Author: Lee Rainboth

The Haitian proverb says "Don't throw rocks at a green mango." I'm a green mango. I'm constantly learning, discovering, and developing as a human being in this big messed up world. I'm no expert on anything but in this blog i will share my opinions based on my experience currently living and working in Haiti. I am an artist, writer, musician, and human being. I am a green mango. Don't throw a rock at me yet. *The views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of an individual and in no way represent the position of any organization or group that the individual may work for or be involved with.

Let’s Chill Out Over TPS

In case you haven’t heard, this past Monday, November 20th, the Trump administration announced that it would be ending the Temporary Protected Status program that has allowed nearly 60,000 Haitians to remain in the United States since they came here after the earthquake of 2010 to escape the devastation that was overwhelming their homeland at the time. These Haitian refugees have now been given 18 months to make preparations to return to Haiti before risking deportation.

Now ever since the announcement was made, my newsfeeds have blown up with posts about how cruel this decision is, how terrible it will be for these Haitians that have to return, and how it further proves that Trump is a racist tyrant hell bent on destroying the lives of people of color and immigrants. Most of these angry posts condemning the decision are coming from my fellow non-Haitians who live or work in Haiti and Haitian diaspora who haven’t lived in Haiti for years. It is not what I’m hearing from my Haitian friends when they comment on the news. So here I am, to offer my voice to say, “People, let’s chill out over TPS!”

The “T” in TPS stands for temporary. So for starters, anyone who thought that these Haitians would just get to stay in the USA forever don’t understand how language works. It’s been 8 years since the earthquake and they have been given another 18 month grace period. They were never promised citizenship and they were never promised indefinite amnesty. This announcement should confirm absolutely all expectations that anyone should have had about this program from the beginning.

But that’s just the most obvious reason why we should chill out. Here’s my bigger issue with freaking out about this as some sort of injustice: Haiti is not that horrible of a place, sending them back there is not a death sentence. It’s actually a pretty great place, and these people should be proud to return. Every time that we share our disgust in the administration’s decision to send these Haitians literally “back to where they came from” we are perpetuating the misleading stereotypes of the country being nothing but a miserable, impoverished, dangerous, crime-ridden, hopeless portal into Hell itself. It’s not! When we do that we make the same mistake that my Grandma Dorothy always used to make, confusing “Haiti” for “Hades”.

Some of us work very hard to try to market this country as a place where tourists should want to come, where businesses should want to invest, and where artists and innovators create a culture worth wanting to experience. How on earth do we ever expect outsiders to want to visit if we are going to say that making Haitians themselves come here is some sort of cruel and unusual punishment? For the sake of the 9 million other Haitians that are already here and have been here all through the last 8 years and before that, we have to stop acting like these 60,000 will never be able to survive living like the other 9 million of them again. We have to stop acting like living like those 9 million is the worst thing that could ever happen to those 60,000, like now that they’ve tasted the good life in the US they should never be expected to have to live like the rest of us poor unfortunate souls back in Haiti ever again.

Those 9 million lived through the same exact tragedy as those 60,000 and they stayed and they survived. Yes, it’s true that some 300,000 did not survive, and every day we still mourn them, but 9 million did survive and continued to persevere and work to rebuild their country while 60,000 escaped and got to live a different life in the US for 8 years. Millions of those who stayed watched their own homes crumble to the ground, some of them even being trapped by them, losing limbs and suffering extreme injuries, having their friends and family die under the rubble, and they didn’t have the chance to make it out afterwords. Instead they lingered in the horror of it all. So it shouldn’t be surprising that there’s not much sympathy for those who did make it out and now have to return. Boo hoo.


In Jacmel after the earthquake, January, 2010

The Haiti of today is not the Haiti of after the earthquake. I know that there are reports of Haiti being the second least livable place on earth, after only Yemen. Yes, the effects of poverty and injustice and a lack of development still make life extremely difficult for many people in Haiti and still take a devastating toll on many families. But the Haiti that these 60,000 people left behind is not the Haiti that they’ll be returning to. There are plenty of homes for sale and for rent. My newsfeeds are also full of announcements about available properties. If they don’t want to buy or rent, 18 months is plenty of time to build a comfortable home and it’s not that expensive. If I can do it on my starving artist income, anyone who’s been working for the last 8 years in the US should be able to do it. In addition, infrastructure has improved. Roads and bridges have been built, new businesses have been established, security has increased, and there has been a lot of investment in education in the country. Are things perfect? No. They’ll still be returning to a place that is at a much less developed state than what they’ll be leaving behind in New York, Boston, Miami, or wherever they are. If they get sick they’ll still be hard pressed to find a hospital with a working medical staff. If they want consistent electricity they’ll have to invest in solar energy (outrageous!) But they’ll be able to find a home, probably be able to find some work, and it’ll take some adjustment, but they’ll learn how to live in Haiti again.

But what about the children!!!!??!?!? (I hear you screaming at your computer screen.) They’ll be tearing families apart! Again, chill out. Haiti’s a great place to raise kids. Bring them along. They’ll be fine. If they were born in the States, traveling for them will already be easy enough, but again, they’ve got 18 months to start figuring out the legal processes that they’ll need to go through. They all knew full well when they decided to have a child while on “temporary protected status” that eventually this would happen. So it shouldn’t be a surprise.

Of all of the things going on in our world to be outraged at, this should not be one of them. Like I said, none of my Haitian friends are posting about this on their newsfeeds, because it’s not a surprise to them nor is it an injustice worth making noise about. They’re ready to welcome those 60,000 back into their country. You know what my Haitian friends are posting about that no one else is? Slavery in Libya. That’s what they’re outraged over. Their West African brothers and sisters who are trying to escape legitimately life-threatening circumstances in their homes are now being sold as slaves in Libya before they make it to freedom. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you probably don’t have enough Haitian Facebook friends. That’s what they’re currently outraged over. Check out the CNN report on it if you haven’t yet.

When it comes to a bunch of people who’ve lived the majority of their lives in Haiti being told that now they have to live some more of their lives in Haiti, that’s not really worth being outraged over. A bunch of people being given a year and a half to plan the rest of their lives in a beautiful Caribbean island nation with a vibrant culture is not a tragedy. It’s simply the end result of a program that was always intended to be temporary. The quicker that we accept that reality, the quicker we can get back to working together with these 60,000 that will be returning to build a future for the country that everyone can be proud to be a part of. So let’s chill out.

Don’t Read This Unless You’ve Already Read A Bunch of Articles by Writers of Color on Charlottesville

It’s been over a week now since the events of Charlottesville and I’ve remained fairly quiet about it all. I’ve been busy and haven’t even sat down in front of my laptop all week to type anything out. When something traumatic like this happens I always need to sit and linger with my feelings a bit before crafting any sort of meaningful response. That being said, I can’t say that what I’m about to write will actually be meaningful in any way. I feel like most of what can be said or needs to be said already has been said by others much more eloquent and informed than me. But I’m still gonna write what I can because 1) maybe everything’s already been said, but it hasn’t all been heard or absorbed by everyone that needs to hear it and maybe adding my voice will reach an extra ear or eyeball or two. And, 2) “writing it out” is always a necessary reconciliation for myself between my mind and my heart whether or not anyone else reads these words.

It’s also been a daunting prospect to write because simply, my soul is weary and overwhelmed. My privileged white soul is weary and overwhelmed even though I never have to worry about being the victim of racism myself. The most overwhelming part is the knowledge that my brothers and sisters of color in this country have been screaming into the void, trying to get us to wake up, for ages, but they continue to have to fear for their lives everyday in a country that pretends to be for all people as they watch their sons and daughters continually killed, imprisoned, and oppressed. How much greater the toll a week like this has on them and yet they continue to be denied and dismissed. No matter how many politicians “condemn bigotry and hatred” people of color in this country know that condemning the neo nazis with the tiki torches in the streets is not going to ultimately change the policies that make everyday life for them a head on battle with discrimination. The racists in the polo shirts were yelling their racism out loud in blatant and unavoidable language. But for years our government has been legislating just as appalling of racism with laws suppressing the votes of black people, and making sure that black people are more likely to go to prison and serve longer sentences, and making it more difficult for black people to own homes and get jobs, and creating access to quality education only outside of communities of color, and turning a blind eye when those communities of color are poisoned by their drinking water . Everyone’s angry that the president defends white supremacists as fine people, all the while our vice president and secretary of state and senators can say that the KKK is a scourge on our society, but we all know that the next day they’ll be signing laws that the klansmen would applaud, just with sneakier, less outrageous language. But the end result is the same.

People of color have known these things forever. The difference now is that the events in Charlottesville have held a mirror up to white people to show them that the racists actually look like them and it’s forced many white people to start to acknowledge their own complicity in the system. It’s come out from under hoods and shed the robes and it looks too familiar. This is a white people problem and we have to accept our duty to dismantling the system that benefits us. Speaking out in times of crisis is not enough. We have to actively deconstruct the inherent system of supremacy that has skewed the balances of power so far in our favor. How do we actually do that? I don’t really have the answers but there are resources out there with good suggestions if you Google it. But I would start by stopping the tweeting about monuments and what Donald Trump said. Those things are important but mostly symbolic at the end of the day. Start looking at how you can do your part to change the system. That means looking at how you vote, it means looking at what organizations you support, it means rethinking about where and how you volunteer in your community, it means being conscious of the media and news that you consume, it means considering your involvement with your children’s school and keeping your chosen place of worship accountable for social justice issues. It means having actual conversations with people of color who are affected by the systems everyday and actually listening to what they have to say without trying to advise them or help them. Amplify their voice if possible. It means, if you’re white, being willing to take a back seat in conversations about race. In fact, if you’re reading this, I hope you go read at least 5 articles by writers of color on the issue, their voices matter more than mine here. Maybe at the end of the post I’ll include some suggestions.

Now I’ve made it this far in my blog post and I’ve completely deviated from the content that I set out to write because once I started typing I guess I just needed to rant a bit.  I intended to write about the nuanced intersections of racism in the United States and effects of global racism on the little country of Haiti where I live, but I guess maybe that will have to be a completely different blog post. Now I’ve passed the point of no return. And I need to continue to rant a bit as I still wrestle with how to understand the situation myself and what my own role is in the big picture.

We can’t continue to condemn the actions of the racists in Charlottesville in such ways that we pretend it’s some far off novelty carried out by a small group of wack jobs. No matter where we live in the United States, there is racism in our backyards and there are systems in place that affect all of us that maintain white supremacy. We have to be prepared to have the uncomfortable conversations, with compassion when possible, but with severity when necessary. We need to confess the places where we’ve embraced the benefits that white supremacy has afforded us, and as my pastor in Iowa said this weekend, repent and change our minds about how we live within those systems moving forward.

There are a lot of white people these days who have begun to admit that they benefit from white privilege, but it’s much more difficult to actually accept that that privilege is a product of white supremacy and the systems that uphold it. We may not be in the streets yelling out that whites are the supreme race, but we willingly welcome the better education access, the better protection from the law, the freedom from being followed and side-eyed at department stores. I, myself, have benefited greatly from my white privilege. The very work that I do and life that I live would not be possible if I weren’t a white, middle-class, college educated, cisgendered male. I love being able to work as an artist and community organizer in my region of South-eastern Haiti and collaborate with such dynamic groups of Haitian artists on both a local and international level. But if I had been born a black man, to a single mother, in Detroit, and decided in my late teens that I had a dream to do work similar to what I do now, there’s no way, NO WAY, in this country of the United States, that fulfilling such a dream would actually be possible. Because of where I come from and what I look like, when I began to pursue working in Haiti through the arts, it was very easy for people to assume that I was going to be “doing good”, “helping others”, and “making a difference”. And because of that, I was able to get the support that I needed to actually succeed in that pursuit and make a life out of it. I won’t say that it was easy to do so, but it was an absolute breeze compared to how difficult, nay impossible, it would have been if I had come from a more urban, less economically advantaged place, and had darker skin and different life experiences.

My white privilege allows me the opportunity to do work in Haiti that Haitians themselves aren’t able to do in their own country because of the inherent white supremacy systems that impact access to resources and power. Early on in my career in Haiti when I was young and starting out, I was enthusiastically encouraged on all sides to pursue specific projects, but when young Haitian men, my own age, with just as much intelligence and potential, attempted to do the same exact projects for their own communities, they would be criticized as being too ambitious, only out for their own good, having ulterior motives. Everything from their sex drives to their taste in music would be used to discredit them while at the same time I would be praised for changing lives. Seeing this, I made it my mission to raise up those same young men as leaders in their communities and empower them to prove the naysayers wrong while trying to take a more supportive, less dominant role in the community work myself. And yet, no matter what I try to do to push them to the forefront and communicate that they are the ones doing the work, I usually end up getting most of the credit, because our systems of white supremacy have taught us to assume that white people are the saviors even though history would suggest that white people are usually the oppressors.

And now I’ve taken this post in a different direction again and gotten away from Charlottesville with my rant. But maybe that’s the point. Charlottesville was not an isolated, insidious incident. It was a symptom of centuries old structures that affect our lives every day on a national and a global level. And for centuries the victims of those unjust structures have been calling out. It’s time for those of us who benefit from the structures to stop and listen to what they have been saying and to actively work to break down those structures with them so that together they may be rebuilt in a more equitable and just way.

As for suggestions on voices of writers and commentators of color to check out, my good friend, Gwenn Mangine, put out a blog post this week about listening to priority voices with some good suggestions. Gwenn’s not a writer of color, but it’s easier to share her list than make my own. So check that out here. I’ll add podcast recommendations for the most recent episodes on Charlottesville from Politically Re-Active, It’s Been a Minute, and Black on the Air. For articles, check out this one from my girlfriend, Roxane Gay, and this one from Vann R Newkirk at the Atlantic, and this interview with Patrisse Cullors. Also, although not directly commenting on Charlottesville, I recommend reading Kara Walker’s most recent Artist’s Statement. It is brilliant and tremendously relevant to the situation.

Is This Artist African American?

This is a post that I wrote for my art blog but wanted to share it here as well thinking that it might be interesting to my Green Mango audience too. I am sincere when I say I hope to open conversations around these topics, so I welcome any feedback my readers might have on the subject.

The Art of Lee Rainboth (Concepts Blog)

I’m back in the US for a bit, showing my art in some shows again here in the Midwest, which always makes for new challenging interactions and feedback from viewers of my work. I don’t mean challenging in that the interactions are difficult, but they challenge me to reconsider what my art means to different people in different contexts. This is good and necessary for me as an artist because I get used to creating the work in my usual Haitian context and the immediate feedback that I always get on my paintings are from the Haitians themselves. But once I remove the work from that context and exhibit it in a different place with different histories and relationships to race, religion, culture, and community, and each person that views the work has their own personal histories and relationships, the art can send a very different message.

I’m currently participating…

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10 Reasons Why Haiti hasn’t Broken Me Yet

I am knocking on wood here. Because Haiti is a place that destroys people. The majority of outsiders that come here don’t last long and the ones that do last a while are broken by the time that they leave. It’s why Haitians themselves are frequently described with the detestable label of “resilient” because they find ways to survive and find joy in life despite all of the odds against it. When we say “Haitians are so resilient” what we really mean is, “I just don’t understand how they live in such a hellhole!” Those who come in from the outside come with a privilege that makes them much less resilient, because when things get tough, they can always choose to leave. And most do. I, for some reason, however, have not. After ten years, I am still here. It is certainly not because I am any stronger than others who have tried, but it seems that fate has simply aligned in such a way that I have managed to avoid many of the circumstances that often lead others to be broken. This does not at all mean that I haven’t experienced my fair share of trauma here (um, hello, earthquake) but my certain combination of Haitian traumas have never been enough to break me to the point of no return, and that has to do much with the way that I have chosen to live and the community that I live with. But also, because I have never had to deal with the following ten things that many, many people have encountered and each one chips away at resolve and the chance for resilience.

  1. I’ve Never Felt Unsafe

There are, indeed, reasons why Haiti is still under a travel advisory from the US for security reasons. Even though I personally have never been a victim of those reasons, there are plenty of others who have been. I live in a rural area where crime is low and everyone looks out for one another, even those who aren’t from around here. There are places in this country where the sound of gunshots can be as common as the sound of donkeys braying here at my home. I’m one of the rare white people in this country that doesn’t live in a large walled in compound with an armed guard at the gate 24/7. I don’t even lock my doors at night or when I leave. And I’ve never once thought twice about it. My vicious guard dog, Buttons, has to keep herself busy by harassing school children and old market ladies because she has nothing to actually guard me from. A lot of people say that I should be more careful, but Haiti has yet to give me a reason to be.

  1. I’ve Never Gotten Anything Valuable Stolen from Me

After ten years, of course, I’ve had a few inconsequential things stolen from me: a telephone and some cash in the middle of the carnival crowd, an inverter that was a hand-me-down to start with, and one of my favorite t-shirts (right off of the laundry line). But that’s about it. We had two solar batteries stolen from Living Media once, which was expensive to replace, but not all that devastating. So after ten years, I count myself very lucky on this front. It also is worth stating that I have never had anything stolen from me from someone that I trusted, which is a very frequent story that I hear from other expats. But it’s also hard to have your stuff stolen when you live with an attitude of sharing absolutely everything anyway. My roommates and I have no boundaries when it comes to sharing. Underwear? When laundry days don’t line up, sure. Toothbrush? When we’re away from home and in a bind, yep. So when nothing’s really for me anyway, it’s hard to ever really consider anything stolen.

  1. I’ve Never Gotten the Worst Diseases or had Traumatic Hospital Experiences

There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t have had malaria, or dengue, or chikungunya by now. I take no precautions, I don’t use bug spray, I don’t sleep under a net, nothing. I have been daring mosquitoes to upset my health for years, and what do they do, give me a little zika for a day or two? C’mon! Even beyond mosquitoes, I’ve gotten off easy. The one time I had TB, it remained inactive and I got it treated before it ever gave me any symptoms. I’ve never once had to be hospitalized for anything here, and thank God. The horror stories of trying to get treatment here alone are enough to make someone give up on everything. Among expats who live like I do, it’s usually a sort of badge of honor to be able to compare who’s survived the most exotic diseases, and all I can say is, “I had some bad lobster once that made me puke a lot”.

  1. I’ve Never Been in an Abusive or Destabilizing Romantic Relationship

This one, people. Many of the other things on this list are purely fate that I have been able to avoid them and have come despite all of my efforts contrary to what is considered prudent, however, this one. This one right here, I get to say is because I make good choices. I have seen way too many good people get destroyed here because they give their heart to the wrong person, they get in bed with the wrong person, and they sacrifice their trust for the wrong person. Haitians are beautiful, passionate, sexy people that make you want to fall in love with them. And some of them are worth falling in love with. But this culture makes legitimate love and healthy relationships almost impossible no matter who it’s with (just ask the ones who have been able to make it work). But far too many foreigners here have gently laid their hearts in the hands of a Haitian only to have it ripped apart because of cultural differences and that choice carries consequences on every other part of their life, often destroying the other good work they are trying to do.

  1. I’ve Never Gotten in a Serious Moto Accident

I don’t need a lecture about wearing a helmet, thank you. It’s certainly not because I haven’t seen the gruesome results of tragic moto accidents though. Close friends of mine have been victims and others have fully positive experiences in this country until they’re thrown to the pavement and the pain and injury of the collision breaks not only skin and bones, but also their devotion to the country. It becomes such a more attractive option to return to where the streets actually have rules and cars have airbags and streetlights actually work.

  1. I’ve Never been Touched by a Death that I couldn’t Grieve Healthily

Death has crossed my path plenty of times in Haiti. It is one thing that you have to get used to. You become a professional at attending funerals. Some of those deaths have even been violent or unexpected. But through it all, Death has stayed out of my most intimate inner circle. In my entire time here, I have not lost any of my closest friends, my Haitian family, my staff or co-workers that I’ve come to depend on. That is a rare, rare gift in this place. I try to never take it for granted because I know how much harder those deaths can hit in this context. The culture of grief here is so different that for those of us who must straddle cultures, a death like that can topple everything that holds us together. I know that none of us are immune, however, so I’d be perfectly happy for all of those closest to me to outlive me and those who don’t, to die comfortably of old age. But I know Haiti doesn’t give that gift to anybody forever. Besides, if I ever lost one of my roommates, I don’t know whose underwear I’d borrow when I forget to plan ahead.

  1. I’ve Never Been Betrayed by Staff

I know a lot of expats will read that and think, “He’s lying. He can’t be serious. That’s not possible in this country. What kind of magic does he possess?” I’m going to tell you the truth, without trying to sound arrogant. I honestly don’t think it’s because I have always worked with or chosen staff in my organizations that are any more pure and trustworthy than any other Haitians. I have always had incredible staff, but they have always still been susceptible to the constraints that this culture puts on them, and sometimes, in other cases, that leads local staff to make decisions for the sake of their survival or their own integrity that makes expat staff feel betrayed. I think I have never been on the receiving end of this because I’m a very good listener and I have always made space for my local staff to feel like their voices are heard and I always let them guide as much decision making as possible. This isn’t always possible in all situations in other organizations, but because I’ve been able to do that, I’ve never had a staff member feel like they’ve had to do something behind my back or betray my trust. I’ve always been ready to accept and adapt to the culture where others would simply see betrayal because they are looking at things through the lens of the culture that they come from. This results in certain situations where, if others were in my shoes, they might feel like a line had been crossed, but my lines are always blurrier than anyone else’s. What’s black and what’s white, what’s betrayal and what’s fidelity, is always more fluid with me.

  1. I’ve Never Felt Taken Advantage of

This is closely related to the previous one, but even outside of work situations, as a white person, it’s easy, even common to be taken advantage of here. From beggars in the street, from vendors in the market, from participants in your programs, it seems Haitians are always looking for ways to exploit you as a person from a place of means or exploit their relationship to you for access to those means. But whether they are or aren’t actually taking advantage of me, I’ve never felt taken advantage of. Because here’s the thing, Haitians, as a whole, come from an entire history of being taken advantage of and exploited by the rest of the world. And to many of them, I represent the rest of the world and its history of exploitation. My skin color does, my language does, my passport does, and my privilege does. So I’m usually prepared to understand where they’re coming from. This doesn’t mean that I make myself a doormat, a healthy sense of sarcasm and measured use of Creole profanities helps with that, but I never fault a Haitian for trying to benefit off of my foreignness because it’s usually more of a survival tactic than it is malice.

  1. I’ve Never Felt like a Failure

Sure, I’ve had plenty of small failures along the way on specific projects but I, myself, have never felt like a failure in the bigger picture. Have I been disappointed? Plenty of times. But I learned early on to temper my expectations so that the successes, when they do happen, can shine brighter and have more power in defining my experience. In those times when I have failed in smaller ways and I lament those failures to my friends, they usually remind me that no one asked me to do what I was trying to do anyway. They remind me that the success of the community as a whole does not and never did depend on the success or the failure of my projects. They point out that they, personally, don’t care one way or the other. They’re just glad I’m here. As an American who grew up in a society that measures everything by results, it’s taken some time to adjust to such a mindset, but it has helped me keep a clear head about my reasons for being here and avoid breaking down when things don’t go as planned.

10.  I’ve Never Felt Alone.

After the earthquake, as an American in the situation, isolated and cut off from the rest of the world with no one from my home culture who could really understand what I was going through, I experienced one of the most immersive senses of loneliness possible. Yet it was at that same time that I was woven into the most intimate and indescribable sense of community and unconditional support from the local Haitians that were going through the situation with me. That is why I can say that I’ve never felt alone. No feeling of loneliness could ever compare to what I felt at those moments and yet it was the least alone that I ever felt because of those around me who were all going through the same thing, or even worse. And because nothing could ever compare to that, I know that as long I am here with this same community, I will never feel alone because I will never be alone.

That fact by itself is what has kept this country from breaking me. I’m not alone. I’ve got people. A lot of people, actually. The best people. And they’re all there no matter what happens. Even if I do get in a terrible moto accident or I lose control and fall in love with the worst person or I get everything that I value stolen from me. They are there and I know they will continue to be. To make me laugh, to make me believe in my purpose, to loan me underwear, and to hold me together when I’m in danger of breaking under the pressure of this country.

My Top 12 Podcasts of 2016

Originally, I was going to just add this on to the end of my Best Books post as sort of a bonus, maybe mention 5 podcasts that really informed, inspired, and entertained me this year. But as I started to make the list, I realized there were way too many really good podcasts that got me through this year that they deserved their own post rather than a supplement to another. And then as I was making the list, I couldn’t even keep it to 10 as was my original intention. In the interest of editing my list, I didn’t include any podcasts that are just audio versions of TV shows like Rachel Maddow or Bill Maher. (I know, I know, “Lee, zip up your Iowa farmboy, your liberal hippie is showing.”) This is the year that I became obsessed with podcasts and there were so many good ones out there to fill my earholes. Here are my favorites.

12. There Goes the Neighborhood

square-with-logos_imgThis year I became a little obsessed with the concept of gentrification and this podcast fed that obsession in a very understandable way. It unpacks all of the issues related to gentrification at all levels by speaking directly to people affected by it on all sides. Specifically focusing on the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, it shares interviews from those who are being displaced to those who are replacing them to the housing developers and politicians making the decisions. It takes a broad but comprehensive look at a  specific place that is wrestling with a reality that has started to affect cities all over the USA.

11. Accused

avatars-000247305943-o3mscu-originalIn a year that really capitalized on the popularity of true crime podcasts, to me, Accused stood out as one of the best. What I appreciated about it was that from the very outset in the first episode the producers and hosts were clear about the fact that they were doing the podcast in hopes of actually solving the unsolved case from the 70’s. They were also upfront with the fact that although they intended to present all of the facts as objectively as possible, they couldn’t completely abandon their own human tendencies to form opinions. Establishing these factors from the beginning made the whole podcast more captivating and less clinical for me. It pursues the case of the murder of Beth Andes in a small Ohio town in which a suspect was tried but acquitted and then the case was abandoned to never be solved. A couple other worthwhile true crime podcasts that didn’t make my list are In The Dark and Up And Vanished.

10. Serial

serial-itunes-logoI remain loyal to Serial after their second season knowing that it kept me invested and informed throughout once again. It remains the standard model and inspiration for so many podcasts that have come after it, and in many ways it can be credited for the popularity of podcasts in general today. Many people found season two less interesting than season one but I think that’s mainly because it didn’t provide the opportunity for listeners to play detective. But to me it still shone a clarifying light on a news story that I personally, at least, didn’t know enough about. And through their effective zooming out, they made me see how such a story effects us all. The story of US serviceman, Beau Bergdahl, being captured by the Taliban, is one that is easy to put into a category of hard to define war stories but Serial has a way of showing it to be much more than that.

9. The Room Where It’s Happening

ear_theroomwhereithappens_cover_1600x1600_final-300x300I confess, I’m a Hamilhead. And this podcast provides me with all the super fan Hamilton nerd goodness I need to keep from throwing away my shot (even though I’m really more of a Burr). Having theater and entertainment insiders get together every week and geek out over every detail of the musical makes me know I’m not alone. Every new hidden easter egg and background technical detail I hear about makes me love the musical even more. The best episode, in my humble opinion, was with the musical supervisor, Alex Lacamoire. I also love that it’s always available first thing Monday morning after a weekend without podcasts. Perfect way to start off the week.

8. Tiny Spark

ts_logo_without_taglineThis is the perfect podcast for nonprofit nerds like myself. Each episode takes an in depth look at the most pressing issues facing the nonprofit and philanthropy sectors through interviews with a variety of experts that are often on the cutting edges of these worlds. Hosted by Amy Costello, an experienced journalist whose work has often revealed some of the complicated inner workings of charity  efforts on a global scale. Also her voice is so steady and reassuring that it’s a pleasure to listen to and she always asks exactly the right questions.

7. Code Switch

wubpu46sThis is an NPR podcast that looks at issues of race and identity led by journalists of color, primarily Gene Demby and Shereen Marisol. For me, their topics are kind of hit or miss but when they’re good they’re really good. If you only listen to one episode, make it “Apocalypse or Racial Kumbaya?” But there are lots of good ones. While addressing issues that can typically be so contentious, the hosts maintain a level of professionalism and realism that makes the context of what they’re saying approachable while remaining challenging. It’s a great model of how to have civilized conversations about controversial topics. Plus, Demby closes out each episode with his standard “Be easy,” which I love because he’s the perfect model for such advice.

6. Sooo Many White Guys

indexYes, I’m also a huge fan of 2 Dope Queens, but I actually liked Phoebe Robinson’s own podcast more because while it maintains Phoebe’s always funny and refreshing voice, it conducts interviews with some of our generation’s leading thinkers on the current issues that define us. Rather than being just comedy its comedy + politics + pop culture. And honestly I’m just waiting for God to make my path cross with Phoebe’s somehow so that we can fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. YQY

5. About Race

downloadThis podcast is described as “a lively multiracial conversation about the ways we can’t talk, don’t talk, would rather not talk, but intermittently, fitfully, embarrassingly do talk about culture, identity, politics, power, and privilege in our pre-post-yet-still-very-racial America.” It’s got a stellar team of hosts, including one of my favs, Barathunde Thurston, that take a different topic each week that is consuming the current national dialog about race and they deconstruct and debate it often with a wide spectrum of views on each topic. The hosts always have a healthy debate where they often disagree with each other and ask all of the important questions that we should each be asking ourselves in our interactions with each other every day. It can sometimes get a little too intellectual and cerebral making certain perspectives harder to follow. But it’s successful at being real and raw and leading the way in a conversation that we collectively as a nation should be having.

4. Fake the Nation

ear_fakethenation_cover_1400x1400-1024x1024Hosted by one of my favorite comedians, Negin Farsad, this podcasts features a variety of unique voices, most of them from minority comedians, many of them Muslim. Each week they bring levity, humor, and a healthy dose of cynicism to the week’s political news. As voices that are typically othered in our political conversations, I appreciate this podcast for amplifying these voices instead. Negin frequently echoes the thoughts that I have in my own head, which isn’t necessarily constructive, but she expresses those thoughts in a much more entertaining way. And her guests always add nuance and diversity.

3. Politically Re-Active

podcast-2W Kamau Bell and Hari Kondabolu taking politicians to task and making us laugh with an incomparable lineup of guests, including politicians themselves sometimes, what more could you ask for? Unfortunately this podcast was only designed to go through the election, but I’m an optimist and believe that it was popular enough that they’ll bring it back again soon. It helped keep me sane throughout the year leading up to the election and often made me look at things in a new way. Their interviews with Rosa Clemente and Jill Stein made me see the Green party in a whole new light. Their post election episode with Roxane Gay was perfection. Keeping my fingers crossed that this one comes back.

2. We Live Here

indexIf I was in charge of giving out awards, I would give all of them to this team of local reporters at St. Louis public radio! They do such a stellar job on this podcast that each new episode can never come soon enough for me. I have a lot of podcasts on this list that deal with race, but none of them do it better than We Live Here. Their most recent episode on race issues in the contemporary art world brought me enough life to last through 2017 and beyond. But even before that, I loved every episode they produced. My only complaint is that they don’t come out frequently enough. What started as a podcast exploring “race, class, power, poverty, systems and the people they touch,” initially in the aftermath of the Michael Brown shooting and the Ferguson protests that followed, has grown to project insightful analysis and absolutely essential investigation into how these systems affect all of us whether in St. Louis, elsewhere in the US, or around the world. From modern segregation, to implicit biases in schools, to housing crises, this podcast addresses it all and does so from the inside looking out rather than the outside looking in, which is what we get from the national media. I can’t heap enough praise upon this podcast! Even though it’s #2 on my list, it’s still the best in a lot of ways, especially from a local perspective.

1. NPR Politics Podcast

nprpolitics_red1400px_sq-6bc03b536409ec88fd8d3abb637b560e93865bad-s300-c85I honestly don’t know how anyone survived the past year in politics without listening obsessively to this podcast. In a country that is so divided by partisan prejudices, every week, sometimes more, the NPR politics team was a breath of objective, nonpartisan, fresh air providing facts and context to all of the chaos of the election. And I am so thankful to still have them to help me understand the next 4 years. The beauty of it is that they have journalist on the team, that if they allowed themselves to, would have a right to extremely personal opinions on what is happening. Muslim, black, queer, Latino, women, and yes, even a couple old white men, all together using their superhuman powers of objectivity to cover the current political news. Any time you feel like you’re about to freak out and break down from all of the other news your hearing, NPR Politics shows up in your podcast feed and restores your faith in facts and truth and humanity. I am such a fan of this podcast that when one of the team members made a joke about the word “vocalness” sounding like a 90’s R&B group and that joke was embraced by fans to the point that they actually offered Vocalness band posters, I was one of the first ones to sign up. I’m so excited to know that I have a Vocalness poster waiting for me back in Iowa! And now, I have to give this podcast the credit they deserve, especially before they lose two of their best journalists, Asma Khalid and Sam Sanders. Thank you, NPR Politics team, for getting me and so many others through this past year!

Let me know what you think  of this list. Are there other podcasts that you enjoy that I need to check out? If you listen to some of these, do you agree with my assessments? Looking forward to the new podcasts that 2017 will bring us. I might just have to make one of my own. Until then, Happy New Year to all my readers!

If you appreciate what you read on The Green Mango Blog, then please visit my About page to learn more about the work I do and how you can support my efforts as an artist and writer here in Haiti. Thanks.

My Top 10 Books of 2016

This year there were a number of books that simply came into my life at exactly the right moment. I love the magic that occurs when a book is able to find you at a point where its words speak in identifiably profound ways to your current situation. So I’m happy to share these recommendations with you and hope that some of them are the right fit for the moments that you’re living right now too. As usual, these are not necessarily books that were published in 2016, but ones that I read during the year and would like to pass on to you. This year, however, I did try to keep my list to relatively new books that have been published within the last year or two. Although I did read some classics this year for the first time like The Alchemist and Devil and The White City, I wanted to keep my list to newer books that maybe my readers haven’t had the chance to read yet or maybe haven’t even heard of yet.

1. Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi

23209924In addition to being my favorite book of the year, I also think that it is one of the most underrated books that has come out recently. It imagines a world, specifically a USA, where water has become so scarce that life hangs in the balance and people use the possession and trade of water to acquire and maintain power and control the population. The book follows a spy and a journalist whose paths collide through a roller coaster journey of murder, corruption, and the pursuit of the truth and justice. It paints a harrowing dystopian picture of the future that seems all too plausible considering what’s going on between droughts, wildfires, water sources threatened by pipeline leaks, and entire cities poisoned by shoddy infrastructure and corrupt politicians. I think that’s what made me really love this book, the fact that it seemed so far-fetched and at the same time, so frighteningly real. Once the writing hits its pace, the action tears through the narrative dragging the reader along with it on a thrilling ride to fit all of the pieces together to uncover who’s to blame. The byline for the book is, “someone will have to bleed if anyone hopes to drink” and as a reader in the end you’re not sure whether you’ve been implicated or exploited but you know that you’ve been entertained and left to look at our most precious resource in a whole new way.

2. Underground Airlines by Ben Winters

winters_undergroundairlines_hcI downloaded this as an audiobook to listen to during my ride to Indianapolis where I spent a couple of months this fall. When I decided to download it, although I had read the summaries and was interested in the story, I had no idea that it was actually set in Indianapolis. The book asks one very big question, what if the Civil War never occurred? It’s set in modern day Indy, often referring to places around the city that I came to know well while I was there. The main character, Victor, is a former slave who made a deal with the government for his freedom in exchange for working as a secret agent to hunt down escaped slaves to return them to their owners in the southern states where slavery still exists. While following a runaway through the city, Victor uncovers many layers of government secrets that he, himself, has been unknowingly involved in. While following Victor on this journey the reader also is confronted with questions about our modern society, how we interact with one another, and how we each are complicit in the inequalities and injustices that undeniably exist. The story itself touches upon the sacrifices that we each make to become who we want to be and the consequences of those decisions. Normalization is also a theme as characters adjust to the reality that they live in.

3. An Untamed State by Roxane Gay

gay-an-untamed-state-jacket-art-9780802122513This was the year that I officially fell in love with Roxane Gay as a writer, speaker, and consistently calm, but critical voice of current issues. I was exposed to her genius through some of the podcasts that I listen to, but once I found out that she’s actually of Haitian decent, I became an even bigger fan and looked into some of her previous writing. Although she’s more known for her writing on feminism, when she draws upon her own identity as Haitian and her immigrant family’s experience, she’s able to weave narratives that are incredibly engaging. In An Untamed State, she tells a fictional story about a Haitian American woman from an elite wealthy family who gets kidnapped and held for ransom while visiting Port-au-Prince. At first I was skeptical of the basis for this novel because I hate supporting anything that perpetuates the stereotype of Haiti as the kidnapping capitol of the world. But Gay handles the story with such a skilled voice and builds such intriguing characters, that the setting becomes less of a social commentary and more of a tool to approach issues of trauma, family, class and wealth, the limits and powers of love, and the feminine spirit. There’s a constant ebb and flow of the reader’s sympathies and frustrations towards the characters, forcing us to question our own assumptions of what we would do if we ourselves or one of our loved ones were ever in such a situation. It’s a book that’s devastating and difficult, but so good.

4. The Tusk that Did the Damage by Tania James

22318387This book is told from multiple points of view, including an elephant named Gravedigger and the different humans that he comes in contact with for different reasons. And of all of the characters featured in the story, the elephant becomes the most relatable in many ways. As he fights for survival and revenge in the countryside of southern India we follow his journey on a tale of greed, resilience, and loyalty. Through all of this it manages to also be a gentle love story set against remarkable circumstances. While enjoying the story, I also learned an incredible amount about the ivory trade and it’s effects both on the animals who are it’s victims but the communities that are involved in it. But the true beauty in its craft is that it doesn’t come off as an informative documentation but rather a splendid story from a unique perspective that leaves you in reverence of the formidable creatures that teach you through their wisdom.

5. The Sellout by Paul Beatty

22237161This book was written with one of the most unique voices of any book I’ve ever read. The protagonist and narrator of the novel looks at the world in a different way to say the least and leaves the reader scratching their head throughout but keeps you invested in his story nonetheless because you can’t wait to see what he says or does next. A black man, living in the ghetto of Los Angeles, he embarks on a mission leading to the Supreme Court, with the objective of reinstating slavery and segregation for a myriad of unbelievable and often hilarious circumstances dating back to his childhood and upbringing by a cooky sociologist father and his racially charged experiences that followed. The language in this book certainly isn’t for everybody and the writing style takes a little time to accept and ride along with. But once you adjust to those, the narrative itself proves to be so intriguing because through it’s humor and one-of-a-kind style, you almost forget all of the really heavy social and racial issues that you’re confronting with each page.

6.Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

bn-oc968_gyasi__jv_20160520165430Another book told from multiple perspectives and following multiple characters until their stories converge, Homegoing is a deep, layered story of two half sisters tracing their histories from the source of the slave trade in West Africa through subsequent generations of their families to show how different each individual’s destiny may be despite where they come from. It pulls you along from character to character through the years tracing the branches out from the roots through slavery and exploitation on one side to wealth and a very different kind of exploitation on the other side. Rather than being just a story about slavery and racism, the ripples reach out to draw you into very human emotions through the personal and genuine treatment of each character you encounter. It’s an absolute study in storytelling while taking a very dark and complicated part of history and putting it in a new light through the skilled fiction craftmanship.

7. The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules by Catharina Ingelman-Sundberg

27213247-_uy200_I read this book right after the election, and it proved to be just what I needed to escape all of the drama. A light-hearted, comical account of a group of elderly friends who become disenchanted with their lives at the retirement home and decide to bring some excitement into their lives by going on a crime spree of theft and fraud. The inspiration for their decision to enter the world of crime is based on the fact that they figure they’d be treated better in prison then they were treated in the old folks home. The characters are so well defined and so relatable that you find yourself visualizing them as people you know in real life based on their personalities and their individual quirks. It’s not earth-shattering, it’s not mind changing, it’s just fun. It’s Golden Girls meets Oceans Eleven and it’s a pure delight the whole way through.


8. Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

150709_sbr_coates-cover-jpg-crop-original-originalI questioned whether or not to include this on my list simply because it’s on all of the best books lists and has almost become a cliche symbol for white allyship to racial justice. It’s become a trophy for white people to prove how woke they are by whether or not they’ve read it. But the reason that it has reached that status is because it truly is a brilliant piece of writing taking a unique approach to racial issues. Its creativity in writing is what makes it so accessible to so many people and yet it attacks very important racial issues with gravity and sensitivity. Written as one extended letter from a father to his son this work tackles the tough questions of race in America in an intimate and provocative manner. It’s a survival guide to a young black man in a country and a world that make survival difficult for such youth. As a white man reading it, there are implications that are impossible to escape yet it’s written in a way to leave any reader room to agree with and understand the warnings that are so powerfully translated. 

9. The Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline

6a00d8341c9ac653ef019b02063899970dI had purchased this book before I ever decided to foster parent an orphan child earlier this year, but didn’t start reading it until shortly after the child was in my custody. So although it follows a very different story of orphans in very different times and places, much of its underlying commentary was especially meaningful to me at the time. Through the unlikely friendship of a moody teenager in the foster system and a wealthy elderly woman, Vivian, we are exposed to the story of Vivian’s past when she was an Irish immigrant orphan who boarded a train on a dramatic journey towards finding a family and a home. Through the intersectional stories we’re taken on a journey where each person is searching for a place to belong and a loving place to land where they can be accepted as their true selves. 

10. H is for Hawk by Helen MacDonald

18803640In recommending this book, I would also like to recommend that you treat yourself to the audiobook version of this one. Narrated by the author herself, her voice becomes such a peaceful, almost meditative presence that it lends a whole new layer of poignance to the book. The author’s own process of grief after her father’s death is married together with the science of training falcons in a breathtaking narrative that, on the outside, seems like what would be a discordant premise. But it is so fully integrated into the author’s personal story with such a magnificent written voice, that you as a ready become completely immersed in her world and will come out of wanting to go out and get a hawk of your own. It never for a moment reads like a science book nor does it depress you with the grief. It finds it strength in the discovery of victorious flight in traumatic times. 

To Read in 2017

1. They Can’t Kill Us All by Wesly Lorey

2. Gentrifier by John Joe Schlichtman, Jason Patch, and Marc Lamont Hill

3. Swing Time by Zadie Smith

4. The Nix by Nathan Hill

5. Pond by Claire Louise Bennet

Let me know what your favorite books were this year and which ones you think I should add to my bookshelf to read in 2017. If you’ve read any of these let me know what you thought. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have. I wish all the best for my readers in the new year! May it be one filled with new discoveries, opportunities for laughing and learning, and more books that inspire us each to become more of who we were created to be. Peace, Love, and Light.

The 10 Most Haitian Things to Happen to the United States in 2016

I haven’t written much on my blog this year. Part of the reason for that might be that I usually write from an American perspective in a Haitian environment and context, but this past year it was often hard to tell the difference between Haiti and the USA judging from the news and current events, so I was confused about what to write about. So now, in review of this crazy year, I’m sharing my top 10 most Haitian things to happen to the United States in 2016. I’m gonna try to hit the blog hard now over the next few days to make up for my lack of posting over the rest of the year. Several year-end list coming up, but this is the first. Sometimes it seems like my purpose as a writer is to write about how crazy and chaotic life in Haiti is, ruled by the ideology of making decisions based on whatever makes the least sense, but this past year, up was down, and right was left, and the USA was making Haitian levels of senselessness. So here’s to putting 2016 behind us and moving on to see what we can create for 2017.

10. Citizens Believed in Revolution Again

Haitians are a people who have Revolution in their DNA. The idea of revolution is central to their very identity as Haitians and to this day it permeates all they do in their daily lives. As USAmericans we don’t cling to such a revolutionary identity. We’ve learned about “the Revolution” in history and maintain it as something that happened it the past but doesn’t define our modern life. This year, however, the word “revolution” started to take on new meaning as it was specifically used in political movements like Bernie Sanders’ whose campaign inspired voters young and old to believe in a completely different approach to politics and public life. Although that particular revolution was unsuccessful it did energize many to embrace the idea of radical change.

9. People were Late to Things

From Hillary making it back on the debate stage late after a bathroom break, to Frank Ocean’s new album finally coming out after multiple postponed release dates, this year seemed to be the year where USAmericans started to embrace the fluidity of time that Haitians have always allowed to guide their schedules. Life’s too short to be chained down to our schedules. In Haiti, any appointment you make always comes with a “give or take an hour or so” assumption. We may not have relaxed our chains quite that much in the USA, but we’ve accepted that sometimes a bathroom break takes a little longer than expected, traffic just doesn’t flow like it should, and the creative process can’t be rushed.

8. The Water Was Undrinkable

As someone who has worked on multiple projects to improve access to clean water here in Haiti, I look upon so much of the news from the US in disbelief as it seems we have made water into a privilege rather than a right. It’s been over two years, and the people of Flint, Michigan, still don’t have clean drinking water and have to use individual bottles of water for bathing and cooking. And politics continue to impede progress despite the heroic work of many local individual’s in their communities there. When I read the stories of Flint mothers having to fill their bathtubs one 16-oz bottle of water at a time for their children to bathe, I have to count myself lucky here in the rural mountains of the hemisphere’s poorest country that I have a cistern full of pure rain water to bathe with and 5-gallon jugs of Culligan water for drinking. The situation in Flint is indefensible and the sad part is that, although it is the most notable, it’s not even the only place in the States with poisonous tap water. As certain people of power begin to be held accountable for the atrocity, hopefully 2017 doesn’t go by without comprehensive change.dsc_1557

7. Natural Disasters Drove People from their Homes

This has been a reality that continues to affect more people in the USA every year and it’s only going to get worse the more that we allow climate change deniers and environmental enemies into positions of power. Any more when I read a news story of cities being evacuated because of hurricanes or floods I have to double check whether it’s in the States or in Haiti. Of course, I know, that if people actually have the infrastructure to safely evacuate before a disaster, then it’s clearly the States, whereas in Haiti, we just read the death tolls that occur in the aftermath the disaster. That’s the difference.

6. Everyone Blamed Everyone Else for their Problems

It was Comey. It was Russia. It was uneducated white men. It was Hamilton. It was SNL. It was the media. It was some 400-pound guy in a bed somewhere. No puppet, you’re the puppet! I think maybe USAmerican politicians this year all participated in a collective workshop led by some Haitians on how to never take responsibility for anything and find someone else to always blame for your problems. Because Haitians are experts at this.

5. People Drowned their Disappointments in Alcohol

The only thing left to do once you’ve blamed everyone else for your problems is drink until you can’t remember that it was actually your fault in the first place. Alcoholism in Haiti isn’t really regarded as an illness or an addiction, but rather as the only logical response for someone whose difficulties in life have left them with no other options. In the USA this year there were at least 2.8 million people who were left disappointed and disillusioned with the fact that they lived in and were represented by a system that overruled their voice. And many of them turned to alcohol because there was no human way to make sense of it all sober. A very Haitian response.15749132_10154195965727844_2133452842_o

4. A Foreign Country Interfered with the Election to Install their Chosen Candidate

It’s hard to look back overtime and pinpoint an election in Haiti’s history that wasn’t tampered with by foreign influence. Sometimes more blatantly than others like in 2010 when Secretary of State Hillary Clinton actually had to show up and have a sit-down big-boy talk with the exiting president to convince him to convince his party’s candidate to concede to the other leading candidate, cross-dressing konpa singer, Michel Martelly. All of this after a series of very controversial votes with accusations of widespread fraud. The US knew Martelly would be more in their interest so they waved their privilege around as the Western Hemisphere’s most notorious bully and pulled the necessary strings to get the result they wanted. Even before that, though, the US has been meddling in Haiti’s presidential politics almost nonstop from electing leaders, to deposing leaders, to reinstating them again. So when news broke, and was ignored, then broke again, that Russia had meddled in our election in the US, not only Haiti, but all of Latin America found the hypocrisy of the USA’s outrage a bit absurd.15749705_10154195965562844_43955809_n

3. Protests Actually Made a Difference

Haitian’s are professionals at protesting. It’s part of their revolutionary DNA. When they see a violation of justice, they know how to interrupt life in such a way as to get changes made. Roads blocked with rocks and downed trees, burning tires, crowds of people gathering to make their grievances known, Haitians will not allow their protests to be ignored. And often times this results in changes being made whether it has to do with the payment of public school teachers, or violence gone unpunished, or roads and bridges in need of repair, Haitian protests frequently put the wheels of justice in motion relatively quickly. In the USA, our protests usually go about with no official response. They’re regarded as a simple nuisance, or often times as a reprehensible crime. Because of our militarized police forces we are able to weaken protests and prove that people do not truly have any power in our society. But this year, the water protectors at Standing Rock maintained their protest with diligence and bravery until action was actually taken at the highest levels and the pipeline construction was halted. Even though it is, indeed, a temporary and partial victory, it is a victory nonetheless for people in our country who very seldom see action in response to protests.

2. A Rich Misogynistic Inexperienced Celebrity was Elected President.

Hey USA, you think you’re being original by electing someone different, an outsider, to the presidency. Haiti’s way ahead of you. Haiti elected a politically incorrect chauvinist because of his fame and manipulation of the media years ago. Long before Trump was saying blood was coming out of Megan Kelly’s whatever or we all heard him on tape saying that he could grab women by the p***ies, Michel Martelly was telling female journalists to come on stage so he could have sex with them in front of crowds and was waving his genitals around in front of thousands during concerts. That’s right, Haiti gets to be hipster about this one, because they elected that kind of guy way before it was cool. (And by the way, they also survived his time in office.) The whole time that the USA was enjoying economic growth, a decline in unemployment, heath care expansion, and a new wave of rights for all people, all under the first black president, Haiti was like, “nah, we’re gonna put this guy who knows how to sing and make us laugh in charge of our country.” Of course, referring to #4 on this list, it’s debatable whether it was actually the Haitians who made that decision or not. Regardless, when they look at Trump, Haitians can be like, “yep, been there, done that.”

1. Black Lives Didn’t Matter

Most people might think that the election would be the biggest news, at the top of the list from the year. But I put this one in the #1 spot because I believe that it is the most important to keep talking about. Certainly, 2016 wasn’t the first year that black Americans were shown how little their lives matter, in fact it was the 240th year that they were reminded of this reality. They saw another string of their black brothers and sisters killed by police brutality, more convicted and abused by a criminal justice system that disproportionately targets them, their children poisoned in Flint and elsewhere, their family driven from their homes in Baton Rouge, and across the country an education system and an employment system that continues to discriminate and segregate. There are endless examples. And they are still criticized for even daring to believe that their lives matter, for daring to say it out loud or typing it in a hashtag. Why this is on my list as the most Haitian thing, is because that revolutionary identity I’ve mentioned goes back to the very fight for black lives to matter. The Haitian revolution was carried out by slaves who were prepared to sacrifice everything to live their lives as human beings with value and freedom. It’s that same fight that is carried on through the Black Lives Matter movement to this day in the US. And it still is a fight in Haiti for them to convince the world that their lives, as independent black humans, matter. They are still viewed by the world as less then, inferior, charity dumps of pity, through the media and nonprofit messaging that define things. If their lives as black people really mattered, then when thousands of those lives get wiped out by a natural disaster, it would make a bigger difference to the rest of the world. If their lives really mattered, then more would be done to protect those lives in the future and set up a system for them to actually thrive in. The same fight that Black Lives Matter is engaged in on a national scale, the people of Haiti have been fighting for centuries on a global scale. A place at the table, a voice in the conversation, a share in the freedom, a life that matters.