by Bernadette Jasmin

Created on: August 10, 2009   Last Updated: August 13, 2009

Many Americans gripe about the failure of the "American Dream." In our prosperous condition we overlook many of the things that make us great. Some thirty-five years ago my parents chased the "American Dream" when they arrived in the United States as Haitian immigrants. No, they were not "boat people" or illegal aliens. My father did leave his country to save his life, when the dictatorship in that country labeled him an undesirable because he spoke his mind.

When they entered this country they were at the bottom of the employment totem pole. I guess these are the dues that each successive group of immigrants has to pay to assimilate. Many other groups have done the same. In the beginning my parents took jobs as servants and all around house bodies for wealthy entrepreneurs in the suburbs of New York City.

They worked very hard to provide the necessities for family members both here and back in Haiti. This was the norm for many Haitian immigrants. The odd thing was that with heavy accents they bore discrimination and bias from both whites and African Americans. During this time we were called Negroes. Since then our titles have changed from Negro, to Black, and now to African Americans. I wish we would just be called plain Americans, but I suppose for description sake we need those kinds of classifications.

During this period my father pounded the pavements of Rockland County, New York looking to leave the premises of their employers. He also had to provide a place to stay for the children who would come for summer visits from Haiti after years of separation. Their search went on for many weeks. Finally, Father had Mother called about a vacancy they had seen in the paper. Mother was the spokesperson because she spoke better English and didn't sound as foreign. The individual on the line said, "Sure come on over." They arrived at the location only to have their hopes dashed when the landlord saw they were Negroes. There was no room at this in for this couple.

Finally, a Good Samaritan at a real estate agency took them by the shoulders to a brand new building where Negroes were accepted. He was the apartment owner and catered to immigrants and African Americans. I suppose he made a killing, but to my parents he was a savior. He saw a need and provided it. The place was relatively clean and close to their place of employment. They could travel to work by car or taxi.

A short time later on a cold December night two of

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