Overview:
This lighthearted explainer addresses two of the most commonly misspelled terms in coverage of Haitian culture: Vodou and konpa. Drawing on The Haitian Times’ reporting, the piece also explains why correct spelling matters and how misnaming distorts meaning.
NEW YORK — Let’s get this out of the way first: We Haitians can be incredibly patient and cool-headed. To survive centuries of misrepresentation, prejudices, mistranslation and misunderstanding, we’ve had to be. But there are two small things that consistently make those of us fluent in our mother tongue pause mid-scroll, mid-read or mid-headline — and roll our eyes.
They are spelled Vodou and konpa.
Not Voodoo.
Not Voudou.
Not Vaudou.
Not Vodoun.
Not compas.
Not compa.
Not kompa.
Not konpas.
If you promote or cover Haiti, Haitian culture or the Haitian diaspora — even occasionally work in these realms — this is your friendly public service announcement to do right by our language: Haitian Creole.
Let’s start with V-O-D-O-U
Vodou is Haiti’s ancestral spiritual tradition, developed by enslaved Africans and shaped by a mixture of African religions and Catholicism. It is a lived religion, a world view, and a cultural system—not a horror-movie trope, not spooky shorthand and definitely not a synonym for superstition or devil cult.
As The Haitian Times has reported repeatedly over the years, Vodou is deeply woven into everyday Haitian life — present in art, music, healing practices, political history and communal rituals both in Haiti and across the diaspora. Its practitioners include everyday people, scholars, artists and activists — not caricatures.
The spelling “Voodoo” is an American English invention popularized by Hollywood, pulp fiction and sensationalist journalism. It flattens a complex belief system into an exotic, sometimes menacing cultish projection. The spelling Vodou, by contrast, reflects the roots of the tradition and is the appropriate Haitian Creole form used by practitioners, scholars and the outlets that take Haitian culture seriously.
If you’re writing about Haiti with respect — and we’ll assume you are — Vodou is the spelling you want. It signals that you’ve done at least the most basic homework and that you understand the difference between a living, breathing culture and cliché.
Vodun might be a tempting second option, but that spelling refers to the religion practiced primarily in Benin. So stick to Vodou for Haiti.
Now, let’s talk about K-O-N-P-A
If Vodou is often misunderstood, konpa is often… creatively spelled.
Short for “konpa dirèk,” konpa is Haiti’s most commercial musical genre. Born in 1955, it fills dance floors from Port-au-Prince to Paris, Brooklyn to Montreal, the Caribbean to West Africa. Its smooth and sexy syncopation is foundational to modern Caribbean music.
Yet, despite its 70-year history and its official designation as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the genre routinely appears in print as “compas,” “kompa,” “konpas,” or “compa”—sometimes inexplicably all within the same document.
As The Haitian Times has documented in its coverage of Haitian music, artists and festivals, konpa is the standardized Haitian Creole spelling used today by Haitian musicians, DJs, historians and cultural institutions, notably the Haitian Creole Academy. While older spellings like “compas” reflect Haiti’s colonial-rooted preferences for French as its official language until Kreyòl was later recognized, konpa reflects how Haitians name and claim our music now. So, older people may have a pass for sticking to the French “compas,” but everyone else should really adapt.
Note also how it’s spelled in lowercase unless at the beginning of a sentence, just like you would treat any other genres — blues, rock, hip hop, country — in writing.
Why this actually matters
If you’re promoting a concert, interviewing an artist or contextualizing Caribbean music history, spelling it Konpa tells your audience — and your Haitian readers — that you’re tuned in. Really, really listening.
Language is not random or meaningless; it holds power. Spelling choices signal whose knowledge counts and whose voice leads the narrative. Using Vodou and konpa isn’t about being pretentious or pedantic — it’s about accuracy, respect and cultural literacy — principles that responsible storytellers strive to uphold.
So consider this a gentle nudge, not a scolding. Spellcheck may protest. Autocomplete may fight back. Google Translate or Gemini might suggest alternatives. But now you know.
Vodou. Konpa.
Your future Haitian culture keepers — and definitely the editors—will thank you.
P.S. — Next time, we’ll look at Creole versus Haitian versus Haitian Creole when we’re talking about Kréyòl.
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