In today's world, humanity can often feel like a distant concept replaced by acts of "othering," of making that which is unfamiliar somehow inhumane. Yet those who have traversed the dangers of their homeland, often made unsafe by the never-ending zeal for capitalist power, seek safe havens to express the evidence of their histories and lived experiences, which provide glimpses into the power and resilience of their existence.
Haitian-born David Pierre-Louis is a prime example of the history, power, and resilience of Haitian history and culture. For many years, David poured his life into curating a creative and relaxing space for his community, His University district Lucid Lounge was a gathering space filled with love. After leaving his business, Pierre-Louis undertook the mission to give back to his Haitian community by establishing Kay-Tita, an integrity-driven social enterprise dedicated to empowering historically under-resourced communities by providing tailored resources, access, and opportunities to fuel their dreams and aspirations. In Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Kay-Tita is working to establish entrepreneurship development, educational programming, community spaces, and access to mental health resources, along with building Haiti's first 100% sustainable living building. Much of this work is being accomplished through partnerships like Haiti Coffee and the Kembe Fem documentary.
"When we are willing to learn from each other, we realize that we are not alone. Even though our individual stories are unique, by telling them, we come to understand that we are one. We can live and love together when we intentionally share in this way."
David has written about his experience as a Haitian in America and the hurtful stereotypes about Haitian history, as well as triumphant pieces of that history, in the following forward written for the release of Stories of Humankind Anthology written by his friend Jessie Sawyers.
For Black History Month, we lift up the experience of David Pierre-Louis and Stories of Humankind with the hope that stereotypes might be diminished by truthful narratives.
This forward, written by David Pierre-Louis, previously published in The Medium, is reprinted here by permission of the author:
“The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story” - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
It was a Monday morning, the day after my family and I spent the whole day in Little Haiti — a neighborhood in Miami’s Haitian Community district — at a rally marching for human rights and political injustice in Haiti. My mom was a proud Haitian Entrepreneur and, in preparation for the rally, she had screen-printed t-shirts with the Statue of Liberty squeezing Haitian President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. The image depicted the American and French government’s stronghold on Haiti. One of her shirts made its way onto my frail body at 7:30am. Just as I was about to leave the house, I stuffed one of my favorite t-shirts in my backpack because I knew deep down that I could not walk through the doors to my school with a Haitian t-shirt on. As soon as I had walked a few blocks past the house, I quickly removed the shirt and buried it in the bushel of leaves at the base of a nearby tree, put on my other shirt, and ran off to school. Crisis averted.
Given the weekend rally I had just experienced with my parents, there was a lot to be proud of. However, at the tender age of twelve, there was a negative narrative about Haitians at school that overshadowed the power of community I felt while courageously walking down the streets of Little Haiti. Kids at school would often utter hurtful phrases like, “Haitian booty scratcher,” “AIDS came from Haiti,” and “Haitians are ugly.” When I reflect on that time of my life, I honestly believe my inability to understand the strength of my Haitian roots hit deeper than those phrases my fellow classmates spewed.
I chose the quote at the start of the Foreword from Chimanda’s Ted Talk because it aligned with the pieces of my Haitian story that were missing during my youth. As a young person, I didn’t have the desire to explore more than the negative mainstream Haitian narrative that I heard. Instead, the ignorant, dark shadows at school consumed me.
My name is David Pierre-Louis; I was about sixteen years old when I finally started feeling comfortable being a proud Haitian-born Brooklyn Native. It was not just the narrative of Haiti being the first black freed nation that gave me wings — it was the courage of my immigrant parents and their ability to show up constantly for their community locally and back in Port-au-Prince.
It also didn’t hurt that the world began embracing Haitians differently when Wyclef Jean (Haitian-born hip hop emcee) and the Fugees released the album The Score my senior year in high school — that was the final permission I needed.
Over the years, I’ve learned that the Haitian narrative runs deeper than the revolution of 1804, the narrative of Haiti being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, and the political corruption that has prevented us from progressing, thriving, and flourishing into the beautiful country we are destined for. Hearing and reading many narratives was necessary to understand my people’s strength. In realizing the diversity of narratives that existed among Haitians, it allowed me to understand the courage it took for my parents to come to America in pursuit of greater opportunities. I also witnessed the selfless role they played by creating access for others from our family to come to America. I realized the true strength of my people when I learned about how we inspired other slave revolts throughout Latin America.
“The Haitian Revolution sent shivers through European possessions across the Caribbean and Latin America, and into the newly independent United States. It became a tremendous symbol of hope for slaves throughout these countries, and one of tremulous fear for their masters, particularly those living in the colonies. Its effects extended to the South American independence movement led by Simón Bolívar, and to France, particularly during the more radical periods of its own revolution.” — Samuel Farber, “The Threat of a Free Haiti”
One of my favorite stories is when Mexican General Martin Javier Mina y Larrea traveled to Haiti to gain support for Mexico’s independence from Spain.
I wish I had learned these powerful narratives when I was younger. They would have given me the courage to walk down the street with that Haitian t-shirt on my body.
Many stories both past and present have helped shape my journey into cultivating the self-pride that I embody today, and have given me the strength to show up above and beyond the way my parents taught me. These stories keep me inspired throughout the community development work fostered through Kay Tita, the organization I founded to support the advancement of our Haitian culture.
While I was reading the stories from the eclectic group of humans featured in the Stories of Humankind Anthology, it made me think about my response to a question I was asked after one of my Kenbe Fem documentary screenings. The moderator, Catherine Sackey, asked in reference to the clip with Katie Couric, “How did it feel to have your efforts to help your home country and its people be framed as the American Spirit instead of Haitian-American Spirit or just Haitian Spirit in general?” I said, “It didn’t bother me to be honest. I never really gave it much thought. If it was up to me, we’d just call it the Human Spirit. There’s a responsibility that we have as people of this planet and we have to strip the labels and be present.”
This perspective has allowed me to humbly and empathetically walk in the shoes of every writer who contributed to the second volume of Stories of Humankind. I’ve come to realize that every journey — whether I can relate to it personally or not — is still a story that matters to the whole human experience. The deeper narratives exist not only in the stories that others share with us, but most importantly the ones we consciously or unconsciously repeat to ourselves.
The spirit of this beautifully crafted series is an intentional opportunity to softly crash into people we would normally look past. The vulnerability of each author has left me inspired and hopeful. Their personal stories created safe spaces that gave me permission to feel and access new armor to face the challenges in my own life. No matter what story was shared or who was sharing it, I came to see that there was a piece in it just for me.
Reading Stories of Humankind has taught me the importance of openly sharing and learning how to slow down and listen. When we are willing to learn from each other, we realize that we are not alone. Even though our individual stories are unique, by telling them we come to understand that we are one. We can live and love together when we intentionally share in this way.
My friend Jessie Sawyers is the curator of Getting Unlocked and this Stories of Humankind anthology series. She is a human being that happens to be a dancer, a writer, an amazing daughter, and with this particular series, I’ll call her a weaver. The way she weaves her life to bring us all together has been amazing, and it has been an honor to write this foreword and introduce Stories of Humankind: Volume 2.
It was the summer of 2020 when Jessie and I had a casual conversation that gave me an idea. At the time, the world around us was battling extremely high COVID cases, and Haiti was dealing with a hefty dose of political instability. It was an instability so fatal that it drove the kidnapping of people for ransom to an all-time high; extremely high inflation rates; rising COVID cases; and the assassination of president Jovenel Moise. The matters plaguing my community were severe, but within me were seeds of hope that allowed me to think about ways to make sure the community most impacted was not silenced or censored. Our situation had me thinking about how the negative narrative about Haiti’s instability was getting louder and louder. It was important to me to find a way to honor the other voices in my community.
When Jessie and I sat down to chat, she was gearing up to begin curating this volume of Stories of Humankind. In a moment of inspiration, I proposed an idea where my organization, Kay Tita would create Stories of Port-au-Prince as a way to humanize and honor members of my community and shine a positive light on our world. With Jessie’s support, my idea was manifested by creating an opportunity to feature four Haitian authors that I’ve had the distinct pleasure of working with and supporting over the past few years. You will have the pleasure of meeting them when you read this book, as we’ve included a preview of Stories of Port-au-Prince in Part Two of this volume.
I hope you enjoy Stories of Humankind: Volume 2 as much as I have and that you experience the joy of listening and being inspired with an open heart.
Grab your copy of Stories of Humankind: Volume 2: An Uplifting Anthology on Finding Beauty in Chaos HERE
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