Poze: Embracing ease in the current socio-political context
On Heritage and Identity
For as long as I can remember, my ancestry has been integral to my identity and sense of belonging. As a child, the stories of my family's migration were told often, persistently, as if there was great worry about me forgetting who I am. Dignified and filled with nostalgia for their beloved Haiti, my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandmother would take turns sharing their memories with me (and anyone from my generation who would care to listen). On long car rides to visit family as far north as Canada or heading south to Florida, I would learn of sibling rivalries, funny family moments, and sometimes the losses and tragedies that would come to define their characters. They became more than my parents and family elders. In my most imaginative childish mind, they were heroes of great legends.
On my mother's side of the family, our legacy in this country begins with my great-uncle. Celebrating his 93rd birthday earlier this year, my uncle has never missed an opportunity to share with us cherished memories of his many years owning one of the first private bus services in his hometown in Haiti before coming to America. My father's family’s journey began with my father's eldest brother, who took on many odd jobs in New York when he first arrived to help reunite his mother and 10 siblings over the course of many years. Several decades after this uncle’s first arrival, we are proudly a very large family of over 150 members, representing 3 generations of Haitians and Haitian Americans.
There are many stories. And I am aware that my family's stories are probably not that different from the stories of many other families in this country whose more recent roots (because we all came from Africa) originated across seas and cultures. My family’s stories ultimately shaped not only my relationship to them, but also my relationship to Haiti. For several years of my career, I poured myself into enhancing my understanding of the island’s extraordinarily rich history as well as its current cultural and sociopolitical dynamics. I also had the privilege of contributing to the educational and mental health care sectors of the country. I formed an even deeper connection to the culture and cultivated relationships that I hold dear today.
The Current Climate
While the past few weeks of treacherous political rhetoric has stirred a wide range of feelings - from fright to outrage - I have been most struck by the evocation of shame. Among the many definitions of shame available, Scientific American’s description resonates the most, “Shame is the uncomfortable sensation we feel in the pit of our stomach when it seems we have no safe haven from the judging gaze of others.” The judgemental gaze on the Haitian community has been hostile and entirely unwarranted. And it has felt as if no refuge from the direct negative attention exists.
For inexplicable reasons (and maybe for obvious reasons), political machines have decided that the Haitian community is the target immigrant group for this election season. One influencer put it best when he asks, “Who’s next?”
Embracing Ease
The psychological impact of the relentless attacks on immigrant populations over the past few election cycles has not been discussed enough. Fear, anger, and shame perhaps only begin to scratch the surface of emotions and distress that the multitude of migrant groups in the US, recent and multi-generational, have endured. In my work, I am intimately connected to the emotional experience of first and second generation immigrants. From what I know personally and professionally, it’s time for us all to embrace ease.
The practice of ease is about learning how to access inner calm to mitigate the detrimental effects of stress. In a typical and more modern Haitian greeting, one might ask, “Sak ap fèt?” or “What’s up?” to which another may answer, “Poze” which roughly translates into “I’m chillin'. ” The response of “poze” is more than an automatic scripted saying; it’s deliberate. It may even be an act of resistance against adverse life events and personal hardship. The world around the responder may be in chaos, but the intention behind the answer “poze” is defiant - it’s choosing serenity with awareness.
In the spirit of this popular saying, particularly in this current climate, I invite us all to:
Rest, deeply. Take rest from persecution. Rest in all 7 ways. Rest with your whole soul and without limits.
Confront dissonance and practice compassion. Be curious about the disharmony in your mind provoked by the current political discourse. Attend to the sections of your mind that feel pained and wounded. Accept and work through any conflicts. Care for your suffering.
Center joy and delight in it. Choose today to locate joy in your spirit. Take great pleasure once you’ve found it. Be enraptured by this self-offering.
Be still and choose serenity. Silence the noise. Sit still. Poze w.
We Have Pets Too
Shame has no place in the psyche of Haitian immigrants; there is so much for us to be extremely proud of. Our history defines our heritage and identity as revolutionaries and trendsetters. Our ancestors are legends.
Haitians and Haitian Americans are humans. We are people. We have history. We have stories. We have feelings. And we also have pets. And maybe our ancestors, just like us, really loved their pets too.