Creating a small business in America as an immigrant from Haiti: When I got the antidote before the poison

There are stories you would never have believed if you had not witnessed them.

The first time I stepped onto the Harvard University campus, I remember being overwhelmed by a mix of disbelief and awe. The historic red-brick buildings towered around me as a gentle breeze rustled the trees, carrying the distant laughter of students between classes. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the journey that had brought me here, from my roots in Haiti to this bastion of academic excellence in America. It was a moment I would never have believed possible ten years ago. If someone had told me then that I would graduate from college in America, I would have laughed it off as a fantasy. Attending Harvard seemed even more improbable. Moreover, the notion of working as a public accountant at PwC, one of the largest global accounting firms, felt like a dream too far-fetched to even consider. Yet, here I was. America had not only become my home but had also saved my life in ways I could never have imagined.

About ten years ago, I came to the United States from Haiti. Less than a month after I arrived, I applied for asylum. While I was patiently waiting for an interview, I decided it was important to do something meaningful. I created ZoominProduction by purchasing a domain name on Bluehost, hoping to continue working as a journalist.

I had heard so much about the American dream that I thought it would be helpful to better understand American idealism by studying in the U.S. The more I listened to political speeches, the more I believed in the American dream. But there is something that no speeches or education can teach you. You can only learn it from real-life experience.

Although I already had several bachelor’s degrees and had been a journalist for more than 10 years, I thought it would be worthwhile to start from the beginning to gain a good grasp of how things are done. After spending a couple of months in several ESL schools, I decided to apply to Bunker Hill Community College in Boston, Massachusetts. I remember one particular afternoon, sitting in the library with a stack of paperwork beside me, trying to navigate the intricacies of transferring credits alongside learning the nuances of the English language. It was during these moments, juggling ESL homework with the bureaucracy of community college, that I felt my determination truly tested. Yet, I was able to focus on my goal, immerse myself in my studies, and ultimately I graduated after only a year.

While I was at the end of my last semester, I was diagnosed with a very rare type of head and neck cancer—stage 4B—with very little chance of surviving. That is when I began to experience America’s greatness and generosity.

Several months after being diagnosed with cancer, I started a very lengthy treatment at Boston Medical Center, which consisted of 35 cycles of radiation, more than 20 chemotherapy sessions, and several surgeries. Thanks to the great professionals at BMC, the treatment was successful. Over several years, Boston Medical Center was my home, and today I am a self-proclaimed BMC ambassador for cancer survivors. Each year, I regularly participate in a large public event for cancer survivors, and I always take the opportunity to share my story and express my gratitude to Boston Medical Center. To America. There is only one place on earth where this miracle could have been possible. It is called the United States.

I was so motivated by American ideals that I decided no single disease, no matter how powerful, could shut down my dream. I took the last two classes during the 2016 summer semester while preparing to transfer to Northeastern University, where I spent less than two years and graduated with a double major in accounting and finance. I would go to chemotherapy in the morning and work as an overnight housekeeper at the Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel in the afternoon. I would do my best to continue practicing my profession as a journalist by writing stories and articles on my website.

I had heard so many stories of successful people who explained that their parents came to America with $25 in their pockets and became rich. I told myself if they could do it, I could do it too—although I came with considerably more than that to afford community college and Northeastern. But what I did not understand, and thank God I did not, is that this American dream is not for everyone, as some politicians would like you to think.

If you listen to someone from the right, the American dream seems reserved for a select few. People like me are often seen as only fitting roles regular U.S. citizens don’t want, and when our ambitions stretch beyond these stereotypes, we’re unwelcome, seen as intruders. Conversely, voices from the left suggest the dream is universal, yet behind this promise, the reality often whispers a different story, where subtle barriers and unspoken biases challenge the notion of unconditional belonging.

Before you think I am trying to diminish the people who do these kinds of jobs, I want to tell you that I have done them all.

I worked as a dishwasher at Boston College while studying at Northeastern. I worked as a housekeeper at the Fairmont Copley Plaza and spent over 7 years as a rideshare driver. The only difference is that I took the American dream a little further than I was supposed to.

I learned this lesson the hard way when I decided to take my online news media to the next level in 2020 by registering ZoomInProduction Corporation, doing business as Caribbean Television Network. These rebranding efforts were driven by the hypothesis that expanding our name beyond the Haitian diaspora would help us reach a broader audience within the Caribbean community and beyond. It was a strategic bet to position ourselves as a more inclusive platform and tap into a diverse market by adopting a name that resonated widely across the Caribbean region. By doing so, we aimed to increase our visibility and influence in areas with significant Caribbean populations.

Right in the middle of the COVID pandemic, I decided to leave my accounting job at PricewaterhouseCoopers to focus on my news media. At first, we were operating as ZoomHaitiNews. I quickly realized that to expand beyond the Haitian diaspora, we would have to change the name and make our business a little more global. That is when we registered a new trade name, Caribbean Television Network. However, we kept our focus primarily on the Haitian community. That is why we registered our business in states and cities with large Haitian communities, such as North Miami Beach, Florida; Boston, Massachusetts; and the state of Indiana, while preparing our legal documents for registration in New York.

With more than 40 employees in nearly a dozen countries, we aimed to innovate the news industry in our community in line with my American dream, which I believed in as I listened to political speeches. Our efforts bore fruit, as evidenced by a significant increase in our audience reach, which grew by 35% last year. Additionally, our engagement rate on digital platforms has improved by 20%, showcasing a deepening connection with our audience. But, like all other important things in the process of realizing the American dream, it is not easy. Nor is it designed for everyone the same way.

For people like me, you will only get it if you decide to go against all the obstacles, which can take many forms and, sadly, sometimes bring blatant acts of racial discrimination.

But not everyone experiences discrimination the same way. If you are a journalist like me, discrimination sometimes takes the form of indifference. You might email a government official over 20 times to request an interview and be ignored every time, even if the issue for which the interview is solicited concerns your community or country of origin—as I experienced with DHS, the White House, several other government agencies, and members of Congress. This repeated experience raises an important question: How can we ensure that minority voices are given equal attention in the corridors of power? What policy changes could address this systemic pattern of unanswered queries, turning personal grievance into a collective opportunity for improvement?

With the White House, if you are polite enough in your first email, you might get an answer saying your request is under consideration, only to be ignored forever. But you can never categorize that as discrimination because the privilege of an interview with the White House or the president of the United States is not reserved for everyone. Even some well-known American journalists might not get it; therefore, it would not be fair to cry discrimination. And the White House would be quick to brag about its record as a very diverse place, even though discrimination goes beyond workforce diversity. That would be the subject of another text.

Sometimes, you will try to find an excuse by telling yourself that the reason they do not want to talk to you might be because your platform is not large enough, and therefore, there are few incentives for government officials or any public figures to talk to you. But you will quickly realize that they are talking to other ethnic groups with far smaller platforms than yours. Other agencies, such as the State Department, might be better aligned with their diplomatic mission. They might be willing to talk to you if you are patient and send your questions in advance so they can prepare responses. For journalists like me, it is extremely important to have a government official speak with you about matters affecting your community and your country, even if you must trade your professionalism by submitting your questions in advance. It is understandable that, if the issues concern foreign countries, you may expect the State Department to be a little more careful in how it discusses foreign policy. But it should not be that way. As we are technically a U.S. company, we should not be treated as foreign press. But remember: depending on where you are from, the American dream should not be interpreted the same for everyone.

In another instance, the discrimination may take some more subtle forms. Someone might assume you are not educated if you do not speak English. From their perspective, speaking a foreign language is equivalent to being uneducated. Or sometimes you might have a rideshare customer see you on a university campus and ask you what you are looking for—how can they help you—implying your place is not here. Other instances might include when your loan application is denied based on your credit report. You would at least understand that even credit reports are a form of discrimination in and of themselves.

Like many other businesses, our news organization and film production faced significant financial problems due to events beyond our control, prompting us to seek alternative funding, including loans. I applied several times with the Small Business Administration for a loan. Each time, my applications were denied, with opportunities to appeal. This persistent denial fits into a larger narrative that mirrors national lending statistics, which often reveal the challenges minority entrepreneurs face in securing capital. By connecting my experience to broader systemic issues, it becomes clear that my case is not an isolated incident but rather emblematic of a pattern affecting many businesses owned by minorities.

On July 29, severe weather prompted a federal disaster declaration. Given the same financial struggles, I was hoping to get some support from the SBA because my business car sustained damage during the event.

This application was also initially denied due to a lack of credit, with the possibility to appeal provided I could give a satisfactory explanation. I explained every negative item, which the SBA accepted, until I received another letter stating the application was denied for a lack of repayment ability—again with the possibility to appeal.

For a third time, the application was denied because of a charge on my credit card for which I was not responsible. I explained to the SBA loan officer that the charge was due to a mistake from Sallie Mae, which had split a student loan that I have into two loans, and I was not aware of the second one. The loan officer said the explanation was valid, but the application was denied for repayment ability, although the SBA had already accepted the explanation I provided. I again appealed the decision.

The officer wanted explanations regarding the still-active applications. He began questioning how I could possibly do video production for farmers, expressing disbelief. His skepticism hit me deeper than I expected; I felt a tightness in my chest as if my ability to breathe was momentarily restricted. He said that during his entire career, he had never seen farmers engaging in this kind of business. Determined to maintain my composure, I assured him that the work I did for my clients was available online and could be verified by anyone. He refused to check. He asked if I had contracts; I told him I worked on an as-needed basis, so we never needed contracts as a small business.

When there were no more arguments, he switched to my business addresses. He questioned why the addresses on the applications were different from the mailing address, which is a P.O. box in Dorchester. I explained to him that a P.O. box makes it easier to receive all mail in one place. And I also have no problem receiving mail at each place listed in my applications. Because we are also operating in Florida and Indiana, the officer questioned me about a sublease I had. He asked me whether the space’s owner knew my business was operating there. I explained to him I did not have much to deal with the owner as a sublessee. However, in Massachusetts, I have a contract with the owner for a shared space I use. He asked me if my business name is written on the front; I told him it is not necessary because it is a shared space.

It is important to note that we were operating in these places long before the federal disasters for which we applied. When the SBA supervisor’s arguments about the space were not holding, he switched to my legal documents.

He questioned the authenticity of my immigration documents, suggesting they might be doctored. I informed him that these documents were issued by USCIS, a federal agency, and could easily be verified. Additionally, I had letters from the judge who approved my asylum case and from my lawyer, which clarified my immigration status.

The officer said I checked all the boxes as a fraudulent applicant. I explained to him that, as an online news media company, our content is available online and can be easily verified. I explained to him that these documents were admitted by the SBA for an educational program for small businesses, in which I spent six months with the SBA through the SBA Thrive Program. He said it did not matter.

He told me the application would be denied, and any future application I submitted would also be denied. I asked him how he could predict that future applications would be denied if the problem was about my credit and cash flow, which can be solved. In fact, if the conditions are not the same, he should not—nor can he—predict the outcome of an application if there are no other reasons.

It is also important to note that in 2020, I was eligible for a $38,000 SBA loan. But because of an issue with my bank account, the SBA did not issue the funds until November 2022. I was only able to get the funds after I contacted the office of Congressman Stephen Lynch in Massachusetts’ Eighth Congressional District.

I understand that, just because the SBA is a federal agency, it does not give any applicant an immediate right to access hard-earned taxpayers’ dollars. I never asked to be qualified at all costs. However, the SBA’s rules and regulations should apply equally to every business owner. Being a Black immigrant from Haiti should not make me check every box as a fraudster. For me, the issue is not about being qualified for an SBA loan. It is about being treated with respect and fairness. Being treated like every other applicant.

To other immigrant entrepreneurs facing similar obstacles, I offer this piece of advice: Build a supportive network within your community. By fostering connections with local advocacy groups, business associations, and other minority-owned businesses, you create a collective voice that can advocate for fair treatment and equal opportunities. This communal resilience can be the key to overcoming disparities and achieving your dreams.

As an alumnus of the SBA Thrive Program, I know countless business owners who are in worse situations than I am, and they were qualified for SBA loans.

For almost 10 years since I came to America, I have never been arrested or involved in any criminal proceedings. I do everything I can to play by the rules and respect America’s principles, laws, and regulations. For some other groups of immigrants, a clean criminal record and good behavior would be grounds for success. But for people like me, it means nothing.

I never thought I could be accused of falsifying documents just to get a loan. But I understand there are some obstacles that education and hard work cannot overcome when you have the status of an immigrant from a so-called third-world country. But now it is kind of too late. They already taught me that the American dream is for everyone. I already believed them. It would be hard for me to unlearn and give up on my dreams. I will keep dreaming even if I keep being ignored. Even when I am accused by the federal government of falsifying the document that the very same government gave me.

For me, the antidote is the great men and women at Boston Medical Center, Northeastern, Bunker Hill, Harvard, El Centro del Cardenal, and elsewhere. It is up to each of us to decide to apply the antidote each time the poison is presented to us. Having been saved by America, I strongly believe the antidote is more powerful than the poison. Being exposed to the antidote before the poison makes me more determined to keep pursuing my dream. Keep applying the antidote every time I am facing the poison.