| Compassionate activism
Alumna fights for
the rights of refugees
by
Carlos Maza
 Ultimately,
it is one image from her childhood in Haiti that still burns in her mind, sustaining
the fire of compassion. In the morning, families would descend from the mountains
and trudge past her house. Exhausted from the miles, they sang as they carried
a sick family member on a thin piece of plywood teetering above their heads. She'd
watch them pass slowly on their way into town and the local hospital, faint echoes
of their song lingering as they disappeared around a bend. Much later at dusk,
she'd watch as many of these groups returned, sobbing, dragging the sheet of wood
behind them.
Marleine
Bastien, a licensed clinical social worker honored last year with the FIU Distinguished
Alumni Service Medallion, leans forward in her chair and stares at a spot on the
floor. On the wall behind her hangs the banner of Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami,
Inc. (FANM) which translates to Haitian Women of Miami, the organization she
founded in 1991. It depicts a woman wearing a mouchwa, a traditional Haitian
headdress, struggling to hold a large blue and green globe on her shoulders.
Bastien's
brow is tensed, her head slightly cocked, as if she is still hearing the sounds
of her childhood in Haiti. After a brief pause, she sits back and smiles broadly.
"I
wrote an essay in seventh grade about wanting to be a doctor. My father was a
farmer and the only trained nurse in the town of Pont Benoit. He took care of
many of those wounded in farming accidents who couldn't get to the hospital. Everyone
in my family learned early on how to clean wounds and help out," she says.
Today,
FANM advocates for the rights of not only Haitians, but women and refugees of
all backgrounds. FANM strives to build strong national coalitions of organizations
sharing similar goals. The group led the fight for the passing of the 1998 Haitian
Refugee Act, and last year helped coordinate a meeting of five Latin American
and Caribbean countries to discuss immigration policies. Bastien has worked closely
with groups such as Mothers of Freedom and Amnesty International; the latter's
Miami chapter honored her last year with their annual Human Rights award.
"Refugee
rights are human rights," she says. "We believe the United States has a moral
responsibility to provide these rights, specifically the right of due process.
We advocate for women's rights also because the respect of all basic human rights
is imperative for the stability of a society."
Bastien's
parents were activists in Haiti: Her father built a school and encouraged older
people to learn to read, and her mother ran a "mini-social work center" in their
home. These actions were considered subversive by the oppressive Duvalier regime
and her father was arrested. He was eventually released but the family was blacklisted,
resulting in Bastien being unable to secure a parenn, a sponsor, as required
for a student pursuing advanced studies. Her dream of becoming a doctor and helping
others seemed an impossibility.
Her
response echoed the lessons learned in the family home and signaled the tenor
of what was to become her mission: she started to speak out. Along with some friends,
she went on a local radio station and verbalized her frustration over these injustices.
During the next few days, she felt she was being followed and watched. In 1981,
she escaped Haiti for the U.S. on a tourist visa.
In Miami, Bastien volunteered
at the Haitian Refugee Center and the Haitian-American Community Association of
Dade. The attorney handling her legal status hired her to interview Haitian detainees
at the Krome Refugee Center and perform assessments in the homes of recently released
refugees. What she witnessed shocked her.
"The
despair was beyond belief. Families living in crowded, rat-infested apartments,
in many cases charged double price and still abused by their landlords. Many would
come home and find all their belongings in the street. It was nightmare. And not
only there; employers worked them in slave-like conditions. The system was abusing
and taking advantage of these people. I wanted to help. But not just help
I wanted to help people help themselves. Empowerment has always been a priority
for me."
Around
the same time, she had enrolled at Miami-Dade Community College (MDCC), where
Bastien told a career advisor she wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. The advisor
suggested she consider being an executive secretary. Although disappointed, Bastien
entered the program. At the MDCC library, she started reading "career" books.
"And I read and read and....there it was: social work.." After MDCC, she enrolled
at FIU, earning a bachelor's degree in 1986 and a master's degree in social work
one year later.
"I
had a very good experience at FIU. I found friends from all over the world I could
commiserate with."
After
graduation in 1987, she worked as a clinical social worker at Jackson Memorial
Hospital in Miami, where she credits her supervisors with having enough "long-term
vision" to allow her to travel on advocacy missions to Tallahassee, Washington,
DC, and Guantanamo, Cuba. "God sent me to Jackson," she says. In 1991, a higher
calling helped her decide to leave the hospital to establish FANM and "help change
the lives of thousands and thousands of people."
Today,
Bastien is increasingly concerned with the future of the South Florida community
as well as the political and social climate of Haiti, where she fights for dual
citizenship for Haitian-Americans. Haitian immigrants in the U.S. must also deal
with social contradictions between their adopted culture and the one of their
homeland. She believes many adults are breaking the cycles of the past and excelling
in the community, but there is a negative trend in the children.
"Haitian society is very
restrictive; children have few rights," she explains. "They are not even allowed
to look adults in the eye. Now, adults have the state here telling them how they
can or can't discipline their children, and they are very confused. This is resulting
in a crisis of increasing disciplinary problems," she says. Another mission of
FANM is to battle the hopelessness and fragmentation caused by negative messages
in the media and the short-sighted views of politicians.
Bastien juggles these concerns
daily with the incessant demands her activism attracts. At a moment's notice,
she may have to set aside various projects to deal with the latest arrival of
refugees. She also struggles to raise the funds needed to sustain her mission.
And as a divorced mother of three boys, ages four, seven and 12, Bastien also
feels the pull of personal responsibilities as well. Even what ostensibly should
be her relaxation, becomes a mission itself, an instrument for her professional
and social passions. Bastien writes poetry, and dances and acts in local Haitian
cultural productions. A powerful, confident smile spreads and her head nods decisively
as she says, "Regardless of your language, I can reach you with my dance, my acting,
my poetry. Art is an effective communication tool."
Unity is ultimately, according
to Bastien, the one hope for her community. "Nothing can be done in a fragmented
way. Divided, we are easily conquered. If we fight for crumbs, the winner gets...crumbs.
We must unite."
Bastien
once again relaxes. Beside her are stacks of boxes stuffed with invitations for
FANM's sixth annual fundraising banquet. In a few moments she is off to a board
meeting and then will return countless messages from phones that have not stopped
ringing. Her face softens beneath a colorful mouchwa that suggests centuries-old
tradition, yet blends elegantly with her professional, navy blue skirt suit and
executive pump shoes. The humble activists' daughter no longer witnesses in silence
the suffering of others. She has carried the battle from the village into the
world of slick political negotiations and high-tech media. Her shoulders are poised,
not revealing the magnitude of the weight they must support. |
