My maternal
grandfather was Haitian. I didn’t know him
well – he died when I was about six. I don’t
remember whether he smoked a pipe or a cigar,
but I remember the smell of smoke clinging to
him on the few occasions I sat in his lap. I
remember him trying to teach my siblings and
me a few patois words. I don’t know anything
about my Haitian relatives – Pappa Jimmy, as
we called him, never spoke of them. But
whenever I hear news of Haiti, I feel an
affinity, a connection, and I revel in Haitian
history.
When I told a
friend about my Haitian grandfather, he said,
“That explains it.” What? I asked. He said
that Haitians are fighters, reminding me of
the formerly enslaved Haitians who beat the
stuffing out of the so-called “great” general
Napoleon Bonaparte, repelling his “mighty”
armies. That victory has shaped US land
acquisition and foreign policy even now. The
slaveholding President Thomas Jefferson
doubled the size of the United States with his
Louisiana Purchase when the United States
acquired 828,000 miles of land west of the
Mississippi River for a mere $15 million. Why
was France so willing to sell?
Self-emancipated Black folks were kicking the
stuffing out of the “great” Napoleon in an
uprising that lasted decades. Napoleon needed
money, Jefferson needed land, and both wanted
to contain Black rebels and ensure their
rebellion did not spread to the United States.
Haiti paid the
price for its self-determination, ordered to
pay France “reparations” for its independence.
The payments crippled the Haitian economy and
set the tone for the continuous exploitation
of the island. France extracted $30 billion
from Haiti, and we can hardly project how
Haiti might be different if it had never had
to make those predatory payments.
Most people don’t
know about the role France paid in the
political instability and violence Haiti
experiences today. Even fewer know of the role
the United States played in the exploitation
of Haiti or in the ways that the Haitian
Revolution (which lasted from 1791-1804)
played in the restrictive and exploitative
laws the United States imposed on enslaved
people, as they were fearful that enslaved
people in the United States might emulate
their Haitian brothers and sisters, rebelling
against their oppressors much as Haitian
revolutionaries did.
May is Haitian
Heritage Month, but the mainstream media seems
to have ignored this salient fact. Instead,
there is a celebration in one town or another,
a parade hidden in the back pages of the local
press. May should be the month when we are
reminded of our role in the violence on that
turbulent island. Gangs have taken over the
urban streets, but where did the gangs get
guns? Guns are not manufactured in Haiti, so
they must have come from somewhere, probably
the United States. Our nation’s gun
manufacturers are profiting from Haiti’s pain,
just as they are profiting from the pain
victims of mass shootings are experiencing.
While I hesitate to
throw a “pity party” to compare suffering in
one country to suffering in another, I cannot
help but contrast the overwhelming support for
Ukraine with the minimal support for the
Haitian people. Even when our nation rushed to
support Haiti after the 2010 earthquake, when
millions sent dollars, there were questions
about who administered them and where they
were directed. It is doubtful that even half
of those dollars trickled down to the Haitian
people.
Ibi Zoboi, a
Haitian American New York Times bestselling
author (her most recent book is Nigeria Jones,
Harper Collins, 2023), reminds me that there
are triumphant stories in Haiti that transcend
the ever-present headlines around violence and
disruption. She speaks of the energy and
spirit of those in rural Haiti who never make
the headlines. She reminds me of former
Haitian Ambassador to the United States, Paul
Altidor, who often regaled me with stunning
descriptions of Haiti outside Port-au-Prince,
where much of the violence is concentrated.
If no one else in
the united states celebrates Haitian Heritage
Month, african americans must. The Haitian
revolution sowed the seeds for our own
uprisings and slave rebellion. It also reminds
us of the power of predatory capitalism, a
power we must consistently resist. And it must
tap into the spirit of the Haitian rebellion
that took France down, defeating its most
powerful general. If our foremothers and
forefathers could do that, what might we do? I
am grateful for my Haitian heritage and for
the brother who reminded me of where I get
some of my rebellious spirit.
