I never knew I was black until I came to Miami. I had spent most of my childhood in Haiti, in a community that was already made for me and people like me. Though I understood there were social classes that dictated my place in society, I was comfortable knowing where I belonged. But when…

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The following is excerpted from Twelve Unending Summers: Memoir of an Immigrant Child: Years ago, when I was doing my residency in Chicago, I was making my way through the hospital cafeteria when a tall, slender, white attending physician approached. He looked me up and down, almost as though in resignation. “Where in Africa are you…

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The following is excerpted from Twelve Unending Summers: Memoir of an Immigrant Child: One warm morning in La Rivière des Nègres, my dad took me to the northwest side of the house and showed me four coconut trees. Given their size, I thought they must have been planted about six to eight months earlier. “One of…

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