On Heritage and Identity

For as long as I can remember, my ancestry has been integral to my identity and sense of belonging.  As a child, the stories of my family's migration were told often, persistently, as if there was great worry about me forgetting who I am. Dignified and filled with nostalgia for their beloved Haiti, my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandmother would take turns sharing their memories with me (and anyone from my generation who would care to listen). On long car rides to visit family as far north as Canada or heading south to Florida, I would learn of sibling rivalries, funny family moments, and sometimes the losses and tragedies that would come to define their characters. They became more than my parents and family elders. In my most imaginative childish mind, they were heroes of great legends.

On my mother's side of the family, our legacy in this country begins with my great-uncle. Celebrating his 93rd birthday earlier this year, my uncle has never missed an opportunity to share with us cherished memories of his many years owning one of the first private bus services in his hometown in Haiti before coming to America. My father's family’s journey began with my father's eldest brother, who took on many odd jobs in New York when he first arrived to help reunite his mother and 10 siblings over the course of many years. Several decades after this uncle’s first arrival, we are proudly a very large family of over 150 members, representing 3 generations of Haitians and Haitian Americans. 

There are many stories. And I am aware that my family's stories are probably not that different from the stories of many other families in this country whose more recent roots (because we all came from Africa) originated across seas and cultures. My family’s stories ultimately shaped not only my relationship to them, but also my relationship to Haiti. For several years of my career, I poured myself into enhancing my understanding of the island’s extraordinarily rich history as well as its current cultural and sociopolitical dynamics. I also had the privilege of contributing to the educational and mental health care sectors of the country. I formed an even deeper connection to the culture and cultivated relationships that I hold dear today.   

The Current Climate

While the past few weeks of treacherous political rhetoric has stirred a wide range of feelings - from fright to outrage - I have been most struck by the evocation of shame. Among the many definitions of shame available, Scientific American’s description resonates the most, “Shame is the uncomfortable sensation we feel in the pit of our stomach when it seems we have no safe haven from the judging gaze of others.” The judgemental gaze on the Haitian community has been hostile and entirely unwarranted. And it has felt as if no refuge from the direct negative attention exists. 

For inexplicable reasons (and maybe for obvious reasons), political machines have decided that the Haitian community is the target immigrant group for this election season. One influencer put it best when he asks, “Who’s next?” 

Embracing Ease

The psychological impact of the relentless attacks on immigrant populations over the past few election cycles has not been discussed enough. Fear, anger, and shame perhaps only begin to scratch the surface of emotions and distress that the multitude of migrant groups in the US, recent and multi-generational, have endured. In my work, I am intimately connected to the emotional experience of first and second generation immigrants. From what I know personally and professionally, it’s time for us all to embrace ease. 

The practice of ease is about learning how to access inner calm to mitigate the detrimental effects of stress. In a typical and more modern Haitian greeting, one might ask, “Sak ap fèt?” or “What’s up?” to which another may answer, “Poze” which roughly translates into “I’m chillin'. ” The response of “poze” is more than an automatic scripted saying; it’s deliberate. It may even be an act of resistance against adverse life events and personal hardship. The world around the responder may be in chaos, but the intention behind the answer “poze” is defiant - it’s choosing serenity with awareness. 

In the spirit of this popular saying, particularly in this current climate, I invite us all to:  

• Rest, deeply. Take rest from persecution. Rest in all 7 ways. Rest with your whole soul and without limits. 

• Confront dissonance and practice compassion. Be curious about the disharmony in your mind provoked by the current political discourse. Attend to the sections of your mind that feel pained and wounded. Accept and work through any conflicts. Care for your suffering.

• Center joy and delight in it. Choose today to locate joy in your spirit. Take great pleasure once you’ve found it. Be enraptured by this self-offering. 

• Be still and choose serenity. Silence the noise. Sit still. Poze w. 

We Have Pets Too

Shame has no place in the psyche of Haitian immigrants; there is so much for us to be extremely proud of. Our history defines our heritage and identity as revolutionaries and trendsetters. Our ancestors are legends. 

Haitians and Haitian Americans are humans. We are people. We have history. We have stories. We have feelings. And we also have pets. And maybe our ancestors, just like us, really loved their pets too. 

Dedicated to the memory of Tatiana Thérosmé, our heroine.

On Grief and Loss

When people who are important to us die, we are heartbroken. Often, we feel their departure is too sudden or unjust. We struggle with a gamut of emotions, from despair to fury. We try to find language to articulate our hurt and seek comfort from many sources. We look for consolation in social media posts, talking with others, prayer, music, and objects that remind us of our loved ones. Maybe we even attempt to channel our deepest regrets and sadness into action. We try to do things. We organize around our customary cultural mourning practices. We host funerals and memorials. We create spaces for the expression of collective grief and mourning. And while all of these activities are essential to our process of accepting the loss, giving ourselves permission to express our grief in the most authentic and unrestrained way is key to our peace; sometimes, we just need to scream.

For the many people grieving in this moment of American history, there is a similar search for consolation and peace. With so much uncertainty about the future, anxiousness is a common experience among mourners. Many are seeking reassurance and perhaps, justice.

Some losses are unjust. On November 6th, 2024, I lost a treasured friend and colleague, Tatiana. She fought a harrowing battle with a rare liver disease and later cancer for several years. Despite her immense suffering, driven by undeterred passion for the mental health of Haitians living in rural communities, Tatiana kept fighting. She fought not just for her own life, but also for the rights of patients living with severe mental illness. She believed deeply in their humanity.

In one of Tatiana’s final messages to me a few days before her passing, she stated with complete confidence, “I trust God.” For my own consolation, I like to believe that this was her way of making peace with her illnesses. In another message, she expressed fatigue, which I had never heard her share before. In retrospect, I now understand that she perhaps was letting go and conceding to the loss of the battle.  

Connecting to Peace after Loss

Finding peace after devastating loss is absolutely an onerous task. It will feel impossible; but it is not. When it is accessible, try:

• Acknowledging your grief. Grief is not linear and can present itself in many different ways. Whether it is a loss of appetite, intense sadness, or waves of tearfulness, honor your grief. Don’t ignore or dismiss anything you are feeling. These responses are to be expected and are normal.

• Being aware of your progress. As the old adage teaches us, “Time heals.” Be mindful of every day your grief becomes a little easier. Make note of what has changed, yet move through the grief at your own pace.

• Leaning into community. Surround yourself with the people you trust and love the most. Text them, call them, visit them. Allow them to visit you or check on you or pray with you or share laughter and memories of your beloved lost one with you. Do not isolate.  

• Letting peace in. Feeling regret after loss is common. Hold compassion for yourself and the mistakes you may have made or the opportunities you may have lost. Look towards the future and the opportunities that remain for you to do better. 

Resolving Ambivalence

Often, we harbor unresolved conflicts after loss. Our mixed feelings about the loss or the person we have lost can create even greater discomfort in our grieving process. Having mixed feelings about most situations is natural. Reconcile dissonance by accepting that your humanness is what permitted the bond you formed with your beloved in the first place. 

It was a profound privilege to live, work, and share family and friends with Tatiana. I aim to find peace in the quietest parts of my mind that can still hear her laughing.