A magistrate calls the freed cultivators of Dominica peasants

William Lynch was the stipendiary magistrate for four parishes in the south of Dominica, a district where most of the freed people had walked off the estates hoping to establish holdings of their own. Reporting on 8 September 1838 about conditions in the first month after abolition, he wrote that no master or employer had ever imagined a labouring population becoming independent of them, and that the peasant was now nearly so. It appears to be the oldest official use of the word peasant for Dominican cultivators. Lynch was one of the free coloured men in the colonial service, generally more sympathetic to the freed people than the planters were. His dispatches travelled up through the lieutenant governor to the Colonial Office, where permanent clerks read them. Those men had read Say, Sismondi and Mill and knew exactly what the word carried. They did not want an independent peasantry in the Caribbean. For decades afterwards the laws and assembly records of Dominica avoided the term, preferring former apprentices and then labourers.

Jean-Pierre Boyer governed Haiti from 1818 to 1843 and reunified the whole island under his presidency in 1820. Contemporaries and later historians called his rule obscurantist, since it opposed the instruction of the mass of the population, and also military, autocratic and racially exclusive. Black officials were pushed out of administrative work and out of power. Schooling stayed with the light-skinned families of the elite. Under him the mainly mulatto fraction of the old free population consolidated itself as the ruling group and as the local relay of foreign commerce, taking hold of the port trade, specialising in ground rent and urban property, and leaving agriculture to blacks of every class. When the crisis came the sides failed to line up by colour. Against Boyer stood mulatto liberals speaking for landowners and merchants, black domaniers attacking mulatto hegemony as such, northern separatists, old followers of Christophe, and disappointed Boyerists inside the civil service.

Perry shows the analogy between aboriginal and African enslavement acquiring legal force. Both Alexandre Pétion's 1816 constitution and the post-Boyer constitution of 1843 allowed the immigration and naturalisation of individuals of either African or Indian descent. In this vision, she argues, Afro-diasporic Haitians and the descendants of the Taino could be indigenous at the same time, because the label above all designates a relation to Europeans as usurpers, a position that ought normatively to produce anticolonial alliance. She sets this beside Dessalines's address to the people after a failed expedition against French troops in the Spanish half of Hispaniola, in which he presumed that the indigènes espagnols, descendants of the Indians destroyed by the first usurpers of the island, would seize the chance to sacrifice to the spirits of their ancestors. That expectation was disappointed.

Marie Laveau was born in New Orleans, probably in 1801, a free woman of colour and a Catholic. In 1819 she married Jacques Paris, a free man of colour born in Saint Domingue, at St Louis Cathedral. The marriage lasted only a few years, and through it she most likely formed her understanding of what Vodou could do as political resistance. She attended mass daily at the same cathedral, whose congregation was largely made up of free women of colour and was among the most integrated places in the world at the time. She reigned as Vodou queen of the city from 1850 to 1869, running a spiritual house on the Haitian model from St Ann Street. She nursed people through yellow fever epidemics, worked with prisoners under sentence of death, distributed gris gris, and held ceremonies at Lake Pontchartrain that only initiates attended. Her reach crossed lines of race, class, colour and religion that almost nobody else crossed.