The family claims that the first sign was that Abelard's third and final daughter, given the light early on in her father's capsulization, was born black. And not just any kind of black. But black
black--kongoblack, shangoblack, kaliblack, zapotecblack, rekhablack--and no amount of fancy Dominican racial legerdemain was going to obscure the fact. That's the kind of culture I belong to: people took their child's black complexion as an ill omen (248).
Junot Diaz's
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao is a fascinating novel I have read about 3 or 4 times now since senior year of high school. Diaz's tale of Dominican-American experience takes us back to the source, Trujillo's brutal dictatorship, which exalted the cult of Trujillo to define a nation for much of the 20th century. By tracing Oscar's origins back through his mother's family's Fall due to Trujillo's sexual appetite and the fuku, a curse. Since Junot Diaz explores the Dominican-American experience, or Diaspora, issues or race and color predominate throughout the text. The narrator, Yunior, uses ebonics and phrases often associated with inner-city youth of African-American descent, such as the common use of the word nigger and Negro. Oscar, his mother, Belicia, and his sister, Lola, also share dark skin and, in the case of Oscar and other Dominicans, possesses a "Puerto Rican 'fro." Belicia Cabral, Oscar's mother, is also described as very dark-skinned, though coming from an elite father with a 'demi afro' and a mulatto mother. Her dark skin was considered a sign of ill omen after birth, which says a lot about Dominican attitudes toward race and blackness. Indeed, as Diaz himself reveals in a interview, self-loathing of our blackness is "the darkness that binds us," the us being people of African descent throughout the Caribbean and the United States. This loathing of the blackness that nearly all Dominicans possess also requires an understanding of the role of Haiti, a black neighboring nation whose dark shadow becomes the Other for Dominican national narratives, usually composed by white elites. Thus, the image of Haiti in
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao features prominently in the prejudice that dark-skinned Dominicans like Oscar's mother face.
Trujillo's call for the genocide of suspected Haitians in 1937 along the border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic demonstrate
antihaitianismo at its best. At least 10,000 Haitian-Dominicans were killed with machetes for being unable to pronounce
perejil without thick Haitian accents. The very fact that Dominican soldiers committing these atrocities had to ask victims to say a Spanish word before killing them shows that the differences between Haitians and Dominicans are not as deep as one would think, especially in the border region. Indeed, the border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic was never really defined until the Trujillo years, which led to an expulsion of Haitian farmers and workers due to fears of 'Haitian imperialism.' Exactly how could Haitian peasants working in the Dominican Republic change the racial composition and bring savagery to a nation of millions of Afro-descended people is never explained, but fears of the 'blackening' of the already black and brown Dominican Republic were the justifications for Trujillo's actions. With Negrophobes like Balaguer in his administration, who is "considered our national 'genius'" (90). Intellectual Dominicans of white descent such as Joaquin Balaguer used their control of information and manipulation of history to portray Haiti as an all-black, voodoo threat to the Spanish Catholic culture of the Domincan Republic. Elite narratives of Dominicanness then permeated popular culture, manifesting in literature, language, television, etc. Even dark-skinned Dominicans and Dominicans of Haitian descent, such as Trujillo himself, "a portly, sadistic, pig-eyed mulato who bleached his skin..." (2) internalized these views of blackness that date to the colonial era.
In addition to the dominance of European-derived elites and Catholicism in defining Haiti as the Other, examples of Haitian occupation and invasion of the Dominican Republic from the 19th century are revived in national narratives to justify excluding Haitians. For example, many Dominicans, of the popular and elite classes, see Haitian imperialism in everything Haitians and Haitian-Americans do. Thus, protection of Dominican nationality requires refusing to grant citizenship rights to people of Haitian descent born in the United States, by swearing they
no existe, like Lola's friend Leticia, a Dominican of Haitian descent (26). Anti-Haitian and antiblack Dominican writers twist the actual history of the Haitian "occupation," which lasted only from 1822-1844 with a few Haitian attempted invasions by later 19th century leaders. Oh, and Toussaint Louverture and Dessalines' invasions of Santo Domingo in the early 19th century as well, are oft-cited examples of Haitian imperialism and attempts to 'Ethiopianize' the Dominican Republic. Haitians 'invaders' had popular support at a time from the populace, and received no resistance when Jean Pierre Boyer, president of Haiti came to Santo Domingo in 1822. Indeed, the Haitian occupations of Santo Domingo in this period emancipated the remaining slaves on the island, redistributed land, and had popular support from the black population. In fact, the Haitian state relied on Dominicans (the Dominican Republic did not exist at this time, so one should not use that term) for military forces. The mulatto elite of Haiti, who spearheaded the occupation, focused on French republican goals of limiting the power of the Catholic Church, and creating a state that could serve as a buffer in the case of French invasion (a realistic threat prior to French recognition of Haiti in 1825). The liberation of Dominican slaves (occurred under Toussaint and Boyer), the incorporation of Dominican blacks into the Haitian military and the records of praise songs to Boyer for liberating the slaves, shows that the Haitian occupation, though far from perfect, initially had some popular support.
Whites of Santo Domingo, however, immediately fled the island and refused to recognize the authority of black (actually, mulatto Haitians, who foolishly made French the official language and tried to raise taxes to pay the indemnity to France) Haitians. These former colonial elites' struggle to maintain a Eurocentric, Catholic Spanish orientation of the nascent Dominican national consciousness led to the rewriting of history. Even in thecontemporary Dominican Republic, Dominicans still invoke Haitian invasions when they encounter Haitian workers in Santo Domingo. Indeed, one character in the novel, when attacking people from the Cibao region of the island for their regional pride, was "convinced masked imperial ambitions on a Haitian level" (107). Moreover, Oscar's great-grandfather's family contributed to the 1937 massacre by giving horses to Trujillo's forces. So Oscar's grandfather's family, coming from light-skinned elites with education and property, participates in the self-loathing of dark-skinned peoples who are their servants, relatives, and friends. Oscar's grandfather, however, does treat those with machete wounds afterward, and his wife hides the servants (215). Trujillo's genocide forever changes the "country's historically fluid border with Haiti--which was more baka than border..." (224). This fluid zone, with a reference to baka, a creature of Dominican/Haitian Vodou exemplify the mixed character of all border regions, and the mixed character of Dominican national identity as well.
The aforementioned Belicia's dark skin demonstrates the antiblack prejudice of Dominicans and Dominican-Americans. Belicia is so dark that nobody on her father's side of the family would take her (252). She only lived because a dark-skinned woman named Zoila (possibly Haitian) rescues and feeds her with her own milk (253). Her mother's relatives only take Beli in later to possibly receive money from the Cabral family (which by this point had fallen from grace after Abelard refused to let Trujillo rape his oldest daughter), and once it's clear that they will not receive any money, sell her as a criada or restavek in Outer Azua, an impoverished region of the country. The use of the word restavek, a Haitian Creole word for a child slave, demonstrates another similarity between both nations, where slavery survives and often only for the darkest-hued members of both Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Haitian
braceros on the sugar cane plantations are often mentioned in the novel as well, with obvious symbolism of slavery and racism. Indeed, when Beli's beaten body is discovered in the canefields by Dominican musicians, one of the possible negative things she could be is haitiano (in the same company as ciguapas and baka, mythological beings of the supernatural) (151). Furthermore, during the savage beating she received from Trujillo's sister's goons, Yunior writes, "They beat her like she was a slave. Like she was a dog" (147). Once again, Haitians are a stand in for slavery, dark skin, and the supernatural, all qualities which can likewise be found in Dominican history with slavery, racism, and the exclusion of blacks from political power. Interestingly, Belicia herself internalizes the loathing of Haitians (really the loathing of herself since she's just as black). After her father's light-skinned cousin frees her from slavery in Azua, she is sent to an elite private school where everyone excludes her because of her skin. Even the Chinese girl with no friends because of her nonwhite, foreignness, points out her blackness. Belicia falls for the most handsome boy in school (obviously white with no traces of African blood and blues eyes), demonstrating Dominicans' exaltation of the whiteness and white features that few Dominicans have. Belicia also shares Dominican animosity toward Haitians, referring to peddlers on the streets of Santo Domingo as "maldito Haitians" in spite of her own blackness (273). Later, at a upscale restaurant in the zona colonial of the city, the waiters give Oscar and his family strange looks (presumably because of their dark skin, causing Lola to warn her mother, "Watch out, Mom, they probably think you're Haitian," to which she replies, "La unica haitiana aqui eres tu, mi amor" (276). Clearly both Lola and Belicia are dark-skinned, and could be mistaken for "haitianas," yet Belicia's disparaging remarks and beliefs toward Haitians prevents any positive self-identification of her own African ancestry, which she conspicuously wears on her skin.
The image of Haiti as a symbol of 'African savagery' and blackness manifests in the lives of Oscar, his sister, and his mother. All are clearly of African descent themselves, but a certain adoration for their European heritage and whiteness, forever unattainable because of their dark skin (or Oscar's kinky hair), leads to self-destructive behavior and the construction of a fantasy. Indeed, Dominicans like Oscar's mother are pissed to be called morena, preferring indio or india despite their dark skin and African features. Due to the negative conceptualizations of Haiti and blackness that date from the colonial period and epochs of slavery, its no wonder that so many dark-skinned individuals would rather identify themselves with fictive indigenous Taino ancestry or Spanish blood. It also becomes obvious why Oscar embraces science fiction and fantasy, the genres based, which is evident in Caribbean societies themselves as a practically unreal place where poverty, extreme economic inequality and the cultivation of the cult of Trujillo and other dictators who exploit African-derived religions (Papa Doc in Haiti) to support their rule define the 20th century. The Caribbean is a world where different races, cultures, and epochs blend, where Santo Domingo appears to be a modern city, but immediately outside of the city one feels like being in a time machine to see unimaginable horrors long thought to have died. Since Diaz does not attribute this self-loathing solely to Dominicans, it is clear that the novel's message of self-acceptance and defeating the fuku is for everyone, not just dominicanos. Indeed, Diaz begins the novel with Yunior writing, "The Puertorocks want to talk about fufus, and the Haitians have some shit just like it. There are a zillion of these fuku stories" (6). This is a pan-Caribbean thing that affects everyone, including the Diaspora that interacts with African-Americans and other Latino ethnic groups in Paterson, NJ. Perhaps Lola says it best, "Ten million Trujillos is all we are" (324). Dominicans, oppressed by Trujillo, also share the same self-loathing, preference for fantasy to make sense of their world. Like Trujillo, they then create a society fundamentally absurd and fantastic, such as Trujillo's Dominican Republic where his megalomania and love for culo defined the nation. The image of Haiti provides the stereotypes of blackness which become 'Othered' in the Dominican Republic. The great irony of it is how similar both nations are, and part of a Caribbean history that shows the unity of all peoples of African descent through similar experiences of slavery and colonialism.
