haitian money

anonymous asked:

I just wanted to let you know while i understand your reasons for not entering DR i have to say, a lot of dominicans including myself vehemently disagree with what the government is doing. Like America, there is racial prejudice here but we support u

this is like when white people say “not all white people”
obviously some dominicans disagree, but what is that support doing for us? Especially when a lot of Dominicans in DR are VERY racist and prejudice towards Haitians, they’re bullied, treated like dirt, used for slave labor.. the women are raped, tricked out…

Haitians (no matter how well off they are) can’t even go to DR with Haitian money because a lot of places (shops, restaraunts etc..) won’t even serve you if they know youre Haitian, I have family members who exchange their Haitian Money for American money and have to pretend they’re American just so they won’t be treated like dirt. 

Like what do you want me to say? thank you for your support??? at a time like this when your country is going through this “ethnic cleansing” black identity crisis and Haitians are being treated like scum your concern shouldn’t be making sure we know “not all your people are racist” like no offense but who cares? 

EXCLUSIVE: On cloud nine with man of the moment and Oscar winner Jared Leto

Method actor, rock-star lothario or political firebrand; Jared Leto is a winner whatever mode he’s in. Between filling stadiums and fielding calls from Obama, the man of the moment invites Stephanie Rafanelli to join him on cloud nine a few nights after his Oscar glory.

Although I’m trying really hard to resist, Jared Leto is urging me to stage-bomb. His locks flying behind him like Hermes’ wings, he speed-circles the stage over to the discreet corner where I’m standing, grabs my hand and drags me out in front of the baying 13,000-strong audience, singing to me all the while — and, even worse, goading me to join him in a chorus. Needless to say, this is not the polite Academy Awards podium but, six days later, on a grubbier, strobe-lit stage at Helsinki’s Hartwall Arena, where he has rejoined his band Thirty Seconds to Mars for its remaining six-month world tour.

Leto has made his entrance tonight in a black hooded coat, wielding a baseball bat; more LA drugs dealer than the politically engaged figure in an oversized bow tie he cut at the Oscars. With suitable drama, he throws off the jacket to expose the full glory of his rock Jesus look — shades, man-leggings, tunic skirt, sleeveless T-shirt — whereupon he unleashes his power-vocals on to his fans for two adrenaline-fuelled hours: jumping, grinding, sprinting and simultaneously flirting with what feels like every single member of the crowd. ‘I don’t dive into the mosh pit any more,’ he whispers to me on a break. ‘It’s the fastest way to lose your penis. And I’m proud to say mine is still intact.’

The show is part full-on rock extravaganza, part interactive Leto comedy routine. ‘Hey you,’ he cries into his mic. ‘Great mullet, man. That’s my next haircut. Business at the front. Party at the back.’ This culminates with a stage invasion and a mass selfie, his second of the week: the 42-year-old in a huddle of ecstatic Scandi teens.

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