I grew up in a country that most of the world degrades and continues to dismiss because it is broken.
Several years ago, I had a revelation. I was trying to sort out a problem, when it hit me. I am not Haiti. I may have been born in Haiti and may resemble Haiti and have its characteristics: something of anenfant terrible, too proud, too black, too strong, too spiritual and too confident. But I am not Haiti. I am not as broken anymore and that scares people. Often we find it easier to love that which is broken. It can make us feel stronger… better about ourselves. We tend to be less threatened by that which is in disarray or needs us to feel whole.
When Haiti attempted to piece itself together two centuries ago (209 years ago on this January 1st), many among those in power at home and abroad took calculated steps to ensure that it would remain shattered. All of my life, I have lived various aspects of the shame of this heritage. I have also been continually reminded I was born in a small place that is devalued and is trampled upon precisely because of its weaknesses. I persevere holding on to knowing my little country dared. It dared to step out of line. It dared to stand up for itself. It dared to try to define itself. It dared.
In the last decade, while struggling to redefine myself in the all-too-hierarchical-world that is the academy, where you are only as good as the person you are better than, I have fought to dare, and not accept labels that were being thrown at me or etched onto me for others need me to fit into a category to be comfortable with me. I resist, insisting that Haiti needs new narratives to explicate its myriad contradictions. I continue to do so since the answer to the “why” of this question is simply not good enough. So, I look to the future, embracing what I can of my past determined not to recreate it.
Imagine, what Haiti would be like had it been supported and nurtured instead of disavowed and shunned in its infancy. Imagine what we would think of Vodou, had its imaginative spirit of resistance been recognized instead of dishonored.
When I look at people, I try to think of everyone as having a little Haiti or Vodou in them. That makes it easier for me to practice what I have learned growing up, loving Haiti and loving Vodou – live, let live and respect.
This article originally appeared in Haitian Times.
Gina Athena Ulysse is the Associate Professor of Anthropology and African-American Studies at Wesleyan University. She is also a performance artist; for more on her work, visit ginaathenaulysse.com
I think you ask a good question. I visited Haiti twice in the 80s and have good memories of a wonderfully cosmopolitan vibe. I assimilated vodou with the popular santeria cult in my native Cuba. I’m sorry to say this, but I think Haitian culture is one of the least spirititual, in the sense that the interconnectedness of all of us is not acknowledged. There seems to be a cynical “each his own” mentality and very little concern for others. Also, if you look at the island of HIspaniola you see how the Domincan Republic half has somehow held on to its trees, while Haiti’s half is barren. This short-sightedness is consonant with a lack of spirituality/responsibility. I think Haiti needs to take a good look at itself, take responsibility for its fate, and indeed, invent new narratives for its structure and actions. The world may find it easy to love a weak country, but the world is interested in strength – and that is what Haiti needs to broadcast.
Dear Israel,
Thank you for your response. I think the comment from Carole below in part answers some of the point that you raise. We come from all walks of life and have had different experiences so we won’t have the same opinion. I always insist that Haiti is plural meaning you find everything within the population like every place else. There are as many who are all out for themselves as there are those who would lay
their lives on the line to save a brethen.
I have just returned from Haiti, and I quite agree with what this article says. Much of what, to my industrialized eye, at first appeared anarchic in Haiti, upon further examination, looked more like protest: we will not sacrifice freedom on the altar of order. We have been enslaved, and above all people, understand the costs. As I looked at Haiti as a place striving for more equality and freedom, it began to resemble an exuberant, Caribbean Quaker Meeting, a dance of consensus building. As soon as everyone is ready for the “next step” they will take it together. I am a passionate advocate for nature, but I question whether the forests of the Dominican Republic are worth the depredations of a Trujillo.
Dear Carole,
I would venture to say you went there with an open heart. Too often, Haiti gets succumbed to that first look. The surface sometimes is a glaze, a mirror. Mesi anpil.
Just wanted to point out that the word “peace” in the third paragraph should be spelled “piece”….
Surprised the editor did not catch this…..
I visited Haiti twice and was overwhelmed by the beautiful landscapes….heartbroken at the poverty,
but we have that all over the planet ( mostly hidden from tourists )
Dear Bernice,
The amazing editor knows the peace was quite intentional. Thank you for catching it.
Ar