I Have Avenged America: Jean-Jacques Dessalines and Haiti’s Fight for Freedom

by Julia Gaffield

A moving and humane portrait of the abolitionist revolutionary Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who led Haiti's fight for independence from French colonial rule
"My name has become a horror to all those who want slavery," declared Jean-Jacques Dessalines as he announced the independence of Haiti, the most radical nation-state during the Age of Revolution and the first country ever to permanently outlaw slavery. Enslaved for the first thirty years of his life, Dessalines (c. 1758-1806) joined the revolution that abolished slavery within the French colony. Then he became a general in the colonial army of the new French Republic. When it was discovered that France once again supported slavery, Dessalines declared war on his former allies. Fighting under the slogan "Liberty or Death," his army forced the French to evacuate in late 1803. At the start of the new year, Dessalines declared independence from France and became the leader of a free Haiti.

A hero to Haitians for centuries, Dessalines is portrayed abroad as barbarous and violent. Yet this caricature derives not from facts--as Julia Gaffield demonstrates with extensive new research--but from the fears of contemporary enslavers. Showcasing the man behind the myths, Gaffield reveals Dessalines's deep suffering, warm friendships, and unwavering commitment to destroying slavery, racism, and colonialism, and his bold insistence on his people's right to liberty and equality.

Genres: History, Biography, Nonfiction

345 pages, Hardcover

First published June 17, 2025

Reviews

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Liberté ou la mort"
While Dessalines was seen as a hero to the Haitian people, he has generally been vilified outside of that nation. So, I was excited to come across a biography of Dessalines, the abolitionist and revolutionary who led the country that issued the “world’s second successful Declaration of Independence”. Using more contemporary sources, the author Julia Gaffield shows us a man much more complex than he is usually given credit for, and dispels some of the myths that, sadly, have been associated with him. A great read.

[Tyara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dessalines was a remarkable man, fighting at the vanguard of a remarkable people to whom we owe so much. The book makes a point I've often pondered myself: the discrediting of Haiti necessitates the (racist) caricaturing of Jean-Jacques Dessalines and the discrediting of the Haitian Revolution. The fact that the Western popular and historiographic understanding of Jean-Jacques Dessalines, and the Haitian Revolution as a whole, are based largely on the accounts of the colonists who just lost their "property" (i.e. slaves) and French Napoleonic propagandist Dubroca, is damning. I think Gaffield has done a good job in (re)contextualising the history, accessing primary sources as much as possible, working with Haitian historians and providing ample footnotes and references I got to double check. She also has a website which contains a lot of her research on Dessalines and the Haitian Revolution which I think is worth checking out.

I'll end with a quote directly from the book: "It is clear today, however, that Dessalines was one of the greatest revolutionaries of recent centuries. Jean-Jacques Dessalines issued the world's second successful Declaration of Independence, and in doing so he founded the first abolitionist state in the Americas. His was a revolution fought by enslaved people, but it was also the founding of a modern polity by enslaved people. As such, its significance is simply unequaled. To Haiti and to Dessalines, the world continues to owe an immense debt. Dessalines's Haiti opened the door to abolition around the world."

[Douglas Grion Filho · Rating 5 out of 5]

Probably one of the most fascinating people to have ever lived. The last two pages of the epilogue go really hard.

[Terence]

6 out of 10.

Good narrative biography of Haiti's first ruler after it threw off the French yoke.

[Richmond Apore · Rating 4 out of 5]

I couldn’t have asked for a better book to serve not only as my first serious foray into Haitian history, but also, of course, into the much-romanticized and discussed Haitian Revolution. Here, Gaffield succeeds in making what at first appears to be a revisionist, but is in fact a sorely necessary, sympathetic case for Jean-Jacques Dessalines, the much-maligned, condemned, and vilified hero of the Haitian Revolution; the often-forgotten consequential architect of the actual fight that created independent Haiti, not the much-celebrated Toussaint Louverture; and ultimately the first ruler of the newly independent country. So incredible, and frankly so "impressive," is the centuries-long anathema toward Dessalines that, even today, one of the first things the man’s Wikipedia entry tells the reader is that: “He ordered the 1804 Haitian massacre of the remaining French population in Haiti, killing between 3,000 and 5,000 people, and an exodus of thousands.”

Gaffield not only properly situates the man within his milieu, but also crucially does not skirt the difficult aspects of his life and legacy. Rather, she addresses head-on how and why these narratives surrounding Jean-Jacques Dessalines emerged, all within the broader context of the Haitian revolutionary process, which itself, as I have come to appreciate, was quite the complex kaleidoscope of competing interests. These included economic questions surrounding slavery, plantation production, and the later cultivateur system; racial tensions involving enslaved people, free Black people, free people of color, and white colonists; competing ideas of sovereignty, that is, either continued association with France or a completely independent Haiti; and even eventual political disagreements over republicanism or centralization/regionalism, that is, the form the new Black state should eventually assume.

Above all, where the book excels is in availing the reader, quickly but still quite sufficiently, of the basic contours of the Haitian Revolution. Of course, we are introduced to the earlier revolt of Vincent Ogé and Jean-Baptiste Chavannes, who were not actually rebelling for the cause of eradicating slavery in Saint-Domingue, but rather for greater political rights for free people of color. Yet the exceptionally brutal crackdown by the French colonial government only served to galvanize and otherwise remind free Black people and mixed-race people that their ultimate plight and standing within French colonial society were still tied to the broader racial order, and therefore to the degradation and fate of their enslaved Black brethren no less. So then the reader easily appreciates how and why Dutty Boukman’s later role in the 1791 slave insurrection became that watershed moment in initiating what later snowballed into the Haitian Revolution.

Among those who eventually emerged from that 1791 rebellion was a certain Toussaint de Bréda, born enslaved himself, later freed, and eventually a slaveholder himself. Gaffield even presents the possibility that Jean-Jacques Dessalines may at one point have been enslaved by him, although the precise nature of their earliest relationship remains difficult to establish. Indeed, even Gaffield herself struggles to confidently explain the origins of Dessalines’s lifelong devotion and deference toward Louverture. Nevertheless, as de Bréda rose through successive military struggles and an almost dizzying series of political alliances, eventually becoming commander-in-chief of Saint-Domingue and assuming the name Toussaint Louverture, right there beside him stood the ever-loyal and militarily distinguished Jean-Jacques Dessalines.

At this juncture, I must admit that, as I read, I began experiencing something close to an out-of-body confusion and discomfort. Before seriously reading about the Haitian Revolution, colloquially and really popularly, it was of course Toussaint Louverture who I understood to be almost synonymous with the whole process. Indeed, just as the mention of George Washington is tied to the American Revolution, Fidel Castro to the Cuban Revolution, or German unification to Otto von Bismarck, so too is Toussaint Louverture tied to the Haitian Revolution. In my own mind, Louverture had basically been a successful Nat Turner or John Brown, that is, a formerly enslaved man who led a direct revolt against slavery and almost completed the creation of independent Haiti before the French tricked and arrested him, leaving Dessalines, his loyal subordinate, to simply finish the final steps.

But as I read Gaffield’s book, and while she herself does not explicitly articulate the argument in this exact manner, I developed the appreciation that, depending on what one defines as the “Haitian Revolution,” it can emphatically be argued that Jean-Jacques Dessalines, rather than Louverture, should occupy its center. That is, if one defines the Haitian Revolution not merely as the culmination of Haiti becoming an independent nation that abolished slavery, but rather as the broader process through which Saint-Domingue proved to France, as well as to the world, that a society led and governed by Black people, though still not formally independent and remaining under the French flag, could abolish slavery and still find a way to persist economically, militarily, and politically, then yes, Toussaint Louverture rightfully deserves his central place of acclaim. In that sense, Louverture was the principal architect of emancipated, Black-governed, autonomous Saint-Domingue. But Dessalines was the principal architect of independent Haiti, and those are not quite the same historical achievement. In fact, was Louverture not arrested and deported to France before the renewed and final war for independence reached its decisive phase? Moreover, even I, and surely others, can argue that complete separation from France, at the time of his arrest and overthrow, had never been Louverture's clearly articulated end goal. In my own reflection/analysis it appears Louverture sought something pragmatically bold and inventive for his time, essentially Saint Domingue as a French "dominion" of some sort, i.e., yes, similar to how a century later Canada, New Zealand, and South Africa became British Dominions; that is, his (Louverture) pursuit was of a Saint-Domingue that would exist under the French flag while exercising extensive internal control and permanently abolishing slavery. This was itself an audacious and revolutionary project, but it still assumed that some arrangement with France could be made to work. Dessalines, for his part, especially as French intentions became increasingly clear, developed one of much deeper mistrust. He appears to have concluded that, for as long as Saint-Domingue remained under French sovereignty, even if only nominally, the threat of slavery returning would always remain. Therefore, a complete rupture with France, and not the continued coexistence as attempted by Louverture, became necessary. Hence, Dessalines would eventually later betray Leclerc and Brunet (I am sure in their view) and convince other top generals like Christophe and Pétion to join him to fight the French to create Haiti. 

So it seems, in fact, that this distinction makes the enormous discrepancy in how both men are remembered so striking. Louverture, even centuries later, continues to be almost universally praised and celebrated as the embodiment of the Haitian Revolution, while the man who actually led the revolution to complete independence, and whose determination ensured that slavery could never again take legal root in Haiti, is not only neglected, but bastardized in history and turned into a caricature of extreme racial violence. To explain this discrepancy, Gaffield repeatedly reminds the reader of the times, attitudes, and extraordinary odds confronting Dessalines, as well as the political usefulness of portraying him as uniquely barbaric.

Another incredibly ironic consideration is the actual historical reality of Toussaint Louverture is so much more complex than the romanticized public legend of the man. As several of his affiliations and actions will appear rather shocking to those who have contented themselves with the mainstream, flat portrayal of him as some successful Nat Turner or John Brown anti-slavery figure. We are talking about a man who went from participating in rebellion against the French colonial order and cooperating with the Spanish in Santo Domingo against the French, to later joining the French Republican army after France pragmatically abolished slavery in Saint-Domingue. He then fought against the Spanish, the British, and other forces, before turning his attention toward internal rivals. During the civil war against André Rigaud in the South, it was Louverture, but of course chiefly the efforts of Dessalines on the battlefield who defeated Rigaud and consolidated Louverture’s authority as the undisputed ruler of Saint-Domingue and thus the protector and guarantor of the French decision to abolish slavery there.

Am I therefore arguing that Louverture is “overrated” or overemphasized within the historiography? Of course not. That would be silly. Were it not for Louverture’s military genius, prodigious realpolitik, and impressive statesmanship, would Dessalines later have been availed such a clear-eyed appreciation of France’s actual intentions toward Saint-Domingue? Would there even have existed the Black officer corps, unified territory, military structures, and political authority upon which Dessalines could later build? Of course, Dessalines’s eventual success was undoubtedly partly made possible by the strategic decisions and territorial consolidation achieved under Louverture.

Dessalines eventually succeeded and proclaimed the independence of “Hayti,” as the name was spelled in the independence proclamation, and naturally then confronted the problem of protecting the survival of the only independent Black state born from a successful slave revolution. Unfortunately, Dessalines, a Black man, dared to shock history, and so he of course had to become one of history’s great monsters. His success apparently could not merely be explained as a feat of military genius, ruthless calculation, and tactical, pragmatic realpolitik. It could not simply be credited to his ability to gain the confidence of Brunet, the very officer who had famously deceived and arrested Toussaint Louverture, as well as Leclerc, until Dessalines was prepared to turn against and help defeat the French. Apparently not. Instead, the dominant characterization became that Dessalines was simply an inherently violent killer of whites.

Of course, the sort and nature of the violence and killings attributed to Dessalines were completely anomalous within the history of Saint-Domingue, right? Of course they were not. Nor did his violence somehow emerge from nowhere, detached from the arbitrary, dehumanizing, and utterly racialized massacres and killings of Black civilians and soldiers carried out under the orders of Leclerc and Rochambeau. Yet centuries later, in 2026, the introductory paragraphs of their Wikipedia pages (Leclerc and Rochambeau) do not first and foremost identify them as perpetrators of massacres against Black soldiers and civilians suspected of aiding or participating in resistance. Their violence is not shockingly, of course, treated as part of the regrettable background of war, while, of course, Dessalines’s violence becomes his entire historical identity. Color me shocked. 

Is Gaffield, or even by extension me, arguing that Dessalines was a saint? Of course not. Indeed, in 1804, especially as France again threatened to retake Haiti, with French forces gathered in Santo Domingo and the prospect of another invasion very much alive, Dessalines committed massacres against French people suspected of, caught conspiring in, or otherwise involved in those renewed French attempts. But how different were these wartime strategic decisions against the French from the same kinds of decisions he had previously taken on behalf of the French when he fought against rebels in the mountains? Back then, did Leclerc and Brunet not celebrate, reward, and make use of him? Yet when that same violence was directed against the French, against whites, that was apparently when observers and writers of the period suddenly decided to awaken and reconcile themselves with their consciences.

As Gaffield explores in the book, many of the narratives claiming that Dessalines committed a “white genocide,” or that he engaged in uniquely senseless massacres against innocent white civilians, did not even primarily originate from contemporaneous Haitian sources. Rather, they were developed and circulated through selective accounts by observers who were not living in or based in Haiti, many of whom possessed their own political and racial agendas for discrediting and vilifying the unexpected symbol that Haiti’s successful revolution, and its emergence as an independent Black state, had become.

It is actually impressive how, even in 2026, mainstream Western accounts of the Haitian Revolution still write and argue as though Dessalines possessed some monopoly upon violence, almost as if his violence did not emerge within, and partly in reaction to, a system and banality of violence against Black people that predated even his birth. Almost as though generations of enslavement, torture, racial degradation, massacres, threatened re-enslavement, and attempted colonial reconquest were merely unimportant background details, while Dessalines’s response to that world is elevated as the defining moral crime of the entire Haitian revolutionary process. Such shameless hypocritical nonsense.

So, in fact, honestly, this is not really a revisionist account of the life and actions of Jean-Jacques Dessalines. What Gaffield exposes in this book is that the dominant Western narratives surrounding Dessalines are themselves the real revisionist history. Of course, these narratives suffer from that potent unfortunate malaise of racism, distorting the context and milieu of the man’s actions to fit already manufactured tropes of African and Black incompetence, violence, and uncivilization.

I cannot praise this book enough. Just as Dessalines believed that his righteous and necessary struggle for Haitian independence and Black dignity amounted to him “avenging America,” so too does Julia Gaffield avenge the rightful, righteous memory and necessary but not convenient (to Western agendas) historical accounting of the man.

[Mason Wyss · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book makes an important, measured intervention in the debate around the massacres of white people during the revolution for Haitian independence. Most importantly, Gaffield emphasizes that the formerly enslaved and self-emancipated people of Haiti did not know that Leclerc and Rochambeau’s expedition and war of subjugation would be the last. It was still possible that white supporters of Rochambeau would provide intelligence and material support to the French in the event of another invasion. So, one can understand why people might kill those who had supported and might support again their subjugation.

Her writing style is a bit grating at times, though. The worst of this, to me, is that sometimes she anticipates what Dessalines would do later at early points in the biography. I would prefer she had just told the narrative instead of letting the figure of Dessalines at the height of his power cast a shadow on his early life. And in general the writing on his early life could be better. In one instance she writes in chapter 2 that the relationships he formed in early life were the foundation for his success in the revolution, but does not elaborate which relationships or how. Later on chapter 2 she also writes, “Each week these thousands were policed and surveilled by agents of the state. Nevertheless, in the hustle and bustle of the market enslaved people also found freedom, kinship, and community, using these occasions to socialize and worship,” but again does not say how freedom was found or in what ways they worshiped in the market.

Ultimately, it is a worthwhile read for those interested in the Louverturian state and in the foundation of the Haitian empire.

[Daniel · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was really excited about jumping into this book especially after having to read The Black Jacobins by C.L.R. James earlier this year. This was a refresher since Julia Gaffield utilized more contemporary sources for this book. This can be used as a master study on psychological campaigns, deception, betrayal, the failures and continuation of a revolution. We get a lesson on how propaganda can be weaponized to undermine a revolution and how that influence can last for several centuries. There are still those who try to paint Dessalines as a blood thirsty, anti-white warlord. Even Dessalines himself saw this coming and asks us to look at everything that he and other Haitians went through, and perhaps then, we’ll be less judgmental to how a people react to the brutalities of slavery and colonialism. We get a glimpse on how Dessalines navigates his environment whenever tensions arise between revolution and nation-building. Deception was essential for the survival of the Haitian Revolution, and Dessalines made very well use of it. We see his resolve and commitment to the independence of Hayti and military genius. Playing both sides and defecting from the French as soon as he got the opportunity, all the while he was recruiting and developing his rebel army. Dessalines always knew that the French were staunchly committed in reinstating slavery on the island, even when their rhetoric would say otherwise. This book could also be used as a study on who could potentially betray a revolution. Factionalism was the downfall of Dessalines, Alexandre Pétion (who fought alongside Dessalines against the French) began a conspiracy to assassinate the revolutionary leader after Dessalines’s administration and government began plans on confiscating lands that were acquired during slavery, which Pétion was very protective of. We must learn from the successes and failures of the Haitian Revolution and have this history in mind whenever we see Hayti being covered on the news today, especially from western media. Hayti is still being punished to this day for defying and challenging one of Western Civilization’s greatest sins and becoming the first abolitionist state in the hemisphere. The spirit of Dessalines will forever be called by the people of Hayti whenever they fight for their liberty and dignity.
“Liberte ou la Mort”.

[Andre Aguiar · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a good and interesting biography to read, very well written and well-constructed. Julia Gaffield shifts attention from Toussaint Louverture, who is often the main figure emphasized in the historiography of the Haitian Revolution (and who also plays an important role in her book), to highlight what she shows to be the non-marginal role of Jean-Jacques Dessalines. For many people, understanding the Haitian Revolution can be complicated because it was a volatile process marked by shifting military alliances, transnational rivalries and negotiations, groups, and distinct revolutionary phases. In her book, Gaffield offers a clear narrative of Dessalines positioning him in this changeable revolutionary process. I would say that this biography can be really helpful, especially for those starting to study the events in Saint-Domingue between 1791 and 1804, which has a fascinating yet complicated and confusing history.

Gaffield challenges the conventional depiction of Dessalines as a merely brutal figure, later betrayed by its own people. Instead, she shows how he rises in relevance as a warrior, diplomat, and mediator who navigated with talent throughout distinct political scenarios. In this way, Dessalines is portrayed as Louverture's natural heir and a pivotal figure in securing actual independence for Saint-Domingue and shaping the new Haiti's symbolic meaning. Gaffield does not deny the common depiction of Dessalines as a violent figure, but she sought to contextualize his use of violence according to regular geopolitical and warfare customs (often deployed by the Europeans who depicted him as cruel), such as the famous episode of the systematic killing of white French in post-Independence Haiti in 1804.

She shows that the image reducing Dessalines as a barbaric and cruel figure was mainly crafted by foreign accounts, which ignored that Dessalines condemned and executed enemies who collaborated with the French, Charles Leclerc and Rochambeau, but that hundreds of white people who did not flee the Island "remained in Haiti in 1804 and beyond, many who were or had been French" (194). She also argues that "Dessalines’s success could not be separated from his commitment to violent rebellion in the face of France’s own violent commitment to slavery and colonialism." (240)

A significant strength of the book lies in its structural analysis of the post-revolutionary state-building process and the economic contradictions Dessalines faced. Gaffield details the immense friction between state survival and popular liberty, showing how Dessalines attempted to maintain the sugar economy to fund the revolution and secure foreign trade. This forced him to reframe plantation labor, the very symbol of colonial oppression to the nouveaux libres (the newly emancipated), as a necessary patriotic sacrifice. The biography illustrates how Dessalines’ early life as an enslaved laborer shaped his rigid stance that colonial reform was impossible, contrasting his total break from France with Louverture's more cautious, reformist approach that ultimately led to Toussaint's arrest and death in a French prison.

For readers, it is important to see that she is not trying to romanticize his figure, although biographies often dance with romanticization. As I mention before, she is trying to show that Toussaint Louverture was not the only face of the Haitian Revolution; that Dessalines should not be reduced to a violent warrior but seen as a complex figure fundamental to the transition of Saint-Domingue from a French colony to the creation of Haiti as an independent state; and that Western historiography often neglected him by portraying him as too violent, buying into European sources' bias against Dessalines, while emphasizing Toussaint as a more moderate figure.

[Rosa Angelone · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read a book on Henri Christophe earlier this year and I've Avenged America had me thinking about going back and re-reading it right away. Haiti is fascinating. Not only for what happens but the intense way people react to its history. From the first moments to today's headlines people can not help but have outsized opinions often based on second and third hand accounts. 

In a binary U.S  American way my natural inclination is to say slave holders- bad and enslaved freedom fighters are good. That is true. However, Haitian history demands more attention to be paid than that. 

What does it mean to grow up in a society where the great freedom fighter Tousiant Overture was both enslaved and a slave owner of a great general in that fight? In a terrible bloody civil war full of massacre, why does one man turn into poster boy for contemporary and future soap box conservatives but other men are ignored? 

I especially liked reading about how sincerely the men and women (because the women are not silent even if by nature of the biography they do not play a main role) took the words of liberty and equality coming out of France. 

This is a book I am glad I read but I need to read more. The story is complex and I need more..that is a sign of how good this book is though not a detriment. 

[Isaiah · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of, if not the first, biographies for Dessalines in Anglophone literature. You couldn't ask for much more, as this biography serves as a great introduction not only to Dessalines but to other characters of the Haitian Revolution as well. It accomplishes the valiant task of exploring exactly who Dessalines was and his leadership within the Haitian Revolution and later the Haitian government. Viewed as notorious and disreputable by the larger European world, what we find in this story is, and I hate to say the cliché of a “complex individual”, but if I were to put it simplistically, a man dedicated to the freedom of his people.

[gaverne Bennett · Rating 5 out of 5]

Modern classic.

[Licieli Olivo · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s a good book, but the author’s writing style can be pretty dense at times.

[Jbondandrews · Rating 5 out of 5]

Julia Gaffield has written a very interesting book about Dessalines and Haiti's early independence days. I haven't read much of Haiti's history beyond L'Overture's fight for independence from France and the reparations they were forced to pay France. I have found a few more books on this part of the country's history that I hope to read.