There are two Cubas. On the Island are revolutionariescrusading to construct a Cuba that combats any attempt to subjugateher spirit to the US hegemony. On the (main)land are themodernists who look toward the United States as the guide and hopefor revitalizing a Post-Castro Cuba. Consequently, the Cubancommunity is divided into two antagonistic camps: Resident Cubans living under Castro's Marxist regime, and Exilic Cubans livingunder a global capitalist system. Due to these political andeconomic differences, we Cubans are a people divided againstourselves.
This division creates a unique space in how we read theBible differently than the rest of Latin America or other U.S.Hispanic groups. Theologians operating from a liberationalistperspective focus on Exodus as a source of hope for theirexistential situation. The story of a God who hears the cries ofthe oppressed and personally leads them toward liberation is apowerful motif. However, Exodus is not the rubric from which weExilic Cubans read the scriptures. It is the second exodus,narrating the Babylonian Captivity, that resonates within our verybeing. Like the Psalmist of 137 we sit by the streams of thiscountry, singing about our inability to sing God's songs.
• BESIDE THE MIAMI RIVER WE SAT AND WEPT AT THE MEMORY OFLA HABANA LEAVING OUR CONGA DRUMS BY THE PALM TREES.
In la sagüesera (Southwest Miami), on CalleOcho (Eighth Street), is a restaurant called Versailles,dubbed El palacio de los Espejos (The mirrored palace). What makes this restaurant unique are the mirrored walls. Sittingat the table in the crowded salon, I constantly see myselfreflected on one of many heavily-gilded mirrors. As we ExilicCubans look in the mirrors surrounding us, we are in fact searchingfor our ontological origin. Not so much what we are, but what wesee ourselves as being.
Versailles serves as a vivid illustration to Lacan's theoryof the Mirror Stage. Lacan, the postmodern psychoanalyst,maintains that while I look at myself in the mirror, I assume thatwhat I see is a reflection of a self ─ a secondary reflectionfaithful (more or less) to the likeness of an existing originalself. Lacan would propose the opposite, that the image in themirror is what constructs the self. My encounter with the mirrorliterally reverses the direction, and serves the function offorming my "I." Lacan's theory describes the fact thatthe delusive reflection of the Cuban in the mirror constructs anExilic Cuban 'self' captivated by the belief in the projected'imaginary', where both future and past are grounded within anillusion. In short, the ideal formed in the mirror situates theagency of the 'ego' in fiction, while projecting the formation ofthe 'self' into history (94-95).
My Cuban eyes see in the mirror the anticipated maturationof the power I desire to possess and read into my history theillusion of a "golden Exile." This is why it is soimportant to wear all the jewelry I possess, not so much to be seenby others but so that I can see. Our striving for power creates ahistory where we tell ourselves that before we Cubans came to thisplace, "Miami era un campo con luces (Miami was avillage with fancy lights)." We, who possess the powerto transform a lazy vacation city into the center of U.S. tradewith Latin America, see within ourselves a superior quality whencompared to other ethnic groups who have not transcended thebarrio or ghetto. But as Lacan would ask, which is theillusion, the self or the reflection? To see myself as an ExilicCuban through the mirror's 'imaginary' imposes an oppressive gazeupon other Cubans who do not look like me, such as those who camethrough Mariel in 1980, or those who stayed on the Island. Theybecome my Other, categorized by their class and skin pigmentation.
How I see my Other defines my existential self. Mysubjective "I" exists when I tell the "I" whoI am not. The subject "I" is defined by contrasting itwith the objects "Marielito" or "ResidentCuban." In socially constructing "I" out of thedifferences with the "them," there exist establishedpower relations which give meaning to those differences. Specifically, when I look in the mirror, I do not see a"Marielito" or "Resident Cuban," who areseen as black, criminal, homosexual and scum. By projecting my"I" into Marielitos and Resident Cubans, I am ableto define myself as a white macho who is civilized and successful.As long as I continue to reconstruct myself in the mirror, any typeof reconciliation between the two Cubas is futile.
Looking in the mirror, I reread history as one who escapedthe tyranny of communism. Batista's departure from Cuba on NewYear's Eve 1959 triggered panic as party goers rushed to theirhouses to collect their sleeping children, moneys, and anything ofvalue. Those who were able to leave arrived in this country stillin their tuxedos and dress uniforms, their wives in formal gownsand high heels. These first refugees arrived with"class" ─ not so much in the elegance of theirattire, but in their high economic social stratum. Unlike othercontemporary examples of refugees, both the Babylonian-bound Jewsand the U.S.-bound Cubans belonged to the privileged upper socialclass. These Exilic Cubans, like their Jewish counterparts were notnecessarily numerous. Yet, they represented the top echelons oftheir country's governmental and business community, facilitatingour reestablishment in a foreign land.
The surreal scene at the Miami airport of well-dressedrefugees was caused by the same forces that brought about theBabylonian exile. In both cases, the hegemonic northern power wasresponsible for the circumstances that lead to refugee status. Both Cuba and Judea were vassals of a more powerful Northernneighbor. Their strategic importance, Judah as a buffer zonebetween the powers of the north and south, and Cuba as a key to theentire hemisphere, made them desirable prizes. While Judah's exilewas triggered by the physical invasion of Babylon, Cuba'srevolution was a backlash to the U.S. hegemony. The economicrestructure of Cuba by the U.S. created presocialized refugeesalong U.S. paradigms. An Anglocized elite that formed linkage withupper-class groups in the U.S. and Latin America was created toprotect U.S. interests. Transition to Exilic existence was easedby the newly created space this group occupied.
This first wave (1959-1962) brought 215,000 refugees tothese shores. Demographically, these new Cuban refugees were quitehomogeneous. The vast majority composed an elite of formernotables who were mostly white (94%), middle aged (about 34 yearsold), and educated (about 14 years of schooling). Not wanting tominimize the trauma and hardship of being a refugee, we who settledin Miami held an advantage denied other immigrating groups byentering a social environment made familiar through years of priortravel and business dealings. South Florida was seen as a pleasantvacation hub from which to await Castro's immediate downfall. Thesecond wave (1962-1973) brought 414,000 refugees who werepredominately white, educated, middle class and willing to workbelow minimum wages. Our hatred toward communism facilitated ourusefulness as a Cold War propaganda tool to the U.S. dominantculture. A "golden exile" was constructed to contrastCastro's Cuba.
Pierre Bourdieu's concept of the habitus illuminateswhy Exilic Cubans ascended the socio-economic institutions ofMiami. Being born into a position of privilege in Cuba, oursocially constructed lifestyle facilitated our rise to the echelonsof Miami's power structures. We merely had to assert what we werein order to become what we are--an effort done with theunself-consciouness that marks our so-called 'nature'. But whathappens when the refugees are not from former positions ofprivilege? The third wave (Mariel Boat lift, 1980) brought 125,000who, unlike the elite first wave, or the middle class second wave,resembled the population's masses. Approximately 70% were singlemales and 40% were black. Seen as scum, they become the scapegoatfor all that is bad with the Exilic Cuban character. Marielitosbecame our Other.
• "SING," THEY SAID, "SOME MAMBO." HOW CAN WE SING OUR RUMBA IN A PAGAN LAND. MI HABANA, IF I FORGETYOU MAY MY RIGHT HAND WITHER.
Every Exilic Cuban has heard Celia Cruz sing thepopular tear-jerker "Cuando salí de Cuba (WhenI left Cuba)." No other song best summarizes the pain of ourexistential location. "Never can I die, my heart is nothere. Over there it is waiting for me, it is waitingfor me to return there. When I left Cuba, I left my life,I left my love. When I left Cuba, I left my heart buriedthere." This popular Cuban ballad, written by a Chilean,illustrates the denial of accepting the reality of being, living,and most likely dying on foreign soil.
Lourdes Casal writes that "Exile is living where nohouse holds the memories of our childhood" (qtd. byRivera-Valdés 226). Both the Exilic Jews and Cubans wereforced to deal with this incompressible pain. Judaism wasconstructed in Babylon through the pain of questioning thesovereignty of a God who would tear God's people from their homesand plant them in a foreign land. Likewise, we Exilic Cubanssubconsciously reconstructed ourselves in Lacan's mirror. Weinternalize and naturalize our image in Lacan's mirror so that wecan begin to shape outside structures, always masking our drivetoward mastering them. This reconstruction took the form of laCuba de ayer. La Cuba de ayer on U.S. soil created aCuban territory with its distinct cultural milieu andidiosyncrasies that served to protect us from the pain of initialeconomic and psychological difficulties caused by our uprooting. Cuba became more than just the old country, it was the mythologicalworld of our origins. An ethereal place where every conceivableitem es mejor (is better): from the food, to the skies, topests. Everything aquí (here) when contrasted withallá (there) is found lacking. Unlike thepredominate stereotypes of other immigrant groups who left painfulmemories of the old country behind, joyfully anticipating what theyperceived was a new country where the streets were paved with gold,we Cubans did not want to come to what we perceived to be aninferior culture. Like the Babylon Jews, we rejoiced every timesomeone says "Let us go to our house" (Psalm 122). Attempting to avoid our pain, we construct a mythical Cuba whereevery guajiro/a (country bumpkin) had class and wealth,where no racism existed, and where Eden was preserved until theserpent (Fidel) beguiled Eve (the weakest elements of society:blacks, poor, etc.) and brought an end to paradise.
Is it any wonder that when Exilic Cubans read Psalm 137we are stirred to the very being of our soul? We fully comprehendthe tragic pain of sitting by the rivers of an alien land unable tosing to a God the Psalter secretly holds responsible. The hope ofreturning to one's land becomes a foundational building block ofbeing an Exilic Cuban, yet with the passing of each year, thecemeteries of Miami increase with headstones engraved with Cubansurnames. Rather then proclaiming, "next year inJerusalem" we tell each other, "this year Castro willfall," as though this one person is the only thing thatprevents us from "going home." In reality, the hope ofreturning home has been replaced with a private desire to adapt andcapitalize on our presence in this country.
Jeremiah writes a letter to the Exilic Jews to forget abouttheir hope for a speedy return. He tells them "to buildhouses, settle down, plant gardens and eat what they produce; . .. [they are to] work for the good of the country to which exiled .. . praying on its behalf, since on its welfare [they] depend"(29:5-9). Like the Exilic Jews, Cubans suffered no unusualphysical hardship; on the contrary, life in Exile opened upopportunities that never existed in the homeland. Similarly,Cubans entered trade and grew rich, with some, like Nehemiah,ascending the political structures to hold a profound power overthose who did not go into Exile. The United States is where ExilicCubans placed their hope. Yet while Jerusalem was falling,Jeremiah bought a plot of land (32:9-11). His message juxtaposesGod's judgement with deliverance. The true hope for Jerusalem didnot lay in Babylon, rather, it was rooted in the homeland. Yetwhile we are looking toward Cuba to define our present reality inthis country, we are also looking toward the U.S. to define thefuture of Cuba.
For example, in 1973 Exilic Cubans attempted to rectify theseparation with the homeland by building a shrine on U.S. soil forLa Virgen de Caridad to serve as both a political and sacredspace. This sacred ground contains the image of a nation whileliving in a foreign land. Standing in the shrine, one cansimultaneously occupy space in both la Cuba de ayer and theMiami of today. The presence of Cuba's patron in Miami indicatesthat she too came from Cuba as an exile in the same way that theDivine left the rightful habitation of the "defiled"Jerusalem to reappear before the exiled Ezekiel.
The building of the shrine to our patron saint, along withthe construction of "little Havana" contributes to aself-deception that avoids realization of our physical location andthe 'uprootedness' transforming our individual reality. For thisreason, the message of Jeremiah is as relevant to us Exilic Cubansas it was to the Babylonian Jews. His task, according to WalterBrueggemann, was to articulate God's sovereignty as hope for thosepreferring the self-deception and denial of losing one's land, wayof life and known world (12, 18).
• YAHWEH, REMEMBER WHAT THE COMMUNISTS DID . . . ABLESSING ON HIM WHO TAKES AND DASHES THEIR BABIES AGAINST THE ROCK!
The psalmist prayed that the enemy's babies be dashedagainst the rocks. The pain of Exile can lead to revenge towardthose perceived to be responsible for one's expatriation. Mimicking the psalmists, U.S. Congressman Diaz-Balart, who is anExilic Cuban, called for a post-Castro Cuba with a"numerically larger army than it has today" to launch acampaign of retribution against anyone who participated in"collaborationism with tyranny." Ten years in prisonwill not be enough for those who are guilty. The congressman calledfor the abduction of foreign investors presently doing businesswith Cuba, having them brought to the Island, and punished (Kiger57).
Hatred is not limited to one side of the Florida Straits. While the Resident community calls you a gusano (worm) forleaving the Island, the Exilic community calls you a traitor forattempting to reconcile. Each Cuba sees itself in the mirror asthe true remnant. Resident Cubans see themselves as the trueCubans just as King Zedekiah's nobles who remained in Judah sawthemselves as true Jews (Ez 11:14; 33:24). Similarly Exilic Cubanssee themselves in their mirror as God's "good basket offigs" as opposed to the "bad basket of figs" whichJeremiah (24) uses to represent King Zedekiah and all those whoremain behind. Resident Cubans are seen as pseudo-Cubans in needof being educated in the ways of capitalism and democracy.
Before we attempt to paternally educate Resident Cubans, weof the exile must first recover from our amnesia. Jeremiah strivesto overcome the Babylonian Jews' attempt to displace blame fortheir proscription. He explains that their condemnation is due to"no one doing justice." Our own sins, and the sins ofthose to whom we were vassals, are the cause of our exile. Ourreconstruction of the Cuba de ayer ignores the reality thatLa Habana was in a U.S. constructed exotic space where therepressed libidinous appetites of the Anglos could be fulfilled. The commercialization of vice afforded North Americans theopportunity to experience life outside of their accustomed moralspace. La Habana of 1958 was a U.S. brothel with Mafia controlledcasinos, holding the infamous distinction of being the sex andabortion capital of the Western Hemisphere. As a playground forNorth America, Cuba developed an unequal distribution of wealth andviolated basic human rights to maintain the status quo. They builttheir house through the oppression of people (Jer 22:13-17). Nocommunal covenant based on justice and compassion existed betweenthe elite and the masses. By continuing to scapegoat thecommunist, we deflect attention from our own responsibility.
Maintaining la Cuba de ayer insures the death of ourperceived enemies today and creates the Cuba of tomorrow--aPost-Castro Cuba based on horizontal oppression, Resident Cubanssubjected to Exilic Cubans. The continuous support of the embargoby Exilic Cubans denies Resident Cubans basic medical supplies, andcauses death among the sick, elderly, and infants. In a sanitaryway, we are dashing the 'enemies' babies against rocks when wedeny, for example, insulin to those babies born diabetic. Ironically, the Exilic Cuban has no desire to physically return tothe Island, for any type of return would mean a tremendous economicsacrifice. Like the Exilic Jews, we have become well-to-do, andunmotivated toward any possible rush back to the homeland (Bright362-363). The hardships required in nation building do notout-weigh the luxuries of living in Miami.
While our two Cubas struggle with each other, the U.S. ispositioning itself to reimpose its hegemony. In the same way thatthe Persian court created a postexilic community to secure itsnational interests, the U.S. has promised to "rebuild"Cuba, ensuring that any post-Castro government sacrifices itssovereignty. Such a future would create a hierarchical communitydominated by those dedicated to the economic concerns of U.S.business people. To achieve their goals, the U.S. created agovernment in exile known as the Cuban-American NationalFoundation (CANF), recently headed by Jorge Mas Canosa,presidential hopeful of a post-Castro government. CANF was startedin 1981 when fifty white Exilic-Cuban businessmen paid tenthousand dollars to purchase a seat on the Board of Directors. Elgarresta, working for Richard Allen, then national securityadviser to President Ronald Reagan, created an Exilic Cubanpolitical action committee to funnel monies to U.S. candidates inorder to effect mainstream U.S. politics.
CANF has written a constitution for a Post-Castro Cubacomplete with legal codes, and a sector-by-sector economicanalysis. In the early '90s, CANF created the Blue RibbonCommission for the Economic Reconstruction of Cuba. Thecommission envisions a libertarian Cuba where all of the nation'sinfrastructures would be run and operated by the private sectors. Upon Castro's downfall, Mas Canosa plans to send to the Island"a ship of hope," full of investors, stockbrokers, andbankers (Slevin A-10). Obviously, the impoverished ResidentCubans lack the necessary capital to refurbish and head powerplants, airports, railroads, or utility companies. This task willfall into the hands of foreign corporations. By August 1990, theUniversity of Miami's Research Institute for Cuban Studies began tocollect data to produce a Registry of Expropriated Properties inCuba. The purpose of these land registers is to compensateprevious Exilic owners for the loss of their property and assets. Yet what will happen to those presently occupying theseproperties?
From within the Exilic Jewish community, a prophet arosewho became a subversive yet redemptive voice. While we do not knowhis name, his work is found in the latter chapters of Isaiah. Appealing to the community's old memories he plots a new trajectoryto discern reality, a realty that conflicts with the self deceptionof the exiles. Isaiah's vision is inclusive (49:6; 56: 1-8; 66:18-21), calling the Exilic community to become "a light to thenations, that [God's] salvation may reach to the end of theearth." The focus is on a God who acts on the side of thosewho are oppressed and afflicted, as opposed to the partisanpolitics rampant in the postexilic Jewish community. Rejectingthis prophetic voice, Exilic Cubans are aggressively taking theopposite role--that of the Zadokite priestly party. Theinclusiveness of Isaiah's community is rife with accusations ofbeing "communist dupes or agents" if one varies from therigid anti-Castro rhetoric advocated by CANF. Hanson points outthat the Zadokite 1) moved away from Isaiah's (60:21; 61:6)egalitarian call for a nation of priests by firmly holding power intheir own hand, 2) replaced Isaiah's (Is 56:3-7) mission to thenations with a pragmatic parochial strategy of domesticconsolidation, and 3) compromised the sovereignty of God with thatof the Persian emperor, even to the point of proclaiming that Godelected a pagan, Cyrus, to be His messiah, His anointed (255). Thus the Zadokite hierarchy struggled over against those whoembraced the restoration of Isaiah's egalitarian visions. Thefailure to create Isaiah's vision can be traced to the PersianCourt's self-serving support of the Zadokites. The construction ofa postexilic Judah was possible because it contributed to Persia'sinternational goal of creating a buffer between them and theirenemies, the Egyptians. As such, Judah's existence depended onPersia's good will (Ezra 7:11-18). The nation was rebuilt at theprice of being a vassal (583 to 332 B.C.E.) to its more powerfulnorthern neighbor.
Ezra (7:25-26), with legal and financial support by Persia,was sent to create this buffer zone where the inhabitants strictlyobeyed the "laws of [their] God and the law of the[Persian] king." Like Ezra, a demand is being made toResident Cubans to "put away your foreign wives." However, some of those 'wives' may be worth keeping (such as highliteracy rates, 100% social security system, high doctor perpatient ratio, low infant mortality, and long life expectancy). Ignoring Isaiah's egalitarian call, the postexilic community soonfound itself weakened by economic abuses. Exilic Jews profitedfrom the economic misfortunes of the Resident Jews, whileconcealing their prowess in piety (Isa 58: 1-12; 59: 1-8). TheResident poor found themselves enslaved as they lost their lands tothe returning Exile (Ne 5:1-5), and were cheated from wages bythose from the Exilic who set up new business (Mal 3:5). Thisdomination will repeat itself. The planned post-Castro communitywill lead to the subjugation of Resident Cubans to Exilic Cubanswho in turn will be subjugated to the U.S. hegemony. The optionspresently available to Exilic Cubans are similar to those faced bythe Babylonian Exilic Jews. We can follow the example of Ezra byforcing Resident Cubans to "put away their foreignwives," and establishing a vassal political system thatenriches the Exilic community to the determent of the Residentcommunity. Or, we can follow Isaiah's egalitarian vision whichattempts to construct a reconciled just community. This paperadvocates the latter.
Bright, John. A History of Israel, 3rd ed. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1959.
Lacan, Jacques. Êcrits. Paris: Seuil, 1966.
Prohías, Rafael J. and Lourdes Casal. The CubanMinority in the U.S.: Preliminary Report on Need Identification andProgram Evaluation Final Report for Fiscal Year 1973. Vol I. New York: Arno, 1980.
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