The Accounting of a Haitian: A Personal Reflection 🇭🇹✨

Yesterday, I attended a parent meeting at my daughters’ school, and as often happens, I found myself chatting with other parents. Naturally, we started speaking French while admiring their daughter's craft project. They mentioned they were Belgian and, of course, asked where I was from. I hesitated for a moment and then said, “Canada.”

The conversation shifted, but something lingered inside me. Was it guilt? Shame? Before the event ended, I returned to them and said, "Actually, I grew up in Canada but was born in Haiti. I am Haitian." They smiled knowingly and said, “We thought so—your accent is more Haitian than Canadian.”

This got me thinking: Is being Haitian an asset or a liability? 🤔 It’s a question I’ve wrestled with my entire adult life.

It felt like a liability when I was scrutinized at every airport as a Haitian passport holder during my European exchange program. Or when I couldn’t even get a debit card despite having funds in my account. As soon as I returned to Canada, I applied for citizenship—a burden I was eager to shed.

It was an even heavier liability during the earthquake in Haiti. I was in Grand Cayman, waiting desperately for news, unable to reach my father, plagued by sleepless nights and anxiety. And it felt like a liability whenever someone’s face softened with pity when I mentioned Haiti. “Oh, how are you? Is your family okay? Did you lose anyone?” they’d ask, as though tragedy was the only narrative my heritage could hold.

So, for a couple of years, I stopped offering up my Haitian identity. I leaned on my Canadian passport. I convinced myself it was reasonable—I’d lived in Canada longer, hadn’t I? My family had been there for decades, after all. Indeed, I could claim that identity without reservation.

But lately, amid the lies and harmful narratives surrounding Haitians, I’ve been struggling. The weight of embarrassment and shame is heavy, especially with my daughters around. How do I explain it all to them if they ask questions about what they hear in the news?

As I go about my day—on Zoom calls, meeting friends, or encountering strangers—I can’t help but wonder if they’re silently judging me, linking me to the negative stories in the media.

I’m an immigrant from Haiti, just like those accused in Springfield, Ohio. While my life was privileged, my parents, like so many others, left Haiti in search of safety and opportunity for their children.

I find myself asking: Do people believe the lies? Why the hatred? Do they think I’m less capable and less intelligent because of where I was born?

Is my Haitian heritage a liability? A curse? 🌀

But then I remind myself: Why am I embarrassed? Why should I carry the weight of someone else’s prejudice? What have I done wrong? More importantly, what have they done wrong?

On the other side of that embarrassment is something powerful: RESILIENCE.

The resilience to show up, keep working, start over, travel to inhospitable, cold climates, and rise above doubt and discrimination. The resilience to be the first Haitian-born American U.S. Attorney leading the office prosecuting the suspect of an assassination attempt by one of your detractors (oh, the irony!).

It’s the resilience to push forward—not just to survive but to thrive.

Yesterday, I proudly told the Belgian couple that I was Haitian. I chose to let go of the shame. Being Haitian has taught me resilience and grit, which I’ve realized is the true asset.

#ProudHaitian #Resilience #HeritageAndStrength #EmbraceYourStory #thebalancedsheets #cpa