Edwidge Dandicat is a survivor. She survived the destruction of her homeland. She survived a childhood separated from her parents. She survived the death of both of her fathers. She survived heinous injustices committed to her family. In her commanding and compassionate memoir, Brother, I’m Dying she survives to tell her story—the story her family is not able to tell.  

Edwidge has two fathers: her father, Mira, and her uncle, Joseph. Her parents immigrated to the United States from Haiti when she was two years old. They left Edwidge and her brother under the watchful eye of her aunt and uncle. They raised Edwidge and her brother as their own. Joseph was a brilliant man—a preacher, educator, activist, and survivor of throat cancer. Cancer stole his voice, but not his spirit. He led sermons with the aid of a mechanical voice box. Ten years later, Edwidge and her brother were finally granted visas to immigrate to the United States. They were swept into American society and into the warmth and comfort of their family (now consisting of two new baby brothers).

Edwidge brimmed with conflicting emotions. She was devastated to leave her family in Haiti (the only home she knew). Yet, she felt whole—she was with her mother and father. The spot she held in her heart for her other papa, Joseph, ached. She traveled back to Haiti as often as she could. Her home was deteriorating. Her loved ones were dying. Back in Brooklyn, her father was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis. His outlook was grim. Her loved ones were separated. Her father and her uncle were suffering—miles and memories apart.          

The struggle between UN Peacekeeping Forces and Haitian rebels was climaxing. In 2004, Joseph fled Haiti. Haitian gangs were after his blood—he had no option. He arrived on U.S. soil with a valid tourist visa. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security refused to allow him into the country. (Haitians are not treated like other immigrants. They are routinely imprisoned, then deported. Dandicat suggests that if her uncle was Cuban, he would have been greeted into the United States with open arms.) His health was ailing. Joseph was eighty-one years old. He had a weak heart and dangerously high blood pressure. He was taken into custody and his medicines were revoked. During his asylum questioning, he convulsed into seizures and vomited. The medical team thought he was faking. Vomit spewed out of his mouth, nose, and stoma. He died the following day—in INS custody, in shackles.