0 comments/ 11145 views/ 1 favorites Open Your Heart By: Samuelx My name is Daniel Heureux. I'm a young man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the region of Trou-Du-Nord, Republic of Haiti, and raised in the City of Toronto. The Capital of Ontario. The best place in Canada is metropolitan Toronto in my sincere opinion. These days, I attend Carleton University, where I study Law. I think all of us are complex individuals. If you're an immigrant with a foot in each world, you must navigate carefully. To my Canadian friends, I'm a Haitian guy. I often wear red and blue, I have a sticker with the Haitian flag on my beat-up old pickup truck, and I sometimes switch between French, English and Haitian Creole in the middle of conversation. To my Haitian friends, I'm Canadian. Why? Because I played hockey in high school and I'm now on the baseball team at Carleton University. I can't play soccer to save my life. Yeah, I am both Haitian and Canadian. It's not easy to be me. I am the son of two worlds and I can't say that I feel comfortable in either. I have a French-sounding last name so people in Toronto always recognize me as a person of Haitian descent. Also, I get spotted as a Haitian in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. Yet when I visit the island of Haiti during summer vacation with my father Eugene, the locals always ask me if I'm American or Canadian. When I speak Creole to them, they always know I'm different. And they treat me as such. You can't please the world, that's what I realized. Welcome to my life. Matters of the heart have plagued mankind for eons and I don't think that's about to change anytime soon. Last year, I was in love with this cute Haitian gal named Nelly. My fondness for her surprised me. I've dated Black girls from all over the place. Jamaicans, Ethiopians, Afro-Brazilians and what have you. However, I never felt drawn to a Haitian gal before. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the Haitian girls at Saint Guillaume Academy in Toronto often accused me of being 'White'. I moved from Northern Haiti to Ontario when I was young but I guess I adjusted to life in Canada better than anybody could have expected. How many Haitian guys do you know are into the sport of hockey? I'm as Canadian as maple syrup, even though I was born in the Caribbean! Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was moping about the chick that got away. I had feelings for Nelly and I made no bones about it. Unfortunately for me, Nelly had feelings for my cousin Henry. I think that's the main reason she got close to me. Well, my cousin Henry hooked up with her then dumped her for this skinny White chick named Mariel. My cousin Henry is really into White girls and he doesn't hide it, but like most Black men, he's not about to turn down a fine piece of Black ass like Nelly if it's offered to him. Hey, sex is just sex to most guys. Doesn't matter the color of the booty. They won't marry it but they'll definitely hit it if they get the chance. And that's exactly what my dearest cousin Henry did with Nelly, the gal I had a mad crush on. I cared about Nelly and she broke my heart, and my cousin Henry broke her heart by using her and ditching her for Mariel. Well, Mariel soon ditched my cousin Henry for this smooth-talking Italian guy named Gino or something. I guess in some way you could say that we all got what we deserved. Anyhow, I opted to learn from this experience. Before my misadventure with Nelly, I'd only been with Black girls. My mother Beatrice Joseph Heureux is one of those Black ladies who can't stand the sight of Black men with White women. And she instilled in me the belief that Black men with White girlfriends were sellouts. Well, I got over it. Especially since my mother often praises Black women in relationships with White men. Nice dichotomy, eh? I don't buy that bullshit anymore. I'll date whoever I please. It's my life, you know? You see, a lot of Black girls these days don't appreciate good Black men. They go for roughneck Black guys like my cousin Henry, a twenty-something 'player' who lives in his mother's basement and has no steady job. Yeah, a lot of otherwise intelligent young Black women go for Black guys like my cousin Henry. He's a smooth operator when in a bar or club, and he can drop rap lyrics like Jay-Z. He just doesn't have a J.O.B. When the young Black women finally get tired of fake thugs/rappers like henry, they decide that all Black men are scum and they go for White guys. Which is exactly what Nelly did after Henry dumped her. She's walking around with this chubby Irish guy named O'Neill. Nice, huh? I decided to focus on school and work instead of dredging through matters of the heart. Still, at times I felt more than a little bit. Everybody involved in this love quadrangle has moved on. Nelly is with O'Neill. Mariel is with Gino. Henry is now dating Isabel, this hot-looking and big-bottomed Latin diva from Mexico or Spain or some other place. Who am I with? I'm all by my lonesome. Isn't that wonderful? What's a brother to do under the circumstances? I'm a six-foot-two, lean and athletic Black guy. Yeah, I do get looks from the ladies from time to time. However, I'm not the most forward person on the planet. Sometimes, I can be painfully shy with women. Still, I didn't want to rush into anything. Rushing into things got me into the Nelly/Henry/Mariel debacle. And I think I'm the only one who got hurt at all because everybody else bounced back so fast. Sometimes, it really doesn't pay to be a decent guy with a good heart. Women don't want a guy like that, no matter what they say. One afternoon, I sat inside the Carleton University Library, typing away on my laptop. I sat inside The Page Break, this little restaurant hidden inside the library. Someone bumped into me, and the bottle of apple juice that was perched on the edge of the table got knocked over. I winced in frustration, and looked at the guilty party. The person who bumped into me was a really tall, pretty young woman. She had long blonde hair, pale blue eyes and alabaster skin. Smiling, she told me she was sorry to have dropped my juice. I told her not to worry about it. She insisted on buying me another apple juice, and since the Page Break was full of people, she asked me if she could share my table. I nodded. Looking me in the eyes, she introduced herself as Leslie Hennessy. I smiled, and introduced myself as Daniel Heureux. We shook hands, and began talking. I learned a bit about Leslie Hennessy as we sat together, talking about everything from schoolwork to life in Ottawa and Canadian politics. Leslie came from the Niagara region of Ontario, and had been living in Ottawa for the past six years. She had a bachelor's degree in business administration from the University of Ottawa and wanted to earn her MBA at Carleton University. I found that puzzling. A lot of Carleton University students want to enroll in the Telfer MBA program at Ottawa University. Carleton University's Sprott MBA program is pretty good but not as highly ranked or well-known. Leslie Hennessy told me that she hated Ottawa University. Apparently, linguistic bias was the reason she left Ottawa University. They had a Francophone bias and treated English-only students like second class citizens. A lot of Quebec people, both students and faculty, practically run the University of Ottawa campus. Carleton University was friendlier to English-language students. And that's why Leslie Hennessy came here. The gal didn't speak a word of French. I jokingly told her that while I did speak French, I wasn't French-centric. To me, French, English and Haitian Creole are just languages. Tools to be used. Nothing more. People get too emotional about languages in Canada. Leslie laughed, saying that she agreed with that. Leslie and I talked for a good while, and next thing I know it was time for my six o'clock class inside Southam Hall. I excused myself, telling her that I had to go. Before I left, Leslie gave me her cell phone number. Wow. And I didn't even ask for it! I wondered whether or not to wait two days to call her, but opted to text her right away. I wished her a good day, and she replied that she saved me my number. I smiled at that. I used to tunnels connecting the various buildings at school and made my way to Southam Hall. I sat in class, listening to the sociology professor drone on and on. I didn't really listen. I was daydreaming about Leslie Hennessy. The next time I saw her, I asked her out. Amazingly, when I asked her to go see the movie Sherlock Holmes with me at the Blair movie theater, she said yes. We're going out this weekend. Wish me luck! Open Your Heart Ch. 02 Sitting next to Leslie Hennessy on a bench inside the Saint Laurent mall, I felt happy for the first time in forever. My name is Daniel Heureux. Young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario, while attending Carleton University. And I'm not what you'd call lucky in the realm of love and romance. In fact, I'm coming off something rather painful. Yet today, I feel so damn happy I can barely contain it. My friend Leslie Hennessy and I went to the Blair movie theater to watch the sequel to Sherlock Holmes, then we had dinner together inside the food court at the mall. Now, after browsing through various stores, we are sitting on a bench, quietly enjoying each other's company. Like any gentleman should, I dressed neatly for our 'first date', so to speak. Black leather jacket over a red silk shirt, Black silk pants and Black Timberland boots. I definitely think that it's a Haitian thing. We Haitian men always dress up for every occasion. For our date Leslie Hennessy showed up in a navy blue sweatshirt over a White T-shirt featuring Rob Zombie, dark blue jeans and gray sneakers. Every day casual wear, yet she looked really lovely in it. When we met outside the Blair movie theater, she greeted me with a smile and a simple hug. Leslie linked her arm with mine and we walked into the theater together. We had a good time. Now we're at the mall, just talking about stuff. I'm taking four classes this semester. Criminal Law One. Intro to Sociology Part Two. Sociology of Deviance. Criminal Psychology. It's not easy being a Law student at Carleton University. So much paperwork, and endless lecture halls taught by women and men who obviously like the sound of their own voices. It's a drag but I know what I'm doing it for. I want to get my bachelor's degree in Law from Carleton University. The bachelor's in Law program at Carleton University only takes three years instead of the standard four that most colleges and universities in North America require. That's why I chose it. My program is really fast and expedient. Next, I want to go to the University of Ottawa School of Law. I want to do big things with my life, folks. Have a stellar career. Become the Johnny Cochrane of Canada. All this I shared with Leslie. My cute, blonde-haired and blue-eyed lady friend listened attentively as I told her about my hopes and dreams. Never one to talk about myself too much, I was touched by the attention she paid to me. And I wanted to learn more about her too. Leslie Hennessy brightened up as she told me about her 'adventures' in the Sprott MBA program at Carleton University. She really liked her classes and found the professors at Carleton far more relaxed and open-minded than the ones at the University of Ottawa. According to Leslie, faculty at U of O were really elitist. They knew they taught at a fine school and carried themselves that way. Yet students and professors at Carleton University were just as smart and far more personable. I smiled when she said that. I knew Ottawa University was full of stuffy people but I had no idea things were that bad down there. Wow. Leslie laughed, and changed the subject. She wanted to know more about me. Hmmm. I was kind of hesitant to broach that subject with her. Contrarily to what women think, every man's favorite subject isn't himself. I don't like talking about myself much. Where to begin? I'm Daniel Heureux. Born in the Trou-Du-Nord region of the Republic of Haiti on the first day of February 1989. Son of Eugene and Beatrice Heureux. Just another tall brother living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I like video games, comic books and shows with a legal bent such as Law & Order, Dexter and Criminal Minds. The law has always fascinated me. While other guys watched BET and ESPN growing up, I was deep into CNN. And Law & Order. Yeah, I'm a different kind of brother. And let's not forget that I'm a designated hitter on the Carleton University men's baseball club. I played varsity ice hockey for all four years in high school. I was the only Black guy on the team but that didn't bother me because I really loved hockey. I ignored the taunts from the White guys who called me a weirdo and the Black guys who accused me of 'acting White'. I just did my thing. I took up baseball as a club sport at Carleton University because I needed a new challenge. I think I'll always love hockey. While I sat on the bench with Leslie Hennessy, whoever runs the Saint Laurent Mall played this song I absolutely love. It's called "Undisclosed Desires" by a band called Muse. Instantly I smiled. Leslie Hennessy saw the smile on my face. She grinned, and asked me if I liked the song. I closed my eyes and nodded. Something about this song just speaks to me. Without even thinking about it, I got up and took Leslie's hand. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, I pulled her closer to me. Leslie looked at me, not startled or surprised, just sort of gently amused. I asked her if she knew how to slow dance. Laughing, she leaned closer to me and told me that she could slow dance her ass off. I smiled. Nice to hear. And just like that, we began to slow dance. Oblivious to everyone around us, we slow danced in the mall, just a few steps from the East Side Mario's restaurant. The music stopped, and now they were playing "In The End" by Linkin Park. Leslie and I kept on slow dancing. And when we finally stopped, people around us started clapping. Leslie and I looked at each other, grinning. Hand in hand, we walked through the mall. We went downstairs, and caught the OC Transpo bus number ninety five to Hurdman Station. From there, we caught the number four heading to Carleton University. The whole ride, we kept talking and laughing. Once on campus, I walked her back to her residence. I said goodbye to her in the Haitian custom. A hug, and a kiss on the cheek. I know, some of you feel I should have done more. I'm being honest here. All this is true. I like this girl and I don't want to fuck things up. We're off to a nice start and I want our relationship to go somewhere. Wish me luck. Peace.