No way. Is there actually friction in the beautiful Dominican? Read for yourself...
I recently took a trip to the Dominican Republic. I thought it would be impossible to find a news story surrounded by so many thin people with clear skin and smiling faces. I soon discovered turmoil under the shining sun. While I was getting a henna tattoo done on the beach, the artist, Manuel, asked me where I was from and what I was studying. I told him I was a journalism student, and he teased that I should be out there talking to people, figuring out how the Dominican really is. He explained while continuing to draw with his steady hands that it’s extremely hard to make a living. Every member of the family has to work to support each other. Everything is expensive: clothes, food and shelter. 
I asked Manuel if I could ask him some questions and record our conversation for a bit. That’s when his young golden skin turned a shade of red and he introduced me to Beni, a spa coordinator. Beni is from Haiti and only has his residence papers. Although it was clear he was in his early 30s, he appeared more worn and tired. He has no passport so he can only get jobs with the lowest paid salaries. He works only by commission and makes an average of $180 a month. Making $300 at the end of the month is a huge deal to him because it doesn’t happen very often.
He started to describe the discrimination he senses from Dominicans. He feels out of place even when hanging out with his Dominican friends. He revealed that the sugar cane fields are filled with Haitian workers, cutting, peeling and slicing all day. They work for the Dominicans. Dominicans are “chiefs”. Nevertheless, he’s happier here than in Haiti. Back home, there are no job opportunities and he just sits home and does nothing. At least he can make a little bit of money here to send to his mother back home. Somehow in between our conversation, I let it slip that I spoke French, and that’s the language the rest of our talk continued in.
I commented on how all the employees looked friendly enough towards one another. He agreed that dispersed, everyone seems agreeable and happy, but problems start to brew when they’re all together. Like many people, Beni sees this job as a stepping stone before he moves on to bigger and better things. He wants to get a lot of money, but he believes the discrimination will still be there. He started to get more emotional and passionate while he thought aloud that he will still be an ugly black man, as opposed to “Moreno”, which is what they call the lighter skinned Dominicans, like Manuel. Beni describes Morenos as “big men with big cars”.I thanked Beni for his story and was on my way to write when Manuel called me back. He confided that he hated the word “Moreno”. He doesn’t like being called that and takes offense to it. What about what Beni was saying about discrimination? Manuel says that it’s not true. He claims there is no discrimination whatsoever. I asked if he was a Dominican and he said yes. He saw the skepticism on my face of why I wouldn’t take his word for it that discrimination didn’t exist in his country. He decided to take me to someone more unbiased.
We walked across the beach to a middle-aged man sketching a landscape on a black canvas. Antonio paints stunning drawings on the beach. He is Haitian and has lived in the Dominican for 24 years. He is newly married to his second wife and has a sister living in Montreal. Antonio used his extremely articulate vocabulary to describe the “dominico-haitian situation” of discrimination as cause and effect. Without taking his eyes off the canvas, he continued to explain that in reality, it doesn’t really exist. He thinks their social condition has made them provoke repercussion in themselves. Some Haitians use the excuse that it’s because they’re black, but Dominicans are black, I’m black, he’s black. We’re not in that situation. There is degeneration socially, economically and politically in Haiti, which puts them all in the same social condition. The poverty, bad education and lower class surroundings create a shock against the Haitian people and bring them down.
Antonio came to the Dominican because of the degradation in his home country. He doesn’t like to fight or argue and tries to steer away from any type of negativity. He finds it very difficult to live here. He uses the metaphor of a sneaky rat. A rat will bite you and take from you in your sleep, but when you wake up, he will blow sweet nothings into your ear. When you’re alert and awake, he’ll distract you from realizing you’ve been bitten. You won’t even feel it. Some Haitians cope in the Dominican by learning the Spanish language so well to pass themselves off as Dominican. No matter how advanced their Spanish is, they will always be revealed as Haitian. Antonio says, “No matter where I go, I’ll be called out as a Haitian”.
Bengla, Antonio’s assistant, is in his 20s and has a very contagious smile. He added in that discrimination exists everywhere. He separates the two countries into civilized Haitians, uncivilized Haitians, civilized Dominicans, and uncivilized Dominicans. He dismisses some Haitians as just acting funny and weird, but admits that others act more civilized than Dominicans. Antonio affirms that sometimes Dominicans just don’t know what to believe about Haitians. People have many assumptions and judge Haitians by saying things that give them a bad name. Dominicans don’t know what to believe. It’s to the point that they can’t discern truth from false. Antonio can think of very few Dominicans who don’t discriminate and get along with Haitian people. He is optimistic though. Discrimination exists in Haiti because of its underdevelopment. The citizens are affected from all angles. To fix that problem, he challenges individuals, not Haiti as a country, to better themselves.
