While working on American Street, I pulled from my own memories of living in between cultures, the experiences I had in high school, and the many tragic stories about the violence and trauma that girls have endured. In Haiti, many girls dream of the freedom to live without the constraints of oppression. Yet more often than not, these girls and their families leave their home countries only to move to other broken and disenfranchised communities. I kept thinking about how these girls balance their own values and culture with the need to survive and aim for the American dream.
One girl in particular stuck out in my mind. When Trayvon Martin was killed in Florida in February of 2012, he had been on the phone with Rachel Jeantel, the daughter of a Haitian immigrant. During her testimony in the George Zimmerman trial, I recognized a little bit of myself in Rachel, and in the many Haitian teen girls I’ve worked with over the years. We fold our immigrant selves into this veneer of what we think is African American girlhood. The result is more jagged than smooth. This tension between our inherited identity and our newly adopted selves filters into our relationships with other girls and the boys we love, and into how we interact with the broken places around us. I saw Fabiola in these girls, and that’s how this story was truly born.
Above all, I wanted to give Fabiola a strong cultural connection to Haiti so that she’s spiritually grounded when faced with tough decisions. While Vodou is practiced by many in the Haitian diaspora, it still has a negative stereotype in the media as being associated with evil and witchcraft. Vodou has a complex pantheon and mythological system, much like Greek and Roman mythologies. Through Fabiola’s eyes, her new world and the people who inhabit it are just as complex and magical as her beloved saints and lwas. She infuses Vodou into everything that happens to her. This is the source of her courage, and I think she is more American because of it—this merging of traditions, this blending of cultures from one broken place to another. I remember those rides on the L train with my mother, my broken Bushwick, and graffiti covering every inch of the subway cars. I once saw a young man steal a diamond ring right off a woman’s finger. My mother pulled me in close and prayed under her breath. We’d made it to the other side, just like Fabiola, but what was this life? I don’t know what my path would have been like if I had grown up in Haiti, but I know this much is true: I would not have told this story.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In Haiti, before a storyteller begins her tale, she asks her audience for permission with a single call, “Krik?” Her listeners respond with a collective “Krak!” before she can begin. This book would not be possible without a whole village’s resounding “Krak!” Thank you, dear reader, for allowing me to share this gift of story.
Thank you to my manman cherie, Monique, who envisioned a life beyond the sunsets, where I was free to dream up stories. I am immensely grateful for my husband, Joseph, whose unwavering support has allowed me to write down said stories well into parenthood. Our three children are the reasons for everything. My dear sisters, Ingrid and Carine, merci for keeping the memory of my beloved Ayiti alive in my stories. Thank you, Theresa and Garvey, for your humor and youthful wisdom. Thank you to my late father, Marcel, a pioneering radio broadcaster whose storytelling genes are hardwired into my blood and bones.
Ammi-Joan Paquette, thank you for always championing my ideas and visions. I am truly honored to have you as a literary agent, and to be a part of the wonderful EMLA.
If these characters have found a home in this story, and this story has found a home in this book, then this book has found a home at Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins. I could not be more proud. Thank you, Alessandra Balzer, for loving this book from the very beginning. Donna Bray, Kelsey Murphy, Kate Jackson, Suzanne Murphy, Andrea Pappenheimer, Kerry Moynagh, Kathy Faber, Caroline Sun, Patty Rosati, Molly Motch, Nellie Kurtzman, Bess Braswell, Elizabeth Ward, Julie Yeater, Sabrina Abballe, Alison Donalty, Mark Rifkin, Renée Cafiero, and Lillian Sun, you’ve all made my dreams come true.
And thank you to Team Fabulous at Alloy. Hayley Wagreich, you’ve dedicated so much to this story and these characters; clearly, we’ve had so many mind-melding moments. Thank you, Natalie Sousa and Elaine Damasco, for capturing the beauty of this story on the cover. She is truly gorgeous. Josh Bank, Joelle Hobeika, Sara Shandler, and Les Morgenstein, thank you for crossing uncharted roads and paving new paths. It has been a wonderful journey.
Edwidge Danticat and the many literary daughters of Anacaona before me, every word committed to the page is in your honor. Merci, Merline St. Preux for this seed of a story.
Thank you, Rita Williams-Garcia, Jason Reynolds, Laura Ruby, and Nicola Yoon for your kind and thoughtful words.
Dhonielle, Gbemi, Jenn, Renée, and Tracey, thank you for keeping this sistership afloat with lots of tea, no shade, desserts, wine, and coins!
I am grateful for my beloved Allies in Wonderland, and the whole WCYA program at VCFA, where I discovered that wondrous imaginative play and critical academic study can happily coexist, and that this will be my lifelong work.