日韩AV

Disturbing and dehumanizing images emerged out of the U.S.-Mexico border in late September and ignited a storm of outrage nationwide. The images, whose graphic nature will not be described in this article in an effort to minimize the normalization of and desensitization to the brutalized black body, left many referencing times of slavery and some questioning how far the U.S. is willing to go to secure its borders.

But to understand the situation one must first seek to understand the driving force behind Haitian immigration at present and the fractured U.S. response.

The recent surge of migrants followed the successive destabilizing events of President Jovenel Moïse’s assassination and natural destruction caused by both an earthquake and tropical storm Grace. These events followed the initial surge of Haitian migrants in early 2010 in the aftermath of a devastating earthquake that displaced millions and further pushed an already struggling economy to its limits. As a result, many Haitians sought opportunities in neighboring South American countries, primarily Brazil and Chile. However, refuge was short-lived as jobs dried up and laws pertaining to migration into these countries tightened. With limited options and with the knowledge that they could not return to their home country, many Haitians began the trek up north.

The disturbing images that emerged out of Del Rio, Texas, however, had an uncanny resemblance to the U.S. response to Haitian migrants in the 1980-90s and came at a time when the tensions regarding what should be done at the U.S.-Mexico border have been at the forefront of American political discourse.

In the 1980-90s, the U.S. experienced an influx of Haitian migrants attempting to first flee from father-son dictator duo François and Jean-Claude Duvalier and later President Aristide, the first democratically elected and U.S.-backed president of Haiti. A student of American history would have vaguely heard of so-called “boat people,” but few acknowledge that it was Haitians, and not only Cubans, in the latter part of the 20th century that comprised this desperate demographic who sought to leave countries ruled by despotic .

The US response toward migrant “boat people'' originating from Haiti and Cuba, however, differed. Cuban immigrants, fleeing from America’s hemispheric enemy, were warmly welcomed in droves. In contrast, many Haitian migrants were treated harshly, forcibly detained at Guantanamo Bay for months on end, and sent back to Haiti without being offered an opportunity to present their case for asylum, as is required by both international and federal . The U.S. government responded to the Haitian migrant crisis by what would become known as the Haitian program, a set of policies that were meant to discourage Haitians from coming to the U.S. While the program no longer exists, core elements, such as those that repatriate migrants without hearings in front of an immigration judge, have been kept and rebranded in American immigration policy, most notably in Title 42, a Trump-era holdover immigration policy embraced by the Biden .

The disturbing images and conditions at the border coupled with the sometimes incongruent policy responses to the ebb and flow of migrants from particular countries have led to President Biden’s approval ratings plummeting, as well as the impassioned arguments from some that the current situation at the border is a tangible example of why U.S. immigration policy should be . Others favor a more critical approach, and argue that the treatment of black Haitian migrants is yet another poignant example of neocolonialist harm inflicted on the poor and black . Though opinions differ on what should be done with the individuals at the border, what can not be denied is the torrid history between Haitian migrants and the U.S. government. The recent events and current treatment of Haitians at the US-Mexico border are a manifestation of this history.