By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
The April 14 party to launch Alix Desulme's campaign for a seat on the North Miami City Council had a small-town, familiar feeling, not unlike most political events in this municipality of almost 60,000. Desulme's kickoff, just three weeks before the May 8 election, took place at the Jaycees headquarters on West Dixie Highway. An ambitious 23-year-old from a politically active family in Haiti, Desulme is vice president of the North Miami Jaycees and is involved in numerous other civic and political organizations.
Among those who turned out for the event were state Rep. Frederica Wilson and many political and community activists, the majority of them Haitian American. Desulme (pronounced dez-ool-may) made a short speech in English, which was repeated in Kreyol by campaign strategist Lucie Tondreau. Several other political candidates were introduced, and then a DJ started up some danceable konpa tunes. Someone sliced hunks from a large, slightly lopsided cake and passed around plates, while North Miami City Councilman Scott Galvin, behind the clubhouse bar, poured soft drinks and wine.
A young woman wearing a skirt and ruffled jacket walked in, straight into the open arms of North Miami mayoral candidate Joe Celestin, who exuberantly whisked her into a dance. The 44-year-old Celestin was almost elected the town's first Haitian-American mayor in 1999; many observers believe he stands a better chance this time, his fourth try for political office. (He previously has run for state representative and state senator.)
Celestin's opponent also was there at Desulme's party -- mailman Arthur "Duke" Sorey, who apologized for his informal dress, jeans and a "Duke for Mayor" T-shirt, by explaining he'd just come from a full Saturday of door-to-door campaigning. Sorey, a 23-year North Miami resident, is African American, but he knows he can't win without at least a portion of North Miami's large and growing Haitian voting bloc. Two years ago he lost his city council seat to the first Haitian American ever elected to any North Miami office. The contest was bitter and divisive, and a deep resentment remains between two ethnic groups that, in most demographic data, are classified as "Black Non-Hispanic" yet are different by nearly every other standard.
An hour into Desulme's party, Sorey was dancing to the undulating beat along with everyone else, and it seemed possible the 2001 elections in North Miami just might avoid the wrenching, racially charged ugliness of two years ago. After all, Miami-Dade County's fourth-largest municipality has been changing rapidly. The town's entrenched Anglo power structure is dissolving as black non-Hispanics now make up 55 percent of the population, according to the 2000 census. No reliable count has been made of North Miami's Haitian residents, but a widely accepted estimate puts Haitians at about 32 percent of the total population.
Just as the city's elections are nonpartisan, most agree they should also be nonracial. But ever since blacks and Latins began moving into the previously white neighborhoods of North Miami (northward migration from immigrant strongholds, particularly Little Haiti), issues of race and ethnicity have come to underlie most political considerations. Until just a few years ago Haitians, like other immigrant groups whose first concern is for economic stability, were ignored in the political arena. In 1993 the first Haitian American to run for North Miami City Council, Sidney Charles, was defeated. Ossmann Desir became the first Haitian elected to the council two years ago (by defeating Sorey), but many North Miamians weren't ready to accept a Haitian city official. This year it appears most voters expect the inevitable: Haitian political clout more in proportion to their numbers. That would be a big change from the days when men with some money and contacts could claim to speak for a voiceless community.
"Before, any self-appointed person could come up and say, “I'm a leader.' But now those who run for office and win are anointed as leaders," observes Leonie Hermantin, executive director of the Haitian American Foundation. "Now [the Haitian community] has elected officials; now we've stepped up to another level. Now to legitimize your leadership you either have to be on somebody's team so you're known to be in this person's camp, or you run for office."
Adds Desir: "This election might be an historic one. For the first time since 1926 [when North Miami was incorporated] you might have a black majority on the council." Almost certainly the new mayor will be black (a white former mayor entered the race at the last minute but has little chance to win); a black man will definitely win the District 3 seat, where Desulme faces two Haitians and one African American; and Desir already represents District 4. (In 1999 tiny El Portal was the first municipality in the nation to elect a majority Haitian city council, including a Haitian mayor.)
Desulme's District 3 race has been a somewhat emotional experience for the Haitian-American community throughout South Florida. Speculation began immediately after the 1999 election about who would take on long-time conservative Councilwoman Jeanette Carr when her seat came up for grabs two years later. Since Carr's first victory in 1990, District 3 has become heavily Haitian. Carr quietly opted to retire.
One of the first to declare interest in the position, funeral-home owner Fred St. Amand, dropped out early on, possibly the result of a scandal that resulted in the firing of his son, Fred St. Amand, from the North Miami Police Department. Leslie Prudent, a popular high school principal, was long considered a shoo-in should he run, but in late March he decided against it. Almost immediately Desulme, driving-school owner Victor Pierre-Louis, and African-American educator Tyrone Hill filed to run. Then veteran Democratic Party activist Jacques Despinosse, who has run several times unsuccessfully for state and county office, jumped into the ring. This move was not welcomed by many Haitian community leaders, who consider Despinosse an important pioneer but who had already positioned themselves behind Desulme.