“A lot of y’all said things that you can get back in life,” Faustin, a professional public speaker, said onstage at the Harvard Ed Portal in Allston. He knows. He’s lost the irreplaceable.
Faustin made his mark in June 2022, going viral to the tune of 3.9 million Instagram views. An entrepreneurial dream.
The post called on our humanity. “Please normalize checking on people, instead of just watching their IG,” it read.
Later that month, Faustin’s mother called him on Father’s Day to do just that. Caught in the rapture of virality, he declined the call, thinking they’d talk another time.
As the sun rose a few days later, a bang at the door woke him. A police officer was on the other side. His mother had died.
“I can’t check back with the person who was checking in on me. The irony of it,” Faustin told an audibly shocked audience. “The last conversation I had with her was when I had to go to the morgue.”
This heavy-hearted example illustrates the characteristics that make Faustin stand apart as a speaker. His vulnerability and passion are part of why he’s shared stages with Mayor Michelle Wu and will deliver a talk on Saturday at TEDxRoxbury.
He’s not pushing a 12-step plan to make all your problems disappear. The mistakes he shares aren’t from a shameful past life. They are current. He is powerfully, but simply, himself.
You won’t catch him in a suit and tie flaunting world-class institutional qualifications. But he is an inaugural commissioner on the city’s Black Men and Boys Commission. He teaches professional development skills to Haitian migrants. He leads mental health workshops for students.
Faustin, usually in a snapback, sneakers, jeans, and jewelry, is an outspoken, funny guy with endless energy. He speaks his mind, New England accent, swear words, and all.
“I love when people are themselves,” said Africa Crosson, 30, who was in the Ed Portal audience. “I like to know the imperfections and struggles you’ve been through and how that helps you grow.”
But Faustin wasn’t always so sure of who he was. His journey of self-discovery began as a nomadic teen.
The 37-year-old was born to Haitian parents and grew up in New Hampshire with his mother. At 12 years old, she sent him to live with his father in Hyde Park.
The change of scenery didn’t stop Faustin from clashing with authority. Semsarah Faustin, Kurt’s younger sister, remembers him as a defiant young man.
“Kurt didn’t really like being told what to do,” she said. “Him and my dad just bumped heads a lot when it came to that.”
The conflict between Faustin and his parents was cultural as much as it was generational.
“When you walk into the house, it’s like you’re in Haiti. When you go outside, you’re in America,” Faustin told me.
“You have a lot of pressure because your parents came here for opportunities, and that opportunity is for you. So there’s high expectations, but many times they don’t fit into the cultural norms of what America is.”
Fed up with his son’s strong will, Faustin’s father sent the 15-year-old to Haiti to get some perspective. A year in Haiti “watching people cry and die over trying to have those same opportunities I had,” Faustin said, did the trick.
“He was more optimistic,” Semsarah said about Haiti’s effect on her brother. “He was more confident. He was much nicer. He was more open.”
All these personality traits define Faustin’s relationship to his audience. Knowing the impact of his message depends on their engagement, Faustin presents more like an enthusiastic camp counselor than a stiff-lipped lecturer.
“He’s more silly, more fun, more outgoing. … That’s what gravitates the audience…
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