Are you a liability?
“Go Back to your own country!!! You don’t deserve to live in America and treat Americans as you have! ... Go to hell and go back to where you came from! Go back to your home. You can’t even understand you! ... you don’t deserve to live in America!
This is what she texted me this past Sunday. Note that I removed the swear words and all the other repetitions that are even more hurtful. The text came because I did not answer her phone calls and her messages, my phone was left in my bedroom and I was busy doing my daughter’s hair. I did not answer her messages or phone calls for 4 hours and it was enough to set her off.
I thought a lot before posting it, I am still questioning it... But in the fairness of accounting and because I have been annoyed for the past few days, I am leaving my interrogation here. This post has nothing to do with accounting and everything to do with it. I am not asking for pity or "I'm sorry!" This is me letting it out, venting, getting my therapeutic fix and moving on. This is not my first encounter and I am sure this will not be the last one. And surely, I am fine, maybe a bit tired, but will get some rest and continue to be my fine self.
“Your own country!” I moved to the USA eleven years ago. For love... We could have moved to Canada, which was my first option, but I wanted to give Massachusetts a try, and I am still here, giving it a try. It is my home, where my heart is.
“Go Back to your own country!!! You don’t deserve to live in America and treat Americans as you have! ... Go to hell and go back to where you came from! Go back to your home. You can’t even understand you! ... you don’t deserve to live in America!
Is my presence here a disgrace to her? To Americans? Do I put her at a disadvantage? Am I deserving of America? Do I deserve to live in America? What is home? Am I a liability?
I have been asking myself these questions for the past week. My heart has been heavy and my thoughts have galloped all over, bringing anxiety and contemplation. It is not the first time that I have been on the receiving end of such bigotry (is there another word?), but it was my first time having it written, in black and white, not having to guess, wonder if it was an illusion. My spouse was in shock, wondering. I said: I do not know what I did. I just didn’t pick up my phone. I felt like a liability.
Google provides one of these definitions for liability: a person or thing whose presence or behavior is likely to cause embarrassment or put one at a disadvantage. In the financial dictionary, a liability is an obligation arising from a past business event.
She heard my voice, heard my accent, and saw our profile picture (our family picture). I was nice, negotiated a reasonable rate, and agreed to welcome her to our rental. I will send you an agreement, I promised, give me a couple of hours. And I got busy in the morning, missed her calls, and didn’t answer her texts. According to her, I was a liability and was liable to her. My being here made me a liability. Is being an immigrant a liability? Is having an accent a liability? Is being Black a liability? Am I deserving of America? Is America, a prize? I work hard, I put the trash out, and I pay my taxes, period. What does one have to do to be deserving of America?
My family left Haiti about two decades ago. They left because Haiti was a liability, with chaos, insecurity, political instability, and (like they said) never knowing if the children could go to school the next day. I rarely talk about Haiti, I navigate between discomfort and pain whenever I am asked about the situation. Even though I had a privileged childhood with beautiful colorful memories, I am traumatized by the crippling incertitude of corruption, violence, and recklessness and also the fact that I never felt secure or at peace during my last years in Haiti. I love Haiti, it will always be part of me, a part of me that smells my grandma's hot chocolate, a part of me that melts at the warmth of the people, a part of me that thinks that Haiti is the most beautiful place on earth. But that part of me is not home anymore, Haiti is not my country because my heart is not there.
When she wrote: “Go back to your own country”, I doubt that she was talking about Haiti. Where did she think I was from? Africa? I have never been to Africa. It is on my list, though... My ancestors are from Africa. They were transported to Haiti, not their choice. Maybe, it was the choice of her ancestors. Who knows? I had my Haitian passport for the longest and traveled with it, to Europe. It was an embarrassment, the interrogation, the doubt, the discrimination, my skin color, and the Haitian passport, a double threat. When I returned, I became a Canadian, since the Haitian passport was such a liability. Haiti is not a liability, Haiti taught me beauty, made me aware of my blessings, and always reminded me to not take life for granted. Haiti taught me resilience, courage, and humility.
Where do I deserve to live? My parents chose to move to Canada. I love Canada, I am who I am because of Canada. It welcomed me, welcomed my family, and gave us opportunities that other places would not have given to us. We prospered in Canada, I made friends, I made beautiful memories, and more importantly, I found peace and the certitude that school is always open the next day, even after a snowstorm. I could go back to Canada. I guess, she would still think that I am not deserving of Canada and of Canadians.
Is my accent a liability? Sure, it is. I can’t even understand myself, when I am too tired, and too stressed, I forget my English. Does she know that English is my fourth language? I wonder how many languages she speaks. Creole is my mother tongue, Creole and French. I think in Creole, write in French, speak in creole, and translate in French. I learned Spanish for three years before I started with English and these TOEFL and SAT classes that I endured for four years. Well, I still have an accent after twenty years... And this is a liability that I am learning how to manage especially when I am tired, when I have to present, when I am put on the spot, when I have to repeat myself many times and when finally I just give up and start spelling. It is a liability, and an asset... It makes me patient, it makes me pause before talking, and it makes me more tolerant of others.
Before I talked, I know she saw our profile picture, our family picture. She saw my beautiful family, with my spouse's dark chocolate awesomeness, my first daughter's cafe-au-lait smoothness, my second daughter's radiant caramel skin, and my glowing deep-honey complexion. I do not know why she thought that we were not deserving of our smiles, of our beautiful dog, of our freshly furnished porch. I wonder if all of our melanin threatened and compelled her to show her true colors. And while she was this soft-spoken septuagenarian with a son in Pennsylvania, while she was impatient and did not like technology, she was also a racist and a bigot. And most importantly, she was someone that did not deserve to stay in one of my homes.
I did not answer her text message. It is still lingering in my messages, taking more space than it should, nagging me, questioning... Are you a liability?
hashtag#liability hashtag#accounting hashtag#cpa hashtag#racism hashtag#black hashtag#Haiti
