14 The Dominican Republic, Haiti, & the United States: a (Purposefully) Untold Story – Ellie Urfrig

By: Ellie Urfrig

Introduction

One day, while visiting family in the Middle East , I felt homesick and wanted to write to my best friend back home, in Colorado. My mom and I walked to the market, found a cute postcard, and I wrote down all the ten-year-old thoughts that could fit on a 4” x 6” rectangle. We proceeded to the post office to purchase a stamp and send the note. While purchasing the stamp, the older man working behind the desk asked where the postcard was going. I responded, “America.” He asked, “but where?” In a panic, I turned to my mother. She quietly mouthed, “the states,” to me. “The states,” I repeated out loud to the man.

Until this moment, the United States and America were synonymous to me. Latin America existed solely as a location on a map that I occasionally memorized for exams. As I grew older, I reflected on this instance and pondered what it revealed about our nation’s ideology, messaging, and subliminal superiority. For a while, I assumed the interaction solely represented a gap in my own public schooling experience. However, history proves me otherwise.

In 1971, Richard Nixon told Donald Rumsfeld that “Latin America doesn’t matter… People don’t give a damn about Latin America now.” While advising Rumsfeld on which part of the world to avoid if he wanted a career as the American Defence secretary, Nixon made a xenophobic remark that illuminates why this region has become the “forgotten continent.” Michael Reid writes about this phenomenon, stating Latin America is “neither poor enough to attract pity and aid, nor dangerous enough to excite strategic calculation, nor has it grown fast enough to quicken boardroom pulses” (Reid, 2). Although the United States has routinely undermined the reality of this continent and its people, there is a lot we can learn from this region—specifically, as I will explore, from the ongoing relationship between the US, Dominican Republic, and Haiti.

The United States, Dominican Republic, and Haiti,  have struggled extensively with racial class systems. In the Global North, it is frequently assumed that racism doesn’t exist in locations like the Dominican Republic. In reality, racialized hatred simply exists in a different way.  In 1496, the city of Santo Domingo served as the first port of entry for enslaved Africans, marking the start of blackness in the western hemisphere and foreshadowing the hundreds of years of slave labor that followed. In 1791, the world’s only successful slave revolt changed the history of Haiti, the United States, and the world. And, most recently, in 2013, the Constitutional Tribunal in the Dominican Republic stripped nearly 200,000 people of their citizenship. Although the United States likes to ignore the Dominican Republic and other Latin American countries, it would be specious to assume we can understand our own history, without also understanding the history of our southern neighbors. For hundreds of years, the United States has been an imperial force in the Dominican Republic, increasing racial divides. When you familiarize yourself with the historical relationship between these three nations, La Sentencia isn’t so astonishing.

La Sentencia, as it’s known throughout activist circles in the Dominican Republic and abroad, is described by April J. Mayes as the “Dominican Constitutional Tribunal’s decision, emitted in September 2013, to revoke the birthright citizenship of over 200,000 people whom the Tribunal determined had been born to parents in transit, dating back to 1929” (Mayes, 139).  This decision was not random— and the US bears some responsibility for it.

As a young girl, I, like many other people living in the US, was subjected to the dominant narrative that “Latin America doesn’t matter.” For (seemingly) obvious reasons, this is a dangerous, xenophobic belif. Additionally, it helps the US hide their imperial past. In this essay, I will examine key historical instances in which the United States facilitated division between Haiti and the Dominican Republic, contributing to the 2013 decision of La Sentencia. Ultimately, I hope to shine a light on one geographical area that, I will argue, has been purposefully ignored  by the United States, in an attempt to hide their imperialist past.

The Theoretical Framework: Telling the Untold Story

When considering the relationship between these nations, Lorgia García-Peña is a quintessential author to examine. In the second chapter of her 2016 book, “The Borders of Dominicanidad,” García-Peña explores how the United States’ occupation of the Dominican Republic contributed to the construction of a white, European narrative that criminalized blackness. She argues that the occupation implemented racial and gendered hierarchies that privileged white, lighter skinned Dominicans, while disparaging Afro-descendants and Haitians. There were also policies enacted that encouraged racial and cultural assimilation to transform Dominicans into a “modern,” “civilized,” people that aligned with “American” ideals. As García-Peña suggests, these narratives had dangerous repercussions. Blackness became associated with criminality, disorder, and primitiveness, which justified the devaluation of Afro-descendent and Haitian bodies. In an accessible, and simultaneously sophisticated manner, García-Peña illuminates how the US occupation between 1916 and 1924 contributed to racial and gendered hierarchies that criminalized blackness. Although the occupation occurred almost 100 years before La Sentencia, it’s obvious that these two events are not separate, and should be studied in conjunction.

Another author that cannot go unmentioned in this essay is Professor April J. Mayes. In her article, “Black Feminist Formations in the Dominican Republic Since La Sentencia,” Mayes explores how, since the 2000s, migration policy in the Dominican Republic has regulated access to nationality and citizenship by race and sex. Similarly to García-Peña, She provides specific historical events that contributed to this hostility. Mayes also conducts interviews with black feminists in the region. Through these interviews, she illuminates the intersectional struggles people faced in light of  La Sentencia. These interviews also exemplify the important role black feminists have played to push back against the ruling. Ultimately, Mayes argues that “the movement for immigrants’ human rights on behalf of Denationalized Dominicans comprises the Black feminist struggle in the DR” (Mayes, 155). This article provides important  historical context about the United States, Dominican Republic, and Haiti. Additionally, the interviews help personify  the effects of La Sentencia.

García-Peña and Mayes illustrate the implicit and explicit racism in the historical relations between the US, DR, and Haiti. However, the extreme anti-Black and anti-Haitian narrative is not experienced the same by any one person. This is why, amongst many reasons, it is important to hear individual stories to break down preconceived notions to understand the day-to-day struggles these people are facing. As Audre Lorde said, “there is no such thing as a single-issue struggle because we do not live single-issue lives.” Since the 80s, Intersectionality has become a key aspect for anti-racist work. In their piece, ‘Anti-racism, intersectionality, and the struggle for dignity’ Dr. Mónica G. Moreno Figuroa and Mara Viveros-Vigoya write, “Protagonists refuse to treat anti-racist struggle as an isolated phenomenon and, instead, see it as embedded in the multiple positionings of the actors involved.” Ultimately, they argue that intersectionality doesn’t offer a single answer but it does help us assess, resignify, and disrupt our implicit methodology. This is important to consider when examining the history between these nations. Although it is easy to paint broad strokes, each nation, community, and individual has experienced these historical anecdotes, and La Sentencia, differently.

Lastly, it is important to acknowledge that anti-Haitianism doesn’t exclusively exist in the Dominican Republic. In her blog post, “Wakanda, Haiti, and Deportations,” Esther Hernández-Medina argues that the recent Marvel blockbuster, “Black Panther,” portrayal of Wakanda serves as a reminder of the potential greatness of Haiti and its people, in spite of the challenges the nation may face. Media like this increases people’s “capacity to desire,” as Indian anthropologist Arjun Appadurai says. Hernández-Medina acknowledges that racial division is present in all nations but she calls for empathy towards immigrants, and for policies that prioritize the well-being of all people, regardless of their country of origin.

Each of these scholars aid us in understanding the historical implications of US involvement in the DR and Haiti. They also help illustrate the reality of La Sentencia and additional anti-Haitian rhetoric in the present. Together, these sources help illuminate the untold relationship between these three nations.

The Case: A Historical Relationship

As I have emphasized in the prior sections of this essay, the United States, Dominican Republic, and Haiti have an extensive history together. Their modern relationship began over 500 years ago, in 1496, when the city of Santo Domingo served as the first port of entry for enslaved Africans. This marked the beginning of blackness in the western hemisphere and foreshadowed the hundreds of years of slave labor that followed.

Years later, in 1791, the only successful slave revolt in modern history occurred in present-day Haiti. The uprising was led by Toussaint L’Ouverture, a former slave who became a military commander. The conflict lasted for years, but, eventually, the Haitian rebels successfully defeated the French and established the independent nation of Haiti in 1804. US slaveholders were abhorred by the success of the revolt and feared it might inspire similar action in the States. As a result, there were intense debates about the reality of  slavery and race in the US. That being said, the influence of this revolution was felt worldwide. It even inspired the abolitionist movement against the apartheid in South Africa. By defeating the French, the Haitian revolution challenged a dominant power of the time, and helped shape the modern era of anti-colonial struggles.

Considering the revolution’s success, it shouldn’t be all that surprising that, in the 1850s and 70s, when “political elites in the US considered annexing the DR, Dominican Politicians and their US-based supporters argued for Dominican whiteness in opposition to Haitian blackness” (Mayes, 141). By this logic, Dominicans were a mixed race people, but “they were fundamentally a European and Indian, Indo-Hispanic nation” (Mayes, 141). This is one of the first— but certainly not the last— times that the DR felt the need to racially distinguish themselves from their western neighbors to achieve US support and approval. As Mayes suggests, “Haiti and Haitians were convenient scapegoats for the challenges of Dominican nation-state formation.”

Then, of course, there was the US occupation of the DR and Haiti. This lasted from 1916 to 1924 in the Dominican Republic, and from 1915 to 1934 in Haiti. Mayes argues that this occupation “ helped solidify Dominicans racial distance and difference from Haitians” (Mayes, 141). US military officials and diplomats “treated Dominican ‘mixed-race Indios (Indians) much differently than they treated ‘Black’ Haitians” (Mayes, 141). In her article, Mayes references Ginettab Candelario, who argued that “the ideological displacement of Blackness onto Haitians through the articulation and celebration of Dominican Indigenousness and Whiteness is best understood in relation to US imperialism in the Caribbean region (Candelario, 36). Indeed, US commercial, financial, and military control in the region also established the consistent migration of Haitians to the DR. As a result, many Haitians worked in Dominican agriculture.

Mayes highlights the sugar industry as a particularly exploitative trade during the occupation. US military governors in the DR and Haiti created “legal mechanisms and contractual arrangements by which sugar companies recruited Haitian workers to labor during the zafra, [sugar harvest], and then return home once the season ended” (Mayes, 142).  Mayes continues to say that “the sugar estates hiring preferences, combined with assistance from US military governments to facilitate labor migration, created a hierarchical, three-tiered labor regime” (Mayes, 142). As Mayes illustrates, anti-Black racism pin-pointed cane workers, regardless of their nationality. One of the many industries that was institutionalized during US occupation, the sugar trade exemplifies another avenue in which the US inspired racial division.

Even after occupation, the United States  routinely supported the conservative narrative. In 1965, the US intervened in the DR to prevent a leftist government from taking power, and occupied the country for several months thereafter. In the 1980s and 90s, the Dominican and Haitian governments began to transition toward democracy. The US supported these movements, but did not try to instill unity between the two. They, instead, remained politically and economically divided.

When examining the history between these three nations, it is clear that the United States contributed to harsh racial rhetoric and practice. García-Peña describes the relationship as triangular; that is to say, you can’t understand what is going on in Haiti and the DR, without understanding what is going on in the US. It would be specious to assume the rise in conservatism in the Dominican Republic spawned out of thin air. The conservatism that led to La Sentencia is long, strenuous, and interconnected.

Analysis: A Not-So-Surprising Sentencing

The prior section of this essay works as a brief timeline between 1496 and the 1990s. However, the story does not end there. In 2013, the highest court in the country ruled that Dominicans born to foreign parents between 1929 and 2007 were to be retroactively stripped of their nationality. Amnesty International called this decision “a shocking disregard for international law and the country’s legal responsibilities.” However, with historical context, the decision isn’t so shocking. I  argue, instead, that it is an unsurprising consequence of US imperialism.

Don’t get me wrong, La Sentencia is undoubtedly cruel; the Court’s decision left nearly 200,000 people stateless. More specifically, in a study conducted by The Inter-American Commision on Human Rights, hundreds alleged that La Sentencia left them “unable to enjoy their economic and cultural rights.” The commission received information about “620 cases concerning the right to education, 332 cases concerning the right to work, 280 cases concerning the right to social security, and 30 cases concerning the right to health.” It should be noted that these were the numbers reported to the IACHR. In reality, even more people are experiencing these issues. However, the extremity of this case exemplifies the potential consequences and lingering effects US imperialism can have on a region.

As professor Hernández-Medina argues, the “United States and other countries with many more resources’ ‘ than the Dominican Republic frequently “turn a blind eye and hide their own history of exploitation” (Hernández-Medina). However, that attempt at secrecy doesn’t erase the fact that “one of the missions of the US military regime was to create a clear national frontier to separate Haiti and the Dominican Republic.” (García-Peña, 77). The US has always been “preoccupied with the ‘Haiti-DR problem” (García-Peña, 77). In fact, in 1917, there was a commission established to “assess” the border situation and find a “solution.” The commission created a report that stated, “until the frontier is definitely settled and permanently marked, it is believed that questions of border conflicts will constantly arise” (García-Peña, 78). Following this assessment, the US military government instilled the first Hispaniola border patrol. The patrol was required to check documentation and stop illegal border crossing. By concerning themselves with the Haiti-DR “problem,” the United States helped create the Haiti-DR “problem.” Establishments like the border patrol set a precedent that, eventually, led to the dichotomous, right-wing decision of La Sentencia.

This anti-Black, anti-Haitian rhetoric curated by the United States was also visible within the United States. American playwright Eugene O’Neill’s piece, The Emperor Jones (1921), is the perfect example of such. The story “criminalizes black liberation through an allegory of the Haitian Revolution” (García-Peña, 79). Instead of celebrating the revolt, the play is used to suggest the impossibility of black leadership. The Play was O’Neills first big box-office hit and was included in Burn Mantle’s Best Plays of 1920-1921. It was also revived multiple times throughout the century. And, yet, Anti-Blank, Anti-Haitian rhetoric in the US hasn’t necessarily progressed over time.

In 2017, the Trump administration ended a humanitarian program that “allowed some 59,000 Haitians to live and work in the United States” after the 2010 earthquake “ravaged their country” (Jordan, NYT). Haitians with Temporary Protected Status were expected to leave the US by July of 2019, or face deportation. By deporting Haitian TPS recipients, the Trump administration separated families and left vulnerable people in a nation that was still healing from political instability and natural disaster. The decision to halt TPS for Haitian immigrants proves that this xenophobic behavior persists in the US, not only in the DR and Haiti.

All of this being said, it is important to acknowledge that the US is not exclusively an antagonist in this relationship (or the world). The nation has provided aid, shelter, and military support to the DR and Haiti over the decades. And, as Hernández-Medina writes, “all countries are in one way or another racist because racist discourse and practices (and especially everything associated with the black) are the norm almost everywhere established for centuries by the colonial powers’ ‘ (Hernández-Medina).  Dr. Mónica G. Moreno Figuroa and Mara Viveros-Vigoyan remind us that, “protagonists refuse to treat the anti-racist struggle as an isolated phenomenon and, instead, see it as embedded in the multiple positionings of the actors involved” (Figuroa). The DR, Haiti, and the US have not (and will never be) entirely isolated from one another, the phenomenon of racism, or La Sentencia.

Conclusion

In this essay, I have attempted to cast light upon a historical narrative the US frequently likes to hide. In examining past relations between the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and the United States, it has become clear that La Sentencia isn’t so shocking. Rather, it is an extreme, but important, case to assess when examining the effect of 20th century US imperialism in Latin America.

Michael Reid, as referenced in the introduction, argues that South America is the “forgotten continent.” This isn’t a coincidence. Latin America has been purposefully excluded from US citizens’ psyche. Yet, historical ignorance doesn’t take away from the reality of the situation. For that reason, it’s emparative that we study this triangular relationship and understand the role the US played in cultivating a conservative political climate in the Dominican Republic.

In understanding this hidden past, we’re also better understanding the present. The beginning of the 21st century has brought “more involvement into the internal politics of underprivileged nations, as evidenced by the military occupation of Afghanistan (2002), Iraq (2003), and Haiti (2004)” (García-Peña, 91). The relationship between the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and the United States is an important example of what can happen when the US intervenes internationally on behalf of freedom, civilization, or democracy.  La Sentencia, albeit, extreme, should scare us into reality. This purposefully untold story doesn’t change the fact that US Imperialism has had, and will continue to have, good, bad, and ugly repercussions.

Citations:

REID, MICHAEL. “THE FORGOTTEN CONTINENT.” In Forgotten Continent: The Battle for Latin America’s Soul, 1–29. Yale University Press, 2007. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt1npqv7.7.

Torres-Saillant, Silvio. “The Tribulations of Blackness: Stages in Dominican Racial Identity.” Callaloo 23, no. 3 (2000): 1086–1111. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3299726.

Mayes, April. (2018). Black Feminist Formations in the Dominican Republic since La Sentencia. Comparative Racial Politics in Latin America – Sakai link

Figueroa, Mónica G. Moreno, and Mara Viveros-Vigoya. “ANTI-RACISM,  INTERSECTIONALITY, AND THE STRUGGLE FOR DIGNITY.”

In Against Racism: Organizing for Social Change in Latin America, edited by MÓNICA G. MORENO FIGUEROA and PETER WADE, 51–72. University of Pittsburgh Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv270ktsp.6.

García-Peña, Lorgia. The Borders of Dominicanidad: Race, Nation, and Archives of Contradiction, 2016.

Hernández-Medina, Esther. “Wakanda, Haití y las deportaciones.” Acento, December 20, 2022. https://www.acento.com.do/opinion/wakanda-haiti-y-las-deportaciones-9144359.html.

Denationalization and Statelessness in the Dominican Republic – IACHR. (n.d.). IACHR: Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. http://www.oas.org/en/iachr/multimedia/2016/DominicanRepublic/dominican-republic.html

“United States Occupation of the Dominican Republic (1916–1924).” Wikipedia, April 19, 2023. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_occupation_of_the_Dominican_Republic_(1916%E2%80%931924).