Tag: Colonialism

“Sak Pase/ Que lo Que:” Haiti & The Dominican Republic

Jeannette Mejia,
TCCS Student (MS Candidate ’19)

A young boy looks out of a forest on a hilltop in the Dominican Republic

In 2013, the Dominican Republic ruled to revoke the citizenships of Dominicans of Haitian descent. The attempt and actions of the Dominican government to expel Haitians or Dominicans of Haitian descent, time and time again, is one that is fueled by anti-Haitian sentiment.

These sentiments are not new and follow a long history of anti-blackness in the Dominican Republic. This anti-blackness arose from colonization of Hispaniola in 1492 by the Spanish regime, the subsequent enslavement of the African peoples forcibly brought to the island, Haiti’s declaration of independence in 1804, and the Dominican Republic’s thirty years of dictatorship under Rafael Trujillo.

The colonization of the island by France and Spain split the island into two – the eastern hemisphere of the Dominican Republic and the western side as Haiti. This division did not cause anti-Haitian sentiment per se but it did separate people who share the island. The interests of the United States, which sought to annex the country in the late 1800s, in addition to the colonial interests of France and Spain further deepened this division of the island and its inhabitants.

A map showing the split of Haiti and the Dominican Republic from 1921.
A 1921 map of the island of Hispaniola showing the division of Haiti and “Santo Domingo” (ie pre-independence Dominican Republic) (Wikimedia Commons)

Additionally, the United States’ perspective towards Dominicans not only impacted the ways that Dominicans viewed themselves, but it also had an impact on how the rest of the world viewed people of the island. For example, in 1871, several U.S senators visited the Dominican Republic and noted that most citizens of the country were “mixed” both of African and Spanish descent and that the white blood was dominant in the country. They concluded that this mixture made it a white nation. Subsequently, this complex racial identity was both internalized by Dominicans and exported as the understanding of Dominicans in countries of power.

Black Dominicans, in short, came to see themselves not just as Black but as “white Black” while Haitians became viewed as “just” black. This conception gave Dominicans, as well as other nations, a sense of superiority over Haitians. The “negrophobia” that emerged out of the internalized identities given to people of the Dominican Republic underlie the anti-Haitian sentiments that still so heavily impact the country today.

Today, the Dominican government still tries to expel Haitian citizens and Dominicans of Haitian descent. I pose that one of the reasons that this phenomenon is still occurring is due to the internalized anti-blackness initiated on purpose by countries of power, such as the United States, and the internalized identity of whiteness also imposed by these countries. The effort to remove Haitians, who are in fact Dominican, only benefits the former colonizer and invader of the country.

Silvio Torres, The Tribulations of Blackness: Stages in Dominican Racial Identity (1998): https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/2634170.pdf?refreqid=excelsior%3A6dcb212d1d8c48bce77adf7f35406ade

How to paint our own mural: the need for transnational solidarity in the undocumented peoples’ struggle

Juan Pablo Blanco
TCCS Student ’19

A mural in Belfast, Ireland with "Ireland stands with Catalonia" written on a peace wall.
Mural in Falls Road, Belfast supporting Catalunyan self-determination. Photo Credit – Extramural Activity 2017.

I remember walking down Falls Road in Belfast, Ireland in the spring of 2015. I was still dumbfounded by the sight of the “peace lines”, the harrowing barbed wired steel walls that separate predominantly republican neighborhoods from loyalist neighborhoods.

However, as I walked through what is referred to as the international wall just a few blocks over, my mood changed and I could not help but feel empowered by the messages of solidarity and strength that these murals proclaimed. From Palestine solidarity messages, support for the self determination of Catalunya and the Basque Country, to the image of a smiling Leonard Peltier, one can see that the message was that Irish liberation could not happen without it also working for the liberation of all oppressed peoples.

This was my first trip outside of the U.S. since I had migrated 16 years prior due to my undocumented immigration status. Back then, as someone who was just starting to get involved with organizing and activism, I could not help but think why there didn’t seem to be any transnational movement like this uniting undocumented peoples around the world.

I am originally from Argentina, a country that as of 2010 had 1.5 million undocumented people living within its borders (statistic from the Council on Hemispheric Affairs), and I have seen the racist and xenophobic narratives on immigration that are prevalent among many Argentinians being carried to the U.S. as people migrated even when many of them become undocumented themselves.

Photo from a march with undocumented immigrants in Argentina holding sign that reads, translated, as "Migrant Workers Present."
Undocumented immigrant activists and allies in Buenos Aires mobilizing against Argentine president Mauricio Macri’s controversial mandate to limit immigration. Their sign reads “Migrant Workers Present.” Photo Credit – Prensa Roja Internacional 2018.

This false consciousness makes people think that their experiences are somehow categorically different from that of other irregular migrants throughout the world. What could a transnational movement of and for undocumented peoples and people with precarious migratory statuses do that these movements alone cannot?

What could a transnational movement of and for undocumented peoples and people with precarious migratory statuses do that these movements alone cannot?

I don’t have a definite answer to that question yet. However, as globalization has internationalized the economic systems that often become catalysts for migration patterns, why shouldn’t an international problem be faced with a transnational solution?

This does not mean that local groups will stop working on their particular campaigns, since after all the socio-political paradigms of the states they reside in will dictate what will work and not work for them. What it means is that this local work can continue to happen and a space where perspectives could be shared, tools and strategies worked out, and solidarity and cooperation be fostered can be created to make each local movement more powerful and revolutionary. We only need to pay attention to other movements that have become transnational in scope and how that has affected the kind of work they are able to do.

The Indigenous peoples struggle can be a very salient example. As Guillermo Delgado, human rights activist and anthropologist at UC Santa Cruz, writes: “ …a cross-border indigenous movement in the Americas needs to be seen as an intellectual space that allows for the ample circulation of proposals, including the need to press for dialogue on policies—especially those sponsored by the international financial institutions—that directly affect indigenous peoples.” Bodies like the World Council of Indigenous Peoples, or the Indigenous Peoples’ Network, have shown that solidarity and cooperation have not only been able to achieve changes in international law, but more importantly have allowed Indigenous people to put pressure on states in a more profound way than they would have solely from within that state’s borders.

A photo of a mural in support of Kurdish self-emancipation and resistance in La Plata, Argentina.
Mural in support of Kurdish self-emancipation and resistance in La Plata, Argentina.
Photo credit: Comité Solidaridad con Kurdistan – La Plata 2016.

I was lucky enough to be invited to a panel at the University of Toronto on Canadian undocumented youth and access to education. The panel, “Reality of Shadows: The Reality of Undocumented Youth,” brought together students, activists, an immigration lawyer, a sociology professor at the university and the co-founder of a Toronto refugee center.

This was an incredible opportunity to not only get myself acquainted with the barriers undocumented migrants are facing in Canada but also see the ways people are mobilizing and organizing against these same barriers.

For example, undocumented students in Canada, even if they graduate from a Canadian high school, have little chance of being able to enroll in a college or university. In response to this, FCJ Refugee Center has created a pilot program called Access to Education at York University in Toronto giving access to 10 undocumented students without having to apply as an international student, the first of its kind.

This is incredible work that is happening across our northern border where undocumented people as a whole are not part of the national conversation as they are in the U.S. A way for activists and organizers in the U.S. to learn from the work that is being done in Canada needs to be created because the mainstream media is not paying attention to this issue.

A lot can be learned by activists and organizers in the U.S. from what is happening in Canada, and vice versa. This struggle needs to go beyond the borders that deem us undocumented in the first place, and bring together the incredible mobilizing that is already happening all across the world. The big question for me at the moment is how exactly this can begin.

Scholars for Puerto Rico Relief

A house floats in water after flood waters from Hurricane Maria

Professor Marisol Negrón
Assistant Professor with tenure of American Studies and Latino Studies

Originally published on October 11, 2017 on Avidly, a channel of the Los Angeles Review of Books.

Available at
http://avidly.lareviewofbooks.org/2017/10/11/scholars-for-puerto-rico-relief/

*The fundraising campaign referred to in the essay ended on January 30, 2018.

Two weeks after Hurricane Maria struck Puerto Rico, conditions are still dire and in some regions actually worsening. In the wake of Hurricanes Irma and Maria, approximately 3.5 million residents were without electricity, and without secure access to food, water, medical care, transportation, stable telecommunications, and other necessities. The latest reports show that continued support for Puerto Rico’s residents is needed — particularly as the media’s attention turns elsewhere.

We are scholars committed to supporting Puerto Rico relief and recovery efforts in the aftermath of Hurricanes Irma and Maria. We join others who are increasing awareness of the humanitarian and environmental crisis in Puerto Rico and raising funds for ongoing emergency recovery efforts.  All funds raised by Scholars for Puerto Rico will be donated to three community-based organizations who are integral to both immediate and long-term sustainable recovery in Puerto Rico:  Casa Pueblo, Organización Pro Ambiente Sustentable, and Taller Salud. 

Since the passage of Hurricane Maria, numerous accounts continue to circulate of the widespread destruction of homes, schools, hospitals, and even whole towns in Puerto Rico. Many Puerto Ricans, both there and in the diaspora, remain unable to reach family and friends throughout the territory because vast swaths of Puerto Rico remain without communication. Moreover, reliable news outlets in Puerto Rico estimate that once communication and transportation are reestablished throughout the territory, the official death toll from Hurricane Maria could soar. Still, the U.S. federal government’s response to the crisis in this US territory has been lackluster at best, even though Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens.

Puerto Rico was a colony of Spain until the end of the Spanish-American War in 1898. Considered a war prize, Puerto Rico, along with several other territories, became a colony of the United States. The Jones-Shaforth Act passed by Congress in 1917 granted Puerto Ricans citizenship. However, those residing in the US territory of Puerto Rico do not enjoy the same civic rights as their mainland counterparts. For example, while residents of Puerto Rico can be drafted into the military, they cannot vote for President and lack voting representation in Congress. Puerto Rico’s limited representation has left the territory with few advocates within the U.S. government to push for meaningful and sustained federal relief during this time of crisis.

Puerto Ricans have long been treated as second-class citizens due to the territory’s colonial status. Hurricane Maria has exposed the continued effects of colonialism on the territory since the early 20th century. The Merchant Marine Act of 1920 (also known as the Jones Act) requires that all goods shipped to Puerto Rico arrive from U.S. ports, on U.S.-constructed ships, with U.S. crews. The Jones Act therefore greatly raises the cost of transporting goods as well as their purchase prices once they arrive in Puerto Rico. In the wake of Hurricane Maria, the Jones Act inflates the time and cost of transporting supplies, personnel, and equipment for Puerto Rico’s recovery efforts from foreign countries.  Ships carrying aid to Puerto Rico from countries like the Dominican Republic and Cuba, which have both offered help, cannot deliver aid directly to a port in the territory. They would instead have to travel to a port on the U.S. mainland before transporting aid to their Caribbean neighbor. On September 28, the Trump administration suspended the Jones Act for ten days to facilitate hurricane relief. However, with recovery efforts expected to take months, a reimposition of the Jones Act will obstruct the ability of aid to reach Puerto Rico in a timely fashion.

Since Hurricane Maria, the federal fiscal control board installed by the US government in 2016 to oversee the territory’s finances has only authorized $1bn to fund the recovery. This is nowhere near the amount Puerto Rico will need to not only rebuild, but create a more sustainable and disaster resistant infrastructure. The federal government has also failed to announce a moratorium on Puerto Rico’s debt repayment or consider any form of debt forgiveness in light of Maria’s catastrophic effects.

The physical and technological infrastructural collapse that followed Hurricane Maria was enabled by more than a decade of austerity measures imposed by the local and federal governments to deal with Puerto Rico’s mounting debt. These austerity measures starved public utilities of the funds needed to make repairs and upgrades and left Puerto Rico’s infrastructure particularly vulnerable. Puerto Rico cannot be rebuilt on a foundation of austerity and colonial neglect.

We must support and aid community-based organizations in Puerto Rico working to rebuild the territory amidst structural inequalities of colonialism and inadequate support from the federal government. In addition to the most basic supplies, Puerto Rico needs billions of dollars to rebuild its infrastructure, homes, and institutions like hospitals, government buildings, and schools. Community-based organizations like Casa Pueblo, Organización Pro Ambiente Sustentable, and Taller Salud are central to the recovery and rebuilding of Puerto Rico. 

  • Casa Pueblo, an organization dedicated to community empowerment and the protection of natural and cultural resources;
  • Organización Pro Ambiente Sustentable (OPAS), an environmental organization whose programming efforts focus on education about and management of sustainable resources; and
  •  Taller Salud, which works to improve the lives of girls and women, particularly in under-resourced communities.

We stand in solidarity with Puerto Rico and all those committed to not only rebuild but transform Puerto Rico with long-term sustainable recovery and recuperation initiatives …

Update 2/1/2018:

The initial campaign raised $28,756. A second campaign raised an additional $8,254 to support relief and recovery efforts of the three organizations below:

  • IDEBAJO, a consortium of organizations in the Jobos Bay region that advocates for environmentally preferred alternatives in community development;
  • Comedores Sociales de Puerto Rico, a grassroots food distribution initiative that began in 2013 in response to the economic crisis;  and
  • PECES, an organization that fosters social, economic, and educational development in under-resourced communities.

For additional information, we recommend the Puerto Rico Syllabus, which contains materials for thinking critically about the Puerto Rico debt crisis and the destruction caused by Hurricane Maria, the storm’s aftermath, and what the storm revealed about the colonial relationship, debt and austerity, and the unequal vulnerability of Puerto Rico’s residents. The syllabus also includes additional teaching tools and media resources for use in classrooms.

Scholars for Puerto Rico*

*Scholars for Puerto Rico is not a group, but rather an effort to raise funds for recovery efforts in the territory. Several scholars worked collaboratively to bring this fundraising campaign to fruition: Frances Aparicio (Northwestern University), Arlene Dávila (New York University), Zaire Dinzey-Flores (Rutgers University), Lorena Estrada-Martínez (University of Massachusetts Boston), Lawrence La Fountain-Stokes (University of Michigan), Marisol LeBrón (Dickinson College), Marisol Negrón (University of Massachusetts Boston), Jade Power-Sotomayor (University of Washington Bothell), Lorna Rivera (University of Massachusetts Boston), Petra Rivera-Rideau (Wellesley College), and Wilson Valentín-Escobar (Hampshire College).

Scholars for Puerto Rico is in partnership with Scholars for Haiti and thanks Yveline Alexis, Nadège T. Clitandre, Marlene Daut, Darlene Dubuisson, April Mayes, and Kyla Wazana Tompkins for their support.

Authorship note: Professor Negrón is one of several scholars who worked collaboratively to organize the effort to raise funds for community organizations engaged in relief and recovery efforts after Hurricane Maria. Scholars for Puerto Rico is not a group, but rather an effort to raise funds for recovery efforts in the territory. Several scholars worked collaboratively to bring this fundraising campaign to fruition: Frances Aparicio (Northwestern University), Arlene Dávila (New York University), Zaire Dinzey-Flores (Rutgers University), Lorena Estrada-Martínez (University of Massachusetts Boston), Lawrence La Fountain-Stokes (University of Michigan), Marisol LeBrón (Dickinson College), Marisol Negrón (University of Massachusetts Boston), Jade Power-Sotomayor (University of Washington Bothell), Lorna Rivera (University of Massachusetts Boston), Petra Rivera-Rideau (Wellesley College), and Wilson Valentín-Escobar (Hampshire College).

Originally published on October 11, 2017 on Avidly, a channel of the Los Angeles Review of Books. Available at http://avidly.lareviewofbooks.org/2017/10/11/scholars-for-puerto-rico-relief/

Recruiters’ Paradise

Sofya Aptekar, TCCS Core Faculty

On November 11, currently recognized as Veterans’ Day in the United States, I attended a screening of Island Soldier at the DOC NYC film festival. Island Soldier presents the story of Kosraens – citizens of the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) – in the US military. Micronesians, who are not US citizens, enlist at high rates, and face a devastating lack of support and services after they leave the military.

Compact of Free Association
The Federated States of Micronesia is a group of small islands scattered over an immense territory northeast of Papua New Guinea. Micronesians have suffered under and resisted European colonialism for centuries. In the 20th century, Kosrae Island was colonized by Japan until the United States occupied it after WWII.

Under President Reagan in the 1980s, FSM gained independence, but remained connected to the United States through the Compact of Free Association. In exchange for US military control over FSM’s vast ocean territory, US would provide aid. Under the compact, FSM citizens can enlist in the US military.

“Leaving to fight with white people”
FSM has a higher number of Army recruits per capita than any US state. Impoverished by colonialism, islands like Kosrea offer few opportunities that can trump the $18,000 starting salary for a recruit. The average yearly income on Kosrea is about $2000, while staples and gasoline are much more expensive than in the US. An 18 year old enlistee makes more than the governor of the island.

In Island Soldier, we see Kosreans who are veterans of wars in Vietnam, Persian Gulf, Iraq, and Afghanistan. When they return home, they have no access to VA benefits. There is no GI Bill for education. There is no health care. There are no housing loans. Some veterans resort to paying for air fare to Guam or Hawaii (x hour flights) so they can access their health care benefits.

“We die for others.”
Island Soldier profiles Sapuro “Sapp” Nena, a young Kosrean who died in Afghanistan. His mother remembers Sapp’s inner turmoil over his work in Afghanistan. Looking at snapshots of Sapp with Afghani villagers, his mother recounts him telling her: “They say I am one of them. I look like them.” After his death, Sapp’s best friend, Mario Robles, raises money to come visit Kosrea and meet Sapp’s family in a wrenchingly emotional scene. FSM does not just hold the record for recruitment: it has lost five times more soldiers than the average for the US.

I was curious about Island Soldier because of my ongoing research project on immigrant soldiers in the US. Although the film does not grapple with these questions, the story of Micronesian soldiers is part of the larger story of the poverty draft. Across the US, there are communities with high levels of enlistment in the military, where the military is seen as the best career option for young people living in poverty. What makes Micronesian soldiers unique is that when they go home, the net of benefits that veterans are entitled to is missing. That makes them similar to another group of US veterans – those who have been deported to their countries of birth under the current crimmigration regime. While Micronesian soldiers can travel to the US to access some benefits, deported veterans are barred from returning for life.