Overview:
In this Haitian Heritage Month editorial, The Haitian Times’ publisher and editor-in-chief reflects on the contrast between global recognition of Haitian culture and Haiti’s deepening crises. She urges the Haitian Diaspora to turn pride into power .
I’m not sure what to make of Haitian Heritage Month this year.
On the surface, it’s a time worth celebrating. In just a matter of months, Haiti has reentered the global spotlight in numerous visible ways — from having representation at the Winter Olympics to qualifying for the World Cup for the first time in 52 years to the growing recognition of Haitian cultural assets on the world stage. UNESCO’s acknowledgment of cultural elements like konpa music and cassava signals a broader embrace of Haitian identity. Across the Haitian Diaspora, our influence continues to shape culture and society, in fashion, medicine, literature and beyond.
But that visibility exists alongside a far more jarring reality.
Haiti’s capital is, by nearly every measurable standard, in collapse. Armed groups control more than 90% of Port-au-Prince. The government has all but receded, leaving behind a vacuum of governance and a population exposed to relentless violence. More than 1 million people have been displaced. Hunger is widespread. Killings have become routine.
Meanwhile, Haitians abroad — many seeking stability and opportunity — are navigating a familiar hostility: xenophobia, racism and increasingly restrictive immigration policies whose goal is exclusion rather than refuge.
The multinational Gang Suppression Force was approved last fall, replacing the Kenyan-led Multinational Security Support mission. Yet questions remain about funding, resources and transparency. These concerns are compounded by the opaque role of Erik Prince and his private military firm, Vectus Global, in efforts to curb violence in the country — and at what cost.
This year also marks five years since the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse. And as of this writing, even that moment remains unresolved. The trial continues, but the question of who ultimately orchestrated the killing still lingers.
So the question isn’t simply what are we celebrating? It’s more uncomfortable than that.
What does it mean to celebrate visibility at the very moment we are losing sovereignty?
Because that’s the contradiction at the heart of this year’s Heritage Month. Haitian culture is being embraced globally, even as the Haitian state struggles to function. The world is consuming our music, our art and our identity, while the country itself remains in crisis.
This juxtaposition is not just about the past. It reflects a deeper instability in the present — one that makes celebration, on its own, feel incomplete.
None of this is to say there is nothing to be proud of. There is. Our Haitian spirit, creativity and global impact are undeniable. But pride, if it is not matched with purpose, risks becoming performance.
Making this month matter
This month has to be more than symbolic.
It has to be a call to engage, seriously and strategically, with Haiti’s future.
For those of us in the diaspora, that means recognizing that proximity to power is not passive. It is leverage. It means organizing beyond moments of crisis and celebration. It means using our access to institutions, to policymakers and to resources to ensure that Haiti is not an afterthought in the rooms where decisions are made.
It also means strengthening the institutions that make accountability possible.
Independent media is not optional in this equation — it is foundational. Without it, there is no consistent way to document reality, to challenge power or to inform the public.
If we say we want a Haiti we can return to, then we have to invest in the systems that make that future possible.
Haitian Heritage Month should not only be about celebrating our wins.
It should also be about using that momentum to remind ourselves who we are, what we can achieve — and how we turn that spirit into action.
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