For Blacks in Cuba, the Revolution Hasn't Begun

For Blacks in Cuba, the Revolution Hasn't Begun
By ROBERTO ZURBANO
Published: March 23, 2013

CHANGE is the latest news to come out of Cuba, though for Afro-Cubans
like myself, this is more dream than reality. Over the last decade,
scores of ridiculous prohibitions for Cubans living on the island have
been eliminated, among them sleeping at a hotel, buying a cellphone,
selling a house or car and traveling abroad. These gestures have been
celebrated as signs of openness and reform, though they are really
nothing more than efforts to make life more normal. And the reality is
that in Cuba, your experience of these changes depends on your skin color.

The private sector in Cuba now enjoys a certain degree of economic
liberation, but blacks are not well positioned to take advantage of it.
We inherited more than three centuries of slavery during the Spanish
colonial era. Racial exclusion continued after Cuba became independent
in 1902, and a half century of revolution since 1959 has been unable to
overcome it.

In the early 1990s, after the cold war ended, Fidel Castro embarked on
economic reforms that his brother and successor, Raúl, continues to
pursue. Cuba had lost its greatest benefactor, the Soviet Union, and
plunged into a deep recession that came to be known as the "Special
Period." There were frequent blackouts. Public transportation hardly
functioned. Food was scarce. To stem unrest, the government ordered the
economy split into two sectors: one for private businesses and
foreign-oriented enterprises, which were essentially permitted to trade
in United States dollars, and the other, the continuation of the old
socialist order, built on government jobs that pay an average of $20 a
month.

It's true that Cubans still have a strong safety net: most do not pay
rent, and education and health care are free. But the economic
divergence created two contrasting realities that persist today. The
first is that of white Cubans, who have leveraged their resources to
enter the new market-driven economy and reap the benefits of a
supposedly more open socialism. The other reality is that of the black
plurality, which witnessed the demise of the socialist utopia from the
island's least comfortable quarters.

Most remittances from abroad — mainly the Miami area, the nerve center
of the mostly white exile community — go to white Cubans. They tend to
live in more upscale houses, which can easily be converted into
restaurants or bed-and-breakfasts — the most common kind of private
business in Cuba. Black Cubans have less property and money, and also
have to contend with pervasive racism. Not long ago it was common for
hotel managers, for example, to hire only white staff members, so as not
to offend the supposed sensibilities of their European clientele.

That type of blatant racism has become less socially acceptable, but
blacks are still woefully underrepresented in tourism — probably the
economy's most lucrative sector — and are far less likely than whites to
own their own businesses. Raúl Castro has recognized the persistence of
racism and has been successful in some areas (there are more black
teachers and representatives in the National Assembly), but much remains
to be done to address the structural inequality and racial prejudice
that continue to exclude Afro-Cubans from the benefits of liberalization.

Racism in Cuba has been concealed and reinforced in part because it
isn't talked about. The government hasn't allowed racial prejudice to be
debated or confronted politically or culturally, often pretending
instead as though it didn't exist. Before 1990, black Cubans suffered a
paralysis of economic mobility while, paradoxically, the government
decreed the end of racism in speeches and publications. To question the
extent of racial progress was tantamount to a counterrevolutionary act.
This made it almost impossible to point out the obvious: racism is alive
and well.

If the 1960s, the first decade after the revolution, signified
opportunity for all, the decades that followed demonstrated that not
everyone was able to have access to and benefit from those
opportunities. It's true that the 1980s produced a generation of black
professionals, like doctors and teachers, but these gains were
diminished in the 1990s as blacks were excluded from lucrative sectors
like hospitality. Now in the 21st century, it has become all too
apparent that the black population is underrepresented at universities
and in spheres of economic and political power, and overrepresented in
the underground economy, in the criminal sphere and in marginal
neighborhoods.

Raúl Castro has announced that he will step down from the presidency in
2018. It is my hope that by then, the antiracist movement in Cuba will
have grown, both legally and logistically, so that it might bring about
solutions that have for so long been promised, and awaited, by black Cubans.

An important first step would be to finally get an accurate official
count of Afro-Cubans. The black population in Cuba is far larger than
the spurious numbers of the most recent censuses. The number of blacks
on the street undermines, in the most obvious way, the numerical fraud
that puts us at less than one-fifth of the population. Many people
forget that in Cuba, a drop of white blood can — if only on paper — make
a mestizo, or white person, out of someone who in social reality falls
into neither of those categories. Here, the nuances governing skin color
are a tragicomedy that hides longstanding racial conflicts.

The end of the Castros' rule will mean an end to an era in Cuban
politics. It is unrealistic to hope for a black president, given the
insufficient racial consciousness on the island. But by the time Raúl
Castro leaves office, Cuba will be a very different place. We can only
hope that women, blacks and young people will be able to help guide the
nation toward greater equality of opportunity and the achievement of
full citizenship for Cubans of all colors.

Roberto Zurbano is the editor and publisher of the Casa de las Américas
publishing house. This essay was translated by Kristina Cordero from the
Spanish.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/24/opinion/sunday/for-blacks-in-cuba-the-revolution-hasnt-begun.html?_r=0