perception

Coming to terms with one’s privilege is often a smack in the face. For me, every now and then, I am reminded of my reality as a member of Haiti’s Diaspora in every day conversations with Haiti’s working class. I was reminded of this contrast during a dinner conversation with a waiter one evening.

For the past few years, I usually lived in camp-style conditions with our Community2Community (C2C) mountainside partners while working in Petit Goave, Haiti. As a result, it has become nothing for me to share a bucket of water with at least seven other people while anticipating the luxury of a full-blown shower after an accomplished week. Of course, this is still quite a privilege in the sense that I can at least count on a shower – albeit five days later.

This time around however, I was in Haiti under a different yet still impactful arrangement as a 2015 Haiti Future Leaders Fellow. In this capacity, the Haitian Embassy in Washington DC launched a rigorous process that culminated with me and four other young professionals of Haitian descent being selected to work directly with a Haitian government ministry for two months this summer. Additionally, seven Haitian students from Haiti were also selected to spend their summer immersed in Washington DC.

I’m not going to lie.

It was certainly quite the treat living in Petionville, a fancy and comfortable suburb of Port au Prince, for the summer with my private residence and all of my basic needs taken care of on a daily basis.

One evening, after coming home from work and after a good two-hour nap, I went to the terrace to journal and have my dinner. Not only was the lasagna ‘melt-in-your-mouth’ delicious, I got to enjoy the true essence of a work-life balance; something that’s not always afforded to me in the states. The culture and way of life in Haiti forces me to live an existence that is very present and in the moment because people truly understand that tomorrow (or even later that day) is never really promised so they take full advantage of the present moment. Mealtime, therefore, is quality time and I have come to learn that work at the dinner table is almost always disrespectful and out of place.

As I was settling my bill, a young waiter started up a conversation with me. I could tell that she was determined to practice her English with me and I had time, so it wasn’t a bother. Early on in the conversation, she asked me, “Do you prefer Haiti or the country you come from?” In a heartbeat I said with much enthusiasm, “Haiti of course! The bustle and grind of where I come from is very taxing on my overall wellbeing and here in Haiti, I am able to work hard while having a better quality of life.” By the look on her face, I was not sure how convinced she was but it was obvious that she had thoughts of her own.

I ended up asking her the same question and she kindly replied, “For the everyday Haitian, life is really hard. Look at me. I did my best to learn English thinking that it would get me ahead and I have no prospect of job mobility because the economy does not work for the people.”

She continued, “People from all over the world who stay at this establishment always tell me that in their country, I would not be in this position. They tell me I would be accomplishing so much more because I am so bright.” She scrunched up her face in a mix of what looked to be despair and shared, “It makes me feel so…so strange inside as if I am here wasting my life away.”

I was immediately humbled. My initial reaction was, “Wow.” For sure she couldn’t afford a night at this place, whereas I am here for two months and it probably would have been a challenge for her to pay for the meal I just enjoyed as well.

The first thing I wanted to do was shred any perception of my privilege by proclaiming, “Trust that the work that I am doing everyday is in an effort to strengthen Haiti’s present and long-term wellbeing, revitalize the economy and to create opportunities so that young people like you can have a more promising set of circumstances to navigate within! I’m not that different. I have my struggles too, just differently.”

I knew however, that this would not suffice so I kept quiet. My conversation with her resurfaced an internal struggle that I have been learning to make peace with ever since the first time I stepped foot in Haiti back in December 2011 upon learning that my driver and I were the same age at the time.

How do I make sense of what has also been my reality growing up in a single-parent, working class household in NYC? On top of that, having a plethora of experiences where I’ve had to overcome many acts of discrimination, sexism and ageism? Regardless, as I stood before her, I still had to find a way to reconcile the harsh truth that despite my struggles, life’s trajectory gave me a level of privilege that native-born Haitians like herself could only perceive but not know the full reality of.

That’s not easy and the bottom line is that I can’t always makes sense of it, so in some ways I’ve stopped trying.

I cannot explain how and why my parents were able to obtain visas and leave Haiti during a perilous time and hers were not – thereby leading to my American-born identity and hers as a Haitian in a struggling land. I cannot rationalize why these set of circumstances allow me to be privileged in Haiti, but continually looked down upon in the United States because my ancestors hail from “the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.”

What I am learning to make peace with is that it is not an issue that I’m “privileged”, in and of itself, but more so a question of what can be done with that privilege in order to advance the causes of those without. While I cannot immediately change the lived experience of that individual waiter from that evening, I can continue to use the platform I’ve created for myself to advocate towards a world that is a little more just than the one we inherited.