Acosta and the Incas

Reading Jose de Acosta's Natural and Moral History of the Indies for a deep chronicle of the Inca Empire is bound to disappoint. Acosta's work, which focuses on the Americas in general (though Acosta had traveled to other parts of the Americas like Santo Domingo), largely synthesized older accounts of the Inca past, particularly the works of Polo de Ondegardo. Consequently, his account of the Inca past is rather derivative and, besides references to the flora, fauna, and superstitions of Indians in Peru, adds little. In some respects his coverage of the Inca and Aztec Empires emphasizes how these peoples, deceived by Satan from Acosta's Jesuit perspective, built impressive civilizations that paved the way for Christianity to spread. Thus, unlike the indigenous peoples of Brazil or other parts of the Americas which lacked large kingdoms or polities, the Incas and Aztecs promoted religious cults that, like ancient Rome, facilitated the spread of Christianity through the state's institutions and influence across a vast territory. Acosta's perspective also reminded us of Edward Blyden's views on Islam in West Africa, which he similarly praised while also expressing the belief that Islam will prepare the path for the Christianization of black Africans. But to return to Acosta as a chronicler of the Incas, this does not offer much. Acosta shifts between condemnation of the Incas and admiration, and there are interesting moments of comparative ethnology of the various peoples of the America (and East Asia). But we hope to read another cronista with a more substantial narrative of the Inca past. And really, 1000 people sacrificed to accompany the dead Huayna Capac?

Indigenous Americas Update (2025)

In terms of Indigenous Americas ancestry, the algorithm used by Ancestry still inflates "Taino" ancestry in Puerto Ricans. The overall "Puerto Rico" estimate remained at 9%, but the "Bolivia & Peru" decreased slightly to a fraction of 1%. The appearance of "Central America" was the new aspect of this update. Like the case of indigenous peoples of the Andes, we assume this is capturing some of the component parts of the genetic makeup of the "Tainos." The Central America region as defined by Ancestry seems to emphasize El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua and is possibly related to the "Taino" through ancient pathways or migrations from Central America into South America (or vice-versa). It would be very useful for Ancestry to tell us which indigenous groups from Central and South America they're using here.

A World That Columbus Discovered

Un mundo que descubrió Colón: las rutas del comercio prehispánico de los metales by Adam Szaszdi Nagy is a fascinating work endeavoring to understand precolonial trade in metals (and shells, slaves, salt, emeralds, and semiprecious stones) across the Americas. Beginning in the Antilles, where Columbus was first informed of places with gold, guanin and precious metals, Nagy takes the Indian guides and informants seriously for testimony on long-distance trade. Guanin, for instance, the gold-copper alloy so highly treasured by the Taino for pectorals and adornment, was indeed acquired through long-distance trade with South America. Guayana, or Guayana, was likely one of the areas from which guanin (also known as caracoli to the Caribs) spread to the Antilles, perhaps through an exchange of slaves. In addition to guanin and other worked metals, the Antilles was also part of an exchange network that connected all the Americas. 

Shells, jadeite, emeralds, salt, slaves, copper, silver, turquoise and textiles connected North and South America via maritime routes through the Caribbean and across the Pacific. Indeed, Nagy draws on evidence of widespread similar uses of guanin for pectorals and nose pieces in the Antilles, Colombia and Central America to posit a long-lasting network of trade. In addition, the ultimate sources of the techniques for advanced metallurgy appear to have first arisen in Peru and Ecuador, from which they spread to Colombia (the Quimbaya, Muisca, Sinu, and Tairona cultures). Then, via trade routes that traveled along South American rivers and overland, guanin or tumbaga reached the Antilles, Mesoamerica, and beyond (as Florida seems to have received some items of South American origin via the Antilles). 

While Nagy seems to uncritically accept some Spanish sources as valid on the cannibalism of the Caribs or those of the Colombian Cauca valley, he interprets them carefully elsewhere to establish the skill and longevity of contact and trade in the Americas. For instance, the Taino of the Greater Antilles told Colombus, Chanca and others of their trade contacts with the mainland (Zuania, or Guania?). Elsewhere, indigenous informants in 16th century Mexico reported the visit of long-distance traders via the sea to the Pacific Coast of Mexico, which is probably evidence of trade contacts with coastal Ecuador. Was there indeed a movement of specialists in metallurgy from Ecuador to Mexico due to Inca expansion in the 15th century is difficult to say with the sources used, but certainly possible. Likewise, Raleigh and others on Guayana indicate how the long-lasting trade in guanin continued as late as the end of the 16th century in South America. Furthermore, was el Turco, the man encountered in the Southwest by Coronada, really a native of Ecuador? Nagy's evidence is insufficient, but certainly suggestive of ancient contacts via trade between Ecuador and Mexico as natives of Ecuador's coast traveled in balsas with sails. 

One wishes more could have been uncovered on direct Taino trade with Colombia and Venezuela without the Carib or Lesser Antilles intermediaries. Nagy argues that Cuba lacked close trade links with the Yucatan and Central America due to the lack of sufficient trade goods that would have attracted merchants from the mainland. But Jamaica, where a cacique's regalia impressed Columbus and resembled that of Indian populations in parts of Panama and Columbia, would presumably have lacked goods to exchange with the mainland, too. Unless, perhaps, captives or carved, wooden objects of Taino artisans attracted a market in the mainland? And what if, contrary to Nagy, the Taino were cultivating cotton in sufficient quantities to export it to the mainland, and trading directly with the coast of Colombia as well as Venezuela?

History of the New World

Girolamo Benzoni's The History of the New World is a fascinating snapshot of various regions of the Spanish colonial empire in the mid-16th century. Despite his overwhelming anti-Spanish bias and lack of style, Benzoni visited the Antilles, Venezuela, Colombia, Panama, Peru, Guatemala and parts of Central America. While much of the regions he visited were depopulated (like Hispaniola) or areas of recent conflict or abandonment, due to the violent greed of the Spanish), Benzoni's perspective is fascinating. For instance, his description of Taino customs of Hispaniola and Indians of Venezuela are, despite occasionally being derivative of early Spanish customs. His description of Indian customs in Hispaniola, for instance, suggests these practices were very much alive, despite the demographic collapse of the indigenous peoples. Benzoni's presence in Hispaniola also provides some descriptions of the real fear the Spanish felt with the large African maroon population on the island. Similarly, the attacks by African runaways in Panama against the Spanish indicates just how fragile this colonial empire was. Indigenous people did not sit idly by and kindly agree to give away all their land, resources and labor. Nor were enslaved Africans eagerly serving their white masters. The state of insecurity, depopulation (partly fueled by Indians abandoning settlements to avoid whites), and conflicts among the Spanish themselves are clearly illustrated by Benzoni's experiences. One only wishes Benzoni provided a little more detail about parts of his travels, such as the caravel carrying Indian slaves from South America to Puerto Rico and Hispaniola.

Vinland Sagas

Reading Kuneva Kunz's translations of The Saga of the Greenlanders and The Saga of Erik the Red is quite unlike the other sagas. Instead of the very detailed genealogies and tales of feuds and battles in Iceland, Scandinavia or Europe (there's a bit of it, however), these short sagas focus on exploration and settlement of Greenland and part of North America's mainland. The second of the two provides a bit more information on the native societies encountered by the Norse, particularly the trade in pelts for cloth and the regrettable violence. Through this saga we learn that two native boys were taken and baptized, and thus it provides us with the earliest known references to indigenous people who could speak or a European language. The saga, although stressing how the settlers realized the native population's hostility made any long-term residence unwise, hints at possible future ties through this trade in pelts. Perhaps the two indigenous children could have acted as interpreters for Greenland settlers sailing to Vinland. Moreover, archaeologists know about at least one site in Newfoundland that was inhabited for some time, so perhaps relations with the indigenous population improved. Just pure speculation on our part, of course. But interesting to ponder global connections that may have linked the Americas and the rest of the world before 1492. 

The Conquistadors: A Very Short Introduction

The Conquistadors: A Very Short Introduction is a fine introduction to the history of the Spanish conquests for a general audiences. The authors, both experts on the subject, elucidate how "micropatriotism," the stranger-effect, and Spanish alliances with indigenous conquistadors made the Spanish conquests possible. While I was disappointed the authors devoted so little to the conquest of the Caribbean, this remains an accessible introduction to a complex subject. Dismissive of racist and unproved claims by scholars dating back to the 16th century chronicles and narratives, the authors are quick to show how presumptuous and ill-informed mainstream conclusions are regarding the conquistadors.

Instead of being received as "gods," native societies always perceived them as humans from a remote, distant part of the world (thus playing a role in the aforementioned stranger-effect). Moreover, many of the conquistadors were of African descent, such as Juan Garrido, a few were women, and the vast majority were indigenous leaders or polities who saw the Spanish as arbitrators, a way to access new privileges, and weaken their enemies from other indigenous polities. This also helps push away condescending assumptions regarding Native America as being full of "superstitious" natives who saw Europeans as gods instead of making decisions as rational actors leading advanced civilizations of their own kind.

The text also displays how the Spanish conquistadors were basically armed entrepreneurs, privately funded, and quite uneven in a process of colonialism that lasted for 3 centuries. Some indigenous societies, such as the Mapuche, were never conquered while groups in areas of Colombia, the Yucatan, or the US Southwest took centuries to "conquer." Indeed, many of the touted advantages the Spanish allegedly enjoyed were likely minimal in combat, such as their firearms, the diseases they introduced (which also affected their indigenous allies, and in some cases, the outbreaks only came after the conquest), their horses (sometimes not useful in mountainous terrain or hostile climates), and their steel (which, though stronger than obsidian or wooden weapons utilized by Aztecs or other people of the Mexican central valley, were not always the most convenient to wield). In fact, many Spanish adopted the styles of armor, footwear, head protection, and dress of locals.

Furthermore, many if not most of the conquistadors were not formally trained in war, making their dependence on indigenous allies and African auxiliaries even more necessary. Therefore, an understanding of indigenous socio-political systems is necessary to begin to comprehend how and why so many indigenous polities were willing to side with the Spanish, only to have their privileges revoked after the conquests (such was the fate of the Nahua who made the Spanish conquest of Mexico happen). As a very short book on the subject, Matthew Restall and Felipe Fernandez-Armesto provide an exemplary introduction to a complex event in the creation of the early modern world.

The American Discovery of Europe

Just finished The American Discovery of Europe by Jack D. Forbes. By far, the best thing about this rather speculative text that awaits further confirmation via archaeology is in reversing the usual paradigm of pre-Columbian contact with indigenous peoples of the Americas as agents. Indeed, I love how Forbes reclaims 'Americans' as a term for indigenous people, instead of the less accurate 'Indian.' Moreover, if Forbes is correct about the winds and streams (Gulf Current) favoring indigenous seafarers heading east across the Atlantic rather than the opposite, it would certainly seem likely that indigenous Americans arrived in Europe at various times, although the question of sustained, purposeful contact remains unconfirmed prior to the Norse. If American harpoon points, flora, and peoples had crossed the North Atlantic due to favorable waters and winds prior to Columbus in the North Atlantic, it certainly calls for a revising of the navigational skills of Americans. 

In addition to challenging the traditional Eurocentric (or, for that matter, Afrocentric and Sinocentric) view, Forbes goes to great lengths to show how intercontinental trade and links existed between various centers of civilizations in the pre-Hispanic Caribbean, Mexico/Central America, North America, and South America. And not just in the Atlantic, but also along the Pacific coasts! Contact between the Caribs and Arawaks of the Caribbean for instance, and Mesoamerica is proved by similarities in the ballgame played by both groups, as well as linguistic and trade ties to northern South America (Venezuela and Colombia). Similarities in religion, material culture, and evidence of trade also links Mesoamerica with the Caribbean and North America, more evidence of long-distance trade networks and advanced sailing and seafaring by native peoples. 

In conclusion, the text's weakness relies on the nature of its incomplete evidence, unclear ancient textual and colonial-era sources, and the rather limited knowledge available at the time to the pre-Columbian Americas. It does seem very likely that Americans could have crossed the Atlantic during the Dorset or Thule cultures (the Inuit or "Eskimos"), but as of 2007, the year Forbes published the book, irrefutable evidence has yet to be presented. The strangeness of cocaine and nicotine found in ancient Egyptian mummies and northern European folklore and medieval writings on dark-visaged 'mer-men' may all reveal some incomplete picture of indigenous Americans crossing the Atlantic, but there are still too many gaps to 'prove' it. Nonetheless, Forbes has certainly corrected my erroneous understandings of American navigational ability, links between northern Europe and northeastern America, and the complexity of American civilizations before 1492. 

Haiti and the United States

I have finally read one of my favorite professor's books, Haiti and the United States. In this accessible, short, well-sourced text, Plummer expertly traces the trajectory of relations between Haiti and the United States (while also looking at the role of Haitian relations with other states in Latin America and the Caribbean). She begins with an overview of Saint Domingue and the Haitian Revolution (not neglecting the importance of colonial smuggling and trade between Saint Domingue and the US) and ends with late 20th century Haitian history (the fall of Baby Doc, the election of Aristide, and the coup). The main benefits of Plummer's analysis are to emphasize the role of US imperialism in shaping Caribbean economic and political fortunes, stressing the significance of the Dominican factor in Haitian history (as well as relations between Haiti and Cuba, Haiti and Venezuela) and placing Haiti's history in a larger narrative of US and European imperialism.

Given my experience with Plummer's other work on Haiti as focusing on international trade and economic exchange in Haiti prior to the US occupation (focusing on the role of foreign and semi-foreign merchants who, with their flexible nationalities and ties to metropolitan capital, replaced Haitians and increased Haitian dependency on foreign markets and control), this text is very much aligned with a broader 'left' interpretation of Haitian history and relations with the US. Indeed, much like Plummer's lecturing style, the text's 'leftism,' of which I am generally in agreement with, is usually subtle and thoroughly academic in presentation. In short, Plummer's analysis is a well-written introduction on the problems facing the Haitian state, an examination of Haitian scholarly communities and their writings, trade and conflict with the US, Haitian relations with neighbors in the Caribbean, and the class/color divisions of Haitian society.

Sara Johnson's Fear of French Negroes

 

 Fear of French Negroes, which places the Haitian Revolution in a broader circum-Caribbean transcolonial context, intriguingly examines the repercussions, parallels, and ramifications of the Haitian Revolution in the Caribbean world through the simultaneous use of canines for torture and war against black bodies (Second Maroon War in Jamaica, last days of Saint Domingue, the Seminole Wars between the US and Seminoles and their African-American/black allies in Florida, and the Spanish/Cuban chasseurs, dog-trainers who turned the canines into beasts craving black bodies), the effects of Haitian rule in Santo Domingo/Dominican Republic and possible transcultural, transcolonial links in popular religion) black privateers in the Gulf of Mexico in the early decades of the 19th century, music, and black newspapers from Haiti, France, and the US North. I have yet to read such an analysis of the Haitian Revolution in this broader context with visual and literary sourcs since Modernity Disawoved, and though it definitely has its weaknesses, provides as fresh look at trasncolonial black collaborations, contact, and, as she suggests in the final chapter, a nascent Pan-Africanist or pan-Black Atlantic consciousness in the newspapers of free blacks in the 1830s and 1840s, from the US,  to Haiti and France.

She often suggests things with her interpretations that she can't prove so that weakens her book, but overall she makes some interesting points. Her chapter on the Haitian unification of Hispaniola in the 19th century was interesting, though weakened in parts by her perhaps overly imaginative wishful thinking. But I think she mostly acknowledges her weaknesses in terms of stating some of her claims as probabilities rather than 'pure' fact. And yes, her approach is interesting. It reminds me of Sibyl Fischer's Modernity Disavowed, which likewise used literary and art sources for examining the impact of the Haitian Revolution in Haiti, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic. Moreover, her analysis of a possible Haitian/Saint-Dominguan role in the proliferation of the cinquillo rhythm found throughout circum-Caribbean music is powerful, although many of those societies she describes in New Orleans, Cuba, Trinidad, Jamaica, and Puerto Rico could have arose from enslaved Africans imported over the centuries. Nevertheless, the "French Negro" influence on some forms of bomba in Puerto Rico and the tumba francesa of eastern Cuba are undeniable, and the role of Saint-Dominguan refugees, immigrants, settlers, free people of color, bonded persons, and white French colons considered harbingers of culture, had a tremendous impact on the Americas in the Age of Revolution. As she indicates in the chapter on black privateers operating with the Lafitte brothers, such as the Saint Dominguan gens du couleur, Joseph Savary, who aided in the former's slave smuggling operations and other nefarious deeds, reveals the often contradictory impact of French republicanism, Haitian abolitionism, and race relations in the Americas. Likewise, Petion's republic in the southern half of Haiti in the 1810s lending aid and refuge for Venezuelan and Colombian nationalist liberators was contradictory in terms of the maintenace of racial slavery in the soon to be free Latin American state of Gran Colombia as well. Thus, as Johnson indicates, there is no romanticized, ahistorical theme of black solidarity always being for the interests of ALL people of African descent, since many fought for slavers, slave regimes, and  colonial and postcolonial governments that did not, ultimately, challenge the status quo.

All in all, an interesting analysis, with the chapter entitled Une et indivisible, a reference to Toussaint's Constititution on the indivisibility of Hispaniola, will hopefully lead to future fresh takes on Haitian-Dominican relations in the first half of the 19th century, as the career of Jose Campos Tavares complicates the notion of "Haitian invaders." Perhaps more historical digging and linguistic investigations into the lives of former slaves and the masses of free people of color in Spanish Santo Domingo will, one day, be better known, so we can compare white elite constructs of Haitian rule in Hispaniola to those of the common people, who, as Johnson suggests, were at least initially pro-Haitian, perhaps a majority being so. Furthermore, as Johnson indicates in the chapter as well as in a separate article published in the Journal of Haitian Studies, the long existence of a porous colonial and national border as well as the Spanish-speaking east's long history of African slavery, many parallels and influences can be seen in popular religion, such as Vodou, music, and literary sources derived from 19th century Dominican poetry and rural discouse. Though nothing ground-breaking perhaps, and occasionally weakened by a lack of direct sources that, to paraphrase Spivak, leaves the subaltern unable to speak, Johnson's text is a call for further work by historians, musicologists, linguists, and specialists in Atlantic Studies, Caribbean Studies, Latin American Studies, French Studies, and African Diasporic Studies to do additional research. Her final chapter on free black newspapers in the circum-Caribbean and the US and France also shed new light on earlier periods of transnation, transcolonial solidarity and 'blackness,' with suggestive ramifications for theorists of the Black Atlantic. Her newspaper sources even indicate 'black' writers in Haiti, the US, and, a Martinican established in France, alluded to each other's work, wrote about black literary figures and intellectuals in other parts of the hemisphere, and, in one case, even conceived of a Caribbean federation! This leaves one asking, why have so few studies been conducted regarding Petion and Bolivar, or deeper research into Haitian unification of Hispaniola, or the links that Saint Dominguan exiles and refugees maintained with their homeland? Putting that into consideration, Johnson's text is important scholarly work that will, one hopes, lead to additional studies on how the "fear of French Negroes" and their alleged radicalism shaped the Atlantic world.

Defining the Caribbean

A friend sent this article in French to me about defining or categorizing the Caribbean. As one would expect, some of the islanders interviewed on defining the Caribbean had differing views. From a cursory look at the differing maps representing Trinidadian, Cuban, Jamaican and Guadeloupean perspectives on the confines of the Caribbean, the Hispanophone and Francophone speakers were more likley to include coastal Central America and northern South America. Trinidadians did include coastal Venezuela, but not Colombia. Jamaicans only included Guyana and Suriname with small portions of Central America (Panama, etc.) as part of the Caribbean. Guadeloupeans, on the other hand, included a much broader definition of the Caribbean that resembled academic definitions of the "Greater Caribbean" region, including coastal South America, all of Central America, and southern Florida. Besides the Guadeloupeean pan-Caribbean view, Cuban definitions of the Caribbean were second place in terms of broadly defining the region. Cubans included southern Florida, Central America, the 'traditional' Caribbean, and northern South America's coast. Interestingly, southern Florida was not considered part of the Caribbean by Trinidadians, perhaps reflecting immigration patterns (Jamaican and Cuban immigrants have established communities in Florida). Also of note is the broad Caribbean region described by Guadeloupe considers the Gulf Coast of the US, primarily Louisiana and New Orleans, as Caribbean. This may reflect a shared francophone heritage or perhaps a broad definition of Caribbean or Antillean identity rooted in the creolite movement of Guadeloupe and Martinique. Regardless, it's fascinating how different Caribbean students, representing English-speaking "West Indians," Spanish-speaking Cubans, and francophone speakers define their region of the world. For clarification, I shall post those images of the Caribbean below:

This map depicts the 'traditional' Caribbean, consisting of only the islands (Greater and Lesser Antilles) and the French, Dutch, and British possessions in Central and South America (Belize, Suriname, Guyana, French Guiana).

What I have translated as the "Greater Caribbean" includes Mexico, all of Central America, and all of northern South America. This corresponds more with the actual history of exchange, migration, and cultural/racial miscegenation that has taken place throughout this region, from the Gulf Coast, Florida, and the Antilles to Central and South America. Another commonality of the region is the shared history of the Atlantic Slave Trade, European conquest and colonialism, American imperialism, and the use of mostly Romance languages. Although most of Mexico and Central America boast no substantial phenotypically 'black' populations outside of Panama and certain provinces of states like Costa Rica, the African presence can be seen in the colonial period and some of the music, especially the use of marimbas among indigenous peoples in the area. Colombia and Venezuela must be included because of the important demographic and cultural impact of the slave trade and Afro-descendants, too.

Cuban perceptions of the Caribbean here. It includes the Antilles as the core region and peripherally Central America and the northern coast of South America.

Students from Guadeloupe have the broadest definition of Caribbean, corresponding well with the aforementioned "Greater Caribbean" map. One could arguably push for inclusion of coastal Ecuador, the coastal lowlands of Peru, and perhaps northeastern Brazil as extensions of the Caribbean due to similarly influential Afro-descendants, although that goes beyond the Caribbean Sea.

Jamaicans view the Caribbean as essentially the "West Indies" with Belize, Guyana, Suriname, French Guiana, and, marginally, southern Florida and Panama. Venezuela and northern Colombia are also present.

Trinidadians interestingly exclude Colombia but consider the entirety of Venezuela as "Caribbean," perhaps due to the close proximity of the nations and a history of migration and influences. However, they exclude Florida while every other group of Caribbean students included Florida. Without additional research, my only explanation for that trend is a reflection of the lack of large Trinidadian diasporic communities in Florida.

Again, the main pattern for defining "Caribbean" for many of these students is based on a large West Indian/Caribbean diasporic presence (in the case of Central American nations like Panama or Florida) and a high proportion of African-descended peoples. It would be fascinating to get the racial demographics of the Cuban students, and to include Haitians, Dominicans, and Puerto Ricans, to get a fuller picture of how Antilleans define themselves in relation to each other.

The following is my initial response to the article in an email to a friend. Defining the Caribbean, like any other region or form of categorization, relies on oppositional binary thinking that does not reflect the reality or porous borders. Models of understanding the world are only models, not necessarily accurate depictions of the world as we live it. The following email to a friend is a brief reflection on that and the limitations of defining a "Caribbean" and distinguishing it from "Latin America" or the Americas.

Interesting. I never thought of Mexico as part of the Greater Caribbean. I guess in some senses it makes sense for the coastal regions of Mexico and Central America to be considered "Caribbean," even if the population of African descent is small. I know Veracruz in Mexico was one a very important port of entry for slave trading in Mexico, although the current population is not phenotypically "African" like Haiti or Jamaica. I know son jarocho music has African as well as indigenous influences, probably because it arose in the Veracruz region.

For Central America, Belize and the West Indian descendants of laborers who came to places like Guatemala, Panama, and Costa Rica (province of Limon is very 'black') are definitely "Caribbean." Belize in British colonial days was known as "British Honduras" and consisted of a heterogeneous population, including various peoples of African descent. I think there is a Garifuna presence as well in terms, the Garifuna being descendants of African runaway slaves and indigenous peoples of the Caribbean who were gradually resettled in Central America by the British. I think some descendants of Saint Dominguan slaves were also settled in Central America when the region was still under Spanish colonial rule (look up the black auxiliaries of Spanish royalism in the early years of the Haitian Revolution. Unlike Toussaint Louverture, they remained loyal to fighting under the Spanish name against France and Britain. Perceived as a threat to the social order in Santo Domingo and Cuba, some were resettled in Florida and Central America.

Of course, northern South American countries like Suriname, French Guiana, and Guyana are always considered "Caribbean" and excluded from "Latin America." And from the little research I've conducted in Colombian, Venezuelan, and Brazilian history and race relations, the coastal regions of those aforementioned nations are "Caribbean," too. The largely African-descended populations, presence of obvious African-derived cultures (music, religion (Candomble, samba, cumbia, champeta, palenquero Spanish in Colombia, Cartagena and Barranquilla as slave ports for colonial Nueva Granada, etc.)) and the racialized geography makes it quite clear. The Chocho, or Pacific coast of Colombia, is also majority Afro-descended, ignored, and part of the racialized regionalism of Colombia. Southwestern Colombia and the Esmeraldas coast of Ecuador is also mostly Afro-descended. If one wanted to expand the definition of "Caribbean" even further, the coastal lowlands of Peru with its African-descended populations or southeastern Brazil and Minas Gerais for its African-descended populations. 

I guess at that point you might as well just call it all "Afro-Latin America," which shows how problematic these labels are since they're projections by scholars and outsiders on the peoples of this hemisphere. I guess I would realistically define Caribbean as the islands and coastal regions of states that border the Caribbean Sea and its environs. I would include coastal Colombia, Venezuela, Panama, parts of Costa Rica and Guatemala, and Belize as well as northeastern Brazil (Bahia, maybe Pernambuco?) because of the presence of significant or majority Afro-descended populations that are thoroughly 'mixed' culturally and/or 'racially.' I guess Patrick Chamoiseau and other Martinican writers as well as some negritude poets and theorists have tried to define Caribbean as rooted in 'blackness' or "Creolite," the latter referencing the mixed/creole heritage of the Caribbean as African, European, indigenous, and Asian. I suppose someone like Aime Cesaire would define "Caribbean" in a manner that emphasizes the African component whereas Patrick Chamoiseau and other Francophone writers would emphasize Caribbean as a fusion of the various peoples who inhabit/ed the region. Clearly, the latter definition of "Caribbean" sounds like the "raza cosmica" or mestizaje nationalism of many Latin American nations, which emphasize racial mixture as national identity. 

I guess it's difficult to really 'define' the Caribbean then. People have unsurprisingly criticized the excesses of negritude and the weaknesses of mestizaje and Creolite in masking racial oppression or maintaining the marginalization of certain identities, such as the African component in Colombia, Mexico, Peru, and other countries. In the end, the strict separation of Latin America and the "Caribbean" based on linguistic differenes does not hold, and it's often applied randomly. Haiti or francophone islands like Martinique, for instance, are often excluded from "Latin America" but they speak Romance languages like Spanish and Portuguese. As for anglophone islands like Jamaica or Trinidad, many of those peoples have migrated and worked in the Spanish Caribbean or Panama. Furthermore, peoples often spoke various languages so many older Trinidadians spoke French or a Creole because of shifting European colonial authorities. Regardless, these ideological divides between Latin America and the Caribbean clearly don't reflect reality. And I neglected to mention New Orleans and Miami. New Orleans was essentially a Caribbean society well into the 19th century, with a racial structure that mirrored Saint Domingue or colonial Haiti, not to mention it was also briefly a Spanish colonial city. Miami and parts of Florida have also been longstanding "Caribbean" regions, since African-descended slaves and free people of color have always been part of Spanish Florida's somewhat freer racial relations. Indeed, from what I can recall, African-American slaves from the US often fled to Spanish Florida before the US annexation and many African-Americans joined Seminole and other indigenous communities. 

I'm not sure why I wrote this very long, rambling email, but thanks for sharing that article. It's always interesting to see how folks from the Caribbean define themselves. I remember my mother, who never identified as Latina or Latin America, telling me as a young child that Haiti is "in South America." I remember white Americans trying to tell me that I should "identify as Latino" because Haiti is in Latin America, but I don't think they're really aware of the social and racial dynamics of Haitians in Cuba, Dominican Republic, or elsewhere.

The African Diaspora in the Western Hemisphere

The total population for people of African descent in the Americas is quite substantial. Far more than enough needed to envision a unified, Pan-Africanist state within the hemisphere rather than to Africa. Haiti, in the 19th century, offered itself as a beacon for freedom as well as citizenship to people of African and indigenous descent throughout the Americas if they settled on Hispaniola. Indeed, an estimated 6000 (perhaps even higher) African-Americans (as well as people of African descent from other areas of the Americas, though their numbers are not known) settled in Haiti. Some of their descendants still live on the island, especially in Samana in the Dominican Republic, but most returned to the United States due to the language divide, lack of opportunities under Haiti's autocratic president, Boyer, and religious divides. Some descendants of these free black Americans became prominent Haitians, just look at the career of Haitian intellectual Jean Price-Mars. However, due for multiple factors, some beyond the control of Haiti, large-scale immigration from other corners of the Americas never materialized beyond that of African-Americans during the 1820s. Interestingly, some white Americans, including Lincoln, were considering sending freed blacks all to Haiti as a quasi-Liberia 2.0 venture to rid the United States of all peoples of African descent. Obviously, that didn't happen and would have been very difficult to do. Furthermore, before the Civil War, some Southern planters and politicians were actually pushing for incorporating what is now the Dominican Republic and Cuba into their slave labor empire, which would have complicated everything else in the Caribbean before the rise of well-known US imperialism during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

I am not calling for a return to a similar ideology whereby everyone of African descent is encouraged and given incentives to immigrate to Haiti or another Caribbean island (though, that could be useful for bringing more skilled professionals to Haiti and help restore Haitian agriculture if they work cooperatively with Haiti's poor...). I do believe, however, that increased collaboration between different areas and populations of mostly African descent would be beneficial to our mutual struggles against racism and poverty. We know that the Black International has existed since at least the 19th century, and that Pan-African Congresses have met that included peoples of African descent throughout the Caribbean and United States. In addition, people of African descent throughout the Americas have evinced signs of cooperation and mutual influence through music, literature, and political organizing. African-American music from the United States, for instance, has influenced the rest of the diaspora both in this hemisphere and in Africa, truly contributing to what should properly be termed, the Black Atlantic. Hip-hop, jazz, funk, soul, and doo wop can be found in Afro-Colombia, Brazil, the Caribbean, and across Latin America. Likewise, Afro-Caribbean and Afro-Latin music forms and rhythms from Cuba, Brazil, Haiti, and Jamaica have profoundly shaped African-American jazz, hip-hop, and funk, so the Black Atlantic's cohesion through music is bidirectional. Moreover, black resistance to slavery, whether through militant, violent means, or other forms of abolitionism, has fascinating parallels across the Black Atlantic. Likewise, the African-American Civil Rights Movement and Black Power era profoundly shaped black consciousness and political activism in Brazil, the Caribbean, and apartheid South Africa (Black Consciousness Movement, look it up!). Indeed, some of the strategies and tactics adopted by states for redistributive policies have spread to Latin America, with affirmative action in Brazil being a great example (although affirmative action in the US is partly based on a similar policy in India for Untouchables). In literature and the arts, we also see a conspicuous display of interaction between artists (Jacob Lawrence's series on Toussaint Louverture, for instance) and writers, especially those influenced by or working in conjunction with the Harlem Renaissance and negritude. Claude McCay, a well-known Harlem Renaissance writer, was of Jamaican heritage. Langston Hughes worked with Nicolas Guillen, an Afro-Cuban poet. And Hughes was a friend of Jacques Roumain, Haitian Communist, novelist, and poet, eventually translating one of his best novels.

If we who are darker than blue are facing similar challenges and also using similar ideas and tactics to cultivate black pride and overcome racism and other forms of oppression, why not collaborate more often through better permanent coalitions and organizations? We know that Pan-Africanism has several things working against it. Essentializing millions of people and assuming that racial identification with 'blackness' alone is not enough to unite and maintain a permanent coalition. That's why forms of black cultural nationalism which seek to unify us based on mythology or romanticized notions of an African past will never work. Furthermore, racial classification systems in parts of Latin America and the Caribbean differ, so most Afro-Brazilians, for instance, or Afro-Colombians, the third largest national population of African descent in the Americas, may not identify as "black." However, their experiences of exclusion from higher education, government posts, higher rates of poverty, and the denigration of people of African descent through negative stereotypes, Eurocentric ideals of beauty, and cultural supremacy of those of European descent give us a common enemy, racism. There is one established advocacy group in Washington, the TransAfrica Forum, partly led by Randall Robinson, which does endeavor to push Congress for effective anti-racist legislation and policy regarding Africa and the African diaspora. Organizations like TransAfrica need permanent, international affiliations and chapters to ensure continued political solidarity of people of African descent. Like Marcus Garvey's UNIA, which had chapters throughout the Americas, if a strong network and coalition existed, we could organize boycotts, push for similar redistributive economic and social programs, and further our unity with other people of color by dismantling white supremacy. This would only further the instrumental role of African-American internationalism in resisting American imperialism and supporting human rights internationally. In fact, African-Americans, the NAACP, and the black press were huge in documenting human rights abuses and criticizing US imperialism during the occupation of Haiti in 1915-1934. African-Americans were/are also vocal critics of European and American imperialism in Africa and the African diaspora. So why not work together to further solidify our bonds and interconnectedness for human rights?