CUBA:
A Foreigner’s Thoughts
on Race and Politics
By Black Acrylic
Cuba and I have a special relationship. I first came to the island with my friend Sarah in April 2011, encouraged after meeting two Cuban brothers in Uganda. Their father had immigrated to my country of birth as an economic migrant and his sons had followed to study. They showed me multimedia memories of home sent by their mother who had since relocated to Venezuela. We used broken Spanish and broken English to give each other an insight into our worlds and in that moment I decided that Cuba would be my next destination. A few months later Sarah and I arrived at Jose Marti airport full of anticipation. Over the next two weeks our days were filled with consuming the tourist circuit, whilst trying to avoid tourists; being charmed by Cubanos; negotiating everything down to its intangible; politicking daily with English speaking Rasta’s at my favourite bookstore on Obispo Street; beach days; reggaeton nights; rumba evenings; more reggaeton nights; an Orisha anniversary ceremony of a Dutch lady we met; and a mini break to Venelas and day trips to provinces surrounding Havana. On my return to London my tears paid homage to a city I had fallen in love with.
In Cuba I found distant relatives. Afro-Cuban’s looked at me puzzled, “Cubana?” they asked. “No, I’m from Africa” I answered two girls who stopped us in Central Havana. “Ohhh, so you are Cuban! You know Cuban’s came from Africa too,” one of them replied excitedly. “Enjoy Cuba mami!” they said as they walked away. “Lady! Ma famillia!” Cubanos hollered as I passed. At UNEAC I met retired servicemen who had served in the Angolan war and told me about their experiences on the continent and other parts of the world. Unlike England where grandparents are often put in old peoples homes, I found grandparents in Cuba on show and eager to share their hindsight. I listened enthusiastically. However, I found the cultural capital I had in the streets of Havana was contradicted in hotels and exclusively tourist haunts until I opened my mouth and the Queen’s English tumbled out. “Cubana?” clerks with furrowed eyebrows asked. My British accent provided proof that I was foreign and entitled to use the amenities. I soon understood that my dark skin and foreign nationality intersected on a contradictory socio-cultural axis.
As a tourist in Cuba I was cloaked in a privilege that I was unaccustomed to in my London life. Unlike the foreign opportunists who capitalise on this privileged space – usually in the form of sex tourism – it made me uncomfortable. My dark skin and foreign nationality made me an exciting cultural novelty. Being a cultural novelty in a country where the main foreign exchange is tourism led to attention that dwarfed the sycophantic admiration received by my white best friend. Speaking to a British Cuban friend of mine in his apartment in Vedado, he explained to me that a young, financially independent, negra bonita was an antithesis of everything Cuban life had to offer. He concluded that this was at the epicenter of the whirlwind that surrounded me on our escapades on the island. Despite the white noise created by the unequal socio-economic dynamics between visitors and residents our escapades bore amazing memories and I cultivated real friendships on the island. The best thing about Cuba is it’s people and my new friends inspired my last visit to the island and I know they will inspire many more.
On my recent trip to Havana I arrived at Jose Marti airport alone – without my white companion. I expected the usual, “Cubana?” and inquisitively furrowed eyebrows. However, even I was taken aback by the five non-immigration personnel who asked to see my passport in the thirty minutes between landing and exiting at arrivals. I resisted the urge to lash out, instead guessing that as a negra even the cleaner had the right to ask to see my passport. I later tweeted about the situation asking sarcastically: “Where are my white friends when I need them?” This thought came back to me regularly as empty taxis refused to stop for me on the residential street of my casa particular; and daily as the eyes of security followed me as I entered Hotel Parque Central to check my emails every morning. As hotel staff asked themselves if I was a tourist or a concubine I stared back defiantly wishing someone would ask to see my ID. The reverberation they would experience would be unforgettable. One day in the lounge of Hotel Parque Central as I checked my emails a European tourist sat opposite me with his prize bonita negra. As he smoked casually she sat next to him anxious, silent, her shoulders hunched. She glanced at my face, my clothes, my shoes, my iPad and back at my face. Maybe she too was asking herself if I was a tourist or a concubine. I’m sure she too felt the criminalising gaze of hotel security following her every move. Her only salvation was to stay still and try to blend into the furniture. She did not have the privilege of a foreign passport to silence questions.
Opinions on race and racism in Cuba are as diverse as the people. Contemporary attitudes to race have been highly influenced by Fidel Castro’s Revolutionary ideal that race was subordinate to nationhood and national resistance. The idea that national Cuban identity transcended racial identity was also encouraged by prominent Cuban writer and anthropologist Fernando Ortiz. Ortiz described1940’s Cuba as in a stage of “integration” – the final stage of “the rite of social communion”. He saw in Cuba a post-racial society similar to the one American social commentator’s envisaged after the election of Barack Obama. In contrast, Afro-Cuban intellectual Walter Carbonell believed race was integral to identity and acknowledging the influence of African culture on the island was the only legitimate way to understand national identity. Carbonell attempted to set up a Black Power organization in the 1960’s and was socially ostracised for his ideological sins. Recently Afro-Cuban Economist Esteban Morales’ analysis of contemporary race relations in Cuba called for government affirmative action programmes to counter historical racial discrimination.
The Revolution endorsed ideal of a racial utopia in Cuba – neither purely white or purely black – has done little to eradicate informal discrimination on the island. The most apparent infestation of racism is in the Cuban job market. There is an obvious colour line that separates employees on the front desk and chambermaids in Havana hotels irrespective of qualifications. A trilingual Afro-Cuban friend of mine told me frankly that his appearance would prevent him being hired on a reception in a Havana hotel, as managers would rather hire a white Cuban even with a lack of languages. I was even unlucky enough to encounter a black grandmother with a mulatto daughter who pulls on her grandsons’ cheeks and admires how white he is. I was told she doesn’t like black people touching her grandson because they are poor and have no money. Like many black communities around the world, blackness in Cuba has been stigmatised. This is a result of many factors including the history of slavery on the island and Spanish possession, the segregationist policies of the US occupation and even the Eurocentric Marxist ideology that fuelled the Revolution.
I asked my Spanish teacher in Cuba – an ex sailor and connoisseur of the Arts and women – why it was so difficult for me to find commentary on race relations in Cuba translated into English. Apart from the beauty AFROCUBA: An Anthology of Cuban Writing on Race, Politics and Culture that I found in the book market Havana Vieja, and using Google to translate blogs such as Negra Cubana Tenia Que Ser I couldn’t find much. Apart from my friends at the bookstore on Obispo Street it was even difficult to discuss discrimination with Cubans. He explained to me that racism in Cuba is usually subtle and for most Cubans – irrespective of race – the main concern was sustenance and enjoying life. He said that draconian socialism was Cuba’s first problem and I agreed. There are those who see Cuba as a romantic relic of uncompromising anti-imperialism. I have been told this is a belief widely held in cities like Santiago de Cuba, and less so in Havana. In Santiago Fidel is still the heroic sentinel of Revolutionary values. However, today these values must be questioned as they appear more as ritualistic ideals than strategically implemented solutions to benefit Cuban people. The governing elite of Cuba live a gluttonous, hedonistic lifestyle like most governing elites. Their hypocrisy has desecrated on the socialist ideals of equal distribution of resources and equal access. In jest I asked a friend if President Raul Castro had a ration card and he laughed, saying ration cards are only for the common Cuban people. The elites have everything – including the very best of food production to ensure everything they eat is of the highest quality.
As dissident Yoani Sanchez writes in her book Havana Real, Cuban society consists of a series of failed experiments. The failure of these social experiments is a Capitalists wet dream. A country made of dilapidating Communist ideals being held together by a Capitalist black market. These experiments have played with Cuban lives and many Cuban’s dream daily about escaping the lack opportunity and prohibitive lifestyle. The exodus of Cuban’s abroad is akin to what a country experiences in a civil war. At my favourite bookstore I met a Cuban who had returned from Spain for the first time in twenty years. He said he left Cuba when he was my age and most of his friends and family are now living abroad. My other friend tells me he loses hope everytime he thinks about friends of his that have been thrown in jail for trying to change the country. Yet, what Yoani unjustly neglects in her “real” portrayal of Havana is the beauty that resonates in the city despite the political matrix. Havana reminds me somewhat of Makoko in Nigeria – the district floating on water. In societies like these survival clichés such as “sink or swim” and “do or die” are a reality. The victors are those dynamic enough to evolve and innovate their way through adversity. In Havana the people dynamically evolve and innovate with style.
It is important for me to acknowledge that I have met very special people in Cuba and I have learnt the importance of enjoying life there. In London the focus on personal acquisition can become so consuming that moments are partially experienced and personal relationships neglected. In contrast the focus on relationships, love and family in Cuba is replenishing. My personal obsession with self-expression means that like Yoani Sanchez I too wish to see the following in Cuba:
Freedom of opinion
Freedom of access to the Internet
Freedom to enter and leave Cuba
Freedom of association
Freedom for prisoners of conscience
Freedom for Cuba
I do not think that freedom for Cuba is an aggressive, morally bankrupt form of Capitalism. Neither do I know what will be the tipping point that will dismantle archaic social principles, yield necessary economic rejuvenation and effectively challenge racial discrimination. What I do know is that Cuban people extract the joy from life in a way that gives me hope for better days even as the island approaches the 54th anniversary of the Revolution.
Photo: Carlos Gonzalez Ximenez
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email: blackacrylic@gmail.comUgandan born. London Grown. Sapiosexual