A Cuban-Based Religious Experience
The animosity expressed during the Elián saga illustrates that politically speaking, there are basically two Cubas, one allá (there) and one aquí (here). On the island are revolutionaries who combat any attempt to subjugate Cuba's spirit to U.S. hegemony. In Miami are pro-U.S. capitalists who look to the United States to be the guiding hope in revitalizing a post-Castro Cuba. Owing to these fundamental political, economic, and ideological differences, the Cuban community has become a people divided against itself. The Cuban individual, Exilic or Resident, who chooses to address her or his community from any perspective other than the official one would be suspect of secretly abetting the opposing camp and might only succeed in uniting both groups in condemning her or his initiative.
The Resident Cuban calls you a traitor, a gusano (worm), for leaving. The Exilic Cuban calls you a traitor, un comunista, for saying anything about the Castro government that falls short of a condemnation. But in Miami worse things than being called a communist happen: for a Miami Exilic Cuban even to suggest any positive accomplishment of the Revolution invites violence. In 1979 Carlos Muñíz was assassinated in Puerto Rico for his leadership role with the Antonio Maceo Brigade, an organization helping to build the Revolution, composed mainly of Exilic Cuban college students who supported the social justice goals of the Revolution, the end of the United States blockade, the normalization of relationships, the independence of Puerto Rico, and the U.S. civil rights movement. Luciano Negrín, also a member of the Antonio Maceo Brigade and a prominent dialogue supporter, was killed in Union City, New Jersey, that same year. Ramón Donestevez, a Hialeah boat builder, was assassinated because of his suspected ties to the Castro government.
Yet in 1989 alone, eighteen bombs exploded in the homes and businesses of Exilic Cubans who called for an approach to Cuba contrary to the official hard line. From May to October 1996, twelve bombs exploded in Miami for the same reasons. These actions led the FBI to name Miami the capital of United States terrorism. Recently, the archdiocese of Miami received numerous bomb threats for collecting and sending emergency relief to Resident Cubans suffering catastrophic damage when hurricane Lili directly hit the island in October 1996. (Ironically, the aid was returned by the Castro administration because the word exilic and the phrase "love conquers all" were written on the cans and boxes.) The Cuban Museum of Art and Culture in Miami received bomb threats for exhibiting the works of Tomas Sánchez, a Resident Cuban, which led Americas Watch, a human rights organization, to title their report on Miami's lack of freedom of expression "Dangerous Dialogue."
Cubans in La Habana are likewise silenced. Resident Cubans who criticize the present regime from within or who become active in human rights movements are accused of being agents of the United States and are subsequently jailed for violating laws that prohibit the right to assemble.[31] Four such dissidents, Marta Beatriz Roque, Vladimiro Roca, Felix Bonne, and René Gómez Manzano, were detained for criticizing Cuba's one-party system. On March 15, 1999, Roca, son of the late Cuban Communist Party Leader Blas Roca, was sentenced to five years in prison. He was released months before his sentence expired as a gesture of "goodwill" toward Jimmy Carter, who visited the island in 2002. Both lawyer Manzano and engineer Bonne were sentenced to four years, and economist Roque received a sentence of three and a half years. All defendants had an opportunity to avoid prison terms if they would voluntarily leave the country. They chose to stay.[32] Elizardo Sánchez, head of the Cuban Commission on Human Rights, estimates that 381 political prisoners are in Cuban jails. According to Amnesty International, Cuba has
Relations between these two antagonistic communities notwithstanding, they do share a common religious trajectory that helps to explain the fusing and confusing of religiosity with politics. Unfortunately, in spite of the many excellent Cuban scholarly works currently available, few specifically deal with how the religiosity of Cubans affects, if not determines, the political positions occupied by so many in Miami. Although significant works in the fields of anthropology, sociology, psychology, political science, economics, and history have been written, works on which this book heavily relies, conspicuously missing is a close examination of the Exilic Cuban political dilemma of el exilio as a religious response to the existential space of displacement. By religious response, I do not mean any specific religious or spiritual action Exilic Cubans ought to take to be faithful to some overall sense of dogma or religious ethics; rather, religion is understood here as a binding substance providing moral justifications for the political actions a given group undertakes. In short, the present Exilic Cuban political culture is itself a reflection of a constructed religious system indigenous to Miami.
The religiosity of Exilic Cubans in Miami determines their social, political, and economic reality through morals—ideals—that justify the Exilic Cubans’ worldview. Religious faith becomes a special form of consciousness containing specific consequences for political will. Satisfaction of theological questions is not the ultimate goal. Rather, the longing to answer the unanswerable questions of their alienation (from the patria and from compatriots ninety miles away) becomes a religious quest for meaning. The attempt to make sense of an alienation that marks the Exilic Cuban identity creates a sacred space in which Exilic Cubans can grapple with their spiritual need to reconcile with their God and their psychological need to reconcile with their compatriots on the other side of the Florida Straits (De La Torre 2002a, 117–18). Besides the obvious political alienation existing among Cubans, as a people they are also divided along lines of sexism, racism, and classism. Hence, any Cuban religiosity capable of healing the ruptured relationships of Cubans, both Exilic and Resident, must take into account all aspects of their alienation.
To understand better the foundation of this Cuban religiosity, I suggest the term ajiaco Christianity.[34]Ajiaco is a Cuban stew consisting of different indigenous root vegetables. A native dish, it symbolizes who
Ajiaco symbolizes cubanidad's (Cubanness) cultural attempt to find harmony among diverse roots, aspiring to create José Martí's idealized state of a secularized vision of Christian love that is anti-imperialistic, antimilitant, antiracist, moral, and radical.[36] Unlike the North American melting pot, in which all newly arrived immigrants are placed into a vessel where they somehow "cook down" into a new culture that nevertheless remains Eurocentric, the Cuban ajiaco retains the unique flavors of its diverse ingredients, which enrich one another. Some ingredients may dissolve completely, while others may remain more distinct. Yet all provide flavor to the simmering stew, which by its very nature is always in a state of flux.
Although the Taíno—the original Amerindians of the Arawakan nation who first inhabited Cuba—left few visible traces of existence after their decimation by the 1600s, they continue to influence Cuban culture, popular memory, and imagination. Runaway slave communities incorporated the cultural influences of the Taínos’ dwindling population, reintroducing them to Cuban culture. While all these distinct racial and ethnic groups representing the "ingredients" originated outside the island, they all repopulated the space called Cuba as displaced people. While not belonging, they made a conscious decision to be rooted to that particular land. The decision to belong brought together a mixture, an ajiaco, of different cultures. I propose that the metaphor of the Cuban ajiaco should form the basis for an authentic religious reality, a locus theologicus, from which Cubans approach the world (De La Torre 2002a, 121).[37]
Most Latina/o theologians, however, use the term mulato Christianity (when referring to Hispanics from the Caribbean) and/or mestizo Christianity (when referring to Hispanics from Mexico and Central and South America) to describe the Hispanic Christian perspective. While the term mestizo is mainly used to describe those of Spanish and Amerindian origins, mulato connotes a mixture of Spanish and African stock. Yet it is
But why an ajiaco Christianity in particular? Until now, most Exilic Cuban religious scholars have dealt with the Exilic Cuban experience from an overall Hispanic and Christian context. Absent from the discourse has been the application of a self-critical analysis. Although it is important to position the Exilic Cuban within the larger "Latina/o" community,
Yet lumping these groups together does not completely work. According to the Census Bureau, Exilic Cubans’ 1997 mean family income of $35,616 is closer to the U.S. population's mean income of $49,692 than that of any other Hispanic group. Contrast the Exilic Cuban mean income with the Mexican American mean income of $25,347 or the Puerto Rican mean income of $23,646. Sixty-three percent of Exilic Cubans own businesses (the highest rate among Latin Americans), contrasted with 19 percent of Mexican Americans and 11 percent of Puerto Ricans. Unemployment rates of 4 percent for Cubans are lower then the national average, while Mexicans are at 11 percent and Puerto Ricans are at 8 percent. Only 14 percent of Exilic Cubans find themselves below the poverty line, as opposed to 25 percent of Mexicans and 37 percent of Puerto Ricans. Finally, 22 percent of Exilic Cubans hold managerial or professional positions, much higher than the 9 percent of Mexicans or 12 percent of Puerto Ricans (De La Torre and Aponte 2001, 22).
These figures illustrate the difficulty Exilic Cubans have finding room within an overall Hispanic theological viewpoint that constructs a perspective solely from a position of marginality and poverty. While discrimination against Exilic Cubans is a reality and is reflected in the distribution of income (their mean income is about $14,000 less than that of the general U.S. population), Exilic Cubans, more than any other Hispanic group, earn higher average incomes and more frequently hold
The endeavor to disenfranchise Exilic Cubans created a backlash among the Exilic community, leading to a concerted effort to wrest control from the old Anglo guard. Tactics included the formation of Facts about Cuban Exiles (FACE) to combat anti-Cuban stereotypes, the intensification of activism by the Spanish American League against Discrimination (SALAD), and a political grassroots effort prior to the 1984 presidential election, which culminated in nine thousand Cubans becoming U.S. citizens and for the most part registering as Republicans. These efforts resulted in Miami becoming the only city in the United States where first-generation Latin American immigrants have become dominant in city politics. By the 1990s, the majority of city commissioners were Exilic Cubans, as was the mayor. The superintendent of Dade County public schools, the state chairs of the Florida Democratic Party, and the local chairs of the county's political parties are Exilic Cubans. Further, the president of several banks (about twenty) and of Florida International University, the Dade County AFL-CIO, the Miami Chamber of Commerce, the Miami Herald Publishing Company, and the Greater Miami Board of Realtors (a post I held) are or have been Exilic Cuban. It is common to find Exilic Cubans occupying top administrative posts in City Hall, at the Miami Herald, and in the city's corporate boardrooms (De La Torre 2002b, 21–22).
Listing such middle-class accomplishments on the part of Exilic Cubans is not an attempt to minimize the pain and suffering that came with being uprooted and the discrimination faced during the initial exilic experience, nor does it imply that all Exilic Cubans have achieved economic success. Yet, more than other recently arrived immigrants, as a group Exilic Cubans have generally ceased to be marginalized. By 1990, Exilic Cubans had become an integral part of Miami's political, economic, and social power structure. Indeed, Exilic Cubans have adopted a hypercapitalist ideology, propelling them into an ultraconservative Republicanism.[42] Many are more "American" than the Euroamericans and more "Cuban" than those who continue to reside in Cuba.
When economic and political achievements such as these are reviewed, seldom is a connection made between them and the religious sensibilities of Exilic Cubans. As mentioned earlier, few Cuban scholars approach el exilio from a sophisticated religious studies perspective. The religiosity of
Additionally, few Exilic Cuban religious scholars address Exilic Cuban religious expression in the context of the sociopolitical power achieved in the Miami community. While claiming to do "grassroots theology," they seldom consult the political "grassroots" in Miami. When the Exilic Cuban perspective is discussed among Cuban religious scholars, it is usually done from the pre-1980s rubric of the Cuban immigrant as alien. Why is present-day Miami ignored?
Most Exilic Cuban religious scholars are highly influenced by the liberationist tendency of Latino/a theology.[43] Rooted in the theological movement of Latin America known as liberation theology, these scholars are not averse to using Marxist economic analysis to elucidate the religious impetus of those who are most economically oppressed. Because liberation theology has been cast as a communist movement by those in power, and an overall abhorrence exists among Exilic Cubans toward communism, why then should we be surprised that Exilic Cuban religious scholars find little if any reception of it among el exilio? Consequently, Exilic Cuban religious scholars have contributed to the overall Hispanic liberationist discourse by speaking either within a constructed pan-ethnic space or within some other Latino/a tradition. One finds Exilic Cuban religious scholars writing about such subjects as the Mexican Virgen de Guadalupe or the socioeconomic misery of the Puerto Rican barrio in el Bronx.
Along with rejecting anything that might appear communist, Exilic Cuban religious scholars generally ignore present-day Miami because of the obvious difficulty of "doing theology as an oppressed people," when in fact the Exilic Cuban community is, for the most part, economically well-established; has a most effective U.S. lobbying group, the Cuban American National Foundation (CANF); and is the center of the political, economic, and social power in Dade County, Florida. It is difficult to cry "oppression" once a solid middle-class status has been achieved.