Will we Let this Movement Die?
An Ode to Creole Hip-Hop
By: Sulaah Bien-Aime
Kafou, Inc.

Written in December 2007. Sent to be published on December 23, 2007 . Not sure what happened after that. All I know is that I found it today and decided to publish it. Perhaps, this is my closure. A Lot of people would like to forget my involvement in the Creole Hip Hop movement and while working on the Rage issue, the movement that I had given all of my best years has been coming up. I will never return to this movement. For those of you, who were riding for me in this movement. This was written right before I exited. I thought I would share it with you on this day September 8, 2024 and to say thank you for seeing the vision with me. You know who you are…

I’m in the zone (not the zone some of you are familiar with), that analytical frame of mind that I get into where the thoughts rush slowly as potent as lava about to erupt from a volcano. It’s been five years since I’ve immersed myself in this Creole Hip-Hop movement, and like a drug, it had me addicted to it. I couldn’t get enough. The drive and passion I saw in the eyes of many of the Creole Hip-Hop rappers propelled me to help create an avenue for growth, a domino effect of sorts that would allow others to acknowledge this movement that is so important yet viable to the essence of the Haitian youths who is part of the Caribbean/International Hip-Hop population.

I see a breakdown and a lack of motivation in many. I wonder if the money is not coming fast enough or because the industry is slow to acknowledge the Creole Hip-Hop movement. Whatever the reason, I’ve always believed that anything you fight for will always reap the rewards. I also think that before anyone acknowledges you, your presence, and what you stand for, you must be willing to fight for it. I also think about the Haitian Revolution and how the enslaved people fought for their freedom. Since we come from spirited ancestors, as a whole, whether we are from Haiti, America, or Europe, as long as you have that Haitian blood flowing through your veins, you can make miracles happen. I don’t know anymore. I know we have many people, particularly those I will now call. “The Woman and Men of the Movement,” who have sacrificed so much in the movement’s name for each artist, whether known, unknown, or up and coming.

The fight is not for an individual artist but for everyone. And I wonder, does someone have to die so everybody can get back on the same page again? Are we going to stand there and let the naysayers say, “I told you so; this Creole Hip-Hop movement is not going anywhere?” I want to believe that will not be so, but at this very moment, this is how I’m feeling. As I sit in my colorful apartment in Brooklyn, listening to my neighbor rock some reggae rockers upstairs, I think of this melancholy. I feel tired, and so many other emotions run through my mind, body, and soul that I must get on the computer and purge myself against the black and white. I see so many things; I know the future, and I see the past. The past brings on so much joy; the present seems like I’m balancing on a seesaw, wondering on which end I will end up falling. I want to believe all the hard work that I’ve put in, the work that the woman and the men of the movement will not go to waste.

I see so much. I see us losing ourselves. I know the togetherness is slowly fading, yet there is hope because the unity is still there. What I want to see again is that drive, that motivation that I saw four years ago from our most talented. I want to know that we can overcome the everyday life issues that we encounter daily, whether it is financial, emotional, or personal demons. We can rise above it all and fight for what we believe in, and that is the CREOLE HIP-HOP movement, which means so much more than music. It means love, it means passion, and it means sacrifice. One person stands for all, and all stand for one. How can I convey what I see, how can I relate to the talent that is around me, what I see for the future, how can I fight for something when the very cause that you’re fighting for doesn’t even seem worth it anymore? Should I be writing this article, or should I be posting it on Kafou, Inc.? Some might say no, never let your dirty laundry out. But sometimes, the dirty laundry has to be let out so people can look beyond themselves and their self-centered ways and realize this movement is not about one person but a group that can make it happen.

All I ask for those reading this article is if you don’t have a dream or a purpose in this life, then you are nobody. Everyone is here for a reason, and for whatever reason, we all came together for a purpose that is more significant than me, you and Kafou, Inc. In 1804, the enslaved people had their revolution; in 2007, soon to be 2008, we have ours. So I ask you this: will you let this movement die, or does someone have to die for it before you get back on your feet and recognize the gift that all of you have, and that is being Haitian or of Haitian descent with a robust historical background that communicated through music can move mountains. So, will you let this movement die, or will you stand and fight? Obstacles come and go, but jumping through the barriers and overcoming them will build your strength. Don’t worry about the industry.
The industry’s acknowledgment will come. However, YOU have to believe in yourself first and when you do all the pieces will fit like pieces to a puzzle. Opportunity doesn’t come knocking at the door. You have to go after the opportunity and knock on their door and fight for what you’re worth!