The Four Storeyed Country

Out of a random desire to revisit Gonzalez's Puerto Rico: The Four Storeyed Country and other Essays yesterday, we were curious to see how this particular Puerto Rican nationalist and man of the left approached the issue of national identity. For our purposes, looking at Puerto Rico through the lens of Haiti, the first independent state in the region, makes for an interesting comparison. Both nations, of course, are subjugated by US imperialism and dependent capitalism, but one already has achieved at least formal independence. But contextualizing Haiti's rather unique formation within the larger Caribbean has shed light on parallel processes affecting all Caribbean peoples. The Puerto Rican case, perhaps, highlights the especially fraught nature of nationalist politics dominated by displaced bourgeois elites. Haiti, on the other hand, had a different path to national independence but a similar phenomenon where the local elite gradually became subordinate to foreign capital, too. 

Anyway, Gonzalez's critique of the creole bourgeoisie's nationalism helps illuminate why the independence movement has struggled to achieve its goals. Even Albizu Campos was allegedly a proponent of a conservative bourgeois nationalism that romanticized the Spanish colonial past and denied the class struggle. While we wonder to what extent that is a fair characterization of Albizu Campos's politics, certainly much of Gonzalez's critique is valid for the creole bourgeoisie's conservative, often reactionary politics. The jibarista literature is an example of this, as well as attempts by some bourgeois Puerto Rican intellectuals to deny the obvious Afro-Antillean factor in the popular culture of Puerto Rico. Some of our Taino revivalists might differ on the jibaro point, preferring to see in it a mixed-race peasantry with strong indigenous cultural influences. Perhaps this would be the real first floor, the indigenous legacy that was the solvent through which Africans and Europeans became Puerto Rican. The Afro-Antillean and popular classes of Puerto Rico, the inheritors of this tradition, became the first Puerto Ricans.

Regardless of the indigenous legacy and revivalist efforts, the elite whitened the peasantry and sought to whiten "qualitatively" the entire island while simultaneously promoting sugar and slavery in the 19th century. After 1898, these same elites sought, through Hispanophilia and romanticized depictions of the previous colonial regime, to create a national identity that reflected their once dominant role. Others within the same or similar current rejected class struggle. The Puerto Rican masses, on the other hand, ferociously took advantage of 1898 to assert their rights. Others, through emigration, expanded the definition of Puerto Rican while embracing socialist and anti-racist struggles in New York. This larger socialist vision of a Puerto Rican national identity linked to the rest of the Caribbean is admirable and, possibly, represents the best 20th century sequel to 19th century intellectuals like Betances, Hostos and Tapia y Rivera. 

Looking at this from a Haitian perspective is enlightening. Our 19th century and early 20th century intellectuals also noted Haiti was a "sick" society, one in need of substantive cures. The nation was already a fait accompli, but the looming threat of US invasion became a reality in 1915. The Haitian elite had failed in their role to uplift or guide the nation. Satirized relentlessly in works by Hibbert or essays by the likes of Janvier and Firmin, the Haitian elite was unequal to the task of guiding the nation toward a cohesive national identity and solid path of economic development. Like their counterparts in Puerto Rico, our better intellectuals also had to confront what Haitian national identity actually meant. Jean Price-Mars addressed this in two major ways, one through folklore and the other through a moral argument on the vocation of the elite. For Haiti, whose racial identity as "black" was not really disputable, the cultural argument focused on creating a literature and art that reflected who we are as a people. The romanticization of the Haitian peasant was not quite the same as the jibarista literature of Puerto Rico, however. Both did reflect the problem of folklorizing the popular classes. Fortunately, Haitian literaure did successfully reach the plebeyism identified by Gonzalez, especially through innovative writers such as Alexis, Lherisson, Roumain and even Ignace Nau. 

Nonetheless, the Haitian nationalist movement that saw an end to the US Occupation in 1934 fissured along similar class and ideological lines in the period after. Our socialist, anti-imperialists divided themselves along additional lines through the various regimes and Duvalier dictatorship that succeeded the Occupation. The nation was and is transformed by emigration, but one that was initially directed to neighboring Caribbean states before the massive emigration to the US mainland of more recent times. Like Puerto Rico, the Haitian of today is increasingly shaped by the coming and going of the Diaspora and must confront what it means to be Haitian today in a fragmented, failed-state society that faces even graver economic and social misery. What this means for the future of Haiti and the Caribbean is still uncertain, but we cannot help but feel that Gonzalez, like Firmin and Betances, was correct in thinking that the best possible future for the region was some kind of federation of independent states protecting the sovereign members. 

Pierre Michel

 

Somehow we forgot about Pierre Michel, a fils naturel of Beresfort Francois. His birth certificate from 1852 indicates that his parents lived in valley of Bainet and the given age for Beresfort is 36. This contradicts the birth certificate for Beresfort's legitimate son born in 1853 but it is consistent with a birth in the late 1810s or early 1820s for Beresfort. What we would like to know is if he was already married to Ifloride Michel in 1851 and, if possible, her origins. She survived into the early 1900s and we suspect was younger than Beresfort, although women do tend to live longer than men. Also, notice how Beresfort named at least two of his children Pierre (Pierre Michel and Pierre Leopold), presumably after his father. Interestingly, Pierre Michel later named one of his sons Bonaventure, probably after a brother of his father. 

Marie Louise Sanon

Although we have mostly exhausted the vital records from Bainet available on the Family Search site, we did come across the probable mother of our great-great-grandfather. Marie Louise Sanon, or Sannon, was born in 1858 but her parents registered her birth the following year. Apparently her parents lived in the valley of Bainet, like many of our other forebears in the 19th century. Sanon was and is an extremely common surname, but a rough indication of her father's age (34) suggests Gille Sanon was born in c.1825. Marie Louise's mother, Dame Marie Victoire Laguerre, was probably born in c.1823. 

We assume our godmother's Laguerre family come from the same section of Bainet but Laguerre was also a common name in the commune. In addition to Marie Victoire Laguerre, we found a birth record for a son of Gai (?) Laguerre, Abraham, born in 1848. It might be safe to assume Marie Victoire Laguerre and Gai Laguerre were relatives since both were living in the valley of Bainet and of the same generation. This is probably as far back as we can go unless someone with access to different types of records can help us figure out the origins of Gille Sanon and Marie Victoire Laguerre. We assume their parents were born in the late 18th century or beginning of the 19th. 

Another Victoire

There is another possible contender for Victoire Gory. In addition to Marie Victoire Gory, Marie Victoire Pitiot, and Victoire Susanne Monteise, there was a fille naturelle baptized in 1778 whose father was possibly an unnamed Gory. This woman was the goddaughter of Victoire Susanne Monteise, which leads one to suspect that the father of the child might have been a relative of hers. We have not identified the father yet, but I suspect this Victoire's father was from the same area of Bainet and probably related to Victoire Suzanne Monteise. Perhaps a cousin or uncle of hers? We assume the mother, a Beaubrun Dupuy with a Barreau maternal background, was close to the neighboring Gory and related to several of them (including Victoire Susanne Monteise). However, it is not entirely clear who the mother was. There was a Marie Beaubrun Dupuy baptized in 1766, but that seems a little too young for her to have given birth to a child. The best candidate is Marie Francoise Beaubrun Dupuy, her older sister, who was baptized in 1761. We are not sure why the priest recorded the name as Marie Magdelaine but a similar mistake was made with Victoire Susanne Monteise's name. Overall, this theory would explain why Victoire Gory was still alive in the 1850s, but we still do not know who Joseph Gaury was. Certainly not the Joseph Gaury who married a Paponet in the early 1770s? Perhaps the father of Anne Marie Joseph was Jacques Gaury, a son of Jean Baptiste Gaury baptized in 1769? He would have been not significantly older than Victoire and possibly still around in the 1850s. 

Siosta or Siota

The mother of Marie Pichot, the wife of Jean Baptiste Gaury, was a former slave named Nanette. She died a few years before her daughter with Jacques Pichot married Jean Baptiste. Her former master, a man with the surname Siota, apparently freed her. Intriguingly, her daughter would later use the surname of Siota. Using ANOM's Leogane parish records, we found that the man who likely owned Nanette died in 1746. He was from the diocese of Comminges in France and went by the name Jean Siosta.

Apparently Jean Siota may have left behind "mixed-race" progeny, too. In 1748, a Marie Francoise Siota died. She was the child of a Bastienne Siota, a free "mulatto woman" and likely the daughter of Jean Siosta. Is it possible Nanette was also the mother of Bastienne Siota? Or was she freed for another reason by Jean Siosta? It would also be great to uncover where Nanette came from and why her daughter later dropped the Pichot surname. 

Francois Pierre or Pierre Francois?

Although the few documents explicitly mentioning the name of Beresfort Francois's father present it as Francois Pierre, it is worthwhile to wonder if his name was actually Pierre Francois. Beresfort Francois's sister's death certificate names their father as Francois Pierre while Bonaventure Francois's marriage certificate refers to him in the same way. However, Beresfort Francois named one of his sons (an illegitimate one) Pierre Francois. Another of his children, Pierre Leopold Francois, was also similarly named after their grandfather. If you name your child after one of your parents, wouldn't you follow the name order? Moreover, there was a Pierre Noel Francois who knew Beresfort Francois in the 1850s, perhaps his brother.

What if Francois Pierre's name was Pierre Francois? There was a man of that name who lived in Bainet and was old enough to be the father of Beresfort. According to his 1850 death certificate, he lived in L'Islet section of Bainet and was around 61 years old. Living in that section of Bainet meant he would have possibly met Anne Marie Joseph Gaury. One of the witnesses on his death certificate was a Mauchil (or Meauchil), a family name linked to the Gaury, too. The only complication is trying to figure out which Pierre Francois from Petit Goave matches this one.

Surprisingly, it was easy enough to find a Pierre Francois born in the 1780s in Petit Goave. Using ANOM, we found an illegitimate child named Pierre Francois baptized in 1787. The son of a "griffe libre" with the Fouguy surname, this Pierre Francois could have used his mother's surname but chose not to do so. Perhaps the Pierre Francois who died in Bainet in the year 1850 was the same person? That would sort of make sense of his relationship with Anne Marie Joseph Gaury (both were free before the Revolution, both had links to L'Islet). 

However, we are still left in the dark about the order of his name. If it was really Pierre Francois, why was it reversed in the few documents we could find? Was a mistake made by the writer on the death certificate of Almaide and marriage license of Bonaventure Francois? Were Beresfort and his siblings simply using the first name of their father as a surname? In order to know, we would have to find a birth record for Beresfort or his siblings. Sadly, we are missing so many years of the Bainet civil registry that it might be impossible to know for certain. It also doesn't help that we are missing so many years of the Petit Goave parish records on ANOM. That makes it more difficult to confirm Pierre Francois's identity as well as establishing a link to the Leogane Fouguy through Anne dite Fouguy, the mother of Pierre Francois.

Taino Revival

Taino Revival: Critical Perspectives on Puerto Rican Identity and Cultural Politics is one of those vital reads on Taino revivalism or reclamation that we devoured several years ago. Now, after a reread, we see how problematic the collection of essays here really are. With the exception of Davila, none of the academic contributors actually interviewed so-called neo-Tainos. Moreover, these essays were originally written before genetic evidence clearly confirmed the "Amerindian" component of the Puerto Rican population. While there are certainly problems with the idea of "Native American DNA" and the ways in which racial essentialism have resurfaced, today it is hard to deny that some degree of cultural and biological continuity from the pre-Columbian period to the present can be found in Puerto Rico. 

For that reason, Davila's essay is the only one that has aged well. Her interest is not in refuting or challenging the way an individual identifies, but understanding the role of memory and cultural institutions in indigeneity in Puerto Rico. Her approach rejects racial essentialism and she even shares her moments of discomfort with being perceived as Taino based on her phenotype. One Puerto Rican even asked to inspect her teeth for evidence of shovel-shaped incisors! Regardless of attempts from others to emphasize phenotype or race as a permanent biological trait, Davila's approach contextualizes Taino revivalism and might offer clues as to why "Indians" resurfaced and disappeared multiple times throughout Puerto Rican history. After all, if the past is actively deployed in the present through several process, and related to cultural authority and memory, then the disappearance and reappearance of "Indians" across the history of Puerto Rico can be analyzed without relying on the problematic category of race. 

Unlike the Taino revivalists, we are personally inclined to view the process as part of a "mestizo" Creole culture in which Africans, Europeans, and those of indigenous descent formed the population of Puerto Rico. Sued Badillo's work persuasively demonstrates this process in the Spanish Caribbean. Moreover, as the final essay in the book suggests, in what way are "neo-Taino" Puerto Ricans less indigenous than "tri-racial" Native American groups in the continental US who have received federal recognition? If indigeneity should not hinge on phenotype or assumptions of unchanging cultural expression, then we cannot dismiss this movement so easily. And for the contributors to Taino Revival who see the movement as an escape from blackness, an engagement with black Puerto Rican and Afro-Caribbean claims on Taino identity or history would be a fruitful comparative study. We cannot name the number of times people from non-Hispanic Caribbean backgrounds have asserted an indigenous ancestry. 

It also would be useful to study the landscape of Taino revivalism today, in 2023, to better assess the degree to which it really represents an attempt to make Indians out of blacks and the changes in the relationship of the Diaspora to the island and the US (colonial) state. For example, Haslip-Viera's essay was far too harsh and lumped the neo-Tainos into the same category as reactionary, pseudoscientific and frequently ridiculous fringe black groups in the US like the Black Israelites, various strands of Afrocentrism and the Nation of Islam. Such a comparison is unfair and almost certainly inaccurate for all Taino revivalists. After all, there is evidence of descent from the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean in their case. And surely not all indigenous revivalists are so obsessed with stereotypical "Indian" phenotypes or influenced by New Age and Hollywood caricatures of indigeneity. Some certainly acknowledge their African ancestry. And we are sure a few of them must be working on more historically and anthropologically informed analysis than what we have seen so far from scholars like Castanha. Perhaps Puerto Ricans need someone like Roberto Valcárcel Rojas to tackle the complex history of "Indians" in the colonial era. Anything that could add nuance and depth to our historical understanding of indigenous survival beyond the 16th century and expand our understanding of indigeneity, race, and sovereignty in a colonized region will help tremendously. 

History of Puerto Rico: A Panorama of its People

Although we have read sections of the original Spanish version of Fernando Picó's well-known general history of Puerto Rico, it was definitely worthwhile to revisit and read the entirety of the text. Picó manages to condense 500 years of history into about 300 pages and cover most of the major themes, areas in need of greater historical research, and present a coherent narrative on the formation of a people. While we believe there could have been a better historical background on the African origins of the Puerto Rican population, and perhaps a more sustained effort to integrate the diaspora with the later history of the island, this might be the best general history. Picó also proposes tantalizing possible explanations for the failures of the independence movement on the island, the legacy of racial discrimination and slavery and a rather bleak but honest assessment of the relationship with the US. To understand the current problems of Puerto Rico in the 21st century, especially the central dilemmas of independence, colonialism and economic development and the best path to reach it, Puerto Rico is a relevant case study for Latin America and the Caribbean.