“Deux Millimetres” by Lynn Frederic ’23
Any mirror within my gaze would only reflect the distance by which I am defined: a two-millimeter-gapped smile. Why did I have to be different? I would faintly laugh as I was told to get my gap “fixed”. I learned to hate the space in my smile because I viewed it as the root of every problem I had, leaving me longing to fix myself.
On my hopeless quest for cosmetic improvement, my parents failed to console me, saying, “You do not need to change anything about yourself.”
Their response was expected because this tooth gap was common in Haiti. I grew up
in New York, not Haiti, so they explained that Haitian culture viewed a gap as a sign of luck and prosperity. Their response did not ease my feelings as the two millimeter gap in my smile was now magnified by a cultural separation of 1505 miles. I resented my smile and my culture’s understanding of it so I attempted to ignore both. I refused to converse in Creole or French, responding with a simple shoulder shrug, the overpowering smell of apes sizzling in pots every Sunday morning repulsed me, and the pulsating tanbou beat of my favorite Kompa music no longer drew me to the dance floor. I began staying home from family gatherings where I knew all three of these would be in one place .
It was not long before I had an unavoidable conversation with my grandma. After the tragic
Haitian earthquake in 2021, my family gathered to mourn the destruction of my family’s town of origin. While recalling he first major earthquake in 2010 that nearly killed her, my grandma, who shared a similar smile, said, “Ayiti fè fas ak anpil sikonstans difisil men nou toujou prezève”–“Haiti has faced many difficult circumstances but we always persevere.”
Through 1505 miles. Through 2 millimeters. We always persevere.
Those few words coupled with sadness from nearly losing my loved ones led to extensive self reflection. Haiti managed to find strength to recover. That strength runs through my culture and should not cease to exist because of a mere gap in my teeth. I realized that my identity should not be hidden but instead paraded everywhere I go. The distance I felt between myself and my culture started to feel less vast.
It no longer mattered to me what you think when you look at me but rather what you see. I am more than the distance between my smile. I am more than the distance between my two homes. Despite my previous struggle with the distance between myself and my culture, I am a proud Haitian-American unafraid to shine like a mirrorball. Most of all, I am deux millimetres.
