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In this, the 222nd year of Haiti’s world-shaking independence, much of the writing about Haiti has focused on its return to the World Cup finals, the deployment of a Kenya-backed United Nations “gang suppression force,” and the impact of the U.S. administration’s anti-immigration policies.

There is no shortage of commentary about Haiti, its history, its people. The dominant narratives and labels—including “failed state,” “lost cause,” “poorest country in the Western Hemisphere,” to name a few—are reductionist and wrong at best. At worst, they are used again and again to uphold a status quo that relies on imperialism to maintain power. Haiti’s unparalleled victory for liberation—and its subsequent contributions to liberation struggles across the Western Hemisphere—do not fit the script of a “lost cause.”

What are writers, journalists, researchers to do about Haiti?

First, there must be acknowledgement of why the outside gaze and trafficking in reductionist narratives about Haiti have become the norm. The incorrect script about Haiti is necessary for existing models of imperialism to persist, because the truth of Haiti’s power cannot co-exist with belief in foreign dominance.

In the face of a sharp increase in imperialist aggression in recent months, with countries like the United States making unilateral decisions to invade or seize control of other countries’ resources, many Haitians have responded: “Why are you surprised?” Haitians are unsurprised because we have lived the intentionality of imperialism for centuries. From being the world’s wealthiest and most profitable colony in the 18th century, to defeating the French army and becoming the world’s first Black republic in 1804, to having to pay a ransom worth billions of dollars to France, to enduring recurring foreign interventions and occupations that have shaped Haiti’s economic, political, and social (in)stability up to the present day—Haiti has involuntarily become a poster child for what imperialism can do to a nation that dared to chart its own destiny.

Secondly, Haiti also exposes the failures of dominant models of “global development.” There are well-researched publications, such as Paul Farmer’s 2005 book The Uses of Haiti and, more recently, Jake Johnston’s Aid State, that explain the insidious effects of global development in Haiti. Such effects include disinvestment in public services such as public schools and hospitals, as well as the collapse of local economies due to imposed imports on foreign food.

A student takes notes during a class lesson in Mirebalais, Haiti. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

These models have failed, and yet they continue to be promoted. We often ignore how global development paradigms shape even the lens through which a country’s state of affairs is viewed—the way we speak about, write about, or even try to make sense of a place. In the case of Haiti, the revolution that birthed the republic was too audacious. The Haitian victory against a world order rooted in slavery and oppression had to be stopped from spreading, both literally and figuratively. This is not about conspiracies, but rather deliberate efforts to eliminate anything that contradicts a status quo in which Haiti functions as a symbol of dysfunction and disorder.

And so even today, Haiti is 222 years free and still explained away. The country cannot be seen as revolutionary. This leads to erasure of what Haiti’s independence truly means: the overthrow of the strongest colonial army of its time, the only successful uprising of enslaved people resulting in a free republic, and the reshaping of hemispheric power—including France’s sale of territory that significantly increased the landmass of the United States.

To fit into the box of contemporary global development models, Haiti must be seen as broken, as a “lost cause,” or as permanently in need of “saving.” Haiti is most often discussed through the lens of those seeking—at best—to continue its silencing and subjugation.

The Power of Re-Haitianization

What can be done? What approach to writing about Haiti—and taking action—would disrupt this vicious cycle?

We must re-Haitianize our systems to reclaim our power. Not decolonizing, not scapegoating, not bowing to still-present oppressors who benefit from the status quo. Decolonizing centers the source of the oppression. Re-Haitianizing centers Haitian assets in our understanding of both the problems and the solutions. It is an acknowledgement that Haitian culture, history, language, and identity themselves carry the assets that we need to be free. It is a deliberate decision to tap back into our Indigenous power and self-determination. A rejection of exploitation, oppression, and injustice.

Living proof of what re-Haitianization can do already exists in locally-led initiatives across Haiti. One such example is Anseye Pou Ayiti. Since 2014, Anseye Pou Ayiti (APA) has worked alongside community members to re-Haitianize local systems, starting with education and the cultivation of a new generation of local civic leaders. More than 12 years later and now over 800 members strong, the movement has demonstrated that re-Haitianization is not symbolic or superficial—it is necessary.

Across more than 130 rural partner schools, APA integrates what is referred to as the “three Cs” of culture, customs, and community into how teaching and learning take place. This means leveraging our folklore, proverbs, artistic expression, and local environmental assets in classroom lessons across Haiti. This approach has helped triple student academic outcomes.

A teacher in Gonaives, Haiti presents a math lesson in Haitian Creole during a summer school program.

APA has also prioritized shifting instruction to our mother tongue of Haitian Creole. Teaching students first in their mother tongue has resulted in stronger academic performance while creating a more durable foundation for learning foreign languages afterward. Mother tongue instruction has been globally proven as essential for early learning and childhood development.

Beyond the classroom, APA organizes recurring community gatherings called “konbits.” These bring together hundreds of community members in inclusive, solution-oriented, Haitian-led safe spaces to listen to each other and collectively resolve challenges. Konbits are a physical manifestation of Haitian culture and civics values that view leadership as collective action. Not a foreign model of one person, one ego, pushing a top-down agenda of control.

APA is not alone in understanding the power of re-Haitianization. The organization works in collaboration with local practitioner peers in Haiti as well as international partners such as the MIT-Ayiti Initiative, which has advanced the use of Haitian Creole across all levels of education, and the W.K. Kellogg Foundation’s Pockets of Hope campaign, which promotes a range of local, Haitian-led solutions. Together, these efforts reflect a deliberate shift toward investing in, advocating for, and believing in locally-led movements.

Group photo of newly recruited members of Anseye Pou Ayiti's parent leader fellowship program in Gonaïves, Haiti, 2022. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

To those who wonder why Haitian-led grassroots efforts have not yet succeeded: local efforts are in no way resourced at the same level as programs built around maintaining the status quo. Multimillion-dollar international development investments continue to reinvent the wheel, curry favor with political elites, and fail to move the dial in transforming local systems for the better. Even more intentional have been methods to separate Haitians from our own assets—initiatives that by design have taught Haitians to believe that our Indigenous knowledge is inferior and useless. Re-Haitianization disrupts those myths and allows us to reclaim our own power.

As you prepare to write about or comment on Haiti, first question the sources that shaped your understanding. Ask how your lens on Haiti came to be. Stop parroting perspectives designed to tell one story and sustain a broken global order. Instead, invest in re-Haitianization. It insists that Haitian history, language, culture, and collective knowledge are not obstacles to freedom, but the very foundation of it.

We will not settle until we are all free.

Nedgine Paul Deroly is a career educator and the co-founder and CEO of Anseye Pou Ayiti.

The North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA) is an independent, nonprofit organization founded in 1966 to examine and critique U.S. imperialism and political, economic, and military intervention in the Western hemisphere. In an evolving political and media landscape, we continue to work toward a world in which the nations and peoples of Latin America and the Caribbean are free from oppression, injustice, and economic and political subordination.