Haiti and the Black Radical Tradition

Haiti’s revolutionary legacy offers a blueprint for coalition-building, political struggle, and mutual investment in the age of Trump.
A group of community leaders in Mirebalais, Haiti gather for a community potluck picnic. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

When then-presidential candidate Donald Trump and his running mate JD Vance claimed in September 2024 that Haitian immigrants were eating pets in Springfield, Ohio, they did so intentionally, signaling that Haitians fell outside the bounds of humanity. In doing so, they insidiously shaped the boundaries of acceptable public debate, which would eventually influence policy, enforcement, and the courts on issues affecting Haitians and, ultimately, all Americans. The shift in federal policies under the Trump administration quickly began targeting immigrant communities and now reflects a consistent pattern in which specific communities are judged according to a hierarchy of human value. Haiti, founded through Black liberation and sustained by resistance, directly challenges that worldview. It remains the only successful revolution by enslaved people in recorded history.

That revolutionary idea did not end at Haiti’s shores. Harriet Tubman fought because she believed that liberty was a fundamental right. Frederick Douglass compelled the nation to confront the contradiction between its founding ideals and the reality of enslavement. By the time Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke out against the Vietnam War, the struggle had broadened into an inclusive fight for economic justice.

What the TPS Fight Revealed

The courts have become a tool for dismantling the rights and protections that generations fought to secure.

There is a Haitian proverb that fits this moment: pa chèche midi a 14è. Don’t look for noon at 2 pm. The Trump administration told us plainly who it was targeting and why. Still, too many Americans, including some Haitian-Americans, comforted themselves by blaming egg prices or working-class anxiety, as if the animus had not been made explicit. We knew the objective: more Afrikaners, fewer Africans; more Norwegians, fewer Haitians.

The pattern is consistent and sadly predictable. It begins with the assault on the most vulnerable, the undocumented, then expands to those with legal status, including Temporary Protected Status (TPS) holders and refugees. It moves on to naturalized citizens and now, to birthright citizenship itself. The Supreme Court has emerged as a central actor in redrawing the lines, particularly through the shadow docket, which it uses to issue emergency rulings without the standard comprehensive briefings, public hearings, or any explanation. In its first year in office, the Trump administration submitted 32 requests to the shadow docket, exceeding the total requests made by the Bush, Obama, and Biden administrations combined. As the Brennan Center has documented, these rulings have permitted enforcement based on perceived skin color, dismissed civil servants without cause, and deported individuals to third countries they have never lived in. The courts have become a tool for dismantling the rights and protections that generations fought to secure.

Primary school students in Gonaives, Haiti pose for the camera. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

The TPS fight exposed a weakness in that project. Various state attorneys general have coordinated legal challenges to protect TPS beneficiaries from deportation, the Federal courts have intervened across multiple jurisdictions, and Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley has successfully advanced a discharge petition to extend protections for Haitian migrants. These efforts succeeded because advocates framed the attack on Haitians not as an isolated immigration dispute but as an assault on the shared legal and moral foundations that protect everyone. As the scope expanded, so did the coalition. I see three imperatives: building power through coalition, turning our numbers into political power, shifting from generosity to smart investments.

Building Power Through Coalition

The lesson from the TPS fight is that our unity is essential to resisting the current administration. But that unity must extend beyond resistance. The Haitian community shares the same systemic challenges as African American and working-class groups—such as failing schools, expensive healthcare, housing displacement, and job insecurity. These issues are interconnected within the same extractive system, and solving them requires collective effort.

As I argued in “Retail Politics: A Strategy to Harness the Power of the Haitian Diaspora,” the Haitian community holds real political leverage in states where our numbers matter, but that leverage remains unrealized because it is not organized. I’ve outlined some demands in “Anticipating and Seizing the Moment”—including enshrining dual nationality rights in the Haitian Constitution and allowing the diaspora voting rights abroad—which, I believe, can be achieved only when connected to a broader multiracial, working-class agenda. In 2023, I coordinated the initiative “Roundtable Conversations Toward Collective Actions” with the National Haitian American Elected Officials Network to gather insights directly from Haitian community members across six states. The resulting report was not an end but a blueprint for sustained community engagement to convert political energy into real political power.

Turning Our Numbers into Political Power

I believe Haitian political participation, centered on common demands and sustained across election cycles, is one of the most underused sources of influence for any immigrant community. The necessary organizations, population size, and geographic concentration are already in place. What’s lacking is not engagement but coordination and a unified agenda.

I firmly believe that for a political movement to succeed today, it must create a clear space for Black women. Women have been central to nearly every major progressive milestone in American politics, from the civil rights movement to the efforts that secured Georgia’s Senate seats in 2020. Black women—whether immigrant or native-born—vote at higher rates than any other group and sustain active civic engagement that drives political change. They are often the first to face the enforcement of discriminatory policies and their consequences, and the last to be protected. Their struggle is integral to our collective fight. Any coalition that neglects women’s issues and leadership is destined to fail.

Community members in Mirebalais, Haiti participate in a “konbit” gathering to discuss possible solutions to a local community challenge. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

From Generosity to Smart Investments

Immigrant communities face a double squeeze: building stability in their adopted home while supporting loved ones in the old country. That dual obligation demands that we maximize our resources by drawing on cultural traditions such as konbit, a Haitian practice of mutual investment in which communities pool their efforts toward goals we cannot achieve alone.

In 2024, diaspora remittances to Haiti reached a record $4.1 billion, nearly 13 percent of its GDP. These funds support families but do not build systems. Too often, they reinforce the very vulnerabilities they are meant to address, as a share of every transfer is captured by the political and business elites who control imports, fuel, and essential goods. Sending money home is an act of love. But without strategic coordination, it can quietly fund the system we are trying to dismantle, including the gangs destabilizing Haiti from within.

In 2024, diaspora remittances to Haiti reached a record $4.1 billion, nearly 13 percent of its GDP. These funds support families but do not build systems.

This requires shifting from individual transfers to collective investments, and from informal aid to a community-driven konbit model grounded in solidarity rather than individual transactions.

In education, this means moving beyond individual tuition payments to backing systemic models like the PRODEV Foundation and Anseye Pou Ayiti, which deliver Haitian-centered curricula rooted in Haitian history and culture, teaching children in Kreyòl rather than imposing French as the language of instruction. This shift connects children with their own identity. The Foundation for the Emancipation of Women and Girls and the Haitian Center for Leadership and Excellence (Le Centre Haitien du Leadership et de l’Excellence, CLE) have created spaces for young women to develop the leadership skills and civic capacity to become agents of change in their communities. In the marketplace, it means directing our purchasing power toward local cooperatives through the Haiti Food Systems Alliance. We must also invest in the CLE, which is developing the next generation of civic leaders from within. The International Black Economic Forum is building a bridge between the Black diaspora and the African continent, while Haiti Policy House is generating research data to inform our advocacy. Finally, shaping the narrative is vital, which is why DocumentedNY, an online platform supporting immigrant communities in New York, promotes cross-race and cross-class solidarity.

Teachers in Mirebalais, Haiti participate in a group team building activity. (Courtesy of Anseye Pou Ayiti)

L’Union Fait la Force: Unity Is Strength

The TPS fight taught us that unity is a strategic imperative. The Haitian motto “L’Union Fait la Force” or “unity is strength” reflects the determination of a people who, despite potential divisions, chose solidarity. That choice led to the only successful revolt by enslaved people in history.

Today, this legacy compels us to build power through coalition, supporting other communities as they have supported us. It also involves moving from generosity to strategic investments, transforming the $4.1 billion in annual diaspora remittances from a vital resource into a lever for systemic change, inspired by the spirit of konbit. Additionally, it demands that we leverage our demographic and geographic advantages into political influence.

Haiti’s independence, like the civil rights movement and the ongoing fight for immigrants’ rights, was achieved by people who recognized that the struggle was larger than their personal conflicts. They also learned that only through organized, persistent, and collective effort could they shift the battlefield. This principle has driven change throughout history, and it is what this moment demands of us again.


Johnny Celestin is a Haitian-American civic leader, political analyst, and senior public servant in New York City. He spent a decade in Haiti after the 2010 earthquake, working in governance and development roles. He leads Konbit for Haiti( KfH) and serves on the boards of CLE and SOIL (Sustainable Organic Integrated Livelihoods).