Being a shy child, I always longed for a mask. Even in my adult life, I have glasses, they are my mask.

If a woman is worth remembering,' said my grandmother, 'there is no need to have her name carved in letters.

It seemed from the media that we were being told that all Haitians had AIDS. At the time, I had just come from Haiti. I was twelve years old, and the building I was living in had primarily Haitians. A lot of people got fired from their jobs. At school, sometimes in gym class, we'd be separated because teachers were worried about what would happen if we bled. So there was really this intense discrimination.

I think we all wear some kind of mask. There are masks that shield us from others, but there are masks that embolden us, and you see that in carnival. The shiest child puts on a mask and can do anything and be anybody.

The more practice you have, the less stressful writing is.

I think Haiti is a place that suffers so much from neglect that people only want to hear about it when it’s at its extreme. And that’s what they end up knowing about it.

I was able to not fold and go in a corner because I had my writing as therapy, but also as my tool for struggle.