Springfield, Ohio — Paschhur Castelly and his wife had honeymooned in Florida but were looking for a quiet place to settle when friends told him about Springfield. He headed to town — about 45 miles west of Columbus in the American Midwest — and got a job at a warehouse in 2020. Hanging with other Haitians at work, he realized they were all missing one thing he really loves: Haitian food.
In 2023, Castelly purchased and renovated a small building, a former church, into a multi-service shop. La Bendita Food Market offers fresh and packaged foods. Among items for sale are Haitian staples such as diri, epis and djondjon.
On Saturday Sept. 14, after the town received the first six of nearly three dozen bomb threats, Haitians streamed into La Bandita at a constant clip. A few walked from houses nearby, others parked on the side to quickly come in. Many came to send money transfers to families back in Haiti or Latin American countries. Some headed into the aisles displaying chodyè, specialty cooking pots, dried cassava and other Haitian products Castelly ordered from the Miami, Fla. area.
To Castelly, his experience with Springfield has been like “a game of ping pong.”
“You give to me and I give to you,” he said.
Castelly’s story of hard work, economic success and shared community beats at the heart of this typically tranquil town. Outside of their contributions to the overall economy and before the neo-Nazis marched into town, Haitians around Springfield have been busy building small businesses to meet each other’s needs; forming civic and service organizations like the Haitian Community Help and Support Center; opening churches and eateries; and attending home ownership workshops to take the next step in settling there.
How much revenue these activities will generate for this city of 60,000 and growing is not yet known. But, even as a diamond in the rough, Springfield speaks to key issues in this election, highlighting the symbiotic role of immigration and the U.S. economy.
“This racist rhetoric around Haitian immigrants in Springfield perfectly illustrates what sociologists call a ‘disconnect’ around immigration,” said Reanne Frank, an Ohio State University professor specializing in immigration and migration.
Many Americans, Frank said, carry a narrative that does not accurately reflect neither how immigration works nor the true political economy associated with migration. Some of those incorrect impressions are that poor immigrants coming from poor countries fuel America’s built-in demand for low-wage labor. Others believe that the U.S.-born cannot or will not fill certain jobs because wages are so low.
The reality, instead, is the U.S. is experiencing lower fertility rates and people are moving toward the coasts. The Midwest needs more workers, scholars have found. Some people think it’s a zero-sum game. If immigrants do well, then others are left behind — a sentiment Frank rejects because data proves otherwise. Compared to the high immigration that began back in the early 1800s, immigrant jobs are now geographically dispersed. Many immigrants are highly skilled and social media plays a great part in quickly mobilizing networks of people.
Still, some U.S. political leaders prefer that the electorate not see immigration in a positive light. And many city officials — whether caught off-guard by the influx or believing the negative connotations — have focused more on the budgetary strain of providing services than on the positive contributions. In a recent Fox News report, for example, Springfield Mayor Rob Rue and city manager Bryan Heck called for federal funding to deal with the false narrative that the federal government is sending Haitian migrants to their city.
“Immigration is a very powerful force of social change in the world today,” Frank said. “It can be managed well and it can be mutually beneficial for newcomers and countries. I’m really hoping that history will be our guide and will repeat itself. And [immigration] will be successful.”
Haitian community carries on, with neighbors’ support While that controversy rages, Haitians are settling in — buying cars, properties or starting businesses. Their drive and achievements in a relatively short time, according to some Haitians, also fueled resentment.
Since 2023, Haitians had begun organizing themselves to support those among them in need. That’s why the Haitian Community Help and Support Center incorporated as a non-profit to provide services late last year. The center, incidentally, shares a building space with Première Eglise Evangélique Haitienne de Springfield (PEEHSO). The church recently purchased the property, which doubles as an event space where a mom threw her daughter a 15th birthday party even in the midst of the bomb threats.
New residents like Castelly began moving forward with plans to create cultural spaces, like the store opened about eight months ago. M.B., a food processing plant worker who asked that her name not be used out of security fears, got used to supporting two households— herself in Springfield and the children and husband in Haiti she left behind in 2021.
On Sept. 15, she was at the Adasa Latin Market at the Southgate Shopping Center, where she spent $144.74 on groceries. As she wheeled out her shopping cart, she examined her receipt, check it against the price marked in a bag of lalo, a staple greens in her native Artibonite region of Haiti. Having decided to ignore the racist claims, she said that her main concern was still the cost of living.
“Things are really hard,” said M.B., a TPS holder. “It’s their country, so they can say whatever they want. You accept the pain like it was sweet since you’re not in your country.”
Next door to Adasa, white and Black residents streamed into Rose Goute, a Haitian restaurant, to show solidarity. Neighbors also began standing with the Haitian community as the nativist tropes began to emerge this year.
Since mid-July, some area residents have gathered every two weeks for a free education series called “Community Conversations: Building and Strengthening Civic Friendships” at the Springfield Museum. The local NAACP chapter began inviting Haitians to report any and all attacks on them.
On the Sunday after the threats, Carl Ruby, pastor of the Central Christian Church, reminded parishioners to act in solidarity— using the Civil Rights Movement to make his point.
“The real obstacle for Dr. [Martin Luther] King was not the hate groups, but people of faith who stood on the sidelines instead of standing with their Black brothers,” said Ruby, who is white.
Ruby and other pastors in the area printed 15,000 cards in Creole and English for congregants to pass out to Haitians, welcoming them to their city.
At the warehouse he works, Castelly’s colleagues have taken time to “teach us the [American] dream.”
He says he has replied in kind, teaching one or more of the languages he knows, the Haitians strong work ethic and patience.
Both Americans and Haitian must work together, to understand one another. “We have to meet; we have to trust,” he said.
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