Overview:

The Queens Public Library’s decision to digitize The Haitian Times’ complete print archive from 1999 to 2012 marks a historic preservation effort for Haitian American journalism. Founder Garry Pierre-Pierre reflects on the publication’s origins, challenges, and evolution under current publisher Vania André, highlighting the digitization as both a technological and moral milestone in preserving the Haitian diaspora’s story.

When the Queens Public Library announced it would digitize the entire print run of The Haitian Times from 1999 to 2012, it didn’t just make a technical decision. It made a moral one. It declared that the voices, debates, triumphs and traumas of a community deserve to be remembered—not buried in the dust of forgotten archives.

That’s why this moment feels monumental. It’s not just about newspaper pages being scanned and stored in the cloud. It’s about rescuing memory. It’s about saying to future generations: We were here, we mattered, and this is what we lived through.

It’s been more than 25 years since I first began mulling the idea of launching The Haitian Times, an English-language newspaper for Haitians. At the time, many so-called experts insisted the concept was doomed to fail. Any media aimed at Haitians, they argued, had to be in French or Kreyòl. But I had a different Haitian in mind. My generation. The English-speaking, U.S.-born or -raised Haitian Americans who understood French as long as it stayed in church, and spoke Kreyòl—well, mostly when we were mad or hungry.

It was a counterintuitive move, and the media business isn’t exactly known for being forgiving to outliers. In fact, launching an ethnic newspaper in English was considered a bit like trying to open a ski resort in Gonaïves—ambitious, slightly absurd, and doomed by the climate.

Friends and supporters asked me, “Are you sure this is sustainable?” Honestly, I wasn’t. But I didn’t care. Not because I had a genius business model—I didn’t. But because I believed, deep in my gut, that The Haitian Times was necessary.

At the time, I had what many would call a dream job at The New York Times: prestige, power, and even a Pulitzer Prize. I left it all behind to launch this publication. In doing so, I sacrificed my financial stability, tested the patience of my loved ones and dove headfirst into uncertainty. Would I do it again? Without hesitation.

Why? Because The Haitian Times wasn’t just a newspaper—it was a compass when we were lost, a lantern when others went dark.

Over the years, we told the stories that needed to be told. We reported on the brutal beating of Abner Louima by NYPD officers in 1997—a moment that galvanized a generation. We covered the 2000 police killing of Patrick Dorismond, an unarmed Haitian American security guard whose death further revealed the tension between our community and law enforcement. We documented the devastation of the 2010 earthquake and the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse.

And just last year, we were targeted—doxed and swatted—after challenging an absurd rumor circulating in Springfield, Ohio, that Haitians were stealing and eating people’s pets. Yes, that really happened. And yes, we stood firm in the face of it.

One thing has remained true throughout all these years: if we don’t tell our own stories, someone else will. And when they do, they might distort them, diminish them, or erase them altogether.

That’s not just bad journalism—that’s leadership malpractice.

Today, I know that when a major story breaks about Haiti or Haitians, journalists in newsrooms across the country pause and ask themselves: “What’s The Haitian Times going to say about this?” 

That question is a quiet affirmation that we’ve become a vital part of the media landscape. We are not simply reporting the news—we’re shaping the narrative.

Haiti has many friends. But in moments of crisis—and there have been many—we don’t just need friends. We need fighters. And The Haitian Times has never shied away from lacing up the gloves.

As we digitize our print history, we’re doing more than uploading files. We’re uploading dreams. We’re encoding our resistance. We’re putting our truth on record—line by line, headline by headline—so that future generations can discover who we were and what we stood for.

That legacy was front and center on Saturday afternoon, Sept. 27, when the Queens Public Library hosted a one-hour conversation between me and Vania André to mark the digitization effort. More than 50 people attended. I reflected on the past, sharing stories both memorable and maddening—the ones that shaped The Haitian Times, and in many ways, shaped me. Vania spoke passionately about the future: her editorial vision, her commitment to innovation, and how the publication will lean into AI and emerging technologies to continue serving Haitians across generations and geographies.

At one of the lowest points in my professional life, when the publication was struggling to survive and I wasn’t sure how much longer we could hold on, I met Vania. She came into the picture with clarity, commitment, and the kind of steady determination that can’t be taught. Together, we rebuilt—brick by digital brick, story by painstaking story.

She brought vision. She brought heart. And she brought her own journalistic chops to the table. Today, I’m proud—deeply proud—that she has taken over the mantle of leadership. As publisher and editor-in-chief, she represents both continuity and change. With her at the helm, I know The Haitian Times will continue to evolve, to challenge, and to serve as both a chronicler and a catalyst for the Haitian experience in the U.S. and beyond.

This archival milestone is not just an opportunity to look back, but a chance to define what comes next. The digitization of The Haitian Times‘ print era ensures that our community’s narrative won’t be lost to time or buried under misrepresentation. It anchors our history while illuminating the path forward. With Vania leading the next chapter, the story continues—not as a repetition of the past, but as a renewed commitment to truth, community, and presence.

Like this:

Like Loading…