Dear Haiti,
My wise elders have forever believed that there was no such impractical thing as being full. In fact, they have assumed that the more food we ate the healthier and stronger we children would be. Therefore, being a chubby child was a characteristic in my family, not a problem. This was only one of the traditional Haitian beliefs that my family harbored growing up. It is not only our country that proclaims us Haitian, but the silly “Haitian” things that we do, say, and believe.
When inviting any Haitian family to a social gathering, meeting, evening dinner, etc. one must consider the first principle Haitian rule: Haitians always show up two hours later than the time given. I remember back when we were living in New York, my family and I were invited to attend a wedding scheduled to begin at 11 a.m. As we spent a good quantity of the morning preparing ourselves, my mother announced that there was no reason to hurry because the wedding would most likely not start on time. In taking her advice, we finally arrived at the wedding around 1:30 p.m. only to be greeted by crowds of people filing out the church doors who had just witnessed the ceremony we had arrived for. In her embarrassment, my mom quickly blended in the crowd and joined in the nearest conversation about how touching the ceremony had been and we followed. I've never felt so Haitian. Other times was when I had arrived more than 30 minutes late to my 11th birthday party.
Next, is the hilarious encounter with other Haitians in public. Whenever one Haitian is aware of another Haitian in a public area, he or she starts behaving quite oddly. When out shopping with my mother and aunties, we naturally speak our language, Creole. When a random Haitian person in store hears our conversation, particularly women, she begins to act out this weird, yet natural tendency (cause I can't help but do it myself) to make it known to us that she is also Haitian. She may begin speaking loudly in Creole (to no one by the way) which we notice, but ignore or the most famous technique, she stares. One time, one woman actually stared us down until we left the store. I felt so awkward I said goodbye in our tongue, just to let her know I know we were from the same country.
I was raised by my Granny, the most avid proponent of the Haitian way. Thus, I have been taught to practice her beliefs. She believed that boys and girls could not be in the same room regardless of being related or not (a popular idea in Haitian culture). It was tortuous and it was only I, out of the children, chosen to practice it. I can remember one time when my Grandmother personally escorted me to the opposite end of the house when she had discovered me and my cousin, Christopher, watching a movie in my parents’ bedroom. She proclaimed that I wasn’t allowed to do such horrid things and I never found her more ridiculous.
Perhaps the most ridiculous Haitian customs have to do with the men. Haitian men are brought up as kings by their mothers and their women. They take on these traditions that further prove this “ royal-ship.” A Haitian man will refuse to eat dinner unless served by a woman and served to his liking. His lady must drop everything she’s doing in that moment to place the best of the meal on a fancy plate with something good to drink and personally deliver it to him. If not, he will not eat that day.
Haitians believe that our pikles goes with every dish, we have furniture that is way to big for our rooms, and we never know the end to decorating a room. Every piece of art must be displayed on the tiny table, no excuses. I know I'm Haitian when I believe that United States is made up of Miami, New York, and Boston, when I dip bread in my coffee, when I dress up to go to a wedding as if I were meeting a queen and dress up to go to church as if I were going to a wedding, and when no one is allowed in the living room to the left because it is for the special guests that never seem to show up. I know I am Haitian especially when I am able to dance without music, when my sofas are covered in plastic, I use old clothing to mop the floor and Vaseline for everything, and when I slap anything I can get my hand on when laughing hysterically.
However, as silly as my Haitian culture can be, deep down I realize how much I truly love it and how much it has shaped me to be the person I am today. I am proud to be a Haitian even though my country is suffering and killing its own people. It is who I am. I am guilty of all these Haitian ways, without it I would not be me. Possessing the ability to speak another language breaks barrier with many people. I can express myself in different ways and I find comfort with those who are like me, such as those who do not question what I do because they understand as they do what I do as well. Being Haitian has made me family orientated, passionate, and created a sense of unity in me.
My culture has opened my eyes to pain, and methods of survival, and at times selfishness. It is what I do with what I learn from my culture that makes a difference. It can be hard to say that I am Haitian in this country because of what is going on in my country, however, I cannot focus on the negative unless I plan to change it. Haitians are intelligent and resilient. It took strength for thousands to cross the sea in a crowded boat from Haiti to Florida, leaving every bit of life they had known. I took courage for my grandma to leave my mother in Haiti and come to the US so she can create a better life for us. It took strength for us to leave Haiti because of the political corruption. Each Haitian has a similar story. Together we make one. This is my culture and who I am.
I love you Haiti. Always & Forever.
Love,
Stephanie
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If you enjoyed this passage, click on the Empower Network page to watch my personal video, or click here!
