































 
 
 

 
10 

The Caribbean Diaspora and the Formation 
of Identity in Second Generation Immigrants 

*** 

Leonicka Valcius is an undergraduate student at the University of 
Toronto, studying Caribbean Studies and European Studies. Her areas 

of focus include migration and the social ramifications of economic 
development. Leonicka was born in Montreal and raised in South 

Florida. Her family immigrated to Canada from Haiti in the 1970’s, 
and they have since spread all over North America and the Caribbean. 
Leonicka has familial ties to Montreal, Toronto, New Jersey, New York, 
Boston, Florida, the Bahamas, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, and, of 

course, Haiti chérie. 
 

*** 

Introduction 
 
 In the summer of 2008, I was fixated by the idea of 
homelessness. I did not mean the lack of shelter or a place to sleep; 
those could be provided by a house. I was more concerned with home 
as a community. Home in my conception was a place where I would 
belong and recognize myself in others. And that summer, I felt 
homeless.  
 I knew nothing of this “Canada” to which my parents were 
dragging me. Yes, my birth certificate and passport confirmed that I 
was indeed Canadian but I had no idea what that meant in a social or 
cultural context. How different were those Canucks, really? So 
complete was my ignorance of everything north of the 49th

 I would joke to my friends (and still do at times) that I was 
being exiled to an arctic tundra. Yet, if I were honest with myself, I 

 parallel that 
I felt the need to do research. I made CBC.ca my homepage and would 
browse the articles in an attempt to glean information. Even so, ‘those 
Canadians’ felt completely foreign to me. 



CARIBBEAN QUILT | 2011 
 

 
11 

would recognize that the United States was not ‘home’ either. My 
political voice was stifled because I was not a citizen. I was denied 
financial aid by top universities because I was “technically” an 
international student. The very reason for leaving was that the visas that 
granted us permission to stay in the country had expired. Despite the 
eleven years I lived in Florida, it was made clear that I did not belong.  
 This left me with Haiti. My ties with the country run deeper than 
legal documents can express. As the birthplace of my parents, Haiti still 
holds the nebulous position of native land. I say “nebulous” because the 
entire construct rested on a romanticized vision of a country and a 
people I had never visited. I know of Haiti only through the food my 
mother cooks, the music my father plays, the blagues my aunts and 
uncles tell, and the memories my grandmother keeps. But is that 
enough? Can I really construct an identity around hearsay? How can I 
attribute my sense of self to anything other than my lived experiences?  
 It is with these deeply personal questions in mind that I 
approached this paper. With the help of research I attempted to discover 
my place in the context of the Caribbean diaspora. 

 

 The pattern of leaving the islands for Europe and North America 
was not uncommon. People with whom my father grew up scattered to 
the big cities of London, Paris, Boston, New York, Miami, and 
Montreal. Leaving Haiti was an achievement. At a gala hosted by Dr. 
Eric Pierre, the Honorary Consul General of Haiti, I met a man who 
described his reasons for leaving Haiti. He’d made the decision at about 
fifteen years old and knew that once he left he’d never go back. “I had 
dreams and goals,” he explained in French, “and I didn’t feel I could 

Uprooted 
 
 “Diaspora” was not an unfamiliar word to me growing up. My 
parents used it all the time to describe what we were. They could have 
used “moun pays étrangé” as those still in Haiti called us, but diaspora 
was a nicer way to say it. Both meant that we had left our home to live 
in a foreign land. Despite my Canadian birth, I too was part of this 
“we.” “We’re not like them,” my mother would say. “They don’t like 
us.”  



Leonicka Valcius – THE CARIBBEAN DIASPORA & THE FORMATION OF IDENTITY IN 
SECOND GENERATION IMMIGRANTS 

 
12 

achieve them in Haiti.” Though he quickly reminded me that he can 
only speak for himself and that he was probably an exception, his 
motives are substantiated by the research. It is often the economic 
constraints of the Caribbean that drive people to emigrate. Migration 
becomes “their sole source of economic and social mobility,” (Henry 
1994, 31) with Europe and North America providing opportunities in 
work and education that were not available in the Caribbean.  
 The difficulty for a second generation immigrant comes when 
trying to discover the culture his or her parents left behind without the 
context. Even a seemingly mono-ethnic country like Haiti (Gowricharn 
2006, 11) has vast amounts of diversity. This holds for the Caribbean as 
a whole. Reis contends that “the region is actually composed of a 
plethora of diasporas,” making Caribbean immigrants living in the West 
“twice diasporised” - first from Africa (and other regions) to the islands 
of the Caribbean and then from the Caribbean to Europe and North 
America (Reis 2006, 46-47). Following that line of thinking, I would 
argue that second generation immigrants are twice displaced – twice 
uprooted.  

What we now call the Caribbean is inhabited by the descendents 
of enslaved peoples from various regions of Africa, indentured servants 
from across South Asia, and in the case of Haiti, the last remaining 
Taino people which European colonizers have not managed to 
exterminate. From this historical plurality was the present Caribbean 
culture formed; melded from different global experiences to form a new 
and unique whole. Similarly, it can be deduced that a second generation 
immigrant will form a new culture – a new identity – from the various 
cultures that he or she encounters and experiences. James discusses this 
duality in his study of Trinidadian immigrant dubbed Mark: 

 
…[for] Mark, as a diasporic Canadian, and especially as a generation-

and-a-half [immigrated to Canada between ages of eight and twelve] Caribbean 
Canadian, home necessarily involves a combination of his ‘two worlds’: Trinidad 
and Canada… The ‘twoness,’ or duality is represented in his perception of 
Trinidad as his birthplace, or ‘roots,’ a place that provided the foundational values 
upon which he has built his life and aspirations, and a place of belonging and 
cultural reference; and Canada as his place of residence, a place he ‘likes,’ that 



CARIBBEAN QUILT | 2011 
 

 
13 

‘has been great’ to him, and that has provided and continues to provide the 
opportunities on which he can base his future. (James 2005, 247) 

In my case however, how much of that new identity will be 
drawn from the Eurocentric culture in which I am immersed? What 
parts of my lived experiences confirm me to be “definitely Haitian”? 

 

 For the other six days of the week, second generation 
immigrants must still find a way to remain connected to their heritage 
and community.  Many do this by way of culture based associations. As 
Olwig put it “…their most intensive exposure to Caribbean culture 
[occurred] when they attended their university, because it had a large 
number of students from the Caribbean who organized a Caribbean 
club” (Olwig 2004, 59). I can relate. In my first year at university (in 
Florida) I had attended several events hosted by the Haitian club on 
campus. Now in my third year at the University of Toronto, I have 

Haitian by Association 
 
 The company one keeps can provide insight into that person’s 
perception of self. It is logical then to look at the strength and structure 
of Caribbean communities and kinship groups as a marker of ties to the 
“native land.” 
 In my experience, church has been the primary place of 
gathering for Haitians abroad. In our first year in the Greater Toronto 
Area, my family did not meet even one other Haitian. That is until we 
went to church. My brother’s first reaction to the congregation of thirty 
or so people who ‘looked like us’ was, “Where have my Haitians been 
hiding this whole time?” A Haitian church is often more like a 
community center than a place of worship. Immigrants who face their 
own struggles during the week are given a support group with whom 
they can share their frustrations and nostalgic stories of home. Henry 
also points out the church’s instrumental role in social support and 
adaptation. Newly arrived immigrants can turn to the church for help, 
finding living accommodations and employment. The church also acts 
as a refuge for immigrants who arrive without documentation (Henry 
1994, 240-41). In my experience, some immigrants establish contacts 
with the church before leaving Haiti so as to have a support system as 
soon as they arrive.  



Leonicka Valcius – THE CARIBBEAN DIASPORA & THE FORMATION OF IDENTITY IN 
SECOND GENERATION IMMIGRANTS 

 
14 

become active in the Caribbean Studies Students’ Union and found a 
sense of solidarity and belonging there. I find it interesting that without 
these associations, I do relatively little to foster my Haitian heritage. 
This relates not only to the aforementioned duality, but also to a type of 
compartmentalization of the self in which I separate “Leonicka, the 
Canadian” from “Leonicka, the Haitian” and pick my persona 
depending on the context. Henry describes a similar situation in the 
narration of “Lara’s” relationship with a Portuguese boyfriend: 
 

Things that I liked doing that were from my cultural self I simply 
excluded him from it. We would go to cafés and [places] that were more 
westernized, but when I just wanted to get back into my own cultural origin – 
roots – I just basically never included him in it. (Henry 1994, 94)  

  
I would argue that the reverse is also true. There are sectors of 

my life that my Haitian family (my parents primarily but also some 
cousins) would perceive as ‘acting white’, or, more broadly, as ‘acting 
like them’ (them being any non-Haitian).  Rather than try to explain this 
part of myself to them, I simply exclude them. It is no wonder then, that 
second generation immigrants “experienced more difficulty defining a 
singular source of identity” (Olwig 2004, 62). How can you be sure of 
your identity if you rarely have the opportunity to be completely you? 
 

 The artistic expressions of culture are the most visible and 
obvious ways of transmitting and preserving heritage. Music, dress, and 
the oral tradition all constitute the most tangible response to the 
question of Caribbean culture. This is exemplified in Toronto’s annual 
Caribana. Millions flock to Toronto to participate in a weekend of 
activities highlighting the Caribbean, culminating in a parade graciously 
sponsored by Scotia Bank. Though Reis asserts that this “…has helped 
the diaspora maintain that level of connectivity with the homeland 
through the diffusion of cultural images” (Reis 2006, 49) I would say 
that the very fact that celebrations of Caribbean culture have become 
mainstreamed and commercialized undermines that project of passing 
on cultural values to second generation immigrants. The music, 

CompasCreole and Other Cultural Staples 
 



CARIBBEAN QUILT | 2011 
 

 
15 

costumes, and overall ambience of the event are a crude and hollow 
simulation of Caribbean carnivals and tradition, constructed as a means 
of reaping the economic benefits of increased tourism and to bolster the 
idea of Canada as a multicultural and accepting society.  
 To be authentic, culture must be perpetuated in the home. 
Weekends were always festive. I remember my brothers and I laughing 
at the misadventure of Bouki and Malice.  My extended aunts and 
uncles would gather at my grandmother’s house, eat frittai (various 
fried snacks including pork, plantains, and breadfruit), blast music in 
the backyard, and laugh and clap as my cousins and I learned to 
brassérien – what Anglophone Caribbeans would call ‘wining.’ These 
experiences are similar to those of other Caribbean peoples: 
 

These parties were intimate in the sense that people were linked to each 
other through ties of friendship, family, and work…Carol recalls that…one of her 
aunts held ‘wining lessons for the rapidly Canadianized and stiffening pelvises of 
young Caibbean immigrants and Canadian-born generation… (Henry 1994, 171) 

 
It seems that older family members do recognize the need to re-

infuse traditions and cultural practices into the habits of the younger 
generation. However when families are forced to separate as mine was, 
the extended family structure is weakened or dissolved, leaving the 
young immigrant with few cultural cues. 
 

I feel it is more appropriate perhaps to say I am neither. My 
identity is quite distinct from a Haitian living in Haiti or even a Haitian 
who has immigrated to another part of the world (France for example). 

Neither or Both? 
 

My academically induced search for self raised many more 
questions than it answered. Identity, it seems, has very little to do with 
locale. I am very much a product of my experiences and surroundings. 
This includes the Canadian and American norms and ideas to which I 
have grown accustomed, and the Haitian tradition and culture to which I 
can trace my heritage. Do I have to choose one over the other? Am I 
both Canadian and Haitian? It is not a stretch to see myself washing 
down a paté with a cup of Tim Horton’s.  



Leonicka Valcius – THE CARIBBEAN DIASPORA & THE FORMATION OF IDENTITY IN 
SECOND GENERATION IMMIGRANTS 

 
16 

Gmelch rightly noted, in reference to immigrants who returned to their 
native Barbados to live, that “migrants often do not realize how much 
their attitudes have been altered by their experiences in the metropolitan 
society until they come home” (Gmelch 2004, 216).  I am also distinct 
from the mainstream Canadian in that I am “doubly removed from 
becoming a Canadian. Thus [I am] not only born to parents who come 
from elsewhere, but...also non-white…This means that [I] can only 
become part Canadian, whether or not [I] want to have a hyphenated 
identity” (Olwig 2004, 60). Like the African, South Asian, and Taino 
people before me, I am in a position where, through no fault of my own, 
I was removed from what would have been my home. And like them I 
must meld different parts of my experiences to form a new whole. So 
far, I think I have managed to create a cohesive home that is not 
determined by where I am, but on who I choose to be. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



CARIBBEAN QUILT | 2011 
 

 
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Bibliography 
 
Gmelch, George. "West Indian Migrants and Their Rediscovery of 
Barbados." In Coming Home? Refugees, Migrants, and Those Who 
Stayed Behind, edited by Lynellyn D. Long and Ellen Oxfeld, 206-223. 
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004. 
 
Henry, Frances. The Caribbean Diaspora in Toronto: Learning to Live 
with Racism. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994. 
 
James, Carl E. "'I Feel Like a Trini': Narrative of a Generation-and-a-
Half Canadian." Chap. 9 in Diaspora, Memory, and Identity: A Search 
for Home, edited by Vijay Agnew, 230-253. Toronto: University of 
Toronto Press, 2005. 
 
Olwig, Karen Fog. "Place, movement, and identity: processes of 
inclusion and exclusion in a 'Caribbean' family." Chap. 3 in Diaspora, 
Identity, and Religion; New directions in theory and research, edited by 
WaltraudKokot, KhachigTölölyan and Carolin Alfonso, 53-71. London: 
Routledge, 2004. 
 
Reis, Michele. "The Modern to Late-Modern Period in the Caribbean 
Diaspora." Chap. 3 in Caribbean Transnationalism: Migration, 
Pluralization, and Social Cohesion, edited by Ruben Gowricharn, 43-
58. New York: Lexington Books, 2006. 
 
 
 


