/
October 27, 2024
What’s Really Happening in Springfield, Ohio
After Trump and Vance spread unfounded claims about Haitian migrants in the small town, this photographer went to see who and what are really there.
This story is part of States of Our Union, a series presented in collaboration between The Nation, Magnum Photos, and the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.
Since the 1980s, Springfield, Ohio, has experienced economic and demographic decline, marked by the closure of major factories and the loss of industrial jobs. Once a thriving manufacturing hub, the city now faces high unemployment and growing poverty. The population has dropped from over 80,000 to 50,000, 20,000 of whom are Haitian.
In Haiti, gangs have ravaged the country’s capital, Port-au-Prince, and surrounding areas, killing, raping, and kidnapping thousands, leaving hundreds of thousands homeless and unemployed, deepening poverty throughout the country. Haitians began arriving in Springfield around 2018, drawn to the city by job opportunities and affordable housing. This has exacerbated local tensions, particularly after Donald Trump and J.D. Vance spread rumors about their cultural practices, further fueling distrust and weakening Springfield’s social cohesion.
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
Springfield is a mid-sized town of about 50,000 people, nearly 20,000 of whom are Haitian. Coming from Kentucky with no contacts, my investigation began at the Springfield Ohio Haitian Community Support Center. I was warmly greeted by Viles Dorsainville, the director, and Rose Thamar Joseph, the operations manager. Speaking French helped a lot, and it was clearly appreciated. They explained: “Since the nonsense spread by Donald Trump, many of our people live in fear. They wonder what will happen if he gets elected again.”
The center provides legal support, translation services, and English classes, among other resources for Haitians. Walder, 22, had come by one morning and naturally struck up a conversation with me. “I’ve been here for about five months. I was in Mexico. There’s work there, but the pay is too low. Here, aside from work, there’s not much else to do.” Indeed, even on weekends, Springfield’s streets are deserted, far from the image some paint of hordes of idle Haitians roaming the streets. “Everyone’s doing overtime, even on weekends.”
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
Jonas, 35, works at Amazon in Columbus: “There’s not much work in Springfield itself. The big companies hiring are in Columbus or Dayton.” He also told me that, after Trump’s statements in September, he’d been insulted several times, but shrugs it off. “Even if Trump wins, he can’t send us back to Haiti. Politicians lie to seduce a certain electorate. We know all about political tricks from Haiti.” Jonas shares a house for $1,300 a month with other Haitians to split the costs. It’s in Limestone South, a neighborhood with a large Haitian population. People there eye strangers—especially a photographer—warily from behind their curtains.
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
Three middle-aged men pull up next to me in a gray 4×4 with the window down: “Why the fuck are you taking pictures? You look weird, man. Got any ID?”
After a cordial chat, the men apologized profusely and left as quickly as they’d appeared. Jonas, who witnessed the scene, remarked, “I don’t understand why Americans are so rude and ill-mannered.”
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
(Jerome Sessini / Magnum Photos)
As we were leaving the Creole restaurant, La Rose Gouté, a bald man who claimed to be a journalist from Detroit approached Walder and me, without saying hello. He immediately started interrogating Walder in Creole, bombarding him with questions. “He thinks he can trap me, but he’s wrong. He wants me to say that Springfield is better than Haiti, but no. I’m here because I had no choice. I had to flee Haiti. My mother was kidnapped by gangs, and we had to pay. My father’s in Chile. Frankly, I’m fed up here. The companies aren’t hiring much, and you have to speak English. I’m going to try my luck in North Carolina.”
Can we count on you?
In the coming election, the fate of our democracy and fundamental civil rights are on the ballot. The conservative architects of Project 2025 are scheming to institutionalize Donald Trump’s authoritarian vision across all levels of government if he should win.
We’ve already seen events that fill us with both dread and cautious optimism—throughout it all, The Nation has been a bulwark against misinformation and an advocate for bold, principled perspectives. Our dedicated writers have sat down with Kamala Harris and Bernie Sanders for interviews, unpacked the shallow right-wing populist appeals of J.D. Vance, and debated the pathway for a Democratic victory in November.
Stories like these and the one you just read are vital at this critical juncture in our country’s history. Now more than ever, we need clear-eyed and deeply reported independent journalism to make sense of the headlines and sort fact from fiction. Donate today and join our 160-year legacy of speaking truth to power and uplifting the voices of grassroots advocates.
Throughout 2024 and what is likely the defining election of our lifetimes, we need your support to continue publishing the insightful journalism you rely on.
Thank you,
The Editors of The Nation
Jerome Sessini
Jérôme Sessini is a photographer known for his work reporting on the front lines of war-zones as well and social issues such as drug-related violence on the streets of Mexico and anti-government protests in Ukraine. Sessini joined Magnum Photos in 2012 and became a full member in 2016.