How We Heal:
Conversations on the Terms of Silence, Healing and Creating Resilience for Haitians This is an excerpt from a We the News story circle that took place at The Brooklyn Museum on August 12, 2017.
We the News is a newsstand that distributes and sells black immigrant-focused publications and products. It features zines that archive stories and conversations shared by immigrants and first-generation Americans during a series of story circles lead by artist Lizania Cruz in partnership with the Black Alliance for Just Immigration. We the News first iteration is possible thanks to the support of the Laundromat Project. wethenews.net
WE THE NEWS — AUGUST 12, 2017
The story circle explored questions around trauma, healing, and creating spaces of resilience. Christina is a Haitian American currently based in Brooklyn Below is a conversation between Christine and Lizania Cruz and Albert St. Jean (Al) (Interviewers). You said, “how do we recreate our identities as immigrants?” I’m Christina and I guess I would identify as Haitian American. I definitely feel like I exist [at the] intersection of a number of identities. As [a] Haitian, they would characterize me as a “just come,” because I only came here like 3 years ago. It’s interesting, even the dialogue around blackness and embracing or finding your blackness [is different] in different spaces. Growing up in Haiti, we’re [a] Black Republic; we’re very black and it really identifies us as people. At the same time, growing up there, I realized that one of the things that was more poignant for me was [the] economic differences between us and them. We have a little bit more of everything than everybody else. Coming into the states and seeing how there was more of [a] black and white narrative, where in Haiti it was a bit more fluid. It allowed me to kind of step into that a little bit more and embrace it in a different way than I did back home. I definitely find growing up there was a lot of conflict for me. When I thought of my identity as American, as Haitian, as a woman, and a lot of times it would be... I would put these things in different little bubbles; this is who I’m going to be over here, and that’s what I’m going to be over there, and I think I’m coming into a space where I just let them come in and out as they feel fit. So some people I’ll be speaking to, I’ll speak what we call “Creenglish.” So Creenglish is Creole and English mixed, and you’ll find other words in there too. The Creole language, it’s evolving; we add a lot of English in there. It’s very interesting, I love it. It’s growing, and me, as a Haitian American, I’m helping with the evolution of the language as well. So that’s really cool to feel, and just be. It’s interesting, I was seeing, as everybody was sharing their story, there were different
pieces that really resonated with me. From the entrepreneurial spirit of the south; in Haiti you gotta be an entrepreneur or else you’re gonna die. There’s no question. I come from a very entrepreneurial family that works their butts off. There is no way that I can see myself outside of that realm. Or resiliency, which is something [that] I struggled with for a long time. [A]fter the earthquake, a lot of times people would describe patients as resilient, and when I think of [the word “resilient”] it is like a motive to move on and just keep going, like nothing happened. I thought that [this term] almost didn’t allow a lot of us to experience the trauma and the pain that the earthquake actually brought. It was like, “We gotta keep going,”[but] you also gotta sit with it, and we gotta understand what just happened because a lot of us died. Then I thought of silencing, when you spoke to silence in different parts, it brought me back to my grandmother, [who] recently passed. What brought me to the states was education. My grandmother, most of her family was killed because they were getting an education. So it was interesting, because of that it was always hard for her to share her story. [S]he didn’t even want to learn to read or write because her mom, her brother, her sister, they all died because of it. Because of that, that story was silenced in our family. But at the same time, you know, you gotta keep going. It’s been great, I don’t know what else to say. How do you... because I know you and I are friends. I’m Haitian, but I was born here, right? How do you... When you come here, how do you relate with those that were born [here] like myself? How do you see us as far as Haitians, blackness and whatnot. Do you see us on the same level? Because my cousins think they’re superior to me, so… Coming here, now I’m starting to see everybody as a person. I really feel that, like meeting somebody like Al, he has a very different experience growing up here and how he understands being an American. Whenever I’m around him he’ll be saying these terms or jargon and I’m like, “What does that mean?” And other people will be like, “You think you’re better than us or something?” and I’m like, “I really don’t know.” I don’t understand, I don’t understand the ways. With people like that, [in
a kind of way] he allows me to be ignorant, [and say] “I wanna understand.” In other spaces sometimes you gotta fake it.
It’s definitely something that we’re trying to incorporate more and more and more. I think it’s a slow process. It’s not something that I would say is accepted, at least within the communities that I’m a part of. But it’s something that we’re learning that we have to do.
I think it’s all about learning and sharing and being open with each person. They bring so much of who they are and [they] carry it with them as [they] maneuver through whatever space it may be. It allows me to have a richer experience here in the states because if I understand his experiences as a Haitian American being born here and raised here, it can allow me to better take in this community for what it is and make it my own. Does that answer your question?
Al: Yeah, that’s perfect. Another thing I’m wanting to... It’s more of a comment. When you were talking about [the earthquake], I know you were living in Haiti during the earthquake, right?
Traditions, at a very human level — food is everything. So whenever I feel homesick in any way I just go find a Haitian place or make Haitian food. That’s a tradition that I constantly nourish myself [with] because it allows me to be grounded in who I am.
Actually I was an undergrad and I was there for Christmas; the day before it happened I came back to school.
Through my work... I work with Flatbush Tenant Coalition, I’m an organizer with them and most of the people I work with are Haitian immigrants. So I get to be around people that experience the world like I do, but a lot older. I work with a lot of elderly people. I think about, as we’re sitting here sharing stories, in Haiti we have this... We usually sit in a [circle] like this. We call it a “[lakou].” It’s a field where we sit and share stories for hours. Folktales or stories of people’s pasts and that’s our way of (because a lot of people in Haiti can’t read or write) using that oral tradition to rebuild ourselves and remind ourselves of who we are.
Al: What was that experience like?
Heavy. It’s really heavy.
Al: So you see here in America, you know, after nine eleven people were able to sit with it for a long time, to the point where we went to war over it. In Haiti, I think it’s sad that something [that is a necessity], to be able to process, is a luxury. Everyone should be allowed to sit with it.
Exactly. Seeing how that sets with a lot of people, I just started to actively make it a practice for me. Growing up in Haiti and seeing how we’re always pushing, we’re always going, and it’s good because if you don’t we’re gonna... We’re already bad, so it’s a necessity to keep going. It’s also so much so that we need to take a moment. [I try to practice] meditation or prayer; how do we find that space for us so that we can really let ourselves heal, and be okay with there being nothing. In my family, we don’t even say that word “‘not working,”, we’re always working. To say that you’re not working is like, “Are you lazy?”
Lizania: What was the term that you used? “Just come.” So what have been the traditions that you still practice here, and what are some of the things that have made this your new home from your past home?
To be around [and] to work with people that see the value in that and to hear their stories, and see [myself] in a space that’s very different from Haiti, but [to still be] able to share that practice with them or with you guys here, [t]hat’s very grounding for me. Prayer, church, we always went to church so I always go to church here. Music. Music just wakes me up and allows me to feel really connected. But at the same time too, coming here I’ve picked up a lot of things. Even in the way that I’m speaking to you guys right now, with different people, I may have more of a Haitian accent. It’s being in different spaces, I kind of piece things together.