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Carrefour, Ayiti, December 2020. The streets might have actually been sparkling this night... The sun was well asleep, and tonight raboday was blasting through the streets, loud and audible beyond the goats next door. Children were running back and forth. Two houses down from the party and where she first lived in love, we were at my grandmothers tonight. Blue and peace nectar were the colors she had rested upon for her new home, and tonight we were here to celebrate her house warming and completion. More than 10 years I had been hearing about the building of the home and here we were finally, complete and collectively experiencing a deep rebirth - my mother, my grandmother, my sister and I- being in Haiti for the first time together. The other Alex, my grandmother’s cousin/nephew, some of my uncles, other extended family, people from around the neighborhood who help her regularly had all gathered tonight to celebrate, and the generators really had us covered on this starry night. “I want to come out to grandma finally!” I semi-yelled to my mother next to me. Everyone was dancing, we were 5 prestiges in and the loud zoukou cd coming from the boom box in the living room mixed with the raboday down the street started hitting me in a way I just couldn’t deny anymore.. I wanted the full rebirth.. The smile from my mother’s face quickly disappeared, she looked at me sternly. Her big brown eyes raised up and her face tilting down. That face- it said it all.. I smirked, never had realized it til now, but being in Haiti, I saw it - us Haitians, have this particular way of speaking, you know the one - where the eyes can be just as loud if not louder than words. “No.” she said and looked away, slowly allowing for the Zouk to take over her again. “Don’t do that. We’re having a good time. She’s not going to understand, and this is just isn’t the time.” I turned away and laughed a little. “Of course.. Not nowww! Just at some point soon.” Again, the look. Right. Timing has always been a thing with these kind of situations. It had taken me my whole life for me to even convince and wait for my mother to be ready to come back to the island. “Les pays et trops chaut!” So I in truth, even now, I was just grateful to even be able to here. I turned to my sister and one of the other kids from the neighborhood. “Lets check out the party down street?” I pointed. In between all the arching of our backs and swaying of our hips, the sweat was rolling down everyone’s back. My sister nodded “Yup.” The wind and the music, had the pink ribbons of the stage and the people, moving in every direction. It was winter break, school was and the neighborhood had organized a few generators and this roll out stage for a dance competition for girls from the neighborhood who had passed there exam as celebration and collective hype up. “Te American?” This little girl and her friend asked me and sister, giggling. “Yeah” said me and my sister looking at each other. They were clearly laughing at us, although not maliciously. “How did you know?” I asked smiling. With small giggles and smiles, the older one responded “- I don’t know, just can tell.” It’s true - we were obvious, me - with my long white braids, face piercings, tattoos, and bleached eyebrows and my sister, with her tattoos and shaved head had obviously been deeply touched by the west. Closer to the stage and further away from the family, this boy came up to me. Placing his butt on me, dancing hard. As a gender nonconfirming, trans leaning persyn, I felt seen, a sweet moment, after my conversation with my mother. I smiled. We danced, and somehow both ended up on the floor with me on top of him. “What’s your name?” I asked smiling from behind him, sweat touching my lips. “Paul” he said looking back briefly with a smirk.