The South Florida Sun-Sentinel reports on a resurgence of interest in Vodou among younger Haitian-Americans. Looking to reconnect with their cultural heritage, they are often drawn by half-remembered childhood memories of their parents and grandparents attending rituals and practicing Vodou.

It is hard to quantify the religion’s growth because Vodou is often practiced at home, said Elizabeth McAlister, a professor of religion at Wesleyan University, who has written extensively about Vodou. But research shows the religion is becoming more prevalent among well-heeled first and second generation Haitians, as well as people of various backgrounds, she said. Ruby LaCroix, 39, of West Palm Beach became intrigued by Vodou when she began to study Haiti’s history in college. She left Haiti when she was 8 years old and had questions about some of the traditions she grew up watching her grandmother practice. “I was looking to find out more about myself, about being Haitian and what that means,” she said.

One thing that I felt was striking about the article was the attitudes of these new practitioners. Much like the largely European-based modern Pagan faiths, there is an emphasis on fighting misconceptions, taking pride in their religious choices, and a slow shedding of insularity among practitioners.

Gone, for most, is the shame that used to be associated with the stigmatized religion. Unlike some of their parents who practiced Vodou in secrecy, the newcomers to the religion invite friends to Vodou ceremonies, have altars in their homes and work to shatter the stereotypes.

One wonders if a similar trend also manifesting among younger Hispanic, Latino, and Brazilian-American practitioners of Santeria, Candomble, and other related traditions, or if this is a uniquely Haitian-American phenomenon. Whatever the extent of this new interest in African diasporic faiths among younger people, it does seem to signal a willingness to step outside a purely Catholic/Christian identity among immigrants within a generation or two.

Ricardo Petit-Homme left Haiti when he was 4, and was raised a staunch Catholic. “From christening to penance and then confirmation, I did it all,” the 30-year-old interior decorator said. But not that long ago, he felt spiritually disconnected. He had dreams that needed to be interpreted, questions about his purpose and a burning desire to connect more deeply with his roots. He turned to Vodou.

It’s interesting that even younger Haitian-Americans who had no prolonged exposure to Vodou see that faith as a more genuine expression of their culture and roots than the Catholicism that is so dominant throughout the Caribbean. It is little wonder that I see Haitian Vodou (and other diasporic faiths) as a “cousin” to the modern Pagan faiths. There is so much overlap, not only in matters of theology and praxis, but in the motivations and attitudes of the newer converts. It should be interesting to see how this trend develops, and if we’ll see a gradual growth of networking, activism, and shared resources not only among the various African diasporic faiths, but with other religious minorities who have similar goals.

It’s time to turn to the troubled nation of Haiti, to examine a few stories concerning that country and the African diasporic religion that emanates from there: Haitian Vodou (one of modern Paganism’s religious “cousins”). First, Jennifer Kay of the Associated Press files a report of how Haitian practitioners of Vodou living abroad are balancing their spiritual obligations with sending financial help to their familes in a year that has seen continuing economic hardship and a series of tropical storms that have rocked the tiny island nation. November, usually a month for lavish celebrations, is decidedly more somber this year, and drastically scaled back as a result of these recent events.

“Hours before the “sacred carnival,” Josue and a handful of vodouisants gathered before a small altar to pay special homage to the nearly 800 storm victims and those killed in the Nov. 7 school collapse. He had expected at least 20 people for the daytime service. But many have reserved their extra cash to help relatives in impoverished Haiti. They told Josue they couldn’t afford the gas for driving to the outskirts of Miami twice in the same day. And when they came for the night service, they would wear the same black and purple clothes they had on last year, not being afford new things. “And there’s only one goat,” Josue said and sighed. In the past, many guests laid offerings on the altars adorned with decorative skulls in black top hats. This year, they spent what they could to honor the dead, while still trying to support the living, Josue said. ‘I don’t think the Gede [the spirits of the dead] will be offended,’ Josue said. ‘They will be concerned about the condition of the world, because they have a lot of work to do now.’”

Meanwhile in Haiti, a remarkable thing happened this weekend. Several gay and HIV+ Haitians outed themselves and marched in honor of World AIDS Day. Haiti, which is very socially conservative, is a dangerous place to be openly gay, and many gay men in Haiti avoid social programs for fear of harassment.

“Haiti has long fought stigmatization and discrimination after its migrants were some of the first AIDS cases identified in the United States. Unfounded beliefs that Haitians caused the epidemic helped decimate the country’s tourism industry. The country has since been a success story, with its HIV infection rate falling from 5.9 percent in 1996 to 2.2 percent today — due in part to programs like the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, which has given Haiti more than $320 million since 2004. The deaths of people with HIV also contributed to the decline. But gay men remain at risk because they hide from social programs due to prejudice and harassment, despite making up one-tenth of reported HIV cases in the Caribbean, the Joint United Nations Program on HIV/AIDS reported.”

The gay men participating in the event proudly labeled themselves “masisi”, reclaiming a traditional Haitian slur for homosexuals. Pink News, who also reported on the story, noted that one of the few places that gays find acceptance in Haitian society is within Vodou.

“Haiti has one of the highest infection rates in the world and gay men and lesbians face stigma and homophobic attitudes, though the voodoo community is accepting of homosexuality.”

For more on Haitian Vodou and homosexuality, check out this this essay, and this Wikipedia page.

In a final note, a press release announces that Claudine Michel, chair and professor of black studies at UC Santa Barbara and director of the campus’s Center for Black Studies Research, has received the Haitian Studies Association Service Award.

“The award recognizes Michel’s commitment to the advancement of Haitian studies, particularly as editor of the association’s official publication, The Journal of Haitian Studies. The award was presented earlier this month at the organization’s annual meeting in Port Au Prince. The Haitian Studies Association is an international education organization that promotes research on Haiti. More specifically, the association is dedicated to encouraging new scholarship and modes of pedagogy about Haiti’s history and culture. The association also disseminates knowledge about Haiti in general and celebrates the scholarly achievements and contributions of those whose research interests focus on Haiti and its people.”

Michel is co-editor of “Haitian Vodou: Spirit, Myth, And Reality”
and “Vodou in Haitian Life and Culture: Invisible Powers”, and author of the forthcoming book “Offerings: Contintuity and Transformation in Haitian Vodou”. Congratulations to Claudine Michel!

The Jakarta Post interviews Dutch poet, and convert to Haitian Voodoo, Maria van Daalen. In Indonesia for the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, van Daalen discusses her conversion experience, living as a poet, and her definition of a spiritual life.

Maria van Daalen

Maria van Daalen is currently planning to publish a “grand essay” on Haitian Voodoo (she claims to have been initiated into the rank of Mambo Asogwe), to be published sometime in 2009. She also maintains a blog at her web site (a rough translation). Maria van Daalen’s life provides an interesting look into how the African diasporic religions are gaining interest and converts in “secular” Europe.

If one looks at the practice of Haitian Vodou, you can’t separate the political unrest and desperate poverty from the ancestral faith of the island. So it is in this light that we must consider the news that a coalition of houngans (priests) have named Max Beauvoir the “supreme master” of Haitian Vodou.

Max Beauvoir, the public face of Haitian Vodou.

Beauvoir, who is the head of Le Peristyle de Mariani and the Temple of Yehwe, should most likely not be considered Vodou’s “Pope”, as the New York Times headline names him. Instead, his title of “supreme chief” is probably closer to a mix of “first among equals” and ambassador. Beauvoir says the position was created out of a sense of desperation among voodooists in Haiti over issues of political unrest and the religion’s survival.

“My position as supreme chief in voodoo was born out of a controversy,” Mr. Beauvoir said, saying Haiti’s elite had marginalized the houngans who generations ago wielded significant influence in society. “Today, voodooists are at the bottom of society. They are virtually all illiterate. They are poor. They are hungry. You have people who are eating mud, and I don’t mean that as a figure of speech.” … As it is now, he said, the government seeks the input of Catholic and Protestant leaders when grappling with societal issues. “But do they call for the input of the voodooists?” he asked, shaking his head.”

In addition to downward mobility, and dealing with rampant poverty and social unrest, Vodou practitioners in Haiti also have to deal with vilification from Christian missionaries who brand them devil worshipers and work tirelessly to convert the population. A “perfect storm” of troubles that resulted in this new position of authority. In Beauvoir’s view, Haitian Vodou needs to play a central role in the revitalization of Haiti, instead of trying to adopt Western values and traditions.

“They have been seduced by Western attitudes,” he said of current leaders. “They believe foreigners think that way so they have to think that way. They fear that if they don’t oppose voodoo, they won’t get a dime in their bowl.”

However, while Beauvoir may have noble goals, his own political dealings are somewhat controversial. He has been linked with Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” Duvalier, the last dictator of Haiti, who fled the country in 1986. In addition, Beauvoir has nothing but scorn for ousted president Jean-Bertrand Aristide, and sees the current crop of Haitian political leaders as sell-outs to Western power. But then, perhaps these views can be understood within the prism of Haitian Vodou, which enjoyed political and social power under the Duvaliers, and faced violent reprisals from Catholic and Protestant mobs in the chaos the followed their ouster.

What is certain, is that Haitian Vodou, like its homeland, is in grave peril and teeters on the edge of a complete violent collapse. This move by some Voodooists to centralize and actively advocate for their survival seems a logical move for a faith that feels backed into a corner. It should be interesting to see what Max Beauvoir, as newly dubbed supreme chief, will accomplish in this new role, and if the station will outlive Beauvoir to be passed on to another houngan. Whatever the ultimate outcome, this is certainly a important development in the history of a little-understood faith.