“Do you have a husband?”

This is our family in our backyard in September 2012.

“Yes,” I replied. I was already annoyed- and wary, because I knew she already knew the answer and knew where she was heading due to the content of her grumbling.

“Huumm,” she replied, with her back still turned. “¿Blanco?” she asked, which means she was asking if my husband is white.

“No,” I replied, even angrier still, as she already knew the answer but wanted to have a way to let me know her thoughts.

“Humm,” she again replied, forcefully. “¿Negro?”

“Sí.” I looked at her daughter, the grandmother of the family, who just sort of smiled and looked at me to see how I would react. Her granddaughter and mother of a little three-year-old boy was cleaning behind us and was getting a kick out of her grandmother. She began laughing loudly and obviously at her grandmother’s comments. I was angry,  but I learned a long time ago that many times letting people know that they are upsetting you can be quite embarrassing in the Dominican Republic. I’ve done it on many occasions and had people actually listen as a result but I already knew that this family was not going to listen, but would only use a scene I would create to further criticize me. So I kept my cool.

In Spanish she went on to say, “I don’t like black. I like white.” This statement is completely confusing to a biracial family like ours. When I hear remarks such as these, it feels as though they are basically sucking up to me for no reason other than my stupid skin color (and mistreating my husband for the same stupid reason). I have seen other white people on this island who obviously use their white skin to advance themselves in the Dominican social world.

I recently ran into a German woman I used to work with at a bilingual school. She visited with me and my son Ilayas as we sat and ate a hamburger. It was during our short conversation that she learned that my husband, Ilayas’ father, is Haitian. Almost immediately, she switched tables to sit with a Dominican friend, where she spoke negatively about me and my Haitian-fathered son (who, by this point, was happily playing with her daughter). I ended up calling her out on it, and I will admit that I got a good cry in on the car ride home from that outing. I was heartbroken that anyone would speak negatively or hatefully toward my son who I love so much. But that was the first and last time I have and will cry over such stupidity.

Back in the great-grandmother’s cafeteria, I ended up asking the elderly woman if she had a husband and when she replied I returned her same strong “Huummm.” She went on to tell me that he is light and that she, again, doesn’t like black, she likes white. I told her that that was her problem between her and God, and not mine, I got my food and my change, and went on my way.

I briefly thought to boycott the cafeteria after this exchange, but ultimately I realize that perhaps I should be above the situation and still mingle with the family to a small extent. I think it was somewhat written off as a racist old grandmother act and me being a progressive young challenger of norms who is unavoidably going to receive such critiques, but unavoidably, like I said, challenge the norms in the minds of many observers.

Sometimes when I buy something at a small grocery store in the community or a food stand, the Dominican worker calls me “La Morena.” Many Haitians and darker Dominicans in this country are referred to as “Moreno” or “Morena” which is a word for dark. I am very light-skinned and Irish-looking so this is obviously a name referring to my dark, Haitian husband and strong association with Haitians in general. The first time someone called me Morena I took offense to it slightly because I knew the person was saying it in a negative way, but then quickly decided to take it as a compliment instead. After all, to take offense would be seen as agreement that there is something wrong with being dark-skinned.

For more posts on dealing with racism as a stranger in a foreign land, check out “I Can’t Say Chino” by Nereida Heller or “A Lesson in History: Race on the Island of Hispañola” by Cailtin McHale. Caitlin is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

A statue of Christopher Columbus in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic.

Growing up in the U.S., I got used to talking about race or describing someone by their skin color in a careful manner, afraid to offend someone or say something wrong.

This inhibition has been eradicated after spending over two years in the Dominican Republic where a person’s skin color is used as a descriptive adjective as freely, if not more freely, than their shirt color. In both Spanish and Haitian Creole people are constantly referred to as black, brown, red, or white with, in Spanish, several words for varying shades of brown. This blog gives a quick look at the history of the island and as a result of the history, its current racial and cultural composition.

The Dominican Republic shares the island of Hispañola with Haiti in the Dominican Republic. It occupies the eastern two thirds of the country where Haiti occupies the western third. Christopher Columbus landed on the island during his first voyage in 1492 as all students here know. The land was inhabited by native Taino “Indians” who were quickly killed off as the Spanish settled. Later the French took over the western third which became Haiti. Both sides took part in the slave trade enslaving West Africans to work on sugar plantations, etc. Haiti’s slavery ended in a revolution and genocide of white people in the country, making it the first black republic and the first country overthrown and led by former slaves. On the Dominican side, slavery never was quite as dominant and brutal and apparently eventually phased out.

Therefore, Haitians often appear to be straight from West Africa whereas Dominicans seem to have an array of varying percentages of Spanish and African influence. Race and social class are definitely linked as the whiter citizens are normally members of the higher social class. However, times are changing and although racism still lingers, it seems to be less of an issue as it was earlier in history. Well before the recent earthquake that brought significant damage to Haiti’s capital Port-au-Prince, Haitians were crossing the border in “search of life” in the Dominican Republic. Both countries are considered developing nations but the economy in the Dominican Republic is quite a bit more active than the slow economy in Haiti.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.For more about her experiences, check out her blog.