By Cheikh Higgs
June marks National Caribbean American Heritage Month, a time to honor the rich cultural tapestry woven by Caribbean immigrants and their descendants across the United States. In New England, this observance is a living, breathing celebration of community, resilience, and identity.
Providence’s connection to the Caribbean runs deeper than most realize. The city’s earliest Caribbean immigrants, Cape Verdeans, began settling in the Fox Point neighborhood in the late 1800s. Many arrived by sea, working in New England’s whaling industry and helping to build one of Providence’s most culturally distinct communities. Since then, people from Haiti, Jamaica, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and a host of other island nations have made their homes in the city, each group contributing its unique history, flavor, and rhythm to the city’s evolving identity.
Today, you can hear it in the steelpan notes that echo from cultural events like this month’s Caribbean Heritage Festival at the Fete Music Hall at the Bend in PVD, taste it in the peppered heat of a good jerk chicken plate on Broad Street, and see it in the vibrant flags waving during summer parades. And behind much of that celebration and support is the Authentic Caribbean Foundation, a nonprofit that has been working to uplift Caribbean communities across New England since 2012.
Andrew Sharpe, the foundation’s president and founder, migrated from Jamaica and was inspired by the official recognition of Caribbean American Heritage Month back in 2006, when Congress passed a resolution that George W. Bush signed into law. That moment planted the seed. “Every year after that, each president issued a proclamation,” Sharpe says. “It’s something we’ve celebrated nationwide ever since. There are over 7.9 million Caribbean people living in the United States, we need spaces where our voices and contributions are recognized.”
Sharpe took the baton from a community elder who had begun local celebrations in New England. From there, he and his organization have expanded their work to include everything from festivals to health outreach to education programs for children with disabilities. In New England, Sharpe says, the Caribbean community has grown significantly, especially in Providence and Boston. “You see it in the economy,” he explains. “Caribbean Americans are business owners, running restaurants, driving the food economy. They’re also part of the workforce that keeps their communities going, nurses, doctors, teachers, essential workers. They’re here, contributing every day.”
Beyond celebrations, the foundation does hands-on work to address critical needs. Sharpe recalls their outreach during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, when the organization mobilized to make vaccines accessible in Caribbean communities. “We were out there, at bodegas, supermarkets, making sure people had information in a trusted voice. A lot of folks were hesitant or didn’t have the access. We changed that.” The foundation also helped community members register for MassHealth and connected them with healthcare services, reinforcing their core mission to improve health outcomes for the most vulnerable.
Among their ongoing work is a pediatric disability equipment supply program, which collects and distributes gently used medical equipment to families in both the US and the Caribbean who can’t otherwise afford it. Another effort close to Sharpe’s heart is the Kids for Arts program, which helps children in the diaspora, first, second, even third generation, stay in touch with their roots through cultural education. That might look like demonstrations by the stilt-walkers, steelpan classes, or storytelling circles that preserve Caribbean folklore and language. “It’s about making sure our kids don’t forget where they came from,” he says.
Still, keeping meaningful programs like these alive isn’t without obstacles. Funding for cultural programs for marginalized communities has been historically tight. “Programs like ours are hard to sustain,” Sharpe admits. “There’s a lack of support, especially under the new political administration. People are scared. But Caribbean people are resilient. When we experience hurricanes, earthquakes, and other natural disasters we always bounce back. We rebuild. A lot of Caribbean folks work two, three jobs if we have to. We make it happen.”
In RI, that resilience can be seen at every level. Caribbean immigrants and their descendants form part of the backbone of the state’s labor force, from hospital staff to classroom teachers and professors to hospitality workers. Their presence is deeply felt in both visible ways, like food, music, and festivals, and quieter ones, like caregiving and community organizing.
But Sharpe is quick to emphasize that cultural celebration is not just performance, it’s preservation, resistance, and empowerment. “What happens in the US affects the Caribbean, and vice versa,” he says. One example, he notes, is brain drain — the ongoing emigration of highly skilled Caribbean workers, like nurses, doctors, and educators, to countries like the US in search of better opportunities. While their contributions enrich the diaspora, they can leave gaps in essential services back home. “We need more people to get involved. Volunteer. Donate. Show up. Because the work we do here echoes back home, and the work back home shapes what we do here.”
For those looking to connect with the Caribbean community in Rhode Island, there are plenty of ways to get involved. Attend local festivals. Join or support organizations like the Authentic Caribbean Foundation. Volunteer for programs that uplift Caribbean youth, especially those with disabilities. In doing so, you’re not just supporting one neighborhood, but reinforcing a global connection.
This June, as flags rise and the drums sound across the Fete Music Hall on June 21, remember that Caribbean American Heritage Month is about looking back so that we can look forward, and creating space in the present for a future rooted in pride, culture, and community.
