vol. 1, MS 1652, NLJ.
Invoices, Accounts, Sales of Sugar etc. Jamaica Windsor Lodge and Paisley Estates
(183337). MS 32, NLJ.
Public Record Office, London, Colonial Office, 137 vols. Governors Despatches
(1865), UWI.
Radner Coffee Plantation Journal, 182226, MS 180, NLJ.
Smithfield Estate Records and Business, MS 806, NLJ.
The Moravian Collection and Archives, Upward and Onward Society, MS 5/5, JA.
The Moravian Collection and Archives, Good Housekeeping (March 1888), MS 5/5,
JA.
The Moravian Collection and Archives, Rules Observed by the Missionaries of
the Brethrens Church in Jamaica, 1880, MS 5/5, JA.
Worthy Park Plantation Books 4/23, No. 1 (178387), 4/23, No. 2 (178791), JA.
Official Publications
Journal of the Assembly of Jamaica, vol. 4 (174546).
Laws of Jamaica, 1696.
Laws of Jamaica, 1831.
Laws of Jamaica, no. 17, 1929.
Proceedings of the Legislative Council, 1898.
240
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 241
Invitation cards of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, His Royal Highness the
Prince of Wales, and their Excellencies the Governor General, Sir Howard
Cooke and Lady Cooke. Courtesy of the Office of the Governor General,
Kingston, Jamaica.
The Guide to the Wearing of State, Crown and Related Orders and Decorations
with Civilian Dress. Courtesy of the Office of the Governor General,
Kingston, Jamaica.
Newspapers
Colonial Standard and Jamaican Despatch, 188390
Daily Gleaner, 18781902, 1938
Diary and Kingston Daily Advertiser, JanuaryAugust 1796
Falmouth Gazette
Falmouth Post
Jamaica Mercury, NovemberDecember 1779
Royal Gazette, July 181316, 183031
Sunday Gleaner, 1955, 1970, 1997
Books
Abrahams, Roger D. Pull out Your Purse and Pay: A St George Mumming from
the British West Indies. Folklore 79 (Autumn 1968): 176201.
. The Man-of-Words in the West Indies: Performance and the Emergence of
Creole Culture. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983.
Adams, C.D. Flowering Plants of Jamaica. Contributions by G.R. Proctor and
R.W. Read. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies, 1972.
Adams, John. Remarks on the Country extending from Cape Palmas to the River
Congo: including observations on the manners and customs of the inhabitants.
London: Whittaker, 1823.
Alleyne, Mervyn. Roots of Jamaican Culture. London: Pluto Press, 1988.
. The Construction and Representation of Race and Ethnicity in the
Caribbean and the World. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies
Press, 2002.
Allsopp, Richard, ed. Dictionary of Caribbean English Usage. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1996.
Angelou, Maya. All Gods Children Need Traveling Shoes. New York: Random
House, 1986.
Argyle, M. Bodily Communication. 2d ed. London: Methuen, 1988.
Argyle, W.J. The Fon of Dahomey. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966.
Arnoldi, Mary Jo, Christrand M. Geary and Kris L. Hardin, eds. African Material
Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996.
Arnoldi, Mary Jo, and Christine Mullen Kreamer, eds. Crowning Achievements:
African Arts of Dressing the Head. Los Angeles: Fowler Museum of Cultural
History, University of California, 1995.
Bibliography
241
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 242
Armstrong, Douglas V. The Old Village and the Great House: An Archaeological and
Historical Examination of Drax Hall Plantation, St Anns Bay, Jamaica.
Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990.
Ash, Juliet, and Elizabeth Wilson, eds. Chic Thrills: A Fashion Reader. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1992.
Atwood, Thomas. The History of Dominica. London: J. Johnson, 1791.
Austin, Allan D. African Muslims in Antebellum America: A Sourcebook. New York:
Garland Publishing, 1984.
Babcock, Barbara, ed. The Reversible World: Symbolic Inversion in Art and Society.
Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978.
Bacon, Edgar M., and Eugene M. Aaron. The New Jamaica. Kingston, Jamaica:
Aston W. Gardner, 1890.
Bakan, Abigail. Ideology and Class Conflict in Jamaica: The Politics of Rebellion.
Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1990.
Barber, Elizabeth W. Womens Work: The First Twenty Thousand Years: Women,
Cloth, and Society in Early Times. New York: W.W. Norton, 1994.
Barclay, Alexander. A Practical View of the Present State of Slavery in the West Indies.
London: Smith and Elder, 1826.
Barnes, Ruth, and Joanne B. Eicher, eds. Dress and Gender: Making and Meaning.
New York: Berg, 1992.
Barnett, Leonard E. Soul-Force: African Heritage in Afro-American Religion. New
York: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1974.
. The Rastafarians. Boston: Beacon Publisher, 1977.
Bastide, Roger. African Civilizations in the New World. Translated by Peter Green.
New York: Harper and Row, 1971.
de Beauvoir, Simone. The Second Sex. New York: Vintage, 1974.
Beckford, William. A Descriptive Account of the Island of Jamaica. 2 vols. London:
T.J. Egerton, 1790.
Beckles, Hilary. Natural Rebels: A Social History of Enslaved Black Women in
Barbados. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1989.
. Sex and Gender in the Historiography of Caribbean Slavery. In
Engendering History: Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective, edited by
Verene Shepherd, Bridget Brereton and Barbara Bailey, 12540. Kingston,
Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1995.
. Centering Woman: Gender Discourses in Caribbean Slave Society. Kingston,
. Crop Over Fetes and Festivals in Caribbean Slavery. In In the Shadow
of the Plantation: Caribbean History and Legacy, edited by Alvin O.
Thompson, 24663. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 2002.
Beckles, Hilary, and Verene Shepherd, eds. Caribbean Freedom. Kingston, Jamaica:
Ian Randle Publishers, 1993.
. Caribbean Slavery in the Atlantic World. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle
Publishers, 1998.
Beckwith, Martha Warren. Black Roadways: A Study of Jamaican Folk Life. 1929.
Reprint, New York: Negro University Press, 1969.
242
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 243
Beecham, John. Asantee and the Gold Coast. 1841. Reprint, New York: Johnson
Reprint Corporation, 1970.
Bennett, Louise. Jamaica Labrish: Jamaica Dialect Poems. Kingston, Jamaica:
Sangsters Book Stores, 1966.
Benstock, Shari, and Suzanne Ferris, eds. On Fashion. New Brunswick, N.J.:
Rutgers University Press, 1994.
Bettelheim, Judith. Women in Masquerade and Performance. African Arts 31,
no. 2 (Spring 1998).
, ed. Cuban Festivals: A Century of Afro-Cuban Culture. Kingston, Jamaica:
Ian Randle Publishers, 2001.
Bickell, Rev. R. The West Indies as They Are, or A Real Picture of Slavery: But More
Particularly as It Exists in the Island of Jamaica. London: J. Hatchard and Son,
1825.
Bigelow, John. Jamaica in 1850. New York: George P. Putman, 1851.
Binder, P. Dressing Up and Dressing Down. London: Allen and Unwin, 1986.
Bisnauth, Dale. History of Religions in the Caribbean. Kingston, Jamaica: Kingston
Publishers Limited, 1989.
Black, Clinton. History of Jamaica. London: Collins, 1965.
Blier, Suzanne. African Vodun: Art, Psychology, and Power. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1995.
Boa, Sheena. Urban Free Black and Colored Women: Jamaica, 17601834.
Jamaica Historical Review 28 (1993): 16.
Boone, Sylvia Ardyn. Radiance from the Waters: Ideals of Feminine Beauty in Mende
Art. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986.
Bradley, Keith. Slavery and Rebellion in the Roman World 140 BC70 BC.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989.
Bradley Foster, Helen. New Raiments of Self: African American Clothing in the
Antebellum South. Oxford: Berg, 1997.
Bradley Griebel, Helen. The African American Womans Headwrap:
Unwinding the Symbols. In Dress and Identity, edited by Mary Ellen RoachHiggins, Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson, 45164. New York: Fairchild,
1995.
Brathwaite, Edward Kamau. Jamaican Slave Society: A Review. Race 9, no. 3
(1968): 33142.
. The Development of Creole Society in Jamaica, 17701820. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1971.
. The Arrivants: A New World Trilogy. London: Oxford University Press,
1973.
. Kumina: The Spirit of African Survival in Jamaica. Jamaica Journal, no.
42 (1978): 4463.
Braudel, Fernand. The Structures of Everyday Life: Civilization and Capitalism
15th18th Century. Vol. 1. Translation from the French revised by Sian
Reynolds. New York: Harper and Row, 1979.
Braun, Emily. Futurist Fashion: Three Manifestoes. Art Journal 54, no. 1 (Spring
1995): 3441.
Bibliography
243
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 244
Bredemeier, Henry C., and Jackson Toby. Ideals of Beauty. In Dress, Adornment,
and the Social Order, edited by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne
Bubolz Eicher, 34. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965.
Bronner, Simon J., ed. American Material Culture and Folklife: A Prologue and
Dialogue. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1985.
Brooks, A.A. History of Bedwardism, or the Jamaica Baptist Free Church. Kingston,
Jamaica: The Gleaner Company, 1917.
Brown, Patrick. The Civil and Natural History of America in Three Parts. London:
T. Osborne and J. Shipton, 1756.
Bryan, Patrick. The Jamaican People 18801902: Race, Class and Social Control.
London: Macmillan, 1991.
Buckridge, Steeve O. The Colour and Fabric of Jamaican Slave Womens Dress.
Journal of Caribbean History 33, nos. 1 and 2 (1999): 84124.
Burton, Sir Richard. A Mission of Gelele, King of Dahomey. Edited by Isabel
Burton. Memorial ed. 2 vols. London, 1892.
Burton, Richard D.E. Afro-Creole: Power, Opposition, and Play in the Caribbean.
Bush, Barbara. The Family Tree Is Not Cut: Women and Cultural Resistance
in Slave Family Life in the British Caribbean. In In Resistance: Studies in
African Caribbean and Afro-American History, edited by Gary Y. Okihiro,
11732. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1986.
. Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 16501838. Kingston, Jamaica:
Heinemann, 1990.
. Hard Labor: Women, Childbirth, and Resistance in British Caribbean
Slave Societies. In More Than Chattel: Black Women and Slavery in the
Americas, edited by David Barry Gaspar and Darlene Clark Hine, 193217.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996.
Butler, Judith, and Joan W. Scott. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of
Identity. New York: Routledge, 1990.
, eds. Feminists Theorize the Political. London: Routledge, 1992.
Byfield, Judith. Introduction: Rethinking the African Diaspora. African Studies
Review 43, no. 1 (April 2000): 17.
Byrde, Penelope. Nineteenth Century Fashion. London: B.T. Batsford, 1992.
Callaway, Helen. Dressing for Dinner in the Bush. In Dress and Identity, edited
by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson,
198211. New York: Fairchild, 1995.
Carlano, Marianne. Wild and Waxy: Dutch Art Nouveau Artistic Dress. Art
Journal 54, no. 1 (Spring 1995): 3033.
Carmichael, Mrs A.C. Domestic Manners and Social Conditions of the White,
Coloured and Negro Population of the West Indies. 2 vols. London: Whittaker,
Treacher and Co., 1833.
Chevannes, Barry. Rastafari: Roots and Ideology. Syracuse: Syracuse University
Press, 1994.
Clarke, Duncan. The Art of African Textiles. San Diego: Thunder Bay Press,
1997.
244
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 245
Clarke, Edith. My Mother Who Fathered Me: A Study of the Families in Three
Selected Communities of Jamaica. 1957. Reprint, University of the West Indies
Press, 1997.
Cliff, Michelle. No Telephone to Heaven. New York: Plume, 1987.
Clinton, Catherine. The Plantation Mistress: Womans World in the Old South. New
York: Pantheon Books, 1982.
Cohen, Abner. Masquerade Politics: Explorations in the Structure of Urban Cultural
Movements. Oxford: Berg, 1993.
Cooper, Carolyn. Noises in the Blood. London: Macmillan, 1993.
. Lyrical Gun: Metaphor and Role Play in Jamaican Dancehall Culture.
Massachusetts Review 35, nos. 34 (AutumnWinter 1994): 42947.
Cordwell, Justine M. The Very Human Arts of Transformation. In The Fabrics
of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, edited by Justine M.
Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz, 4476. New York: Mouton Publishers,
1979.
Cordwell, Justine M., and Ronald A. Schwarz, eds. The Fabrics of Culture: The
Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment. New York: Mouton Publishers,
1979.
Crahan, Margaret E., and Franklin W. Knight, eds. Africa and the Caribbean: The
Legacies of a Link. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979.
Craik, Jennifer. The Face of Fashion: Cultural Studies in Fashion. New York:
Routledge, 1994.
Crane, Diana. Fashion and Its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in
Clothing. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.
Craton, Michael. Jamaican Slavery. In Race and Slavery in the Western
Hemisphere: Quantitative Studies, edited by Stanley Engerman and Eugene
Genovese, 24984. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975.
. Searching for the Invisible Man: Slaves and Plantation Life in Jamaica.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978.
. Testing the Chains: Resistance to Slavery in the British West Indies. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1982.
Cunningham, Michael, and Craig Marberry. Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in
Church Hats. New York: Doubleday, 2000.
Cunningham, P.A., and V.S. Lab, eds. Dress and Popular Culture. Bowling Green,
Ohio: Bowling Green University Press, 1991.
Curtin, Philip D. Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical Colony, 18301865.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1955.
, ed. Africa Remembered: Narratives by West Africans from the Era of the
Slave Trade. Prospect Heights, Ill.: Waveland Press, 1997.
Dalby, Jonathan. Crime and Punishment in Jamaica, 17561856. Kingston, Jamaica:
Social History Project, University of the West Indies, 2000.
Dallas, R.C. The History of the Maroons. 1803. Reprint, London: Frank Cass, 1968.
Davidson, Basil. The African Slave Trade. New York: Back Bay Books, 1980.
Davis, Angela. Reflections on the Black Womans Role in the Community of
Slaves. Black Scholar 3, no. 1 (December 1971): 315.
Bibliography
245
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 246
Davis, Fred. Fashion, Culture and Identity. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1992.
De la Beche, Sir Henry. Notes on the Present Condition of the Negroes in Jamaica.
London: T. Cadell, 1825.
De Lisser, H.G. White Man in the Tropics. Century Review (February 1900).
. In Jamaica and Cuba. Kingston, Jamaica: The Gleaner Company, 1910.
Drewal, Henry John. Pageantry and Power in Yoruba Costuming. In The
Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, edited by
Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz, 189230. New York: Mouton
Publishers, 1979.
Drewal, Henry John, and Margaret Thompson Drewal. Gelede: Art and Female
Power among the Yoruba. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983.
Drewal, Henry John, and John Mason. Beads, Body and Soul: Art and Light in the
Yoruba Universe. Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History,
1997.
Du Bois, W.E.B. The Gift of Black Folk: The Negroes in the Making of America.
Boston: Stratford, 1924.
. The Souls of Black Folk. Edited by Henry Louis Gates, Jr., and Terri
Hume Oliver. New York: W.W. Norton, 1999.
Dunn, Richard. The Tale of Two Plantations: Slave Life at Mesopotamia in
Jamaica and Mount Airy in Virginia, 17991828. William and Mary
Quarterly 34, no. 1 (January 1977): 3265.
Duperly, Adolphe. Daguerrian Excursions in Jamaica. Kingston, Jamaica, 1844.
Edgerton, Robert B. Warrior Women: The Amazons of Dahomey and the Nature of
War. Boulder: Westview Press, 2000.
Edwards, Bryan. The History, Civil and Commercial of the British Colonies in the
West Indies. 2d ed. 3 vols. London: J. Stockdale, 17961801.
Eicher, Joanne Bubolz. Cosmopolitan and International Dress. In Dress,
Adornment, and the Social Order, edited by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and
Joanne Bubolz Eicher, 46174. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965.
, ed. Dress and Ethnicity: Change Across Space and Time. Oxford: Berg,
1995.
Epstein, J., and K. Straub, eds. Body Guards: The Cultural Politics of Gender
Ambiguity. New York: Routledge, 1991.
Ewen, S. All Consuming Images: The Politics of Style in Contemporary Culture. New
York: Basic Books, 1988.
Fanon, Frantz. The Wretched of the Earth. New York: Grove Press, 1963.
. Black Skin, White Masks. Translated by Charles Lam Markham. New
York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1967.
Fashioning the Future: Our Future from Our Past. Exhibition catalogue. Columbus:
Snowden Gallery, 1977. Published in conjunction with the exhibition of the
same name held in the Snowden Gallery, College of Human Ecology, Ohio
State University, Columbus, Ohio, April 1997.
Featherstone, Mike. Consumer Culture and Postmodernism. Newbury Park, Calif.:
Sage, 1991.
246
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 247
Felshin, Nina. Clothing as Subject. Art Journal 54, no.1 (Spring 1995): 2028.
Finkelstein, J. The Fashioned Self. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991.
Fisher, Angela. Africa Adorned. London: Collins Harvill, 1987.
Fiske, John. Understanding Popular Culture. Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989.
Forbes, Frederick E. Dahomey and the Dahomeans: Being the Journals of Two
Missions to the King of Dahomey, and the Residence at His Capital. 2 vols.
London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longman, 1851.
Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. Translated by Robert Hurley. Vol. 1.
London: Allen Lane, 1978.
Foulks, Theodore. Eighteen Months in Jamaica with Recollections of the Late
Rebellion. London: Whittaker, Treacher and Arnott, 1833.
Fox-Genovese, Elizabeth. Strategies and Forms of Resistance: Focus on Slave
Women in the United States. In In Resistance: Studies in African Caribbean
and Afro-American History, edited by Gary Y. Okihiro, 14365. Amherst:
University of Massachusetts Press, 1986.
. Inside the Plantation Household: Black and White Women in the Old South.
Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988.
Franklin, John Hope, and Loren Schweninger. Runaway Slaves: Rebels on the
Plantation. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
Frazier, Franklin E. Black Bourgeoise. Glencoe, Ill.: Falcons Wing, 1957.
Freitas, Anthony, Susan Kaiser and Tania Hammidi. Communities,
Commodities, Cultural Space, and Style. Journal of Homosexuality 31, nos.
12 (1996): 83107.
French, Joan, and Honor Ford-Smith. Women, Work and Organization in Jamaica,
19001944. Kingston, Jamaica: Sistren Research, 1986.
Gaines, J., and C. Herzog. eds. Fabrications: Costume and the Female Body. New
York: Routledge, 1990.
Galletti, R., K.D.S. Baldwin and I.O. Dina. Clothing of Nigerian Cocoa
Farmers Families. In Dress and Identity, edited by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins,
Joanne Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson, 17984. New York: Fairchild, 1995.
Gamman, L., and M. Marshment, eds. The Female Gaze: Women as Viewers of
Popular Culture. Seattle: Real Comet Press, 1989.
Gardner, W.J. A History of Jamaica from Its Discovery by Christopher Columbus to
the Year 1872. London: E. Stock, 1873.
Gaspar, David Barry. Bondsmen and Rebels: A Study of Master-Slave Relationships in
Antigua. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.
Gaspar, David Barry, and Darlene Clark Hine, eds. More than Chattel: Black Women
and Slavery in the Americas. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996.
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr., ed. The Classic Slave Narratives. New York: Mentor, 1987.
Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books, 1973.
Geggus, David. The Enigma of Jamaica in the 1790s: New Light on the Causes
of Slave Rebellions. William and Mary Quarterly 44, no. 2 (April 1987):
27499.
Genovese, Eugene D. Roll, Jordan, Roll: The World the Slaves Made. New York:
Vintage Books, 1976.
Bibliography
247
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 248
Gilroy, Paul. The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 1993.
Glassie, Henry. Meaningful Things and Appropriate Myths: The Artifacts Place
in American Studies. Prospects 3 (1977): 148.
. Studying Material Culture Today. In Living in a Material World:
Canadian and American Approaches to Material Culture, edited by Gerald L.
Pocius, 25366. St Johns: Institute of Social and Economic Research,
Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1991.
Glissant, Edouard. Creolization in the Making of the Americas. In Race,
Discourse, and the Origin of the Americas: A New World View, edited by Vera
Lawrence Hyatt and Rex Nettleford, 26875. Washington, D.C.:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1995.
Gloudon, Barbara. Nuff Jamaican-African Deh Bout. Weekend Observer, 8
August 1997, 7.
Gordon, Shirley. Our Cause for His Glory: Christianization and Emancipation
in Jamaica. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press,
1998.
Gosse, Phillip Henry. A Naturalists Sojourn in Jamaica. London: Longman,
1851.
Graham Durand, Sally. Dress-Up Clothes for Field Slaves of Ante-Bellum
Louisiana and Mississippi. Costume 15 (1981): 4048.
Gray White, Deborah. Arnt I a Woman? Female Slaves in the Plantation South.
New York: W.W. Norton, 1985.
Great Kings and Queens of Africa. Twentieth-anniversary special publication. St
Louis: Budweiser, 1995.
Gubar, Susan. Race Changes: White Skin, Black Face in American Culture. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1997.
Hafkin, Nancy J., and Edna G. Bay. Women in Africa: Studies in Social and
Economic Change. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976.
Hakewill, James. Picturesque Tour of the Island of Jamaica from Drawings Made in
the Years 1820 and 1821. London: Hurst and Robinson, 1825.
Hall, Douglas. Free Jamaica, 18381865. An Economic History. New Haven: Yale
. In Miserable Slavery: Thomas Thistlewood in Jamaica, 17501780. London:
Macmillan, 1989.
Hall, Neville A. Slave Society in the Danish West Indies: St Thomas, St John and St
Croix. Edited by B.W. Higman. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1992.
Halttunen, Karen. Confidence Men and Painted Women: A Study of Middle-Class
Culture in America, 18301870. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982.
Handler, Jerome S., and Frederick W. Lange. Plantation Slavery in Barbados: An
Archaeological and Historical Investigation. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1978.
Harding, Vincent. There Is a River: The Black Struggle for Freedom in America.
New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1981.
248
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 249
Harrington, Michael. The Best-Dressed Poverty. In Dress, Adornment, and the

Social Order, edited by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher,
16365. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965.
Harris, Juliette, and Pamela Johnson, eds. Tenderheaded: A Comb-Bending
Collection of Hair Stories. New York: Pocket Books, 2001.
Harris, M. Down from the Pedestal: Moving Beyond Idealized Images of Womanhood.
New York: Doubleday, 1994.
Hart, Richard. Slaves Who Abolished Slavery: Blacks in Rebellion. 1985. Reprint,
Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2002.
Hastings, E.A. A Glimpse of the Tropics. London, 1900.
Hastings, S.U., and B.L. Macleavy. Seed Time and Harvest: A Brief History of the
Moravian Church in Jamaica, 17541979. Barbados: Cedar Press, 1979.
Hearn, Lafcadio. Two Years in the French West Indies. London: Harper and
Brothers, 1900.
Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. London: Methuen, 1979.
Henar-Hewitt, Ilse. Surinaamse Kotos en Angisas. Paramaribo: Offsetdrukkerij
Westfort, 1997.
Hendrickson, Hildi. Bodies and Flags: The Representation of Herero Identity in
Colonial Namibia. In Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in
Colonial and Post-Colonial Africa, edited by Hildi Hendrickson, 21344.
Durham: Duke University Press, 1996.
, ed. Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in Colonial and PostColonial Africa. Durham: Duke University Press, 1996.
Herskovits, Melville J. The Myth of the Negro Past. Boston: Beacon Press, 1959.
Heuman, Gad. Between Black and White: Race, Politics, and the Free Coloreds in
Jamaica, 17921865. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1981.
Higbee, Mark. The Hairdresser and the Scholar. In Tenderheaded: A CombBending Collection of Hair Stories, edited by Juliette Harris and Pamela
Johnson, 1114. New York: Pocket Books, 2001.
Higman, B.W. Slave Population and Economy in Jamaica, 18071834. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1976.
. Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 18071834. 1984. Reprint,
. Montpelier, Jamaica: A Plantation Community in Slavery and Freedom
17391912. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 1998.
, ed. Methodology and Historiography of the Caribbean. Vol. 6. London:
UNESCO Publishing/Macmillian Education, 1999.
Hollander, Anne. Sex and Suits: The Evolution of Modern Dress. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf, 1994.
Holmes, Rachel. Scanty Particulars: The Life of Dr James Barry. London: Viking,
2002.
Holzberg, Carol S. Minorities and Power in a Black Society: The Jewish Community
of Jamaica. Lanham, Md.: North South Publishing, 1987.
hooks, bell. Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics. Boston: South End Press,
1990.
Bibliography
249
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 250
. Black Looks: Race and Representation. Boston: South End Press, 1992.
. My Style Aint No Fashion. Z Magazine, May 1992, 2729.
Hostetler, J.A. Amish Society. 4th ed. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1980.
Houlberg, Marilyn Hammersley. Social Hair: Tradition and Change in Yoruba
Hairstyles in Southwestern Nigeria. In The Fabrics of Culture: The
Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, edited by Justine M. Cordwell and
Ronald A. Schwarz, 34997. New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979.
Hurlock, Elizabeth B. Sumptuary Law. In Dress, Adornment, and the Social
Order, edited by Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher,
295301. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1965.
Hurston, Zora Neale. Mules and Men. 1935. Reprint, Bloomington: Indiana
. Their Eyes Were Watching God. 1937. Reprint, Urbana: University of
Illinois Press, 1978.
Hurwitz, Samuel J., and Edith F. Hurwitz. Jamaica: A Historical Portrait. New
York: Praeger, 1971.
Hutchins, Mary Ann. The Youthful Female Missionary: A Memoir of Mary Ann
Hutchins. London: Wightman and H. Adams, 1840.
Hyatt, Vera Lawrence, and Rex Nettleford, eds. Race, Discourse, and the Origin of
the Americas: A New World View. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution
Press, 1995.
Ingram, Kenneth E.N. Manuscript Sources for the History of the West Indies.
Jeyifo, Biodun. Modern African Drama. New York: W.W. Norton, 2002.
Johnson, Howard, and Karl Watson. The White Minority of the Caribbean.
Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers, 1998.
Johnston, Jas. Jamaica, the New Riviera: A Pictorial Description of the Island and Its
Attractions. Imperial Direct West India Mail Service. London: Cassell, 1903.
Katzin, Margaret. The Business of Higglering in Jamaica. Social and Economic
Studies 9, no. 3 (1960): 197331.
Kerr, Paulette. Jamaica Female Lodging House Keepers in the Nineteenth
Century. Jamaica Historical Review 18 (1993): 7
Knight, Franklin, and Margaret Crahan. The African Migration and the Origins
of an Afro-American Society and Culture. In Africa and the Caribbean: The
Legacies of a Link, edited by Margaret E. Crahan and Franklin W. Knight,
119. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979.
Labat, Pere. The Memoirs of Pere Labat, 16931705. London: Constable, 1931.
Lang, Kurt, and Gladys Lang. Fashion: Identification and Differentiation in the
Mass Society. In Dress, Adornment, and the Social Order, edited by Mary
Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne Bubolz Eicher, 32245. New York: John
Wiley and Sons, 1965.
Law, Robin, and Paul E. Lovejoy, eds. The Biography of Mahommah Gardo
Baquaqua: His Passage from Slavery to Freedom in Africa and America.
Princeton: Markus Wiener, 2001.
250
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 251
Lemire, Beverly. Dress, Culture and Commerce: The English Clothing Trade Before
the Factory, 16601800. New York: St Martins Press, 1997.
Lewin, Olive. Rock It Come Over: The Folk Music of Jamaica. Kingston, Jamaica:
University of the West Indies Press, 2000.
Lewis, Matthew Gregory. Journal of a West India Proprietor, Kept during a
Residence in the Island of Jamaica. London: John Murray, 1834.
Liggett, A., and J. Liggett. The Tyranny of Beauty. London: Victor Collancz,
1989.
Ligion, Richard. A True and Exact History of the Island of Barbadoes. London:
Humphrey Moseley, 1657.
Livingstone, W.P. Black Jamaica: A Study in Evolution. London: William Clowes
and Sons, 1899.
Long, Edward. The History of Jamaica, or General Survey of the Ancient and
Modern State of the Island: With Reflections on Its Situation, Settlements,
Inhabitants, Climate, Products, Commerce, Laws and Government. 3 vols.
London: T. Lowndes, 1774.
Look Lai, Walton. The Chinese in the West Indies, 18061995. Kingston, Jamaica:
Lubar, Steven, and W. David Kingery, eds. History from Things. Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993.
McCracken, G. Culture and Consumption: New Approaches to the Symbolic
Character of Consumer Goods and Activities. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1988.
McDonald, Roderick A. The Economy and Material Culture of Slaves: Goods and
Chattels on the Sugar Plantations of Jamaica and Louisiana. Baton Rouge:
Louisiana State University Press, 1993.
, ed. Between Slavery and Freedom: Special Magistrate John Andersons
Journal of St Vincent During the Apprenticeship. Kingston, Jamaica:
McDowell, C. Dressed to Kill: Sex, Power and Clothes. London: Hutchinson,
1992.
McKendrick, Neil, John Brewer and J.H. Plumb. The Birth of a Consumer Society.
London: Europa Publications, 1982.
MLeod, John. A Voyage to Africa: With Some Account of the Manners and Customs
of the Dahomian People. 1820. Reprint, London: Frank Cass, 1971.
MacLeod, A.E. Accommodating Protest: Working Women, the New Veiling, and
Change in Cairo. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991.
McLeod, M.D. The Asante. London: British Museum Publications, 1981.
Madden, Richard Robert. A Twelve Months Residence in the West Indies During the
Transition from Slavery to Apprenticeship. 2 vols. 1835. Reprint, Westport,
Conn.: Negro University Press, 1970.
Magwaza, Thenjiwe. Private Transgressions: The Visual Voice of Zulu Women.
Agenda 49 (2001): 2532.
Manley, Michael. Jamaica: Struggle in the Periphery. London: Third World Media,
1982.
Bibliography
251
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 252
Manley, Rachel. Drumblair: Memories of a Jamaican Childhood. Kingston,

Mansingh, Lakshmi, and Ajai Mansingh. Indian Heritage in Jamaica. Jamaica
Journal 10, no. 2 (197677): 1214.
Marly, Or a Planters Life in Jamaica. Glasgow: Richard Griffin, 1828.
Marwick, A. Beauty in History: Society, Politics, and Personal Appearance, c.1500 to
the Present. London: Thames and Hudson, 1988.
Masquelier, Adeline. Mediating Threads: Clothing and the Texture of
Spirit/Medium Relations in Bori. In Clothing and Difference: Embodied
Identities in Colonial and Post-Colonial Africa, edited by Hildi Hendrickson,
6696. Durham: Duke University Press, 1996.
Mathurin Mair, Lucille. The Rebel Woman in the British West Indies During Slavery.
Kingston, Jamaica: Institute of Jamaica, 1975.
Mayfield, Curtis. Choice of Colors. Performed by Curtis Mayfield. Soul Legacy
(Boxed set, audio CD), 2001.
Miers, Suzanne, and Igor Kopytoff, eds. Slavery in Africa. Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press, 1977.
Mintz, Sidney W. Caribbean Transformations. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
. Tasting Food, Tasting Freedom. In Slavery in the Americas, edited by
Wolfgang Binder, 25775. Warzburg: Khonigshausen and Neumann, 1993.
Mintz, Sidney W., and Richard Price. The Birth of African-American Culture: An
Anthropological Perspective. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992.
Momsen, Janet, ed. Women and Change in the Caribbean. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers, 1993.
Monteith, Kathleen, and Glen Richards, eds. Jamaica in Slavery and Freedom:
History, Heritage and Culture. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West
Indies Press, 2002.
Moore, Brian, B.W. Higman, Carl C. Campbell and Patrick Bryan, eds. Slavery,
Freedom and Gender: The Dynamics of Caribbean Society. Kingston, Jamaica:
Moore, Brian, and Michele Johnson, eds. The Land We Live In: Jamaica in 1890.
188990. Reprint, Kingston, Jamaica: Social History Project, University of
the West Indies, 2000.
. Squalid Kingston, 18901920: How the Poor Lived, Moved and Had Their
Being. Kingston, Jamaica: Social History Project, University of the West
Indies, 2000.
Moreton, J.B. West India Customs and Manners. 2d ed. London: J. Parson,
1793.
Morris, Rob. Negro Life in Jamaica. Harpers New Monthly Magazine 44, no.
262 (March 1872): 55360.
Morris-Brown, Vivien. The Jamaica Handbook of Proverbs. Mandeville, Jamaica:
Island Heart Publishers, 1993.
Morrison, Toni. The Bluest Eye. New York: Plume, 1970.
. Beloved. New York: Penguin, 1987.
252
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 253
. Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination. Cambridge:

Harvard University Press, 1992.
Morton, Patricia. Disfigured Images: The Historical Assault on Afro-American
Women. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1991.
Mullin, Michael. Africa in Americas: Slave Acculturation and Resistance in the
American South and the British Caribbean, 17361831. Urbana: University of
Illinois Press, 1992.
Murphy, Joseph M. Working the Spirit: Ceremonies of the African Diaspora. Boston:
Beacon Press, 1994.
Nettleford, Rex M. Caribbean Cultural Identity: The Case of Jamaica. Los Angeles:
UCLA Latin American Center Publications, 1978.
. Mirror, Mirror: Identity, Race and Protest in Jamaica. 1970. Reprint,
Kingston, Jamaica: LMH Publishing, 2001.
Nhlekisana, R.O.B., and E. Kezilahabi. Body Images, Vital Force and Pause in
Borankana Dance in Botswana. Voices: A Journal for Oral Studies 1 (1998):
17075.
Nielsen, Ruth. The History and Development of Wax-Printed Textiles Intended
for West Africa and Zaire. In The Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of
Clothing and Adornment, edited by Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A.
Schwarz, 46798. New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979.
Norris, Katrin. Jamaica: The Search for an Identity. London: Oxford University
Press, 1962.
Norris, Robert. Memoirs of the Reign of Bossa Ahadee, King of Dahomy an Inland
Country of Guiney. 1789. Reprint, London: Frank Cass, 1968.
Nugent, Maria. Lady Nugents Journal: Jamaica One Hundred and Thirty-Eight
Years Ago. Edited by Frank Cundall. 3d ed. London: West India Committee,
1939.
OHara, Georgina. The Encyclopedia of Fashion. New York: Harry N. Abrams,
1986.
ONeal, Gwendolyn. African-American Aesthetic of Dress: Symmetry through
Diversity. In Aesthetics of Textiles and Clothing: Advancing Multidisciplinary
Perspectives, edited by M.R. Delong and A.M. Fiore, 21223. ITAA Special
Publication no. 7. Monument, Colo.: International Textile and Apparel
Association, 1994.
. The Power of Style: On Rejection of the Accepted. In Appearance and
Power, edited by K. Johnson and S. Lennon, 12739. Dress, Body, Culture
Series. New York: Berg, 1999.
Okihiro, Gary Y., ed. In Resistance: Studies in African Caribbean and AfroAmerican History. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1986.
Ottenberg, Simon. Analysis of an African Masked Parade. In The Fabrics of
Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, edited by Justine M.
Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz, 17787. New York: Mouton Publishers,
1979.
Park, Mungo. Travels in the Interior Districts of Africa. Edited by Kate Ferguson
Marsters. Durham: Duke University Press, 2000.
Bibliography
253
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 254
Parks, Basil, ed. A Record of the Jews in Jamaica: Illustrated, Compiled by Jacob
A.P.M. Andrade. Kingston, Jamaica: The Jamaica Times, 1941.
Parry, J.H., Philip Sherlock and Anthony Maingot. A Short History of the West
Indies. 4th ed. London: Macmillan, 1987.
Patterson, Orlando. The Sociology of Slavery: An Analysis of the Origins,
Development and Structure of Negro Slave Society in Jamaica. London:
MacGibbon and Kee, 1967.
. Rituals of Blood: Consequence of Slavery in Two American Centuries. New
York: Basic Civitas, 1998.
Pearman, Georgina. Plant Portraits. Economic Botany 54, no. 1 (2000): 46.
Persadsingh, Neil. The Hair in Black Women. Kingston, Jamaica: Neil Persadsingh,
2002.
. Bleaching and Self-Identity in Jamaica. Daily Observer, 9 September
2002, 9.
Phillippo, James M. Jamaica: Its Past and Present State. London: J. Snow, 1843.
Phillips, Glen O.I. The Changing Role of the Merchant Class in the British West
Indies, 18341867. UWI, MF, 1975.
Phillips, J.W., and H.K. Staley. Sumptuary Legislation in Four Centuries.
Journal of Home Economics 53 (October 1961): 67377.
Pocius, Gerald L., ed. Living in a Material World: Canadian and American
Approaches to Material Culture. St Johns: Institute of Social and Economic
Research, Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1991.
Pokornowski, Ida. Beads and Personal Adornment. In The Fabrics of Culture:
The Anthropology of Clothing and Adornment, edited by Justine M. Cordwell
and Ronald A. Schwarz, 10318. New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979.
Prince, Mary. The History of Mary Prince, a West Indian Slave, Related by Herself.
Edited by Moira Ferguson. 1831. Reprint, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press, 1991.
Prince, Nancy. A Black Womans Odyssey through Russia and Jamaica: The Narrative
of Nancy Prince. Boston: N. Prince, 1850.
Pringle, Hall. The Fall of the Sugar Planters of Jamaica. London: Trunner, 1869.
Prown, Jules David. The Truth of Material Culture: History or Fiction? In
History from Things, edited by Steven Lubar and W. David Kingery, 1127.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993.
Pullen-Burry, B. Jamaica as It Is in 1903. London: T. Fisher, 1903.
Raboteau, Albert J. Slave Religion: The Invisible Institution in the Antebellum
South. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980.
Radner, Joan Newlon, ed. Feminist Messages: Coding in Womens Folk Culture.
Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993.
Radner, Joan Newlon, and Susan S. Lanser. Strategies of Coding in Womens
Cultures. In Feminist Messages: Coding in Womens Folk Culture, edited by
Joan Newlon Radner, 129. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1993.
Ribiero, A. Dress and Morality. London: B.T. Batsford, 1986.
Roach-Higgins, Mary Ellen. The Social Symbolism of Womens Dress. In The
254
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 255

Publishers, 1979.
Roach-Higgins, Mary Ellen, and Joanne Bubolz Eicher. The Language of
Personal Adornment. In The Fabrics of Culture: The Anthropology of Clothing
and Adornment, edited by Justine M. Cordwell and Ronald A. Schwarz, 721.
New York: Mouton Publishers, 1979.
, eds. Dress, Adornment, and the Social Order. New York: John Wiley and
Sons, 1965.
Roach-Higgins, Mary Ellen, Joanne Bubolz Eicher and Kim K.P. Johnson, eds.
Dress and Identity. New York: Fairchild, 1995.
Roberts, Helene E. Exquisite Slave: The Role of Clothes in the Making of the
Victorian Woman. Signs 2, no. 3 (Spring 1977): 55469.
Roberts, Mary Louise. Samson and Deliah Revisited: The Politics of Womens
Fashion in 1920s France. American Historical Review 98, no. 3 (June 1993):
65784.
Robertson, Claire C. Ga Women and Socioeconomic Changes in Accra, Ghana.
In Women in Africa, edited by Nancy Hafkin and Edna Bay, 11133. Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 1976.
. Africa into the Americas? Slavery and Women, the Family, and the
Gender Division of Labor. In More Than Chattel: Black Women and Slavery
in the Americas, edited by David Barry Gaspar and Darlene Clark Hine,
340. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996.
Robertson, Claire C., and Martin A. Klein. Womens Importance in African
Slave Systems. In Women and Slavery in Africa, edited by Claire C.
Robertson and Martin A. Klein, 325. Madison: University of Wisconsin
Press, 1983.
, eds. Women and Slavery in Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin
Press, 1983.
Robertson, Glory. Pictorial Sources for Nineteenth-Century Womens History.
In Engendering History: Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective, edited by
Verene Shepherd, Bridget Brereton and Barbara Bailey, 11122. Kingston,
Rockford, Mary. The Slave Rebellion of 1831. Jamaica Journal 3, no. 2 (June
1969): 30.
Rodney, Walter. Upper Guinea and the Significance of the Origins of Africans
Enslaved in the New World. Journal of Negro History 54 (4 October 1969):
327.
Rooks, Noliwe M. Hair Raising: Beauty, Culture, and African American Women.
New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1996.
Rouse, E. Understanding Fashion. Oxford: BSP Professional Books, 1989.
Rubin, A., ed. Marks of Civilization: Artistic Transformations of the Human Body.
Los Angeles: Fowler Museum of Cultural History, 1988.
Sanders, C.R. Customizing the Body: The Art and Culture of Tattooing.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1989.
Bibliography
255
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 256
Scarano, Francisco A. The Jibaro Masquerade and Subaltern Politics in Puerto

Rico. American Historical Review 101, no. 5 (December 1996): 1398431.
Schevill, M.B. Costume as Communication: Ethnographic Costumes and Textiles from
Middle America and the Central Andes of South America. Bristol, R.I.:
Haffenreffer Museum of Anthropology, 1986.
Schuler, Monica. Myalism and the African Religious Tradition in Jamaica. In
Africa and the Caribbean: The Legacies of a Link, edited by Margaret E.
Crahan and Franklin W. Knight, 6579. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
Scott, James C. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1985.
Scott, Joan W. Experience. In Feminists Theorize the Political, edited by Judith
Butler and Joan W. Scott, 2240. London: Routledge, 1992.
Scott, Michael. Tom Cringles Log. New York: William Blackwood, 1895.
Scotus, Philo. Reminiscences of a Scottish Gentleman, Commencing in 1787. London,
1861.
Seaga, Edward. Revival Cults in Jamaica: Notes Towards a Sociology of
Religion. Jamaica Journal 3, no. 2 (1969): 313.
Seid, R.P. Never Too Thin: Why Women Are at War with Their Bodies. New York:
Prentice Hall Press, 1989.
Sells, Williams. Remarks on the Condition of the Slaves in the Island of Jamaica.
London: J.M. Richardson, 1823.
Senior, Bernard Martin. Jamaica, as It Was, as It Is, and as It May Be. London: T.
Hurst, 1835.
Shepherd, Verene. Transients to Settlers: The Experience of Indian Settlers in
Jamaica, 18451950. Leeds: Centre for Research in Asian Migration,
University of Warwick/ Peepal Tree Books, 1994.
. Image, Representation and the Project of Emancipation: History and
Identity in the Commonwealth Caribbean. In Contending with Destiny,
edited by Kenneth Hall and Denis Benn, 5364. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers, 2000.
. Maharanis Misery: Narratives of a Passage from India to the Caribbean.
. Petticoat Rebellion? The Black Womans Body and Voice in the Struggle
for Freedom in Colonial Jamaica. In In the Shadow of the Plantation:
Caribbean History and Legacy, edited by Alvin O. Thompson, 1738.
, ed. Women in Caribbean History. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle
Publishers, 1999.
, ed. Working Slavery, Pricing Freedom: Perspectives from the Caribbean,
Africa and the African Diaspora. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers,
2002.
Shepherd, Verene, Bridget Brereton and Barbara Bailey, eds. Engendering History:
Caribbean Women in Historical Perspective. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle
Publishers, 1995.
256
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 257
Shepherd, Verene, and Glen L. Richards, eds. Questioning Creole: Creolisation

Discourses in Caribbean Culture. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle Publishers,
2002.
Sherlock, Philip, and Hazel Bennett. Story of the Jamaican People. Kingston,
Shookman, Ellis. The Faces of Physiognomy: Interdisciplinary Approaches to Johann
Kaspar. Studies in German Literature, Linguistics and Culture. New York:
Camden House, 1993.
Sloane, Sir Hans. A Voyage to the Island of Madera, Barbados, Nieves, St Christopher
and Jamaica. London: B.M., 170725.
Snyder, M. Public Appearance/Private Realities. New York: W.H. Freeman, 1987.
Souvenir of Jamaica. London: C.W. Faulkner and Co., c.1900.
Spradley, James P., and David W. McCurdy, eds. Conformity and Conflict: Readings
in Cultural Anthropology. Boston: Little, Brown, 1980.
Starke, B.M., L.O. Holloman and B.K. Nordquist, eds. African American Dress
and Adornment: A Cultural Perspective. Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt, 1990.
Starobin, Robert S., ed. Blacks in Bondage: Letters of American Slaves. New York:
New Viewpoints, 1974.
Steele, Valerie. Fashion and Eroticism: Ideals of Feminine Beauty from the Victorian
Era to the Jazz Age. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985.
. Fetish: Fashion, Sex, and Power. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996.
Stewart, J. A View of the Past and Present State of the Island of Jamaica with
Remarks on the Moral and Physical Condition of the Slaves and the Abolition of
Slavery in the Colonies. Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1823.
Stewart, Robert J. Religion and Society in PostEmancipation Jamaica. Knoxville:
University of Tennessee Press, 1992.
Sturge, Joseph, and Thomas Harvey. The West Indies in 1837. 1st ed. London:
Hamilton and Adams, 1838.
Sweetman, David. Women Leaders in African History. Oxford: Heinemann,
1984.
Talbot, P. Amaury. In the Shadow of the Bush. London: William Heinemann, 1912.
Tanberg, Gerilyn G. Field Hand Clothing in Louisiana and Mississippi During
the Antebellum Period. Dress 6 (1980): 89103.
Tanna, Laura. Jamaica Folk Tales and Oral Histories. Kingston, Jamaica: Institute
of Jamaica Publications, 1984.
Terborg-Penn, Rosalyn. Black Women in Resistance: A Cross-Cultural
Perspective. In In Resistance: Studies in African Caribbean and Afro-American
History, edited by Gary Y. Okihiro, 188209. Amherst: University of
Massachusetts Press, 1986.
Thevoz, M. The Painted Body. New York: Skira/Rizzoli, 1984.
Thompson, Alvin O. Unprofitable Servants: Crown Slaves in Berbice, Guyana,
18031831. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2002.
Thompson, Robert Farris. Flash of the Spirit. New York: Random House, 1983.
Thornton, John. African Art in Motion. Los Angeles: University of California
Press, 1974.
Bibliography
257
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 258
. Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 14001680. New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1992.
Tomlinson, A., ed. Consumption, Identity, and Style: Marketing, Meanings, and the
Packaging of Pleasure. New York: Routledge, 1990.
Tulloch, Carol. Fashioned in Black and White: Womens Dress in Jamaica,
18801907. Things 7 (Winter 199798): 2953.
Turner, Mary. Slaves and Missionaries: The Disintegration of Jamaican Slave Society,
17871834. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982.
Turner, Victor. Dramas, Field and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society.
. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Ithaca: Cornell
Underhill, Edward Bean. The West Indies: Their Social and Religious Condition.
London: Jackson, Walford and Hodder, 1862.
Walcott, Derek. When Love Comes Along: The Ends of the Head-Tie Give a
Cue to Your Chances. Trinidad Guardian, 8 December 1961.
. In a Green Night. London: Jonathan Cape, 1962.
Warner-Lewis, Maureen. Central Africa in the Caribbean: Transcending Time,
Transforming Cultures. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press,
2002.
Washington, Booker T. Up from Slavery: An Autobiography. 1901. Reprint, New
York: Penguin Books, 1986.
Wass, Betty M. Yoruba Dress in Five Generations of a Lagos Family. In The
Publishers, 1979.
Weibel, Kathryn. Mirror, Mirror: Images of Women Reflected in Popular Culture.
New York: Anchor, 1977.
Weiner, Annette B., and Jane Schneider. Cloth and Human Experience.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1989.
Weiss, Brad. Dressing at Death: Clothing, Time, and Memory in Buhaya,
Tanzania. In Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in Colonial and
Post-Colonial Africa, edited by Hildi Hendrickson, 13356. Durham: Duke
West, Cornel. The New Cultural Politics of Difference. In Out There:
Marginalization and Contemporary Cultures, edited by Russell Ferguson,
Martha Gwen, Trinh T. Minh-ha and Cornel West, 1938. Cambridge: MIT
Press, 1990.
Wheelwright, J. Amazons and Military Maids: Women Who Dressed as Men in
Pursuit of Life, Liberty, and Happiness. London: Pandora Press, 1989.
Wilcox, R. Turner. The Mode in Hats and Headdresses. New York: Charles
Scribners and Sons, 1945.
Williams, Cynric R. A Tour through the Island of Jamaica from the Western to the
Eastern End in the Year 1823. London: Hunt and Clark, 1826.
Williams, Eric. Capitalism and Slavery. New York: Putnam, 1966.
258
Bibliography
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 259
Williams, Joseph. Whisperings of the Caribbean: Reflections of a Missionary. New

York: Benziger, 1925.
Williams, Lena. In Defense of the Church Hat. New York Times, 12 May 1996.
Wilmot, Swithin. A Stake in the Soil: Land and Creole Politics in Free Jamaica,
the 1848 Elections. In In the Shadow of the Plantation: Caribbean History and
Legacy, edited by Alvin O. Thompson, 31433. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian Randle
Publishers, 2002.
Wilmot, Swithin, with Claus Stolberg. Plantation Economy, Land Reform and
Peasantry in a Historical Perspective: Jamaica 18381980. Kingston, Jamaica:
Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 1992.
Wilson, E., and L. Taylor. Through the Looking Glass. London: BBC Books, 1989.
Wolf, Naomi. The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used Against Women.
New York: William Morrow, 1991.
Woolf, Virginia. Orlando. 1928. Reprint, London: Granada, 1981.
Wright, Richardson. Revels in Jamaica 16821838. New York: Dodd, Mead, 1937.
Wynter, Sylvia. Jonkonnu in Jamaica: Towards the Interpretation of Folk Dance
as Cultural Process. Jamaica Journal 4, no. 2 (June 1970): 3448.
Yarwood, Doreen. The Encyclopedia of World Costume. New York: Scribner, 1978.
Zach, Paul, ed. Insight Guides: Jamaica. Boston: APA Publications, 1993.
Zakim, Michael. Sartorial Ideologies: From Homespun to Ready-Made.
American Historical Review 106 (December 2001): 155386.
Zips, Werner. Black Rebels: African Caribbean Freedom Fighters in Jamaica.
Unpublished Papers and Dissertations

Bay, Edna G. Servitude and Worldly Success of the Palace of Dahomey. PhD
diss., Boston University, 1977.
Bettelheim, Judith. The Afro-Jamaican Jonkonnu Festival: Playing the Forces
and Operating the Cloth. PhD diss., Yale University, 1979.
Gott, Edith Suzanne. In Celebration of the Female: Dress, Aesthetics,
Performance, and Identity in Contemporary Asante. PhD diss., Indiana
University, 1994.
Moore, Joseph Graessle. Religion of Jamaican Negroes: A Study of Afro-Jamaican
Acculturation. PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1953.
Nettleford, Rex M. Fancy Dress from Jonkonnu to Dance Hall. Typescript,
Office of Deputy Vice Chancellor, University of the West Indies, Mona,
Jamaica, 1996.
Shepherd, Verene. Petticoat Rebellion? Women in Emancipation in Colonial
Jamaica. Churches Emancipation Lecture 2001. 29 July 2001.
Wares, L.J. Dress of the African-American Woman in Slavery and Freedom:
15001935. PhD diss., Purdue University, 1981.
Wiggins, David Kenneth. Sport and Pastimes in the Plantation Community: The
Slave Experience. PhD diss., University of Maryland, 1979.
Bibliography
259
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 260
Index
abolitionists, 37, 66
abortion, 75
accessories, 119, 13536, 146. See also
specific accessories
accommodation, 7, 11. See also appropriation; resistance
after emancipation, 12946, 178
benefits of, 166
carnivals as, 98, 104, 106
creolization and, 113, 15556
cultural alienation and, 11112
difficulties of, 14142
dress as, 12326
failure of, 17073
reasons for, 13840
as resistance, 140, 177, 178
during slavery, 12326, 17678
Accompong Town, 50, 52
acculturation. See accommodation
Adams, John, 2122, 23, 101
adaptation. See accommodation;
resistance
advertising, 139, 142
of fashion, 125, 126, 13133
Africa
carnival customs from, 9899,
1012
cultural influences of, 1718, 77,
8485, 93, 110, 165, 176,
18587, 194
cultural influences on, 2122
dress style from, 1920, 4748,
6062, 79, 13536, 151,
15456, 160, 175, 18283,
18991
resistance in, 6869
textiles in, 2022, 2526
traditional medicine from, 89
260
Africans. See also Afro-Jamaicans and

Creole culture, 70, 116, 175
Afro-Caribbean religions, 28, 107, 116,
169
role of dress in, 8, 60, 95, 16061,
164, 190
Afrocentrism, 191
Afro-Jamaicans, 10
diversity of, 16, 18
dress of, 15456
status of, 16, 27, 113
as threat, 71, 171
agricultural workers. See peasants
Alleyne, Mervyn, 178, 187
Allsopp, Richard, 99
Amazons, 68
Anglican Church, 169
Angola, 69
Antigua, 84, 107
apparel, 3
appropriation, 156
in carnivals, 104, 155, 177
by slave men, 34, 82
by women, 104, 124, 155, 17778
Armstrong, Douglas, 42
Arnoldi, Mary Jo, 24
artefacts, 24. See also material culture
archaeological, 4142
dress as, xixii, 3
Ashanti people, 22, 23, 25, 27, 52
colour symbolism of, 96, 160
assimilation. See accommodation
Atwood, Thomas, 43
Babcock, Barbara, 177
Back to Africa Movement, 138
Bahamas, 40
baize, 3031, 37, 38
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
banana fibre, 50, 52

bandanna, 16264, 19293, 228n143
Baquaqua, Mahommah Gardo, 26
Barbados, 40
Barbot, John, 24
bark-cloth
in Africa, 2223, 52
in Jamaica, 47, 50, 12829, 158,
175, 228n136
Barry, James, 82
bast, 22
bathing (swimming), 15152
Bay, Edna, 68
beachwear, 152
beads, 23, 5860, 8586, 135, 212n148
beards, 146
beauty, 112, 117, 12223, 12629, 134,
138
Beckford, Charlotte, 114
Beckford, William, 36, 58, 86
Beckles, Hilary, 43, 77, 109
Beckwith, Martha, 96
Beecham, John, 22
Belisario, I.M., 104
Benin, 23, 79
Bennett, Louise, 192
Berbice, 48
Bettelheim, Judith, 104
Betty of Port Royal, 13537
bibi bonnet, 148
Bickell, R., 66
black, 1011
black women. See also slave women
in Jamaica, 18687
stereotypes of, 43, 10910, 138,
17072
black-consciousness, 191
blankets, 49
bleaching, 123, 126, 139, 141, 18789,
231n31, 232n34
Bloomer, Amelia, 7879
body
attitudes to, 25, 2627, 45
commodification of, 34, 4243
and dress, 13, 20
Page 261
as metaphor, 6162
and resistance, 75
bon-ace tree, 51
bonnets, 124, 135, 14748
Bradley Foster, Helen, 25
Bradley Griebel, Helen, 88
branding, 8283
Brathwaite, Edward, 27, 15455
Brathwaite, Kamau, 13
Bredemeier, Harry, 112
bride wealth, 20, 23
Britain
cloth from, 21, 49
clothing from, 123, 147
fashion in, 11722
influence of, 113, 11517, 12425,
15254
brown, 910
browning, 18789
Bryan, Patrick, 182
buckles, 41
burial customs, 59
Burton, Richard (British explorer),
6869
Burton, Richard D.E., 13
Bush, Barbara, 15, 109
buttons, 4142
cabildos, 107
calamanco, 100
cambric, 37
camouflage, 96
caps, 146, 147
Caribbean
dress in, 59
historiography in, 59
play tradition in, 97
Carmichael, Mrs A.C., 40, 63, 74, 86
on slave clothing, 30, 3536, 38
carnival, 96109
African roots of, 9899, 1012
as competition, 1024
costumes at, 97, 101, 177
dancehall as, 187
European influences on, 102, 104
Index
261
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 262
meanings of, 1068

as resistance, 98, 104, 1069
sponsorship of, 1023, 1046
Cashin, Joan, 81
Chamba people, 70
Chanel, Coco, 7879
charity, 16869
Charles II, 50
children. See slave children
Chile, 79
Chinese, 182
chip straw bonnet, 124, 147, 148
Christianity, 169. See also specific
churches and religions
churches, 16870
church-going, 16970, 189
class
clothing and, 118, 134
Creole dress and, 15455
in Jamaica, 11314, 116, 117, 134
polarization of, 155
cloth, 13133, 206n54. See also specific
fabrics; textile manufacturing
imported, 21, 2931, 33, 3738
trade in, 2023, 37, 49, 133, 167
clothing. See also clothing rations;
dress; style
care of, 11, 53, 5455, 124, 14142,
18990, 19596
and climate, 124
coded messages in, 8892, 100
cost of, 33, 16768
destruction of, 3334, 7980
as disguise, 8184, 166
formal, 15254
imported, 37, 64, 123, 126
lack of, 16768
making of, 2931, 35, 123, 176,
19596
and punishment, 3334
purchase of, 38, 40, 16667
ready-made, 2930, 35, 123, 130,
157, 158
regulation of, 2831, 3233, 40
as reward, 38, 40, 4245
262
Index
sports, 146
as symbolic, 34, 65
theft of, 40, 7980
for working, 118, 143, 145
clothing rations, 2931, 3640, 59, 80
supplementing of, 3637, 66
clothing shops, 118, 126, 13034
coats, 46, 100
Cole, Miss, 114
colour, 62, 8890. See also specific
colours
symbolic use of, 9596, 107, 158,
193
coloured, 910
Congo people, 70
Conney, John, 99
consumer revolution, 11723, 129
Cooper, Carolyn, 188
corals, 58, 8586, 135
coratoe fibre, 50, 52
Coromante people, 27, 70, 84
corsets, 121, 122, 148
costume, 34
cotta, 94, 162
cottage bonnet, 148
cotton, 22
Indian, 21, 2931
in Jamaica, 2930, 4849, 158
Madras, 16263, 19293
Court, 84
crafts, 12829
Crane, Diana, 184
creativity, 32, 6263, 171, 19394
as political statement, 7, 175
Creole dress, 6063, 14345, 15456,
17880
African elements in, 6062, 87,
93, 17879
and class, 15455
headwraps in, 87, 14344, 154
non-European influences on,
18183
ridicule of, 170, 17172
as subversive, 93, 180
Creoles, 27, 70
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
creolization, 13, 6061, 15456, 18384

and accommodation, 113,
15556
Cromanty. See Coromante people
Crop-Over ftes, 97
cross-dressing, 8182
Cuba, 107
Cubah, 8485
culture, 1618
annihilation of, 17, 2627
dress as expression of, 20, 32,
18486
retention of, 7, 1213, 1617
Dahomey, 21, 68
dancehall fashion, xii, 6, 15, 18687,
231n24, 232n48
dances, 97
dandies, 82, 185
Danish West Indies, 31
dashiki, 191
De La Beche, Henry, 3839
De Lisser, Herbert George, 116
deculturation, 17, 4243, 109
Demerara Essequibo, 71
disease, 37
disguise, 8184, 113
dress, 34. See also specific items of
dress; clothing; Creole dress;
European dress; style
as accommodation, 12326
African, 1922, 8487, 13536,
191
and authority, 15354
in Caribbean, 59
as communication, 1820, 2324,
8485, 11213, 175
control over, 36, 66
as cultural expression, 7, 20, 32,
11213
functions of, 89, 1820
and health, 37, 122
as historical artefact, xixii, 34,
6
and identity, 1314, 14041
Page 263
as marker of civilization, 25,

3435, 44, 117, 13537, 169,
178
as masking, 1089, 166
as performance, 175, 186
as political, 7, 66, 1089, 180,
18587
regulation of, 2831
and religion, 89, 89
revolutionary, 7879
and ritual, 20, 15861, 164
sentimental, 119, 13536
social significance of, 171
spiritual significance of, 8081
studies of, 4, 68, 1112
as subversive, 93, 180, 18486
Victorian, 11921
Western, 192
and womens role, 12122
dressing up, 54, 62, 65, 15861, 19091.
See also Sunday best
dressmakers, 157. See also seamstresses
Du Bois, W.E.B., 83
Duperly, Adolphe, 226n99
dyes, 22, 135
sources of, 4748, 19596
education, 12629
Edwards, Bryan, 71, 86
Edwards, Miss, 114
Egungun, 99
Egyptians, 19
Eicher, Joanne, 3, 18, 80, 95, 113, 166,
192
elite, 116, 131, 155, 168
and fashion, 123, 12425, 14850
good works of, 12829
leisure activities of, 143, 15152
emancipation, 11117, 13536, 156
Equiano, Olaudah, 69
Eugenie, Empress, 120
European dress, 6364, 11822
and Creole styles, 6263, 134
slaves use of, 3536, 177
and status, 4445, 13334
Index
263
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 264
sumptuary laws and, 3132

Europeanization, 12629, 137, 155, 171,
178. See also Creole dress; creolization
among peasants, 160, 16567,
169
Europeans
and African bodies, 2627, 28, 34
and African culture, 17, 25
cultural influence of, 2122
and personal hygiene, 54
and slave dress, 62, 6566
Ewe people, 22
ex-slave, 10
fabric. See cloth
fads, 184
Fanon, Frantz, 11112, 166
Fante people, 99, 101
Farquharson, Matthew, 3031
fashion, 4, 184, 192. See also style
and advertising, 125, 126, 13133
commercialization of, 11723,
130
democratization of, 11718,
13334
in Europe, 11722
in slave dress, 3132, 6263
fashion dolls, 118
fashion magazines, 118
Finkelstein, Joanne, 34
Forbes, Frederick, 21
Foucault, Michel, 45
Foulks, Theodore, 38, 12324
Fox-Genovese, Elizabeth, 68
Franklin, Benjamin, 78
Frazier, E. Franklin, 140
free villages, 114
freed persons, 10, 57, 11415, 141, 145
freed women, 14041
and Africanness, 13739
attitudes towards, 129, 137,
17072
education of, 12629
urban, 115
264
Index
French Revolution, 78
French West Indies, 32, 88, 8990,
207n67
frocks, 46
Fulani people, 24
fur, 22
Furtado, Isaac, 83
Gandhi, Mohandas, 79
Gang-Gang, xi
Garvey, Marcus, 138
Geertz, Clifford, 4, 18
Gelede, 69, 88, 107
gender, 56, 82, 185
gipsy bonnet, 148
Glassie, Henry, 1, 2
Glissant, Edouard, 60, 155
globalization, 192
Gloudon, Barbara, 191
gloves, 135
gold, 8586
Gold Coast (Ghana), 22, 99
gombay, 99
Good Housekeeping, 142
Goombay. See Jonkonnu
Goveia, Elsa, 27
grass-cloth, 22
Gray, Marie and Josephine, 148
Gray White, Deborah, 43, 44
Green, Theresa, xi
Guadeloupe, 88
Gubar, Susan, 112
Guyana, 71. See also Berbice;
Suriname
haberdashers, 133
hair, 13738, 141, 225nn8889
facial, 146
hairstyles
African, 2324, 86, 191
European, 64
Jamaican, 184, 192
Haiti, 107
Hall, Douglas, 115, 156
Hamilton, Hugh, 33
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
hand-me-downs, 3435, 124

Harding, Vincent, 109
Hastings, E.A., 17172
hat shops, 149
hats, 14651, 226n110, 227nn11415.
See also bonnets
functions of, 15051, 170, 189
with headwraps, 47, 94, 144, 150,
154, 193
for men, 46, 145, 14647
straw, 4647, 94, 14447, 150,
154, 193
Haya Kingdoms, 2223
headdresses, 2324. See also headwraps
headmen (slave drivers), 38
headwraps, 8695, 19091. See also
bandanna
in Africa, 24
in Caribbean, 87, 89, 182
cocks-tail, 164
as coded messages, 8892,
16264, 175
in Creole dress, 14344
decline of, 135, 19293, 228n143
function of, 94, 95
with hats, 47, 94, 144, 150, 154,
193
for men, 94
in peasant dress, 158, 16162
in plantation dress, 46, 47
significance of, 8788, 9495
styles of, 8890, 164
Hearn, Lafcadio, 32
Herero people, 80
Herskovits, Melville J., 17, 176
Higman, Barry, 40, 74, 7576
hill ladies, 143
Hintzen, Percy, 13
hippies, 184
history, 5, 12. See also material culture
artefacts as, 24
holidays, 9798
hooks, bell, 86, 169
hoop skirt, 11920, 13536
Hughes, Langston, 172
Page 265
Hurlock, 8182
Hutchins, Mary Ann, 3334
identity, 1314, 155
Igbo people, 23, 27, 6971, 99, 102
illiteracy, 127
illness, 72, 73
India, 79
Indians, 117, 167, 18283
Industrial Revolution, 54, 117, 118
infanticide, 7172
insanity, 7172
insubordination, 7273
iron, 42
ironing, 54
Islam, 2728, 57
Jack in the Green, 102
Jacobs, Beth Lenworth, 193
Jamaica, 16
and Britain, 113, 12223
colonial relationships in, 7796
contemporary fashion in, xii,
1415, 18394
dress norms in, 8283, 130,
13536
economic history of, 16668
ethnic dress in, 19193
headwraps in, 9192
middle class in, 116, 129, 131
non-European influences in,
18183, 191
racial categories in, 911
slaves in, 27, 7071
social order in, 100, 113, 11516,
12930, 134
James, Judy, 114
Jenny, 7374
jewellery, 31, 86, 104, 13536
jimmy (white-bark) tree, 50
jippi-jappa hats, 145, 150
Jonkonnu (Junkanoo), 98, 99
Kaba, Muhammad, 57
Kendal cotton, 30
Index
265
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 266
kente cloth, 191

Kilmarnock caps, 146, 226n110
Kingery, W. David, 26
Kings House, 126, 152, 227n121
Kingston, 13033, 149
Klein, Martin, 69
knitting, 48, 49
kumina, 95, 164, 169
labourers, 145, 161, 162, 165
indentured, 167, 18283
lace, 31
lace-bark cloth, 56, 147
production of, 5053, 12829,
175, 210n127, 211n130
laghetto (lace-bark) tree, 5051, 52
Lang, Kurt and Gladys, 171
Lanser, Susan, 108
laundry, 5455, 14142, 151
Lavater, Johan, 126, 222n63
Lawrence, Caroline Ena, 52
laws
clothing-ration, 2830, 40
slavery, 27, 4546
sumptuary, 3132
leather, 22, 147, 196
leisure, 143, 15152. See also bathing
Lewis, Matthew Gregory, 42, 58, 114
on carnivals, 97, 100, 102, 104,
108
on slaves, 34, 65, 70, 71, 7273
and Venus, 4445
lignum vitae, 54
liminality, theory of, 108
linen, 46, 13435, 175
linen markets, 40
Livingstone, W.P., 12930, 13334, 141
loincloths, 37
Long, Edward, 46, 54, 59, 70, 84, 94
on carnivals, 9899
on clothing, 52, 6365
on clothing rations, 30, 146
on cloth-making, 4749, 50, 51, 52
on headwraps, 8687
Lovejoy, Paul, 13
266
Index
lower classes, 133, 150, 152, 154

and Sunday best, 14345
Lubar, Steven, 2
Lydia Ann, 14345
Lynch, Thomas, 50
Madden, R., 65
Madras cloth, 16263, 19293, 228n143
magazines, 118, 142
Mali, 21
Manchester cloth, 21
Mande people, 25
Mandeville, 15152
Mandingo people, 2728, 70
Manley, Beverly, 191
Marcia, 71
markets. See also traders
cloth trade in, 40, 53, 224n79
peasant women in, 16165
Maroons, 5, 60
bark-cloth production by, 50, 52,
158
as rebels, 76, 95, 96
Martinique, 88
masking, 9899, 112, 189
dress as, 1089, 166
masquerade. See carnival
material culture, 14
dress as, xixii, 34, 6, 78
Mathison, Gilbert, 42
Mawri people, 20, 80
Mathurin Mair, Lucille, 56
Mbunde, Nzinga, 69
Me Know No Law, Me Know No
Sin, 4344, 45
medicine, 89
men, 131, 146
dress of, 15, 118, 152, 18486
Mende people, 99
merchants, 126, 130
middle class, 116, 129, 131
education for, 12728
and fashion, 13436, 14850
leisure activities of, 143, 15152
mulattoes as, 11314, 135
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
status symbols of, 13940

middle passage, 2627, 109
migration, 16, 192, 203n1
millineries, 149
Minetta, 73
Mintz, Sidney, 7, 13
miscegenation, 9, 11314
missionaries
and clothing, 37, 158, 160,
16869
as educators, 12729, 142
Moore Town, 95, 96
Moravians, 128
Mountain Lucy, 75
mourning dress, 23, 51
mulattoes, 910, 100
headwraps of, 9293
social status of, 27, 100, 11314,
135
and whites, 13940
murder, 73
Musgrave, Lady, 128
Muslims, 21, 2728, 57
muslin, 36
myalism, 28, 60, 116
Nanny, 76, 95, 96
Nettleford, Rex, 135, 18586
Nigeria, 20, 23, 79
Njenji, 102
nudity, 25, 2627, 34
among slaves, 37, 151
attitudes towards, 29, 151, 152
Nugent, Lady, 114, 124, 126
nurses, 146
obeah, 8, 9, 28, 96, 116, 169
ONeal, Gwendolyn, 95
osnaburg cloth, 3031, 33, 3536
in clothing, 3739, 46, 82, 85,
158
decline of, 13435
panama hats, 145, 150
Papaw people, 70
Patterson, Orlando, 71
Page 267
peasants, 11415, 117, 150, 167

dress of, 15770
and Europeanization, 155,
16567, 169
poverty of, 16668
peddlers, 133
pennistone, 3031, 33, 3738
perfume, 54, 195
Peter, 7980
petticoats, 46
Peyton, Mr, 31
Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart, 122
Phibbah, 4041, 75, 124
Phillippo, James M., 114, 137, 145, 154,
224n82
Phillips, J., 32
plantations. See also peasants; planters
archaeological evidence from,
4142, 48, 59, 60
brutality of, 6566
clothing rations on, 3233, 3435
dress on, 3031, 4660
labour force on, 115, 117
planters, 3334, 3839. See also plantations
Pocomania, 164
poison, 73, 76
poke bonnet, 14748
politics
of representation, 175, 18687,
18889
of subalternity, 1089
Port Antonio, 151
positivism, 11617
poverty, 16668
and dressing up, 16970, 178
Priscilla, 74
Prown, Jules David, 4
pull skirt, 47, 13435, 158, 161
quilting, 49
racism, 17073. See also stereotypes
bleaching as response to, 18889
Radner, Joan, 108
Index
267
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 268
Ragatz, Lowell, 5
rape, 4344, 45
Rastafarians, xii, 6, 15, 18586
rebellion, 5, 7071
in 1760, 7071, 79, 8485
in 1831, 7576, 79, 80, 81, 95
in 1865, 167
dress and, 95, 97, 107
womens role in, 71, 7577
red, 60, 62
symbolism of, 96, 107, 193
religion. See also specific religions; AfroCaribbean religions; missionaries
in Africa, 69, 96, 107
colour in, 96, 107
and dress, 89, 5960, 89, 9495,
193
and personal hygiene, 127
representation, politics of, 175, 18687,
18889
resistance, 7, 11, 6769, 155. See also
accommodation
accommodation as, 140, 177, 178
African origins of, 6770, 77,
8487
analysis of, 5, 7, 6768
bleaching as, 18889
carnivals as, 98, 104, 1069
physical, 7275
by slave women, 6769, 7077,
17677
Revival Zionism, 8, 95
revolution, 7879. See also rebellion
Roach-Higgins, Mary Ellen, 3, 18, 80,
95, 113, 166
Robertson, Claire, 69
Rodney, Walter, 77
romance, 8991
Royal Jubilee, 15253
runaways, 5
disguises of, 81, 8284, 113, 177
women as, 69, 71, 74
Sadler, Mary, 83
St Lucia, 88
268
Index
St Vincent, 9294
sandals, 59
sand-shoes, 152
scarring, 86
schools, 12729
Scott, James C., 77, 108, 110
Scott, Joan W., 4
Scott, Michael, 98, 106, 108
Scotus, Philo, 62
seamstresses. See also sewing
freed women as, 129, 15657
slave women as, 4041, 46, 63,
176
self-help societies, 12829
self-image, 1314, 138
self-mutilation, 7374
Senegal, 24
Senior, Bernard, 46, 124
on rebellion, 79, 81, 95
separates, 121
servants, 145
Set Girls, 98, 100104, 107
queen (Maam) of, 102, 104
sewing, 4041, 128. See also seamstresses
sewing machines, 157
sexual exploitation, 4344, 45
resistance to, 73, 7475
sexuality
clothing and, 37, 94, 181, 18485
and power, 45
racist views of, 25, 27
as tool, 44, 124
shawls, 135
Shepherd, Verene, 7475, 76, 140, 183
shifts, 46
shoes, 131, 152
in dressing up, 62, 160
slaves lack of, 46, 59, 82
shopping, 13334
silk, 21, 22, 31
skin
bleaching of, 123, 126, 139, 141,
18789
colour of, 13940, 171, 172
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
slave drivers (headmen), 38

slave men, 34, 3839, 46, 94
slave trade, 21
slave women, 56
and African heritage, 8487, 109,
176, 178
branding of, 8283
clothing of, 34, 3745, 12324,
17576
commodification of, 4243
economic achievements of,
4041, 176
and European fashion, 12426
exploitation of, 4546
objectification of, 37, 45
as resistors, 6769, 7077, 109
roles of, 53, 109, 176
as sex objects, 3738, 4346, 73,
7475
skilled, 39, 176
and slave men, 34
and white men, 45, 110
slavery, 2, 5, 27, 169
slaves, 5, 6, 10. See also clothing
rations; freed persons; slave men;
slave women
children of, 38, 4243
clothing of, 2931, 3436, 38,
6566, 12324
creativity of, 7, 32
dehumanization of, 4243, 59,
109
diversity among, 6970
domestic, 27, 63, 124
education of, 28, 127
elderly, 3233
field, 27, 4647
owners views of, 6970
and personal hygiene, 5354, 151
skill levels among, 3839, 40
status among, 27, 42, 8485,
124
urban, 27, 46, 82
Sloane, Hans, 52
smocks, 46
Page 269
soap, 54, 142, 195

social Darwinism, 11617
social mobility, 17073
Songhai people, 24
spinning, 48
spoon bonnet, 148
Staley, H., 32
Stanley, E., 116
Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, 122
stereotypes
of black body, 25, 27, 178
of black faces, 59
of black women, 43, 10910, 138,
17072
fight against, 14041
Stewart, J., 28, 36, 6970, 125
Stone, R.H., 25
street style, 15, 18485
strikes, 72
style, 3
African, 47
among slaves, 6263
in colonial society, xii, 78
dandy, 82, 185
European influence on, 52, 6263
imperial, 15254
power of, 18384, 190
subalternity, politics of, 1089
sugar industry, 17, 30, 35, 4849, 52,
167
suicide, 71
sumptuary laws, 3132
sun bonnet, 147
Sunday best, 15051, 158, 189
as dressing up, 14345, 16970
and poverty, 16970
ridicule of, 17172
Suriname, 60, 9091, 217n103
Swaby, James, 80
swimwear, 15152, 227n119
symbolic inversion, 17778
Syrians, 182
Tacky, 7071, 79
Terborg-Penn, Rosalyn, 6768
Index
269
3/6/2004
1:54 PM
Page 270
textile manufacturing, 2022, 25,

4753. See also cloth
Thistlewood, Thomas
on Phibbah, 4041, 75, 124
on rebellions, 71, 79
Thompson, Robert Farris, 17
tie-head. See bandanna; headwraps
Toby, Jackson, 112
traders, 115, 133, 16165, 192
tred-bag, 164
Trinidad, 40
Trotman, David, 13
trousers, 46, 145
trumpet tree, 50
turbans, 87, 9495, 190. See also
headwraps
Underhill, Bean, 115
unemployment, 167
uniforms, 9596, 14546, 15354
United Brethren Church of Jamaica,
128
United States, 167
cloth-making in, 48, 49
dress in, 32, 78, 184
slave clothing in, 35, 36
upper class. See elite
Upward and Onward Society of the
Women of Jamaica, 128, 149
vacations, 15152
veils, 5657
vendors, 115. See also traders
Venus (Big Joan), 4445
vestries, 29, 3031, 32, 38
Waddell, H.M., 108
Walker, C.J., 137
Warner-Lewis, Maureen, 13
washerwomen, 54, 63, 124, 142, 151
Wass, Betty, 1819
270
Index
weaving, 4849, 50
wedding dress, 15960
West, Cornel, 140, 141, 156
whips, 1078
whiskers, 146
white, 158, 160
whites, 9
and accommodation, 137
and black women, 45, 110,
17072
fashions of, 87, 12425
in Jamaican society, 113, 11617
and mulattoes, 13940
and slave clothing, 3435
Williams, Cynric
on carnivals, 100, 104, 106
on Jamaican clothing, 5557
on slave clothing, 33, 38, 123
women, 56
in Africa, 6869, 165, 176
as agents of change, 175
care of clothing by, 11, 18990
cloth production by, 52
dress styles of, 7879, 11823, 152
education of, 12728
as entrepreneurs, 114, 115
Indian, 18283
as resistors, 109
as spiritual leaders, 69, 76
as warriors, 6869, 76
as workers, 131, 165
Womens Self-Help Society, 12829
wool, 22, 36
Worth, Charles Frederick, 120, 221n42
yellow, 910
Yoruba people, 27, 99
colour use of, 96, 107
and dress, 19, 23, 24, 25, 79, 160
women of, 6869, 88

The Language of Dress - Resistance and Accommodation in Jamaica, 1760-1890

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

You might also like

The Language of Dress - Resistance and Accommodation in Jamaica, 1760-1890

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Language of Dress - Resistance and Accommodation in Jamaica, 1760-1890

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Language of Dress:

University of the West Indies Press

This page intentionally left blank

Resistance and Accommodation

University of the West Indies Press

University of the West Indies Press

CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION DATA

To my mother, who taught me to serve God,

Virginia Woolf, Orlando

List of Illustrations / viii

The Linen Market

Metal buckles made by slaves

Bone buttons made by slaves

Laghetto or lace-bark branch

Preparing Lace Bark, Jamaica

A Piece of Prepared Lace Bark, Jamaica

West Indian Washer Women

Freed woman wearing lace-bark veil

Negro Mode of Nursing

The simple headwrap

Surinamese headwrap: Wacht me op de hoek

Surinamese headwrap: Feda let them talk

St Vincentian Villagers Merrymaking

Red Set Girls and Jack in the Green

Queen or Maam of the Set Girls

Koo, Koo or Actor Boy

The Romantic dress

Dress of the 1870s

Dress of the 1880s

Dress of the 1890s

King Street, Jamaica

Harbour Street, Jamaica

Nathan, Sherlock & Co. Ltd, Metropolitan House,

Alfred Pawseys store advertisement

Nathan, Sherlock & Co. Ltd, Metropolitan House

Betty of Port Royal

Mrs Louis Verley

Fun day for a group of middle-class Jamaicans

Mrs A. Bush, middle-class Jamaican woman

A View of King Street

Washing Day on the White River

Nineteenth Century Negro Woman, Lydia Ann

G.M. Campbell and Servants, Spanish Town

Miss Josephine Gray

Miss Marie Gray

Jamaican woman in a stylish hat

Native Jippi-Jappa Hat Maker

Governor of the Leeward Islands

Nineteenth Century Negro Girl, Celia

A Negro Wedding in the Country

Native Wedding Party

Task Workers Breaking Stone by the Roadside

On the Way to Market

On the Road to Market

Jamaican Market Woman with Basket

Jamaican woman in separates

Mrs Maria Gray in European dress

To introduce his concluding chapter of this well-researched, engaging