Vote! All of Us Are Haitian Now!

As we approach Black Solidarity Day and witness how an aspiring commander-in-hate and his sycophantic running mate let loose with lies that defamed and endangered our Haitian brothers and sisters (“They’re eating cats, they’re eating dogs”), we may be reminded of how these dark and challenging times are so similar to others in the past.
For instance, I share my origin story with a substantial African American population born into a unique era.

Specifically, I’m aligned with a generation who arrived on this earth during a period when our parents participated in one of the greatest migrations in human history.
Many parents who raised my generation envisioned that the northern part of the United States represented an Elysian future. Despite the nation’s troubled history, they hoped a fragile promised land found “up north” might provide a simple space where their weary bodies and spirits could escape from the grip of the former Confederate states. These dangerous domains had an egregious tradition of branding our families with a precept of inferiority.

For sure, our parents lived experience taught them that the moral imperative to uplift human dignity could be erased by the advocates of a unique U.S. form of racial fascism that hid its injurious scheme under the cloak of dark euphemisms named “second-class citizen” and “Jim Crow.”

Many of our parent’s original settlements were made infamous because of their hostility to a newly freed and striving African American constituency. These were oppressive and precarious domains wherein nefarious actors entitled KKK, White Hats, and Red Shirts supported the election of demagogic politicians who incited violence while officiating a periodic orchestration of ethnic cleansing to achieve and maintain power.

These harmful acts were primarily directed at the strong-willed men and women who the haters deemed too ambitious and uppity when competing in political jurisdictions that sanctioned “a white man’s rule only.”
Consequently, our resilient forerunners enacted an exodus from conflicted towns, including Tulsa, Redwood, Wilmington, and Memphis.

Today, we can acknowledge that these locations are regrettable memorials. Alarmingly, they provide sound evidence revealing how the extra-legal threats of racial terror created a lethal fabric for a concoction of the dreaded ropes that were used to lynch some and enthrone others on top of a “redeemer government” that enforced “No Blacks allowed.”

Similar to the divisive acts that occurred during the great African American migration, the dangers emanating from a current racist movement led by Trump and a perverse coalition of modern white ethno-nationalists threaten us today. This contemporary project of white supremacy fears the potential power inherent in any free soul having an African heritage.
Both in the past and the present, we can observe malicious actors who intone a familiar grievance when threatening, “I want my country back.”

Still, after observing the governance of the latter-day terrains that deformed human dignity, we can claim an invaluable lesson. Despite the dangers confronting our ancestors, there existed a sacred voice for freedom. This resilient sound ascended from the throats of valiant people who had the audacity to oppose their oppressive status. This resistance occurred even though a political campaign organized by hateful actors attempted to strangle their noble aspirations by replacing democratic ideals with a campaign intended to enforce “A Volk of Blood and Soil.”

However, as we approach the 2024 presidential election, we must have faith that a tradition of resilience found in an unbending spirit will guide us to confirm that racist oppression has no chance against infinite hope. Although many of our ancestors were forced to depart from oppressive locations, they did bequeath a responsibility to interrogate and prosecute the evidence originating from a right-wing counter-revolution that we are bound to challenge from time to time by remembering the facts of life found in an Un-United States:
See a terrorist school bombing here.
Observe a Black church burning over there.
Acknowledge the stench of a false racial hierarchy everywhere.
Remember this: Do internalize an eternal fight for freedom now.
Today, I respectfully posit that the memories associated with our ancestor’s history must serve as tools to keep us “woke” (awake).

…So that we may always detect and fight the dangers that loom around us.
To this end, I respectfully and regretfully propose that we have an obligation to place the fretful town of Springfield, Ohio, in context with this fraught history.
Moreover, as this perilous human experience has infected our current lives, it should inspire vigilance in our minds and a dauntless spirit in our hearts to stand on the shoulders of our ancestors and join an enduring sojourn that seeks to reach a more just society everywhere.

Everywhere up north,
everywhere down south,
Everywhere out west and
Everywhere in the east.
Freedom now, freedom in Springfield.
Freedom everywhere.

Thus, to achieve this vision quest, we must acknowledge that all people originating from the U.S. African Diasporic community and our progressive allies are now Haitian Freedom Fighters.
Given this moral imperative, we must march in mass to the polls on November 5th to cast our coalescing votes for Kamala Harris.

What’s more, while enacting this sacred act of democratic self-governance, we should internalize the profound charge once voiced during a noble fight for Haiti’s freedom:
“ ‘L Union fait la force,” Union Makes Our Strength.

Roger Green is a former elected member of the NY State Assembly. His article memorializes a Brooklyn unifying tradition and the noble ancestors Carlos Russell, Albert Vann, John Flateau, Joan Eastmond, Jitu Weusi, Sam Pinn, and Viola Plummer.