This debate intends to explore what we have so far learned about the Cuban approach to socialism and development through an analysis of its contradictions.

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba: Reasons, Dynamics, and Manifestations

Katrin Hansing

Social Research: An International Quarterly, Volume 84, Number 2, Summer 2017, pp. 331-349 (Article)

Published by Johns Hopkins University Press

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social research Vol. 84 : No. 2 : Summer 2017 331

Katrin Hansing Race and Inequality in the New Cuba: Reasons, Dynamics, and Manifestations

INTRODUCTION Few social transformations have attacked social inequalities more thor-

oughly than the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Since the fall of the Soviet

Union and Cuba’s subsequent economic crisis, however, the island’s

celebrated social achievements of equality, full-scale public employ-

ment, and high-quality universal education and health care have been

seriously affected. Today, Cuban society is marked by rising levels of

poverty and inequality, growing unemployment, dwindling social

services, and continuous outward migration. Moreover, in the context

of a changing economy, defined by the declining role of the state and

the introduction of market mechanisms, new social stratifications are

emerging—and doing so along clearly visible racial lines. Inequality

and race, both dominant themes in pre-Revolutionary Cuba that the

Revolution fought hard to eliminate, have once again become key over-

lapping issues.

BEFORE THE 1990S Racial inequality and racism have been integral to Cuban society since

the early days of the Spanish conquest. Africans were brought to Cuba

as slaves as early as the sixteenth century, but they came in especially

332 social research

large numbers in the nineteenth century when Cuba turned into a

prosperous sugar colony. The introduction of the sugar industry

permanently changed the social composition of Cuba, shaping every-

thing from property rights, labor systems, trade, and foreign relations

to the island’s national culture and identity (Ortiz 1940). Above all,

sugar influenced the formation of the island’s race, class, and social

relations.

Slavery rested on a number of ideological formulations, all of

which had as their central premise the notion of unequal social evolu-

tion: that whites were innately superior to nonwhites. Race served to

justify not only slavery, but also the exclusion of people of color from

political participation and the imposition of barriers to social mobil-

ity (Knight 1970; Moreno Fraginals 1978; Scott 1985).

After the abolition of slavery in 1886 and in the subsequent re-

publican period, race continued to establish people’s legal and social

rights, largely determined their economic situation, and played a de-

fining role in how people were judged and treated (de la Fuente 1995,

1999; Helg 1995; Fernández-Robaina 1990). Afro-Cubans1 continued

to be discriminated against and systematically excluded from higher

positions in employment, public service, and politics and continued

to make up the majority of the island’s poor and working classes (Mc-

Garrity 1992).

With the triumph of the Revolution in 1959, the race question

was almost entirely subsumed under a broadly redemptive national-

ist and subsequently socialist umbrella. The Revolution moved rap-

idly to dismantle institutional racism and other forms of socio-legal

inequality. The 1976 constitution explicitly prohibited any discrimi-

nation based on race or skin color. Beyond this, the revolutionary

government approached the issue of race from a strong structural

perspective, coherent with its Marxist views of history and society.

As such, it assumed that with the elimination of private property and

class exploitation, racial discrimination would eventually disappear.

Class privileges based on private property were eliminated in

Cuba in the early 1960s. For the first time, the Afro-Cuban population

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 333

gained access to most workplaces and to education, as well as to rec-

reational institutions. The economic, social, and political measures

implemented mainly benefited people of humble origin and, thus,

most Afro-Cubans (McGarrity and Cardenas 1995).

Despite these achievements, the Revolution did not specifically

target the society’s deeply ingrained culture of racism. Instead, the

ideological rationale and revolutionary rhetoric of unity and equal-

ity introduced an official silence toward race-related matters, which

transformed the issue into a semi-taboo topic (de la Fuente 1998;

Moore 1988).2

It is this silence that has, in effect, contributed to the survival,

reproduction, and creation of racist ideologies and stereotypes. What

disappeared from public discourse found fertile breeding ground in

the private realm, where race continued to influence social relations

among relatives, friends, and neighbors. Socioeconomically speaking,

what this has done is turn race into a complex, often hard-to-pinpoint

social phenomenon in which racial prejudices persist but are not

openly acknowledged, whilst, at the same time, people of different

colors mingle freely in many social and professional settings (de la

Fuente 1998b).

Nevertheless, by the 1980s Cuba was a relatively egalitarian so-

ciety, with low levels of racial inequality in key areas of professional

and social life. Moreover, the Revolution created an ideal of egalitari-

anism that was shared by large sectors of the population.

THE SPECIAL PERIOD Since the fall of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s, Cuba has been

stuck in a deep economic crisis, known as the “Special Period.” After

decades of generous Soviet subsidies and barter trade with COMECON

states, extremely low domestic productivity, and the continued US

embargo, Cuba was suddenly left both economically and politically

isolated. The consequences were devastating, and many outside

observers predicted that Cuba would be the next communist country

to fall.

334 social research

Former President Fidel Castro declared a national emergency

and told Cubans to brace themselves for a time of extreme austerity

and self-sacrifice. Simultaneously he opened the island up to foreign

investment and mass tourism, allowed some forms of private busi-

ness, and legalized the US dollar. The hope was to attract enough hard

currency to revitalize the economy and save the revolutionary proj-

ect. These capitalist-style reforms did keep the Revolution afloat, but

they also produced fundamental changes in Cuban society and dealt a

demolishing blow to the foundations of social equality on the island.

For average Cubans, the Special Period has been defined by a

daily struggle for survival. Apart from the many hardships caused by

the severe material scarcities, constant blackouts, and failing public

transportation, the dual currency and de facto double economy have

most affected people’s lives (Eckstein 2004; Uriarte 2007).

Since this time, two currencies have legally circulated in Cuba:

the Cuban Convertible Peso (CUC), which replaced and is pegged to

the US dollar, and the original peso cubano, which has become virtu-

ally worthless.3 The problem is that the salaries of state workers, who

until recently made up 80 percent of the workforce, are paid in pesos

cubanos. However, since the early 1990s, Cuban reality is such that

everyone needs hard currency or CUC to survive. Stores and state-

run businesses have become almost exclusively CUC-based, as have

the booming black market and all tourist-related services and venues.

Moreover, prices are extremely high given that most consumer goods

(including 80 percent of Cuba’s food supply) are imported. In this

context, the average monthly state worker salary of 687 pesos cubanos4

(roughly US $25) is not enough to feed a family. As a result, most Cu-

bans are looking for CUC to supplement their state incomes.

Legal access to hard currency/CUC is, however, mostly limited

to Cuba’s tourist industry, foreign joint ventures, the private small

business sector, and/or family remittances from abroad. Many Cubans

are thus involved in some form of illegal and illicit activity to make

ends meet. Stealing from state enterprises, black marketeering, and

prostitution are among the most common practices. In this economic

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 335

structure, the value of wages attributed to different professional sec-

tors, in both the formal and informal economy, has not only altered

the former socialist pattern of relative equity based on income but

also devalued the meaning of education and professionalism. Prior

to the Special Period, the highest-paid Cuban workers, who were pro-

fessionals such as engineers and doctors, only received 4.5 times as

much as the lowest-paid worker, a janitor or waitress. In the current

economy a self-employed hairdresser or hotel waiter with access to

hard currency tips earns at least 20, if not 50, times as much as a

state-employed neurosurgeon, a phenomenon referred to as the “in-

verted pyramid.”

Due to these developments, Cuban society has become increas-

ingly polarized between those who have, relatively speaking, easy ac-

cess to CUC and those who do not. This has in turn increased levels of

poverty and socioeconomic inequalities and contributed to the forma-

tion of new social classes, which range from the rural and urban poor

to the nouveaux riches.5 In fact, Cuba has an increasingly visible eco-

nomic elite that includes owners of private businesses (largely linked

to tourism), successful artists, and high-ranking officials, especially

in the military.

While the origins of the economic crisis may not be racially

defined, some of the reforms introduced by the government in the

1990s have hit Afro-Cubans especially hard and given the crisis a

racialized dimension. Apart from the divisive nature of the double

economy, all the legal avenues of gaining access to the lucrative hard

currency/CUC sectors are connected with race.

For example, an estimated $2.6 billion in remittances is sent to

Cuba every year (Morales 2012). Because the exile/émigré community

is overwhelmingly white—in fact 90 percent of Cubans in the US are

phenotypically white (Mesa-Lago 2005)—most of this money benefits

white households on the island (Barberia 2008; Blue 2007). Afro-Cu-

bans, who probably constitute the majority of the island’s population,

only receive a small proportion of remittances (Blue 2004; Hansing

and Orozco 2014) and are thus clearly disadvantaged.6 This is also true

336 social research

for the large amount of material remittances—in the form of food,

clothing, medicine, toiletries, home appliances, toys, and so forth—

that are sent to families on the island.

Moreover, as job competition in the lucrative sectors of the

economy—especially tourism—intensified in the late 1990s, racist ar-

guments were deployed to minimize black Cubans’ access to them

(de la Fuente 1998a; 1998b). Racist ideas and concepts such as “buena

presencia”7 have worked especially against Afro-Cubans in the tourism

industry. Although this practice has been criticized and has begun

to change over the past few years, there are still many more white

Cubans employed in key positions in both tourism and joint venture

corporations.

Furthermore, due to Afro-Cubans’ relative concentration in

areas with run-down and overcrowded housing, the opening of pri-

vate businesses, such as family-operated restaurants (paladares) and

bed-and-breakfasts (two of the most lucrative ways of earning hard

currency legally), is not a viable option for most black families (de

la Fuente 2011; Zabala 2008). Because of these diverse barriers, most

Afro-Cubans have been forced to remain in the low-paying state sec-

tor and/or participate in the informal and frequently illegal economy.

As a result, race has become a major cleavage in Cuba since the 1990s

(Espina and Rodríguez 2010).

RAÚL CASTRO’S ECONOMIC REFORMS In an effort to lift Cuba out of its economic woes, President Raúl Castro

introduced a set of sweeping economic and social reforms in 2011. As

a result, a new mixed economy made up of state, cooperative, and

private sectors is emerging. This new socioeconomic reality is taking

shape through the cumulative introduction of measures, known as

los Lineamientos de la Política Económica y Social (lineamientos for short),

the most important of which include large state worker layoffs, seri-

ous cuts in social spending, the expansion of the private sector in the

form of small businesses, a comprehensive agricultural reform, a new

tax code, and the legalization of the sale/purchase of private homes

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 337

and cars between individuals. Moreover, the much-criticized Cuban

exit visa was eliminated in early 2013, giving Cubans the possibility to

travel more easily (Domínguez et al. 2012).

Although the reforms are being implemented slowly, they are

already having a huge impact on the lives of ordinary Cubans. Af-

ter decades of rigid economic centralization and travel restrictions,

people are being granted more economic freedom as well as freedom

of movement. These are, no doubt, important and exciting develop-

ments. However, the reforms are also producing unemployment, fur-

ther outward migration, and increasing levels of already existing pov-

erty and inequality (Brundenius and Torres Pérez 2013).

These negative trends are in part due to the state employee

layoffs and cuts in social spending, as well as the continued low state

wages and increasing food and gas prices. However, it is also because

the Cuban state has so far failed to provide the population with

the necessary credit system (i.e., loans, microcredit), infrastructure

(wholesale markets), and resources (business training, etc.) to start

small businesses. This is particularly surprising given that the gov-

ernment’s own reform logic expects a large number of unemployed

workers to join the private sector. As a result, it is mainly Cubans

with access to private capital who can take advantage of the new eco-

nomic opportunities.

In Cuba’s new economy, several different types of private

capital can be identified, including physical capital (private prop-

erty, cars); financial capital (liquid cash); material capital (consumer

goods); social capital (connections, networks, and influence); and/or

transnational capital (mobility, citizenship). To become a player in

the new economy, access to at least one but preferably several forms

of private capital are needed.

THE ROLE OF PROPERTY AND REMITTANCES Real estate has become a key asset in Cuba ever since renting out

rooms to foreigners for hard currency and opening paladares were

legalized in the 1990s. With the recent expansion of the private

338 social research

sector, property has become increasingly valuable, given that almost

all private businesses are located in private homes. Like anywhere

else in the world, location matters. As such, most of the successful

private businesses are situated in centrally located or upscale neigh-

borhoods.8

Because most of the well-maintained properties in these neigh-

borhoods are owned by descendants of the pre-Revolutionary upper

classes and members of the current political and cultural elite, most

of whom tend to be phenotypically white, most of the money being

earned here is benefitting white families.9 Since the sale and purchase

of property were legalized in Cuba in 2011, real estate prices in these

neighborhoods have skyrocketed, and many new private businesses

have been opening.

Most of the financial and material capital needed to buy prop-

erty and/or start a private business is coming from abroad, particular-

ly from the Cuban diaspora; that is, Cuban families in South Florida

and elsewhere are providing their relatives and friends on the island

with monetary and material remittances to help them start private

businesses and/or buy real estate and/or cars, etc. It is worth noting

that most of this capital is being sent in the form of private loans or

investments to finance real estate and other business transactions;

that is, family and friends abroad are entering into business partner-

ships with their relatives and friends in Cuba. In most cases, fam-

ily members/friends abroad provide the capital, while the Cubans on

the island take care of all the legal, logistical, and practical matters

involved in buying property and/or starting and running a business.

Because the right to own private property and/or a small business in

Cuba is reserved for Cuban nationals who live on the island, these

business partnerships are technically not legal.

A visit to the airport in Miami, Cancun, Nassau, or any other

gateway entry point to Cuba attests to the strength of these transna-

tional, entrepreneurial ties. Long lines of Cubans and Cuban Ameri-

cans can be seen checking in large amounts of consumer goods, rang-

ing from ice makers to pizza ovens, flat screen TVs, gym equipment,

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 339

clothes, and beauty supplies bound for the island. It is these imported

goods that are furnishing and decorating many of the new private

businesses.

Western Union is the main international company offering re-

mittance-sending services to Cuba, although smaller, local businesses

in Miami and other parts of the Cuban diaspora offer similar services.

There are also people known as mulas—which literally means “mules”

in Spanish, in this case referring to people crossing borders carrying

money or goods—who travel to Cuba with large amounts of cash. Mu-

las charge much less than Western Union and other remittance-send-

ing services, and they deliver the money directly to people’s homes.

Moreover, remittances sent with mulas are not registered by any bank

or government. It is for this reason that the actual amount of yearly

remittances flowing into Cuba is not known, although it is clearly

much higher than the estimated US $2.6 billion (Hansing and Oro-

zco 2014). Given the strong historical links between migration, race,

and remittances, most of the financial and material capital is coming

from and being sent to phenotypically white families.

THE ROLE OF CITIZENSHIP AND MOBILITY Another key, albeit less well known, factor contributing to the grow-

ing racial inequality has been the liberalization of travel and unequal

opportunities for obtaining visas from other countries. In this, access

to foreign citizenship has become particularly desirable. Cubans

on the island with dual citizenship include a small group who are

married to foreigners and have taken on their spouses’ citizenships, as

well as Cubans who have immigrated and become naturalized abroad

and then decided to repatriate to Cuba. This latter group, called “repa-

triados” (repatriated), is a recent, growing phenomenon that includes

Cubans abroad who are in part reclaiming their Cuban citizenship

in order to buy property on the island, a right that is still exclusively

reserved for Cuban residents. The largest group of dual citizens in

Cuba, however, is comprised of Cubans of recent Spanish decent.

340 social research

In 2007 Spain passed the so-called “Historic Memory Law.” This

legislation offers Spanish citizenship to any person who can claim

proof of a Spanish parent or grandparent. Due to strong Spanish im-

migration to Cuba in the 1920s, and again under General Franco, the

number of Cubans who can claim a Spanish grandparent and thus

citizenship is staggering—of the worldwide 500,000 applicants under

the law, 40.7 percent were Cubans (Golías Pérez 2014,16). Not unex-

pectedly, most of these individuals are phenotypically white.

For Cubans, a Spanish—and hence EU—passport is a key asset,

especially now that they no longer need an exit visa to leave Cuba.

Not only does it allow for virtually worldwide, visa-free travel, but it

also gives them the possibility to legally live and work anywhere in

Europe. Although some Cubans are immigrating, most are using their

foreign citizenship as a way to start a small business in Cuba. Taking

advantage of the island’s legitimate private sector, continued mate-

rial scarcities, and people’s increasing consumer desires, many dual

citizens are traveling to nearby countries (such as Mexico, Panama,

and the US) and buying consumer goods that are hard to get in Cuba,

which they then resell on the island with a handsome markup.

Furthermore, with a Spanish or other foreign passport, it is

much easier to open a bank account outside Cuba. This in turn allows

for international banking and business transactions that most Cubans

on the island are otherwise not privy to. For example, Cubans who are

connected to the private CUC economy, such as artists or people who

rent out their homes to foreigners, often ask their clients to transfer

the payment directly into their foreign bank account. The same is

happening with private property sales, in that a lot of the money

is being paid into foreign bank accounts. Given the uncertainty of

the Cuban economy, Cubans with this profile feel more comfortable

keeping their earnings abroad in hard currency.

Afro-Cubans are far less likely to have a relative in Miami who

can offer start-up capital for a small business/property or a grandpar-

ent in Madrid who can provide a Spanish passport. With Afro-Cubans

having much less access to financial capital, goods, and mobility, Cu-

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 341

ba’s new economic opportunities don’t start out on a level playing

field. Past and present migration patterns in combination with recent

economic and legal reforms are thus having a clear impact on current

social group formation and development in Cuba.

MANIFESTATIONS OF RACIAL INEQUALITIES IN THE NEW CUBA The effects of these growing socioeconomic divisions have started to

become clearly visible and are manifesting themselves in different

ways. Today most successful, private businesses in Cuba—whether

paladares, bed and breakfasts, beauty parlors, boutiques, or night-

clubs—are not only owned but usually also managed, staffed, and

frequented by white Cubans (as well as tourists). Interestingly, both

the aesthetic and the atmosphere in many of these private establish-

ments make it increasingly difficult to distinguish them from their

counterparts in Miami Beach, New York, or Mexico City.

Homes in exclusive neighborhoods continue to be bought and

sold for exorbitantly high prices and restored to their former glory.

A similar trend has also started in more rundown urban areas, where

real estate is much cheaper, resulting in a process of gentrification.

The new economy has not only created new privileges but also

enabled new lifestyles and habits. Many people have more money to

spend on themselves and more time for leisure and recreation. It is

thus not unusual to see expensive, imported cars on the streets of

Havana or well-dressed Cubans hanging out in many of the new chic

and pricey restaurants and nightclubs. New high-end gyms, spas, and

beauty parlors have cropped up, offering services such as yoga and Pi-

lates, steam baths, and saunas, as well as specialized nutritional diets.

Even plastic surgery has become popular.

Among economically well-off Cubans, it is also common to

have domestic help such as a housekeeper, nanny, gardener, and/or

watchman. Unthinkable just a few years ago, it is also no longer un-

usual for Cubans with disposable income to spend their summer vaca-

tions in Europe or to go on cruises.

342 social research

The Internet is another marker of privilege. Access to the In-

ternet in Cuba is, generally speaking, still challenging and expensive

and mainly available in public urban spaces. However, people with

means are increasingly finding ways to have home-based wifi con-

nections. This provides them with easier, faster access to private and

professional related communication, international news, and social

media while also offering conveniences such as online banking and

shopping. Cubans who rent out their property to foreigners through

an online website such as Airbnb, for instance, can conveniently man-

age their bookings from home. With inexpensive commercial flights

to Miami, more and more business owners are travelling there to go

shopping. To save time, some even shop online beforehand, have the

goods sent to a relative, and then pick them up when they are in

Miami.

What would have been considered ostentatious and at times

even counterrevolutionary behavior under Fidel Castro has become

acceptable under his brother Raúl. In the new Cuba it is no longer

politically incorrect to show one’s goods—quite the contrary. These

growing images of privilege stand in stark contrast to the growing

number of people who can be seen begging and rummaging through

piles of garbage in search of food or recyclable cans and bottles, or the

increasing numbers of devastatingly poor urban shantytowns that are

cropping up around Havana and provincial capitals along the north-

east coast.

Most of the people who live in these slum-like dwellings—re-

ferred to in Cuba as lleg y pon, which comes from llegar (to come) and

poner (to put down or squat)—are Afro-Cuban migrants who have

come from the island’s even poorer eastern provinces. They come in

search of work in the parallel, informal economies that have sprung

up mostly where tourism is prevalent and where hard currency is in

regular circulation (mainly the northwestern coast of Cuba). Most of

these people live from day to day, making ends meet in whatever way

they can. Because internal migration is not allowed in Cuba without

permission from the state, these migrants are largely illegal, mak-

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 343

ing their situation even more precarious. Due to their illegal status,

they cannot use the food ration card (libreta) that entitles every Cuban

citizen to a certain amount of basic subsidized food supplies every

month; a libreta is tied to a person’s home address.

Migrants everywhere in the world tend to go to places where

they already know someone. This is true for many internal Cuban mi-

grants and is a reason many of the older shantytowns and tenement

buildings (solares) in Havana and elsewhere are growing and becom-

ing more overcrowded.

The newer shantytowns that are mushrooming—particularly

on the outskirts of cities and towns—are mainly made out of wood,

old bricks, plastic, zinc, or whatever people can find to use as shel-

ter. Many of them don’t have running water, and electricity—when

available—is often pirated by tapping into a public streetlight cable.

In fact, these slums look like slums found anywhere in the Global

South, except that—and this is an important difference—children go

to school, people have access to health care, and there is relatively

little violent crime (especially when compared to neighboring coun-

tries in the region).

However, Cubans don’t like comparing themselves to their

neighbors in the region. Rather, they prefer to compare their current

situation to how things were in the past, especially before the Special

Period. Moreover, they were brought up on a message of equality and

social justice, and the social contract between the government and

the people has been largely based on that expectation. There is no

doubt that the Special Period changed many things and life became

extremely difficult, but it was difficult for almost everyone. Now, with

the increasing social divisions, particularly the overt signs of wealth

and privilege, this is changing, and people—especially among the

have-nots—are increasingly frustrated. The fact that these social divi-

sions can also be witnessed in the public sector, such as in health and

education, is particularly exasperating.

In Cuba health care and education have been free, universal

rights since 1959. In practice, however, Cubans with financial, mate-

344 social research

rial, and social capital now have better access to quality health care

and education. In the public health sector this is happening because

health care workers continue to earn low state wages and are thus

easily inclined to accept a “little gift” (un regalito) in the form of mon-

ey and material goods, or help a friend who will reciprocate the favor

in some useful way. Bringing a regalito or having a friend in the health

care sector opens the door to quicker and better medical attention.

For instance, if one needs an appointment with a specialist, an X-ray,

or an operation, a regalito could help secure and speed up the neces-

sary care. People who don’t have the means to offer a regalito or who

don’t have connections to someone in the health care system usually

have to wait longer and often don’t get the same quality of care. This

can have life-threatening consequences.

Similarly, in the education system it has become standard for

parents with means to hire private after-school tutors (repasadores)

for their children.10 This practice became popular in the early 2000s,

when the quality of education drastically dropped with the exodus

of teachers from the public education sector due to the low wages.

Ironically, many of these private tutors are the very teachers who had

left the public sector.

Over time a two-class system has emerged within the public

health and education sectors. For reasons already discussed, it is

mainly Afro-Cubans who do not have the means to offer a regalito

or hire a repasador. One of the many effects of this situation is that

Afro-Cuban entry levels into the higher education system have signifi-

cantly declined over the past years (Almeida Junco 2016).

CONCLUSION It is an ironic and tragic twist of history that in the context of the

island’s current reforms, past outward migration flows from Cuba,

current remittance sending practices, and Spanish citizenship laws

are mainly favoring white Cubans, while Afro-Cubans, who were once

considered the backbone of the Revolution, are largely being left out

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 345

of the island’s new opportunities and increasingly becoming part of

Cuba’s have-nots.

In the current context of US-Cuban rapprochement, there is

much hope and excitement for better political and economic rela-

tions between the two countries. In fact, since December 17, 2014,

the United States’ Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) has pub-

lished a series of new regulations allowing US citizens to send more

remittances to Cuba and import certain goods from the island, espe-

cially those made and sold in the Cuban private sector. Tourism from

the US has also increased manyfold over recent months and is likely

to continue to do so unless the new US administration tightens travel

regulations.

However, it is also very likely that social inequalities in gen-

eral and racial inequalities in particular will increase through the in-

flux of more capital from the US and elsewhere. It is thus imperative

that both the Cuban government and the international community

introduce responsible economic and development policies, as well as

targeted social programs that benefit and support all Cubans during

this time of change. If not, the island may, sooner or later, start to

resemble its pre-revolutionary socio-racial reality.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The research on which much of this article is based was generously

funded by the German Research Council (DFG).

NOTES 1. In this article the term “Afro-Cuban” is consciously used to include

all Cubans who are phenotypically not white.

2. The rationale for this is that throwing light on the issue enhances

national and racial separation and goes against the revolutionary

principles of unidad (unity) and cubanididad (Cubaness), in which

all Cubans are considered equal.

3. With the value of the peso cubano ranging from 20–25:1 against

the CUC.

346 social research

4. See: http://www.one.cu/aec2015/07%20Empleo%20y%20Salarios.pdf.

5. Cuba’s gini coefficient of income inequality (where 0 represents

complete equality and 1 complete inequality) rose from 0.24 in

the late 1980s to 0.41 a decade later, to 0.5 in the late 2000s (simi-

lar to the Latin American average of 0.53). According to a survey in

Havana, 20 percent of the population was poor (defined as “at risk

of being unable to satisfy their basic needs”) in 2000. Although

statistics are unavailable, experts agree that the national figure

has grown considerably since then.

6. According to the Cuban census (2012) the population is 60 percent

white, 24 percent mulatto, and 16 percent black. However,

because the census is based on self-identification (i.e., people are

asked to self-identify themselves as either “white,” “mulatto,” or

“black”) and there is a strong tendency among Cubans to want to

appear lighter skinned than they phenotypically are, the census

cannot be relied on. In fact, most serious scholars on the subject

of race in Cuba, both on and off the island (de la Fuente 1995,

2011; Fernández-Robaina 1990; Spence-Benson 2016; Zurbano

2014), assert that at least 60 percent of Cubans today have some

degree of African ancestry (i.e., they are phenotypically nonwhite

or Afro-Cuban) while 40 percent or less are phenotypically white.

In this study we adhere to the latter estimates.

7. Buena presencia is a racialized construct based on the belief that

blackness is ugly and that blacks, their formal education notwith-

standing, lack proper manners in their social relations (de la

Fuente 1998b, 7).

8. In Havana these neighborhoods include: El Vedado, Miramar, and

Siboney.

9. In upscale neighborhoods in Havana a family can make an aver-

age of US $800 a month by renting out a room in their home,

while entire apartments and houses can cost between US $1,000

to US $20,000 a month, depending on location, size, and ameni-

ties. Similarly, a successful, upscale paladar in these areas makes

an average of US $10,000 a day.

Race and Inequality in the New Cuba 347

10. Also, many wealthy Cubans are sending their children abroad to

study, a trend one can also observe among the ruling political

class.

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