![\"ozy\"](\"http:\/\/kalamu.com\/neogriot\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/ozy.png\")
<\/a><\/p>\nMay 21, 2014<\/p>\n
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Deisy Toussaint: <\/span><\/h1>\nDominican Firebrand<\/span><\/h1>\n![\"deisy](\"http:\/\/kalamu.com\/neogriot\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/deisy-01.jpg\")
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BY\u00a0ALLYN GAESTEL<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
Deisy Toussaint doesn\u2019t seem like a political firebrand. The 27-year old wears tight sweaters and semi-translucent tank tops over slacks with pumps \u2014 Dominican business chic \u2014 and works long afternoons in the Vice Presidential library, polished nails clacking on the keyboard.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nHer country discriminated against migrants from neighboring Haiti, as well as their children, and one of her parents is Haitian, but Toussaint paid little mind. She spent the first-quarter century of her life blithe, unaffected.<\/span><\/p>\nBut when the battle came to her door, Toussaint, a writer, wielded her pen and became a leading spokesperson for Haitian migrant rights. Her journey starkly illuminates a legal conflict that rendered stateless an estimated 210,000 Dominicans with Haitian parents. The conflict\u2019s a muddle even to Dominicans, entwining nationality, citizenship and race.<\/span><\/p>\nWhen the battle came to her door, Toussaint, a writer, wielded her pen and became a leading spokesperson for migrant rights.<\/span><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\nLast week, after months of pressure from a handful of writers like Toussaint and local and international human rights organizations, Dominican President Danilo Medina proposed to regularize the status of most of those affected. But the conflict has changed Toussaint, and no doubt others, forever.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.ozy.com\/Pictures\/738x554\/1\/3\/2\/34132_475305461.jpg\")
<\/span><\/div>\n\n\nDominican President Danilo Medina \/\u00a0<\/span>SOURCE<\/span>\u00a0Getty<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nToussaint wasn\u2019t looking for a cause. In 2010 she was a promising young writer and university student in Santo Domingo. She loved the power of imagining her own world in fiction and was studying the more rigid rules of journalism. She wrote a poetic, fictionalized memoir about catalepsy, a nervous system disorder that causes temporary immobility and apparent death. It won a national literary prize and a state invitation to travel to Cuba for a literary fair.<\/span><\/p>\nProud and excited, she headed to the migration office with the requisite ID to pick up her \u201cVIP passport.\u201d She paid the expedition fee and expected to receive the passport in a few hours.<\/span><\/p>\nInstead she waited two and a half years.<\/span><\/p>\nThe passport officers told her they couldn\u2019t give her one because of her \u201cHaitian name.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cI thought it was a joke,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\nToussaint was summoned to the fraud department. Officers demanded she prove she was born in the Dominican Republic. Toussaint was flabbergasted, she says; she\u2019d never considered herself Haitian. Her mother is a Haitian immigrant, her father is Dominican. Growing up, she spoke Spanish in a middle-class Santo Domingo neighborhood and had few Haitian friends.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201dThey are making fun of us, so I make fun of them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nHer father\u2019s nationality should have shielded her from the policies affecting children of Haitian immigrants. But a family tiff when Toussaint was small led her mother to register her alone. So while Toussaint\u2019s siblings have both parent\u2019s names on their birth certificates, Toussaint only had her mother\u2019s \u2014 and it\u2019s a name that blares \u201cHaitian.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\nShe had read in the press about \u201ca lot of Haitians who came and asked for papers\u201d and assumed they were born in Haiti, not in the Dominican Republic. But Toussaint\u2019s ordeal with the passport office pushed her to explore her family background and the socio-political issues growing in the country.<\/span><\/p>\nThe island of Hispaniola has long been riven. For decades Haitians have fled east to the comparatively wealthy Dominican Republic, many working illegally, others with temporary permits to work in state-owned sugar fields. They faced xenophobia and harsh conditions, but many put down roots. Subsequent generations, like Toussaint\u2019s, have mostly assimilated.<\/span><\/p>\nBut in the late 1990s, the Dominican state began to institutionalize discrimination with legal and policy decisions that inveighed against Haitian descendants. A new constitution in 2010 denied citizenship to children of illegal immigrants. In 2013 a Constitutional Court ruling made the denial retroactive. It ordered the Central Electoral Board to scour its records for children born to \u201cirregular migrants\u201d since 1929 and put them in a special registry of illegal aliens. An estimated 210,000 children of Haitian immigrants became stateless. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights calls the policies \u201cgrave violations<\/a>\u201d of human rights. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cThe real world is harder than fiction,\u201d Toussaint says.<\/span><\/p>\n\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.ozy.com\/Pictures\/738x554\/1\/3\/3\/34133_42-57481700.jpg\")
<\/span><\/div>\n\n<\/div>\nDominican residents of Haitian descent protest outside National Palace, in Santo Domingo city, Dominican Republic, on April 8, 2014. \u00a0\/\u00a0<\/span>SOURCE<\/span>\u00a0Roberto Guzman\/Xinhua\/Corbis<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nWhen the political climate last year began to look as absurd as Toussaint\u2019s short stories, she turned to political satire. In her column for a major paper,\u00a0Hoy<\/em>, she wasted the policies. In a column titled \u201cLet Me See If I Get This<\/a>,\u201d she outlined her options for getting citizenship documents. First, she wrote, she had to find somewhere to study Creole. Second, sneak into Haiti \u201cclandestinely,\u201d since she has no passport. Then apply for a Haitian passport, cross back into the D.R. and apply for residency. \u201cAnd finally, yes, with my brand new Haitian passport I can represent the Dominican Republic abroad.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n BY\u00a0ALLYN GAESTEL<\/a><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Deisy Toussaint doesn\u2019t seem like a political firebrand. The 27-year old wears tight sweaters and semi-translucent tank tops over slacks with pumps \u2014 Dominican business chic \u2014 and works long afternoons in the Vice Presidential library, polished nails clacking on the keyboard.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Her country discriminated against migrants from neighboring Haiti, as well as their children, and one of her parents is Haitian, but Toussaint paid little mind. She spent the first-quarter century of her life blithe, unaffected.<\/span><\/p>\n But when the battle came to her door, Toussaint, a writer, wielded her pen and became a leading spokesperson for Haitian migrant rights. Her journey starkly illuminates a legal conflict that rendered stateless an estimated 210,000 Dominicans with Haitian parents. The conflict\u2019s a muddle even to Dominicans, entwining nationality, citizenship and race.<\/span><\/p>\n When the battle came to her door, Toussaint, a writer, wielded her pen and became a leading spokesperson for migrant rights.<\/span><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Last week, after months of pressure from a handful of writers like Toussaint and local and international human rights organizations, Dominican President Danilo Medina proposed to regularize the status of most of those affected. But the conflict has changed Toussaint, and no doubt others, forever.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Toussaint wasn\u2019t looking for a cause. In 2010 she was a promising young writer and university student in Santo Domingo. She loved the power of imagining her own world in fiction and was studying the more rigid rules of journalism. She wrote a poetic, fictionalized memoir about catalepsy, a nervous system disorder that causes temporary immobility and apparent death. It won a national literary prize and a state invitation to travel to Cuba for a literary fair.<\/span><\/p>\n Proud and excited, she headed to the migration office with the requisite ID to pick up her \u201cVIP passport.\u201d She paid the expedition fee and expected to receive the passport in a few hours.<\/span><\/p>\n Instead she waited two and a half years.<\/span><\/p>\n The passport officers told her they couldn\u2019t give her one because of her \u201cHaitian name.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI thought it was a joke,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n Toussaint was summoned to the fraud department. Officers demanded she prove she was born in the Dominican Republic. Toussaint was flabbergasted, she says; she\u2019d never considered herself Haitian. Her mother is a Haitian immigrant, her father is Dominican. Growing up, she spoke Spanish in a middle-class Santo Domingo neighborhood and had few Haitian friends.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201dThey are making fun of us, so I make fun of them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Her father\u2019s nationality should have shielded her from the policies affecting children of Haitian immigrants. But a family tiff when Toussaint was small led her mother to register her alone. So while Toussaint\u2019s siblings have both parent\u2019s names on their birth certificates, Toussaint only had her mother\u2019s \u2014 and it\u2019s a name that blares \u201cHaitian.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n She had read in the press about \u201ca lot of Haitians who came and asked for papers\u201d and assumed they were born in Haiti, not in the Dominican Republic. But Toussaint\u2019s ordeal with the passport office pushed her to explore her family background and the socio-political issues growing in the country.<\/span><\/p>\n The island of Hispaniola has long been riven. For decades Haitians have fled east to the comparatively wealthy Dominican Republic, many working illegally, others with temporary permits to work in state-owned sugar fields. They faced xenophobia and harsh conditions, but many put down roots. Subsequent generations, like Toussaint\u2019s, have mostly assimilated.<\/span><\/p>\n But in the late 1990s, the Dominican state began to institutionalize discrimination with legal and policy decisions that inveighed against Haitian descendants. A new constitution in 2010 denied citizenship to children of illegal immigrants. In 2013 a Constitutional Court ruling made the denial retroactive. It ordered the Central Electoral Board to scour its records for children born to \u201cirregular migrants\u201d since 1929 and put them in a special registry of illegal aliens. An estimated 210,000 children of Haitian immigrants became stateless. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights calls the policies \u201cgrave violations<\/a>\u201d of human rights. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThe real world is harder than fiction,\u201d Toussaint says.<\/span><\/p>\n Dominican residents of Haitian descent protest outside National Palace, in Santo Domingo city, Dominican Republic, on April 8, 2014. \u00a0\/\u00a0<\/span>SOURCE<\/span>\u00a0Roberto Guzman\/Xinhua\/Corbis<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n When the political climate last year began to look as absurd as Toussaint\u2019s short stories, she turned to political satire. In her column for a major paper,\u00a0Hoy<\/em>, she wasted the policies. In a column titled \u201cLet Me See If I Get This<\/a>,\u201d she outlined her options for getting citizenship documents. First, she wrote, she had to find somewhere to study Creole. Second, sneak into Haiti \u201cclandestinely,\u201d since she has no passport. Then apply for a Haitian passport, cross back into the D.R. and apply for residency. \u201cAnd finally, yes, with my brand new Haitian passport I can represent the Dominican Republic abroad.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/span><\/div>\n<\/span><\/div>\n