For Haitian diaspora, violence dims hopes for return

TIJUANA, Mexico — When Vivianne Petit Frere fled her native Haiti for Brazil in 2019 and later walked through the Panamanian jungle and on to Mexico, where she opened a restaurant, she always believed she would eventually return home. Until now.

With gang violence wracking Haiti, many of the more than 1 million who have left the Caribbean nation feel helpless when they call terrified family members who can’t leave because airports are closed and crossing to the United States by sea is too risky.

“Before, you could say things were OK. I knew things weren’t OK, but I had faith, hope that it would change one day. We lost faith. There is no path forward because of the gangs,” Petit Frere, 36, said at a table of the restaurant she runs in downtown Tijuana with her husband, who also fled Haiti.

The escalating unrest has reverberated among those who left Haiti for Brazil, Chile, Mexico and the United States. As their hopes of returning home dim, decisions lie ahead on how the U.S. responds to the turmoil in the country long plagued by political upheaval, widespread poverty and natural disasters.

A devastating earthquake in 2010 sent many Haitians to Brazil and Chile. When Brazil’s economy tanked in 2016, Haitians were one of the first nationalities to make the perilous trek through Panama’s Darien Gap to the United States, some crossing the border from Tijuana to San Diego and settling in the U.S. with others who came before them, largely in Miami, New York and Boston.

Haitian Bridge Alliance has been contacting immigrants in the United States and Canada and finding many have family trapped in gang warfare, said Guerline Jozef, the advocacy group’s executive director, whose childhood neighborhood in Haiti was ravaged in attacks. Her cousin was killed by gangs last year.

“It’s not something that we’re reading on the news. It’s something that happened to my own family and that’s the reality for the majority of people in the diaspora. You start hearing the realities of my cousin, my mom, my sister, my dad, and that becomes very personal,” Jozef said.

Standing on a street corner in Miami’s “Little Haiti,” security guard Jude Guillalime said he speaks often with his two children in Haiti, who recently went two days without food or water. They ask if they can join him in Florida. He tells them not to worry.

“Everything is bad, terrible,” said Guillalime, 47, a legal resident in the United States who applied this year for his children to come to Florida.

The U.S. is the top destination for Haitian migrants, and President Joe Biden’s carrot-and-stick approach to immigration — promoting new and expanded legal pathways while discouraging illegal crossings — has largely worked as intended with Haitians, despite critics of his unprecedented use of “parole” authority to grant entry on humanitarian grounds.