A senator's petition becomes the law that frees a wife's wages

Under Haitian law a woman married by the state became her husband's legal minor. Money she earned belonged to him. Senator Denis St. Aude put a petition before the national legislature in 1936 asking that married women control their own wages, and the Ligue Feminine d'Action Sociale carried the fight for the next eight years under his name. Members called it the St. Aude Project. Alice Garoute of the League described the married woman's financial position in the one vocabulary the country could not brush aside: unpaid labour, the condition of the enslaved, indentured servitude. A League committee report said the project came to liberate. The choice of verb was deliberate in a republic that had abolished slavery by war and then written a marriage law that kept its central term. The bill became law in 1944, eight years after a senator first read it out.

Nation and nationalism sit awkwardly on postwar Africa. Territories had to turn themselves into nation-states out of administrative units in a very short time, and in some cases the work is still unfinished. Movements that called themselves nationalist were frequently defending a region or a group, as concerned with who would hold the territory after the Europeans left as with getting them out. Searching for a shared consciousness inside colonial boundaries usually misleads, because those boundaries were drawn for European convenience and carried no ethnic, linguistic or historical logic. In practice nationalism in Africa often meant sharper competition between ethnic, religious, regional and economic groups, some of those rivalries manufactured by colonial rule and some far older. Polities that had been dominant in the nineteenth century pursued their own aims inside the anti-colonial struggle and sometimes sought to leave it. The task facing postwar leaders was to gather political associations, trade unions, militant Christianity and Islam, negritude and pan-Africanism into something that could force a departure and then govern.

For the September 1936 number of La Voix des Femmes, Jeanne Perez chose a map for the cover, and the direction it pointed was north. The issue took readers on the trip many Haitians make once: a hundred and twenty miles from Port-au-Prince to Cap-Haitien, the old capital, then several miles south to the village of Milot, then up the Bonnet a l'Eveque, a mountain of three thousand feet, to the fortress called the Citadelle Laferriere. Henry Christophe built it after independence against a French return that never came, and it is among the largest fortresses in the Americas. A feminist monthly was turning itself into a route. The league had been arguing since 1935 that women belonged inside the revolutionary story of the country. Printing a map and walking the readership up to Christophe's walls was a way of saying that the inheritance was theirs to hand out, and that they had decided who was going.

Comhaire-Sylvain published while her fieldwork was still running. The first piece to appear, Vocabulaire des croyances paysannes, listed the words rural Haitians used for the things they believed in. She laid it out in columns like a dictionary, setting each Haitian Kreyol term beside a word from Dahomey with a similar sound and a similar sense. Dahomey, in what is now Benin, was one of the coasts that supplied Saint-Domingue with captives through the eighteenth century, and the vocabulary had crossed with the people. Printing the comparison in parallel columns made the claim difficult to argue with, since a reader could run a finger down the page and see the correspondence for herself. The venue mattered as much as the method. This did not appear in a learned journal. It appeared in a feminist newspaper, in front of the women of the capital, at a moment when the capital was still being taught that its Kreyol was a corruption of French.