Repeating Islands

In the wake of the announcement that she had received a McArthur Foundation “genius” grant, Edwidge Danticat has given a number of interviews. The latest has appeared in the Huffington Post and can be accessed through the link below. Here are some excerpts:

Growing up, I remember that ‘Haitian’ was a dirty word. In 1990, I was very young but I remember, emotionally, more than anything else about the FDA imposed ban on Haitians regarding blood donations. You came to the U.S in the 1980s and bore witness to this. How has the view of Haiti and Haitians changed in America?

I think, if anything, the view of Haiti and Haitians has grown much more complex. At least I hope it has. When I arrived here in 1981, there were only one of a couple of narratives. Haitians were just coming in large numbers by boat to Florida and this was on the news a lot, so that was one narrative. We were still fighting to keep these people here and they were detained just as they are now, so that part of the narrative hasn’t changed. In 1981, people were also talking about AIDS for the first time in the news. They called it something like GRID back then and Haitians were the only people identified by nationality on the high risk group. So that was another narrative. The dictatorship in Haiti at the time and the political violence was another one. In these past twenty plus years, I have seen some movement in the complexity of our narratives. Having Wyclef Jean sing popular music is part of that, but also having people exposed in their daily lives to a whole range of Haitians has helped a lot too. When Breath, Eyes, Memory was just published, people often walked up to me and told me that someone who worked at their house is Haitian. Now there are also a number of people telling me that their doctor is Haitian or their nurse. In Miami where I live, it’s still very hard for newer arrivals from Haiti. There is a lot of struggle especially these days, so that still cannot be understated.

The Haitian community is glad to call you one of their own. What about should we know about Haiti that is not shown in the evening news?

How beautiful the country is. I was in Haiti for Easter with my family. I have a new baby so we hadn’t been for a while. We were in Jacmel, in the mountains. It was just breathtaking. The mountains. The beach. Haiti has been battered so much by natural and political disasters, but it is still a beautiful place. We have wonderful art, wonderful music, great literature written by writers who are still living in Haiti. Haiti is not only the poorest country in the western hemisphere. That’s another narrative that needs changing.

When did you first discover you were a writer or wanted to be one?

When I was very little and would listen to my grandmother tell stories, I dreamed a being a storyteller.

Later when I would read books and think of those stories, I said to myself, this is one way of being a storyteller, even if you’re shy person. I wasn’t sure what it was called, but that’s when I decided, at perhaps eight or nine years old that I wanted to become a writer.

Brother, I’m Dying is a very powerful book; many memoirs do not deal with such poignant issues. How difficult was it to write? Was writing this memoir therapeutic?

It was a book I felt I had to write, for my uncle who died in immigration custody as well as for my father who died at around the same time and for the future generation, including my daughter, who was born in the midst of all that. It was indeed very therapeutic to write. I’ve said this before I think of Brother, I’m Dying as not a me-moir, but a nou-moir, a we-moir; it’s not just my story but all these stories intertwined.

. . .

When you write a book, what did you discover anew about yourself, you family and Haiti?

With every story, every book, I think I not only discover myself a new, but also recover lost fragments of myself.

I laugh and cry through my books. I also grieve and celebrate through them.

Do you consider yourself a voice for Haitians?

I am one of many voices. No one can be the voice for ten million people. And if anyone could be, it would not be me.

I am a voice in a very large chorus. To say that I was the voice for anyone would be to take away their voice. Each individual is his or her own voice. Some of us might speak louder and help others be heard, but no one can claim to be the voice of so many.
. . .

What does it mean to you to win the MacArthur?

It’s an exceptional honor for me. When I sit and think of my ancestors, some of my blood ancestors and some of my literary ancestors, I am moved and shaken that I have been given this opportunity. I am both elated and humbled.
Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/martha-st-jean/genius-a-talk-with-edwidg_b_295040.html