Overview:
Rich Benjamin, grandson of ousted Haitian president Daniel Fignolé, unpacks family secrets and U.S. intervention in Haiti in his memoir Talk to Me. The anthropologist explores identity, exile, and the legacy of political trauma across generations.
BROOKLYN — Every family has secrets. Very few though have secrets that changed the course of an entire country’s history. But that’s exactly what Rich Benjamin’s family endured when its patriarch, Daniel Fignolé, was kidnapped from Haiti’s National Palace in a June 1957 presidential coup that brought us François Duvalier.
Nearly 70 years later, Benjamin, an anthropologist and journalist, digs into that journey and the impact on his exiled family in a new memoir – “Talk to Me: Lessons from a Family Forged by History.” Benjamin takes readers with him to uncover the events that then-U.S. President Ike Eisenhower, the CIA and American tycoons had a heavy hand in crafting. We see slices of a Haiti filled with promise, even as it struggles to come out of the U.S. occupation. We feel the mass anxiety that ran through the country in the weeks following the coup. We empathize with the trauma Benjamin’s family never spoke of during his childhood in suburban Maryland.
Filled with political intrigue and Benjamin’s exploration of his own identity, the memoir’s greatest gift is perhaps the poignancy of scenes built around his mother Danielle Fignolé Benjamin and her many siblings. He paints a picture of them arriving in New York as very bewildered, shock-shelled children. More resonant than the shocking revelations are certain evocative moments–often cutting or bittersweet–that may be familiar to anyone with loved ones carrying trauma. Moments such as:
“In the middle of the night, I heard wails from my room.
‘No. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.’
Never had I heard her shout in her sleep, and with such terror….
I walked toward the bedroom, planning to sit on the bed beside her and take her hands in mine. Suddenly, my feet couldn’t move….”
The Haitian Times sat down with Benjamin in April and June. We discussed his grandfather’s iconic role even before the brief presidency, impact on the family and Haiti. Benjamin also shares perspectives on the broader history of U.S. intervention in Haiti, why attacks on Haitians in Springfield, Ohio have been particularly “horrifying” and the type of diversity some white Americans want.
The interview is condensed for length and clarity, with video snippets of key moments.
The Haitian Times / Macollvie J. Neel: Rich Benjamin — You recently wrote a memoir, “Talk to Me: Lessons from a Family Forged by History.” What is it about and why did you write it?
Benjamin: I wrote this memoir because I had this relationship with my mother, which was a bit vexed. I knew she was from Haiti, but I knew not much more than that. I knew that there were secrets in the family that I’d never met my grandfather and that she came from a political family, but I didn’t know the details. After the earthquake in Haiti in 2010— that not knowing became unsustainable. So I went to really find the story.
THT: What about 2010 made you say ‘This is the moment to look into these family mysteries?’
Benjamin: At the time, I had a job working on economic justice, racial justice. One day I left my office, and I noticed CNN was playing. An earthquake had leveled Haiti. The presidential palace had been flattened. I began to think about the man who once occupied that palace — my mother’s father.
THT: Daniel Fignolé was the occupant of the National Palace before Duvalier. Tell us about him.
Benjamin: Yes, my grandfather. He was born in Haiti in 1913. He was born very poor. He became a professor and a labor leader, at a time of rapacious exploitation of Haitian workers—especially of dark-skinned Haitians in factories, bottling plants, sugarcane fields. He saw that these hard-working people needed representation, and he became a labor leader. His friend at the time was François Duvalier, and they ran for president against each other in 1957. When my grandfather became president, just 19 days after his inauguration, he was ousted in a coup.
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Daniel Fignolé speaking to supporters at Institut Mopique, 1947. Photo via Wikimedia Commons -
Madame Daniel Fignolé, year unknown. Photo via Wikimedia Commons -
Photo from Life Magazine, June 3, 1957. The original caption read: “MAN OF THE MASSES Daniel Fignole promises F.D.R.-style New Deal. A Negro, he is trying as is Dejoie to break Duvalier’s strength among the Negroes.” Photo via Wikimedia Commons, caption via Faculty.webster.edu
THT: Take us from your grandfather being ousted to your family landing in New York.
Benjamin: The reason they wound up here in America is because the CIA participated in that coup. The CIA helped bring my grandparents to New York City where they landed, but they [the family] didn’t know that at the time.
They grew up here in Crown Heights, just a stone’s throw away from here, and they had a very difficult life. But my mother worked hard here, in New York. She struggled a bit. But by the time I was born, we were growing up in Bethesda, Maryland, with a different, very middle class childhood. But we never knew this story. The aunties, my mother, never talked about it. My mother just put it in her past.
THT: In the book, you discover how the U.S. President at the time, Ike Eisenhower, and the CIA had a heavy hand in the coup. Without giving it away, what does that episode tell you about the relationship the U.S. and Haiti have, as far as the impact of U.S. policies or preferences on Haiti.
Benjamin: My goodness, that was a story. That journey took me even further back from the Eisenhower administration’s participation in the coup. It took me back to 1915 when America started occupying Haiti. America sent troops, and they redesigned Haiti’s politics. They designed Haiti’s economy in a way that principally benefited America and U.S. corporations. I didn’t know that growing up. Most Americans don’t know that growing up. [Many] Haitians don’t know that growing up.
THT: You grew up with a Guinean father. How was it growing up in a dual-culture household?
Benjamin: It intellectually fascinated me, and also touched my heart in a way that these countries share so much in common as proud, fierce Black republics that colonial powers wanted to punish. I knew as little about Guinea and the Guinean heritage as I knew about Haiti when I was writing and researching the book. I was fascinated to learn about the link between Haiti and Guinea, and specifically the esteem that Haitians have, mythical and literal, for Guinea.
“Cutting off the lights, killing knowledge”
THT: Switching gears a bit, let’s talk about you being an anthropologist. What made you go into that field?
Benjamin: I went into anthropology because I’m fascinated by people. I’m fascinated by the human beings I meet. But I’m also fascinated by structures and systems. I’m fascinated by the individual human being in context to her society and to her culture. So, I’ve always been observing. And I think this is a relic to being an immigrant, in part. You’re not always feeling safe, so you’re always observing your surroundings. I just made this professional and became an anthropologist.
THT: Anthropology seems like a great field to go into to shape or change narratives about you, your family and your country. What are your thoughts on connecting our youth to anthropology?
Benjamin: I love this point that you’re making. You know, sometimes immigrant parents will say, ‘Go become an engineer, go become a medical doctor.’ God bless these people, they’re so necessary. But the reason I admire you, too, is: Journalism. We need to tell these stories and we need to tell them, especially when our communities are under attack and when these professions are under attack.
THT: Are you talking about the whole anti-DEI movement anti-woke movement?
Benjamin: Beyond the anti-DEI or anti-woke movement, I’m also talking about the attack against research, against libraries, against “knowing” itself. We need to know that it’s not unrelated. If you’re increasingly authoritarian, you want to attack the truth-tellers, you want to attack the dissidents. So our community and these professions are under attack for similar reasons. So journalists like you, journalism like the Haitian Times, are more critical than ever in my opinion.
THT: Thank you for saying that. Going back to the ouster of your grandfather, I wonder, based on your research, how you would contextualize what we’re seeing now with the American government compared with what happened once Duvalier came into power. Do you see parallels?
Benjamin: It was so fascinating to research what happened directly after my grandparents were kidnapped and sent to America. Once Duvalier became president, it became illegal to print my grandfather’s face or to utter his name. They came and slaughtered his supporters at gunpoint. And, Duvalier would cut the lights. He would literally cut the electricity. He would close down the airports. To me, that was always a profound metaphor: To cut the lights is to cut knowledge, to cut learning, so that you therefore control the narrative.
So there are very big differences between the aftermath of my grandfather’s coup and what’s happening now, but there are also similarities. For me, those similarities are to attack universities, to attack books, to attack education and to dominate with a narrative that is false. In other words, once you flood the society with lies, then these lies permeate and sabotage the truth. But you also intimidate your enemies. That’s the main similarity: To intimidate your enemies and to capture the government. By that I mean the military, the civil service, the civil society.
THT: How does it make you feel to watch this unfold now? You’re no stranger to attacks, having appeared on Fox News for many years and people not agreeing with you.
Benjamin: I am very concerned for this country and one of the things that concerns me most is people who are either the children or grandchildren of refugees who arrived in America because they fled Hitler, because they fled Pinochet, because they fled Castro, because they fled Duvalier. People who feel this in their genetics are all feeling this similar kind of déjà vu and concern. It’s not just my concern as an anthropologist who studies societies. We’re feeling this together, this solidarity of recognition. And you might be able to speak to that as well or even better than I.
THT: It is scary to see people being snatched off the streets. Growing up in Haiti, I heard the whispers of ‘Fort Dimanche’ or ‘entèl disparèt’ [so-and-so vanished]. So when I see things like CECOT in El Salvador, my mind goes to camps where people might be subject to torture, atrocities. I’m disappointed to see it happening in the U.S.
Moving to MAGA country pre-Trump
THT: What’s odd too are some of the Haitians inclined to support Trump because, they say, they appreciate a country with law and order, because we don’t have that in Haiti. We have a diverse population in that sense.
Benjamin: Yes.
THT: Your prior book, “Searching for Whitopia: An Improbable Journey to the Heart of White America,” took you across the U.S. years ago. You got to see how people were feeling and discussing immigrants and diversity then. What did you learn?
Benjamin: In 2007, I packed my bags and went on a 27,000-mile, two-year journey to the whitest, fastest growing communities in the country, communities that were growing with more white migrants. I embedded myself in these communities and lived as a resident. Already then, I was discovering the anti-immigrant sentiment building in the deep pockets of this country.
In principle and in theory, people said they like diversity. By that, they meant a diversity of restaurants or diversity of cuisine, not a diversity of actual people.
Rich Benjamin
Many of these communities are now the bases of MAGA. People would flee Southern California or a diversifying Denver to inhabit these communities. Part of what I found is that in principle and in theory, people said they like diversity. But by that, they meant a diversity of restaurants or diversity of cuisine, not a diversity of actual people. This anti-immigrant movement, which I got to witness during this anthropology project, was often directed at Central Americans, at Mexicans, but also around the world.
THT: So diversity, only if I can control how I interact with that diversity. Like, I don’t want my neighbor to be “diverse” sort of thing.
Benjamin: Yes, and ideas of tipping points. One or two immigrants in a community of 50,000, no problem there. Once the diversity gets a magnitude that affects me personally, then I become against it.
THT: So, it starts feeling like that Great Replacement Theory popular with MAGA.
Benjamin: Yes, we started hearing this. It’s not new, this replacement theory. I could document newscasters on Fox as early as 2007 telling their white viewership, “Make more babies. Make more babies.” In fairness to some of these communities, they were not at all explicitly racist. In other words, they were moving to have bigger homes to be near bike trails, hiking trails and running trails—better quality of life. But in some aspect, for some residents, it was implicit bias. They were implicitly drawn to these communities because they were native-born white communities.
“As an anthropologist, my stomach is turning at the hypocrisy, at the lies, at the duplicity that they inflicted on this community… They wanted Haitian workers revive Springfield.”
Rich benjamin
THT: So then last year, when all of the lies erupted about Haitians in Springfield, how did you feel seeing this as an anthropologist who had done this work?
Benjamin: Here’s what’s horrifying. That particular community in Springfield, Ohio, is the opposite of a white utopia because it’s not utopic. It’s a declining community economically. It’s a declining community socially. There’s a vast brain drain. So they wanted these Haitian workers to kind of revive the community to work there.
It’s not as though [the Haitians] found themselves there magically. They were in some sense recruited there. And then, to have this blow up in their face and to have to use their presence weaponized, to libel them and to lie about them—it’s even worse. It was typically worse because they were such a benefit and they’re doing so much for this community. Some of the community members said so, that Springfield is way off for the better because of these Haitian immigrants. So, as an anthropologist, my stomach is turning at the hypocrisy, at the lies, at the duplicity that they inflicted on this community.
THT: As a Haitian American person, was there another layer of feeling knowing it was that same negativity you experienced back in the ‘80s or ‘90s, when so many kids hid being Haitian?
Benjamin: Yes, hearing that in Springfield, Ohio, was like a sense of déjà-vu. So in the 80s, it was ‘Haitians are boat people,’ ‘they have HIV’—wrong, the poorest country on Earth. All these caricatures we witnessed in the ‘80s, but in some form, it’s a regression because ‘eating pets’ is even worse than ‘boat people.’
The one difference I would say is that this time, I feel many Haitian Americans rallied in pride. I think that there was a spontaneous sense of pride, hearing these Springfield stories that rallied communities in a way that I never witnessed in the 1980s. So I think we are in a different era now where people just don’t take these lies and these caricatures lying down.
Making progress, together and on our own
THT: It is definitely worth emphasizing that this isn’t the ‘80s. It’s fortifying to see people determined to survive. So, how do we make sure that we do not revert to a 1980s or 1990s experience? How do we make sure we don’t regress, but continue to progress as a community?
Benjamin: So, in my mind, the positive aspect is there are more Haitian role models who are visible. Visible as the operative word—like you, like Patrick Gaspard. People understand many people who have succeeded in the society are Haitian Americans. Second, there are fewer gatekeepers in the media. Back in the day, you had three TV news channels, Establishment white gatekeepers controlling the narrative. Now we have more avenues through media, through digital technology, to insert our own experiences and truths into the narrative. Finally, I think there’s a bigger network of activists, a bigger network of people in the non-profit sector who are more capable of pushing back, of building community, of building joy and sharing resources.
It’s a different story too now. We’re taking better care of ourselves for the most part. This business of care is not seen as a weakness, as much.
Rich benjamin
THT: ‘Talk to Me’ also brings to light the difficulties some of your family members faced. How do you think we can start to navigate some of those challenges that occur inwardly or largely inside the home, as individuals?
Benjamin: With our grandparents’ generation, the answer was always [to] muscle through it, put your chin up and be strong. But now, there are more resources and a bigger awareness of how lethal not taking care of these issues is within the home. When you have the culture dealing with it, whether it be in literature, in songs, in rap, we’re taking better care of ourselves for the most part, if not always. But it’s a different story too. This business of care is not seen as a weakness, as much.
THT: Speaking of which, how has your mother responded to you taking on this family project, dredging up so much of these intimate details? Is she talking more to you now?
Benjamin: My mother’s relationship to this book has been pretty constant and contradictory. On the one hand, she’s proud that someone is writing about her father and all that he’s done. But on the other hand, she’s always been very squeamish and skittish about a personal book and putting “dirty laundry” out in the public. She hasn’t read the book and I doubt she’ll read the book. You know when you live something, you don’t necessarily want to read about it.
THT: Yes. I was at this screening recently of a new documentary about the 1990s hip hop scene by dream hampton. She said she felt like once she shares a story or memory publicly, it’s no longer her story. It’s just a story.
Benjamin: I like what dream hampton is saying. If you think about that on a communal level, there are certain stories and myths and proverbs that are specific to us as Haitian Americans, but once we put them out there, it’s kind of a global story that everyone can share.
I hope people enjoy ‘Talk to Me’ as a vibrant story of arriving on these shores, and what it meant, what it took, to have resilience in our community
“Rich benjamin
THT: As we celebrate Haitian heritage, is there anything you’d like to add about this identity?
Benjamin: I hope people are able to read and enjoy this book as an example of one Haitian American’s experience in overcoming the caricatures and the secrecy that I grew up under because of how America was, from 1957 to the 1990s. I just hope they enjoy it as just a vibrant story of arriving on these shores, and what it meant, what it took, to have resilience in our community.
THT: Absolutely. Thank you so much, thank you.
Benjamin: Thank you for your time. This is fantastic.