Edwidge Danticat on the privilege of voicing the Haitian story, and being a part of it

BROOKLYN — Few Haitian names are as recognizable around the globe as “Edwidge Danticat.” Or, for that matter, both readily dispatched and welcomed as an authentic ambassador of Haiti and her children. She’s the real deal, elevated.

For three decades, Danticat has brought to light the many facets of being Haitian to readers worldwide. Since debuting in the mid-1990s with “Breath, Eyes, Memory” and “Krik, Krak,” Danticat’s body of work as a novelist and essayist has earned her a place in the pantheon of contemporary literary icons known across genres and communities. In parallel, Danticat has developed a brand of quiet advocacy in support of the Haitian diaspora and social justice. All, while navigating life as a writer, wife, mom, daughter-sister-aunt-cousin in a close-knit family, and professor, currently at Columbia University. 

Danticat’s enduring spell seems to lie in her ability to bring a certain freshness to everyday tales that are uniquely Haitian, yet universal, and to interact with the community. Over pages and pages ingested worldwide, she links millions of étranjè — foreigners — and U.S. Haitians to our country, culture and each other. Within the community, she is a presence who consistently connects us to the people, projects and perspectives seeking to make a positive difference.

Her steely connection to the culture is perhaps the reason so many Haitians cheer her on and why other groups embrace her. It certainly makes her the obvious choice to debut this limited video series of conversations with the most fascinating Haitians among us — the people who are not only big names, but who embody the spirit of community, culture and connection we celebrate. 

We sat down with Danticat in December 2024 in Downtown Brooklyn, a month prior to the United States government changing guard. The conversation ranges from the personal migration experiences in distinct Haitian enclaves and recent move to New York to teach at Columbia University to broader issues of gentrification, evolving Haitian identity, the profound psychological impact of Haiti’s crises on those living abroad, the duality of living in two worlds, and reflections on Haitian sovereignty and unity as potential pathways for the diaspora to help reclaim and rebuild Haiti.

The interview is edited for length and clarity, and includes video snippets of key moments.

---

On returning to a ‘Little Haiti’ in the Big Apple

The Haitian Times / Macollvie J. Neel: It’s been a long time. The last time we did a Haitian Times profile was in the early 2000s, so let’s start from there. 

Edwidge Danticat: I moved to Miami in 2002 after I got married. I had this idea about Little Haiti, that was this romantic idea, because I’d gone there. Libreri Mapou, all the things that were there even before the gentrification. My neighbors, they were very entrenched in the neighborhood, because they had sort of integrated it. Some of them came through Krome [Detention Center]. Some of them had come from the Bahamas. 

When I moved to Miami, I thought, ‘Oh, we’ll be there for like two or three years.’ And then when you have children, and then they are enrolled in school. My mother-in-law was in Haiti, and we went there a lot with the girls. It was a beautiful place. 

Then, I wake up, it’s 22 years, and my daughter was heading to college. I used to always joke with my girls. I said, you know, ‘When the time comes, tell me where you want to go to college. I’ll apply for a job.’ It’s sort of like the Haitian parents’ [thing] – ‘I’m following you to school.’

I’ve always missed the city. There’s something about it too. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the first place I landed when I was a kid.  

A collage of fiction, children and young adult, and non-fiction book titles Edwidge Danticat has authored over the years. Cover images captured on EdwidgeDanticat.com.

THT: What are some of the things that strike you now as a boomerang New Yorker?

Danticat: It’s strange. I never felt like I left. I was often traveling for my work, so I was here a lot. But the difference is this is 20 years out. I’m living on campus, rather than living in Brooklyn, where I grew up, so that’s a change. 

It’s kind of like a relationship with an old friend. Was it like that for you?

THT: The changes that struck me were the number of white people in Flatbush. Gentrification was full on. They were calling parts of Flatbush “Lefferts Gardens South.” Prospect Park South kept moving more and more southerly.

Danticat: Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. Like someone would buy a tiny house, like the house my parents have, yeah. And then they would put, like, a very tall building in that lot. 

I think on the celebratory side, every time I now take the train towards Brooklyn College, where the Haitian Studies Institute is, or you hear ‘Newkirk Avenue, Little Haiti,’ That’s always like, ‘Whoa.’ I think that’s a beautiful change, because that was my stop. My parents moved into East Flatbush on East 45th so I would get off the Newkirk Avenue train station and walk or take a  dollar cab.

That Newkirk Avenue Station was my station, and the fact that it’s now called ‘Little Haiti’ is pretty amazing. It’s just kind of like in Miami, when the Little Haiti Cultural Center was opened. To have a marker of our presence here, of our contributions to that area, was very powerful. 

THT: You’re absolutely right. I’m amazed that we do have a Haitian Studies Institute. I do like that we’re claiming space, visibly. 

Danticat: It’s good, also that we make these inroads.

On Haitians searching for peace at home and abroad

THT: Let’s talk a little bit about that ongoing, forever migration Haitians are experiencing. Now, we’re not just in New York, Florida and Boston. We’re all over the country. What strikes you about that expansion?

Danticat: I think people go where the work is. People go where they know other people. That’s a pattern with migration everywhere. 

What’s happened is that people are noticing it more. I think in this past election cycle, Haitians have been used as basically a proxy for both Blackness and xenophobia. For the people who are xenophobic and anti-Black, Haitians have become the face. The fact that our situation at home is in the news all the time adds to that. People feel like they can just treat us like pitimi san gadò [valuables left open for the taking]. 

I think migration in general is one of the century’s biggest issues. Coming from Florida, you see it. There’s the climate change, like after what happened in Nicaragua, you had more caravans. Every time there’s a big hurricane, every time there’s a big fire — all these things will lead to migration.

But I think we’re seen as a kind of a symbol, whether it’s in the Bahamas or the Dominican Republic, and we don’t have a state that can speak for us, that can fight for us. 

I think that’s why you also see people going to these quieter places too. You’re having people who’ve migrated internally [in Haiti], like four or five times. Now they just want peace. 

THT: It makes me kind of sad, frankly. [My home province] doesn’t feel or look like the place I left. 

Danticat: There are many towns like that. For this generation of young people, there’s so much trauma. For example, from listening to gunshots all the time. And I have family members who sometimes hold the phone out. They’re like, listen, tande, tande [‘listen, listen’] and then you hear the gunshots. They’re young people, and they have dreams, and they have all these plans. 

When you’re Haitian living outside of Haiti, now, you’re kind of living two lives if you’re close family members. Because you’re living with them, all the things that they’re describing; and you’re trying to live a life here.

It makes me think of a lot of my parents and that generation too. They left during the dictatorship, but they left children behind. They left family members behind. There are so many people living through that reality now, who maybe have come through the humanitarian parole, who maybe have TPS, but have a big, large group of their families back there, and are kind of living with that duality.

THT: That feeling of living in two worlds has never felt as intense as it does right now. Psychologically, it’s a doozy to go from being on WhatsApp, seeing beheadings or a massacre happening in real time, to putting that away and then continuing with your day.

Danticat: Oh, yeah. I mean, I think anybody who also lives with an elder in a household lives that constantly. YouTube is like the radio going on and on. It’s always so instantaneous. 

Sometimes it’s sad, sometimes it’s angering. The suffering is so intense. It’s not even about nostalgia anymore. It’s so urgent all the time. It’s urgent for children, it’s urgent for women, it’s urgent for young people, for men, yeah. It’s so urgent and then you don’t see, like, that urgency being addressed by the people who are supposed to be leading the country.

At the same time too, it’s important to remind people that there’s so many people there who are committed to the country, who are really committed to staying, who are doing what they can, who are working with young people, who are doing their art, who are doing their agriculture, who are doing whatever they can in these spaces. People are just kind of people really living their lives and supporting one another. So it’s important also to stress that even as we’re in this constant crisis.

On ‘Who’s benefiting from Haiti’s chaos?’

THT: What do you say to these Haitians in Haiti, right at this moment, where they are trying to do their best and go on with their lives?

Danticat: It’s more important to listen and see what we can contribute in whatever way we can. It doesn’t always have to be like a massive amount of money. Don’t assume that we know what’s best for people. It’s important to have conversations and listen to them, and pay attention to their needs and ask and see how best we can help them.

Sending money is important because it’s, I mean remittances. We’re not the only people who do remittances and it’s certainly important individually, but yes, we have to figure out ways also to expand that. And I’m glad you’ll be looking at the economy, because one of the things you know, I’m thinking of this film by Etant Dupain – “The Fight for Haiti” it’s called. He also had his first film called “Madan Sara” – right? When we think about the Haitian economy, think about the informal economy, which is how the majority of people function.

“… Look at our natural resources. Are we being killed for those? There seems to be this very active pursuit of destruction. Why is that?”

Edwidge danticat

When I was growing up, I had my aunt, who used to tell the story all the time about how my dad in New York would send her $100. She would take me to her house, [saying] ‘That $100 built my house, put my kids into school.’  

I think it’s very important to look at 2025, when we’re looking at the 200th-year anniversary of this ransom, to look at our natural resources. Are we being killed for those? Like, what’s happening? There seems to be this very active pursuit of destruction. Why is that? What happens in places that have natural resources, once they start to be exploited? Who are going to be the positive minded people who will preserve those for us and make sure that our people benefit, are not destroyed further, for them?

THT: Does it surprise you that this is where we are, compared to 30 years ago, 25 years ago? That we’re now asking: ‘Is this intentional to destroy us?’ ‘Why hasn’t Haiti moved forward?’ ‘Why do the exploitation and the crises continue?’

Danticat: We have those conversations all the time, right? Because the assault on Haiti right now is so unrelenting, the purposeful destruction of infrastructure by armed groups who are like paramilitaries, who have these weapons of war and what seems like an endless supply of ammunition. Who is paying for the ammunition? 

Obviously someone or some groups of people are benefiting from the chaos. Where and how far is it going to go? It would be foolish to think that all of this is incidental. It sort of seems organized in its disorganization, right? There’s obviously some kind of plan, and it’s not a plan to benefit the general population.

On Haitians as “a personal affront” and reclaiming sovereignty

THT: Have you had time to come to terms, through the course of your work and your writing, to not be surprised by Haiti’s current conditions?

Danticat: I think the course of history is long. I teach this class on Haiti in the Harlem Renaissance and even though he’s not necessarily from the Harlem Renaissance, we read Frederick Douglass. And if you read back on Frederick Douglass’ time [as General Consul to] Haiti – they wanted Frederick Douglass to deliver Môle-Saint-Nicolas. And he didn’t, and that was considered a failure. 

Starting with 1804 and all the things that you know were said about Haitians. That this revolution was an affront to the way the world works. The fact that Trump speaks about Haiti in such a personal way. As if our existence is a personal affront. And a lot of people speak about Haiti in this way. So it doesn’t surprise me that people would not wish us well, let’s say, as this very small country with this big revolutionary past. 

It’s alarming that it seems to have been amplified in the present in this way, using our own people and arming them against our population. It’s very unsettling.

THT: “We’re Alone” came out right around when the U.S. elections campaign rhetoric heated up. And it has felt like we’re fleeing everywhere, in Haiti and here in the U.S. We’re all scattered, like we don’t have our own space. Even though we have a country and a state that is our ancestral land, it doesn’t feel like we can go there. I thought it was interesting that the title of your book applies in so many different settings and ways for us.

Danticat: It’s interesting — the balance between being alone and being sovereign. I don’t think we’ve ever been allowed to be truly sovereign, in the sense that you’ve always had outside intervention. It’s like a playbook in different places. I think starting from Haiti’s genesis, because it sort of disrupted the world order in this way, that sovereignty was always shaken. That sovereignty was always disturbed. 

The struggle now is to find some way to regain that sovereignty. I think it goes back to l’union fait la force. There’s no way we will get out of what we’re in now without that motto. And maybe that’s why our ancestors stuck it in the middle of the flag, right? So we can always remember it. 

There are these outside forces for sure, but the way that Haitians were able to overcome that before was through that community. And certainly the forces are greater now, we’d have to redefine it and like you said, ‘nou epapiye.’ We’re different, or in different places. But I think at key, in a very simplified kumbaya way, we just have to figure out how to act out that motto. That’s the only way that we’ll get our sovereignty back, is through unity. Really.

THT: We’ve always had so many layers as Haitians in our society. There’s the language, there’s the colorism. There’s the class piece, the privilege. When you hear people talk about, “ti mawozo,” as you described in your [“We’re Alone”] essay. I feel like we’re missing a critical, honest conversation about how we see ourselves as Haitians. What is the critical conversation we need to have about wealth inequality when it comes to us Haitians?  

Danticat: Well, we’ve always been a stratified society, right? So it’s always been like moun en deyò [people outside] and literally moun la ville [city people]. Even in the way that that’s framed, it’s framed around exclusion. 

My dad once showed me his birth certificate. Because he was born in Beauséjour, his birth certificate said paysan [countryside dweller]. Now my cousin, who was the first in the next generation. He was born in Port-au-Prince. His birth certificate says citoyen [citizen]. So, the stratification is because we had all these from the time of people being enslaved, all these qualifications based on color. 

So all of that was imposed into the culture. And then, you know, you had, during the years occupation, this Jim Crow-ism of the culture, right? And so we really, in order to overcome all that, to have that l’union fait la force [“unity is strength” flag motto], there has to be a very purposeful effort for people not just to say ‘tout moun se moun,’ but to act like tout moun se moun [every person is somebody].

There’s a long thread of like, who speaks French, who speaks Creole, right? And what does that say about you. I edited a book that was called the “Butterfly’s Way.” And one of the essays in it is by a writer who says that, you know, coming to the U.S., then suddenly she was wearing the same coat as her family’s housekeeper, for example. So being in exile was sort of like a kind of equalizer. 

‘Tout moun se moun.’ [Everybody is somebody]. It’s got to be an action. It’s not just a declaration. 

Every society has inequalities, has imbalances, but the only way to overcome, is with intent. Inequality exists in many different places. The [problem] is if it’s weaponized against people.

Edwidge danticat

THT: Walk me through, if you will, how that unity might look. How could that coming together fit into reclaiming or proclaiming our sovereignty?

Danticat: On the U.S. side, we’ve had previous models. We’ve done it in moments of crisis. I think of the 1990s march on the Brooklyn Bridge and we do tend to reach for these same moments, in terms of symbols of unification, because there was common cause then. The FDA ban on Haitian blood concerned everybody. My parents, who were not political people at all, came to two marches with me. That one, and the one for Abner Louima after Abner was attacked in the police precinct. 

I think we have these new organizations like the Haitian Bridge Alliance, Haitian Women for Haitian Refugees, the Family Action Network and Sant La in Miami, and others all over the country. Even organizations that are working on immigration and in general, the Black immigrant alliances and groups. There is an infrastructure. In 2016, there was this campaign by the ACLU of a group of videos. So there were different things like that around immigration.

I see groups already planning how to address the mass deportations. And so I think there’s like grounds for building alliances here, to prepare and to build alliances. And the reason during the first Trump administration TPS was challenged all the time [is because] you had wonderful lawyers like IJDH and Ira Kurzban and his groups. Groups that got together to fight back.

On the many voices sharing the Haitian story

THT: Okay, so let’s talk about narratives. Not just these crises, violence, dehumanized version of Haiti and Haitians that people get. What do we do? 

Danticat: Narratives are powerful. And we saw that in this previous election cycle, in that something is said about us. Even you had that interview where JD Vance basically told this CNN television reporter, ‘We created this narrative.’

Danticat: It’s like we created this narrative to get your attention. 

As writers, we talk about the power of storytelling all the time. But we never consider the nefarious side of it, and so, the narrative about us constantly is violence. It’s almost like there’s a criminalization to being Haitian, because your country is overrun by paramilitaries that are funded by oligarchs [and] politicians are the beneficiaries of an inflow of guns.

THT: Like, ‘They don’t care about their own people.’

Danticat: Exactly, they are killing each other. This narrative. But there’s so much more to us. 

There are people trying to live their life the best way. So I think I mean, as artists, that’s what we contribute to the conversation. Not ignoring the realities, but also telling these other stories. 

THT: What are some that really grab your attention right now? What themes do you find are especially intriguing or promising in terms of their potential to connect different people?

Danticat: You know, Haiti has always had this extraordinary literature. From Jacques Roumain, who was translated by Langston Hughes here, to writers of today. Like the Trouillots – Évelyne, Lyonel. Lyonel has really done a really good job. He has a column in Ayibopost where he writes about the current situation. Writers like Yanick Lahens. And then you have the young writers here, Ibi Zoboi, Roxane Gay, Myriam Chancy – so there’s this really powerful literature that’s always been, in some ways, engagé. That means both engaged and political at the same time. 

There are a lot of young people in Haiti writing. Maybe some were not reading their full books, but a lot of poets. I used to love going to “Livres en Folie” in Haiti. Things like that are still happening in theater, in smaller spaces because of the security situation. In the rural areas, there are still these community groups. Some that might’ve been konbit in the past, now they’re koperasyon. 

This is probably the longest stretch I haven’t been in Haiti. But we used to go at Christmas to my mother in law’s, and no matter what, there’s reveyon [revival] somewhere. Sometimes you have to cling to that.

THT: I’m really excited to see so many more Haitian voices in the landscape. You mentioned Roxane Gay and I know now she’s starting a sort of publishing house or incubator for new writers

Danticat: She’s got an imprint, yeah. There are a few new novels coming out. Next year, Edna Bonhomme has written a mix of history and personal experience in a book called “The History of the World in Six Plagues.” Cholera in Haiti is one of her focuses. Dimitry Elias Léger soon has a novel coming out. And then we have all our scholars. It’s wonderful to have these different voices. To have Jemima Pierre in the press. 

THT: I love her so much. 

Danticat: So, yeah – it’s not 1981, you know. We have so many more voices out there to bear witness. There’s the doctor on TikTok — Dr. Bertrhude making those videos. I think every bit helps. Those are narratives and points of views that we didn’t have before, like in the 80s. 

There were always the writers who migrated, say, to France or to Canada, who were able to pick this stuff up rather quickly. I think it took another generation to have, linguistically, writers who can write in English. It’s a very interesting space because some of them were U.S. born, but have perspectives that are very important to the generation that they belong to. 

Knowing Haiti in a certain way, like knowing Haiti either from a distance or from visits — it’s a point of view that we can’t afford to dismiss. They’re the people that sometimes go into policy, go into these political spaces, sort of balancing both worlds. It’s important that all these voices are out there.  

THT: Linguistically, that might be one place where digital technology can be really impactful. Say, if someone puts out a book in English that can be, relatively quickly, translated or made accessible to someone whose main language is French or Creole, and vice versa. It’ll be interesting to see where AI can help us in forming those bonds.  

Danticat: I’m extraordinarily fascinated by the linguistics aspect. I just read recently of Haitians living in Mexico who have married, who are part of the culture now. Recently there was an exhibit of Afro Mexican photographs at the Schomburg in the heart of Harlem. Right by the door was a photographer who was covering this phenomenon of Haitians.

As a writer, for me, that’s just exciting. What poetry will emerge from that? Soon we’ll have a Mexican Haitian writer who’s going to tell us a whole different story we’ve never heard of. 

THT: I’m waiting for that…

Danticat: Right before the pandemic, I was supposed to go to a writers’ conference in Chile, and they were going to introduce me to some Haitian writers, and it didn’t happen. But my family members who are teachers describe this phenomenon of Haitian kids who come to New York City. Some of them are hanging out with the kids who speak Spanish because they can’t talk to the Haitian American kids who don’t speak Creole. 

It’s like this almost Babelian, very exciting mix from which beautiful stories emerge. So I’m really very curious to see what comes from all that. I mean, you read kids who have crossed the Darien Gap on foot with their families, who have seen so many things? And you know, I actually once met a young man who did it twice. He was deported, he did it again. That’s when the power of translation will be important.

THT: I’m really excited to see what we do with all this. I think what we have to do day-to-day is continue to affirm and empower our people. And the way to do that is by focusing on our culture, our shared histories and being in community.

Danticat: Whatever that means to you, just be in community, because people are going to need that. The most vulnerable people in our community are going to need those of us who have a little bit more privilege, they’re going to need us.

On working ‘in community’

THT: Throughout all this time, people have just been struck by your humility and your level of engagement? How do you make time to stay engaged, stay involved? 

Danticat: Well, I’m tapped out half the time. I used to tell people ‘I don’t sleep.’ But at 55, it’s not healthy. I have to really rethink, I gotta do some Pilates. The balancing is a constant quest. 

I remember there was a point when my kids were small, and then my mom was sick, my dad was sick. And so you’re always, like, in the gap. I used to try to do everything. I can’t anymore. So you say yes to the things that are important to you, but more, you realize you have to say no to some other things.

And, you know, I’ve always thought of the work I do, the things I do in community. The other day, I went to a talk with Ta-Nehisi [Coates]. Someone in the audience asked, ‘How do you write about your community without seeming like you’re just peeking in, parachuting in exactly?’ And his advice was basically ‘you write in community.’ You don’t just write about the people you write about, you write for them. 

Even from all the different places, from a college campus, to the students I see now who are so focused. We’re almost like the second or third generation, but they still consider themselves very Haitian. They still want to engage, and they still feel a tie to that history. I mean, my daughters want to go to the Emeline [Michel] show coming to Brooklyn. So I love to just see this young, this new generation emerge.

I think our story as Haitians, as diaspora Haitians, is an emerging story. It’s an evolving story. I think what’s important is that it’s also a story that we can all participate in – in whatever way. We just have to find some way to organize ourselves to do it.

We have to have hope, and we have to imagine a possibility. We often look back with nostalgia, but we also have to look with that kind of view forward. You have to be able to imagine. Imagine better ways ahead, and then, maybe, really return to that unity, to see how we can really reclaim our country.

THT: Yeah, go forward 50 years instead of trying to go back.

Danticat: We have a young, young, dynamic population. Give them a chance.

THT: Thank you so much. This was a real pleasure.  

Danticat: You should do a series on stage. Like The Haitian Times Speaker Series with The Institute.

THT: I’m all for it.

The post Edwidge Danticat on the privilege of voicing the Haitian story, and being a part of it appeared first on The Haitian Times.

Source link