“Why would you go there?”
“Why not Jamaica? Miami? Bahamas?”
“If I were you, I’d go to France. The pinnacle of civilization”
“How about the DR? Literally the other side of the border.”
“Be Careful in Haiti”
I’ve heard it so many times
Every time I’ve asked about going, in fact
“Be Careful in Haiti”
Is that what you mean?
Or “be afraid of Haiti”
The “don’t go” is silent
But all too palpable
The quick association with crime, violence,
drugs, Vodou spells, civil unrest
“It’s a war-zone over there!”
Whatever the red herring of the day
It’s one thing if it is just well-meaning friends,
clueless coworkers and concerned study abroad advisors
Another when it’s your own, full-blooded, Haitian family,
Talking to you like this
“You’re bugging.”
“Don’t go by yourself.”
“Stay inside after sunset.”
“Yo pral kidnap ou wi!”
Again
Again
Again
The message bounces
Reverberates
Amplifies
Imagine
The thorough brainwashing necessary
To have you afraid of your own people
You think you are doing what is best for me
You came to America
To shield us from Haiti’s troubles
The traumas you’ve experienced
The struggles Haitians seem to face globally
You thought if I was just American, my life would be easier
So you kept me from my mother
A culture that you taught me to hate, despise, wash away
That I was baptized in anyway, almost as if by accident
Can’t you see you are barring me from parts of myself?
Forced to call a country that doesn’t want me “home”
So, no
I will not
Avoid Haiti like the plague
I will not reject parts of myself
For being too dangerous
If we don’t love us, then who will?
Is it too much to ask for a
“Tell me how it is.”
“Tell Mamman Rose I said hello.”
“Take pictures.”
“Have fun.”
“Learn what you can.”
