This post is also available in: Kreyol

I haven’t written in a long time, but I had a lot of thoughts after reading a recent article published entitled “As A Haitian-American Woman, I Know I’m Afro-Latina But It’s Time For You To Acknowledge It, Too.” I wrote some of these thoughts down, although, there are so many more layers to this topic. And I’m interested to hear all of your thoughts as well in the comments!

It’s a little-known story, but lovers of history will continue to tell it. Our Haitian forefathers, after gaining victory over the French, sought to bring freedom far and wide. Revolutionaries from Central and South America, and even as far away as Greece received aid, weapons, and inspiration from Haiti to free their people as well. Historians say, more than 600 families of South American revolutionaries like Francisco de Miranda and Simon Bolivar placed their families in safety in the south of Haiti while they went off to fight for freedom. Haiti did not ask for any territory in return. That would go against the anti-imperialist founding principles of our country. Haiti’s only condition was that once they won, they would free all enslaved people on their soil.

A recent essay published in Fierce by Ayanna Legros, a Haitian-American, explains why this connected history is why she decides to identify as Latina. She writes, “I am Afro-Latina because my ancestors gave Latin Americans an alternative to enslavement. When I assert the term, I am declaring that every Independence Day Latinxs celebrate would not exist without Haiti. When I embrace the word, I am no longer allowing my fellow Latinxs to exclude Haiti and to deny this Black Latin American history.”

Legros and I agree on a few things. She is absolutely right, these countries would not exist without Haiti, and these facts are not repeated, studied or celebrated enough. Where we diverge is in her choice to identify as one of them as a way to reverse this. How one identifies is a personal choice, and I am not in the business of dictating to people what they should call themselves. However,  as for me and my house? The answer is a hard “no.” Haiti’s exclusion from the term “Latinx” is and has always been deliberate.

Dr. Arthus shares a disappointing story in his book Les Grandes Dates Diplomatiques de l’Histoire d’Haïti. After gaining independence, one of Haiti’s leaders’ top priorities was having the country’s  independence recognized by the international community. Alexandre Petion in the south, focused his efforts on the independent countries in South America — the very countries whose founders had found refuge and aid during their independence efforts in Haiti not too long before. This might shock you (or maybe not) but Petion’s efforts were fruitless. He was unable to get a single recognition from the leaders of the independent nations of South America.

Fast forward to the 1820s, we find documented warnings by Francisco de Miranda to his friends about what he called, “the Haitian danger” and correspondence between Bolivar and the vice president of Colombia speaking of the need to protect Colombia from the “Africans in Haiti.” Not too long after, Colombia would reject offers for trade and defense alliances from Haiti. And the biggest blow of all, Bolivar does not invite Haiti to the Congress of Panama in 1826, an effort that sought to create alliances among the independent nations of the Americas.

Such betrayals are not only found in the 19th century. In the last and current centuries we come across The Parsley Massacre of 1937 where some say up to 35,000 Haitians living in the Dominican Republic were slaughtered; the recent discriminatory laws against Dominicans of Haitian descent; the current treatment of Haitian immigrants in Chile; the exploitation of Haitian migrants in Brazil. I do not mention these instances as a reason to end all conversations about Haiti’s connection and proximity to Latinx countries, but any effort to analyze our exclusion or inclusion in the term that does not take these stories into account is incomplete.

I will admit that I often find a disconnect between how my identity was shaped, as someone who grew up in Haiti, compared to my Haitian-American peers. Legros writes, “despite the assumption that we are a people that solely speak French, languages like Haitian Creole, Spanish and even English are a part of our daily lives.” No other line in this essay highlights this disconnect more, to me. Naming French first as the language that Haitians speak, and Haitian Creole in a secondary list alongside Spanish and English is baffling. And I have never in my life heard anyone make the (wrong) assumption that Haitians “solely speak French.” Only a person unfamiliar with life in Haiti would write such a statement. The majority of Haiti is made up of monolingual Kreyòl speakers. Being multilingual, as Ms. Legros boasts, is a privilege held by those with access to quality education.

I recall my confusion upon hearing Haitian-Americans identify as “West Indian” when I first moved to the U.S. I can’t even think of a Kreyòl equivalent for the term. Haitians in Haiti do not identify as much outside of simply: Ayisyen. Haitians who grew up in the United States around other immigrant groups, namely groups from the Caribbean and Latin America, are able to form bonds and find cultural similarities that understandably could push them to group themselves in those same identities. Whereas I move through the world with the age old Haitian saying in the back of my mind: renmen moun ki renmen w. Love those who love you. And history has shown me time and time again, that Haiti stands alone.

When we gained independence, Dessalines declared us as a nation of Blacks, and any Haitian citizen from that day forward would be known as Black. This established an identity for us that is not rooted in who happened to colonize us and the language they forced on us in the process.  The anti-blackness that is at the heart of our exclusion among these nations is not our responsibility to fix. We don’t need labels of groups that have neither invited or welcomed us to make us more exotic or palatable. Being Haitian in itself is enough.

Edit: I would like to clarify that Legros never said she identifies as Latina, but rather as “Afro-Latin.” The distinction is important.

Reference:

Les grandes dates de l'histoire diplomatique d'Haïti: De la période fondatrice à nos jours. Seriously. buy this book. It's worth it (French)

Listen to episode 2 of my podcasat Epizòd featuring Dr. Arthus that mentions a few of the stories mentioned in this essay. (Kreyòl)