I’ve noticed a recurring pattern on French Twitter: a tweet pops up asserting that Haiti is part of the West Indies, and it invariably sparks a lively debate. The controversy stems from a common misconception that the term “West Indian” (Antillais in French) refers exclusively to Guadeloupe and Martinique. This narrow definition is so ingrained that even some Haitians themselves, sometimes without realizing it, sometimes quite deliberately, exclude themselves from the West Indian identity. It’s not uncommon to see Haitians publicly declare they don’t consider themselves West Indian, which often leads to fascinating exchanges online.
The Echo Chamber of Identity
My friend, a Puerto Rican, once shared how excluded he felt when people would say “West Indian people,” implying he wasn’t part of that group. Similarly, a Congolese acquaintance remarked on the never-ending debates about who is or isn’t West Indian, admitting, “We just see debates about who is West Indian or not, so we don’t even know anymore, guys.” These conversations highlight a profound disconnect. A Haitian friend put it bluntly: “Let’s not pretend — when they say West Indian people, they’re only talking about Guadeloupe and Martinique. The rest of us aren’t included.”
We often find ourselves instinctively doing the same, using “West Indian” solely to refer to people from Martinique and Guadeloupe. For instance, we might say “in the West Indies” to describe our experiences, while discussing Haiti separately, as in “In Haiti, they do it this way or that way.” I frequently use Haiti as an example because their vibrant online presence in the French-speaking world means they’re mentioned more often. However, this phenomenon extends to other islands as well; it’s just that many are simply unaware of their existence.
A Journey Through Misconceptions
I recall an incident from high school involving our Spanish teacher, who was Dominican. Two students were discussing him one day, and one of them, trying to describe his disposition, blurted out, “Of course, he’s a ‘timal’!” For those unfamiliar, “timal” is a Guadeloupean Creole word that has infiltrated French slang, often used by mainlanders to mean a “West Indian person.” The other student, clearly confused, retorted, “But he’s not West Indian, he’s Dominican!” The first student, though not West Indian himself, surprisingly knew his geography and explained that the Dominican Republic is, in fact, part of the West Indies. This moment vividly illustrated how deeply ingrained these geographical and cultural misunderstandings are.
This distinction is also evident in establishments across mainland France. You’ll find stores stocking “West Indian music,” which invariably means music from Guadeloupe and Martinique, while “Haitian music” or “Cuban music” are categorized separately. The same applies to restaurants: “West Indian cuisine” typically refers to Guadeloupean and Martinican dishes, while specific Haitian restaurants might be found nearby. It’s a subtle but pervasive reinforcement of the idea that “West Indian” has a very specific, limited meaning.
Navigating the Nuances
Whenever I’m in a broader Caribbean community, I make a conscious effort to say “Martiniquan and Guadeloupean” instead of simply “West Indies” when referring to us. It’s a small but significant act of inclusivity. Last week, I had a conversation on Yubo with two friends, one Guadeloupean living in mainland France, and the other Dominican. As we chatted, I realized we had different understandings of “West Indian people.” I included the Dominican Republic in my definition, while the Guadeloupean girl did not. This surprised me, as she is quite well-educated. Even her Dominican friend used “West Indian” to refer only to people from Martinique and Guadeloupe, effectively excluding herself. It showed me how deeply this exclusionary definition has permeated even within the Caribbean community itself.
On Twitter, some people from the French West Indies justify this narrow definition through cultural identity. They argue that because we are French, our culture continues to absorb metropolitan French culture, creating a distinct Caribbean identity separate from the rest of the Caribbean. They also believe that our direct link to France has shaped a unique identity, often termed “antillanité,” which now causes “West Indian” to socio-culturally refer only to Martiniquans and Guadeloupeans. To talk about other islands, they suggest using the broader term “Caribbean.”
Seeking a New Lexicon
I feel this explanation doesn’t quite capture the full picture. Many in France mistakenly believe “West Indian” encompasses not only Martiniquans and Guadeloupeans but also people from Guyane and Réunion. In the collective imagination, a “West Indian person” is often stereotyped as someone mixed-race, speaking Creole, possessing a distinctive accent, loving to party, and attending carnivals like the one in Montpellier. But based on that description, we’re certainly not the only ones!
If “West Indian” is to become an identity label, it needs a new, specific term for these four overseas departments. I propose “Créole Dom-Tom” (Creole Overseas Departments and Territories). The term “Créole” is fitting because Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, and Réunion are all Creole societies. “Dom-Tom” specifically refers to France’s overseas departments and territories. You might ask, why not just “Créole”? Because there are other Creole peoples outside of us, like the Cape Verdeans. And why not just “Overseas”? Because not all overseas territories are Creole – Mayotte, for example, is not. This idea, though just a suggestion, opens the door to a deeper discussion about the shared identities and experiences of Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, and Réunion, a topic I hope to explore further.
FAQ Section
Q: Why is there such confusion about the term “West Indian” among French speakers?
A: The confusion often stems from the strong association of the French term “Antillais” with Guadeloupe and Martinique, two French overseas departments. This narrow interpretation often overshadows the broader geographical definition of the West Indies, which includes many other islands.
Q: Do people from Haiti, Puerto Rico, or the Dominican Republic consider themselves West Indian?
A: It varies. While geographically they are part of the West Indies, many individuals from these islands, particularly in French-speaking contexts, have sometimes internalized the narrow definition of “West Indian” to exclude themselves, often due to how the term is used in discourse and media.
Q: What is “antillanité” and how does it relate to this debate?
A: “Antillanité” refers to a specific cultural and historical identity developed in the French Caribbean (Guadeloupe and Martinique), shaped by their unique relationship with France. Some argue this distinct identity makes “West Indian” refer specifically to them socio-culturally, distinguishing them from other Caribbean islands.
Q: Why is the term “Créole Dom-Tom” proposed as an alternative?
A: “Créole Dom-Tom” is proposed to accurately represent the specific cultural and administrative ties of Martinique, Guadeloupe, Guyane, and Réunion. “Créole” acknowledges their shared Creole societies, while “Dom-Tom” clarifies their status as French overseas departments and territories, distinguishing them from other Creole regions or overseas territories that are not Creole.
Q: How can we promote a more inclusive understanding of the West Indies?
A: Promoting inclusivity requires conscious effort in language use, education, and media representation. Being mindful of using terms like “Martiniquan and Guadeloupean” instead of just “West Indian” when referring to those specific islands, and educating others about the broader geography and diversity of the West Indies, can help foster a more accurate and inclusive understanding.
References List
- Barthélémy, G. (2000). Crise et réformisme en Haïti. Histoire d’une élite. Karthala.
- Chamoiseau, P., Confiant, R., & Bernabé, J. (1989). Éloge de la créolité. Gallimard.
- Glissant, É. (1981). Le discours antillais. Seuil.
- Hurbon, L. (1987). Comprendre Haïti. Essai sur l’État, la nation, la culture. Karthala.
- Price-Mars, J. (1928). Ainsi parla l’oncle. Paris : Imprimerie de Compiègne.
Join the Conversation!
The conversation around what it means to be “West Indian” is far from over, and it’s clear that our understanding needs to evolve. We invite you to share your perspectives and experiences. How do you define “West Indian”? Have you encountered similar confusions or exclusions? Let’s collectively broaden our understanding and build a more inclusive linguistic landscape for the rich and diverse cultures of the West Indies. Your voice matters in shaping this crucial dialogue. Let’s make our voices heard and clarify the rich tapestry of identities that make up our beautiful region. Engage with us, share your thoughts, and help illuminate the profound meanings behind our words.
