La Lucha: Miami's Religion
Some Latina/o religious scholars have used the term la lucha to refer to a form of Latina feminism known as mujerista theology.[5] This is not how the term is being used here. Instead, I am reclaiming this Cuban idiom by returning to its original usage. The term la lucha has its roots in Cuba's nineteenth-century struggle against Spain for liberation. Later it became la lucha against the United States, as represented by the U.S.-backed Machado and Batista regimes. Today the typical Exilic Cuban on the streets of Little Havana understands la lucha as the continuing struggle against Castro and all who are perceived to be his allies.
In the previous chapter we examined how ajiaco Christianity is understood to signify the overall religious milieu of Cubanness. If ajiaco Christianity symbolizes an inclusive Cuban religiosity, then la lucha symbolizes an exclusive one. La lucha becomes a sacred space in which the Exilic Cuban's religious fervor becomes intertwined with the community's political convictions. As such, la lucha comes to represent the cosmic struggle between the "children of light" (Exilic Cubans) and the "children of darkness" (Resident Cubans), complete with a Christ (Martí), an Antichrist (Castro), a priesthood (CANF), a promised land (Cuba), and martyrs (those who gloriously suffer in the holy war against Castro). Add to this cosmology a messiah—Elián.
But to insist on themes of reconciliation out of a religious or biblical conviction is to participate in this cosmic struggle as a false prophet. The use of Christian motifs and biblical precepts about reconciliation has in the past brought about only unfortunate consequences. During the 1970s, the Reverend Manuel Espinosa, pastor of the Evangelical Church in Hialeah and former captain in Castro's military, used his pulpit to preach on themes of intra-Cuban reconciliation. In 1975 his sermons earned him the label comunista and a severe beating. By 1980, the good reverend publicly admitted he was a secret agent for the Castro government (García 1996, 139–40). His admission only confirmed in the hearts and minds of the émigré community that anyone who actively sought or supported reconciliation with Resident Cubans must somehow be connected with the regime and hence a promoter of evil.
The mecca of this new religious expression known as la lucha became the South Florida city of Miami. While small ethnic enclaves of Cubans can be found in New Jersey, New York, Puerto Rico, and California, 65 percent of all Exilic Cubans have migrated to Florida. Although Miami is located within the boundaries of the United States and operates within its legal, political, and judicial systems, in a very real and profound sense, Miami is the capital of the imaginary nation of Exilic Cubans. To visit Miami at the start of the new millennium is to visit the ideal Cuba of the 1950s and to participate in the Cold War that marked that era but has, everywhere else, at least, long since dissipated. As the Exilic Cuban postmodern capital of the Americas, the city serves as a museum to the Cuba of yesteryear. If a person wants to buy Cuban bread, Gilda crackers, Materva soft drinks, café Pilon, malt, or Cuban sandwiches, they must go to Miami, for these items no longer exist in Cuba. Well-known pre-Castro restaurants like La Carreta, El Caney, Río Cristal, and El Patio continue to operate in Miami. Even the Spanish spoken in Miami maintains its 1950s La Habana accent—which no longer exists in La Habana. Likewise, members of Miami's Cuban community express the same religious views as they did when they opposed Castro during the early 1960s, when the only choice that existed was between Christ and the Antichrist.
Exilic Cubans internalize, naturalize, and legitimize their religious view, la lucha, in order to mask their position of power as they shape Miami's political and economic structures according to the tenets of this religion. They construct an ethnic identity, complete with a long and complicated genealogy, so that they can blame Resident Cubans for their own problems. They (re)member their (dis)membered past as a white people coming from a white nation, fleeing tyranny with only the clothes on their backs and leaving behind la Cuba de ayer (the Cuba of yesterday,)
To re-create la Cuba de ayer on U.S. soil is to create a landless Cuban territory, with its distinct cultural milieu and idiosyncrasies, that serves to protect Cubans from the pain of economic and psychological difficulties caused by their initial uprooting. Cuba became more than just the old country; it grew to be the mythological world of Cubans’ origins. Cuba becomes some ethereal place where every conceivable item es mejor (is better), where the sky is bluer, the sugar sweeter, the bugs less pesky, and life richer. Everything aquí (here), when contrasted with allá (there), is found lacking. Unlike other immigrant groups, who left painful memories of the old country behind while joyfully anticipating a country where "the streets were paved with gold," many Cubans did not want to come to what many considered a country with an inferior culture.
Cuban poet and writer Reinaldo Arenas captures the pain of being uprooted by el exilio and the need to remember what was left behind. He wrote: "Someone who's been uprooted, exiled, has no country. Our country exists only in our memory, but we need something beyond memory if we're to achieve happiness. We have no homeland, so we have to invent it over and over again" (Suárez 1999, vix). According to cultural anthropologist James Clifford, "Perhaps there's no return for anyone to a native land—only field notes for its reinvention" (1988, 173). Exilic Cubans avoid the pain of displacement by constructing a mythical Cuba where every guajiro (country bumpkin) has class and wealth, where no racism exists, and where Eden was preserved until the serpent (Fidel) beguiled Eve (the weakest elements of society, such as the blacks and the poor) and brought an end to paradise.
La lucha, as a religious expression, is rooted in the socioeconomic status of Exilic Cubans, which is radically different from that of other Latino/a groups. Of the more than one million Cubans living in the United States, about 73 percent arrived as refugees (Pedraza 2001, 411). When Batista departed from Cuba on New Year's Day, 1959, he triggered panic as party-goers rushed to their homes to collect their sleeping children, money, and valuables. Batista's children and money were already
The economic restructuring of Cuba by the United States prior to the Revolution created these presocialized refugees.[6] A pro-U.S. Cuban elite with connections to upper-class groups in the United States and Latin America was created to protect U.S. interests. Clearly, these refugees represented the political, economic, and social structures of the pro-U.S. presence in the Republic of Cuba. As a way of protecting themselves economically against Cuba's political instability, they hoarded their capital and educated their children in the United States. Few reinvested on the island, instead transferring abroad considerable amounts of Cuban capital. According to the U.S. Department of Commerce, Cubans, by the mid-1950s, were estimated to have more than $312 million in short-term (liquid capital) and long-term (stocks) investments in the United States. Real estate investments totaled more than $150 million, mostly in South Florida (Pérez 1988, 299). Most of those belonging to this elite managed to transfer their assets out of Cuba before Castro's victory, while others held the bulk of their investments abroad (Pérez-Stable and Uriarte 1993, 135). This protection of capital eased the transition to Exilic existence for some refugees.
The first wave of immigration to the States occurred from the day of Batista's departure on January 1, 1959, until the missile crisis of October 22, 1962.[7] This wave brought 153,534 refugees, who were considered "political exiles." These immigrants mainly left the island on their private yachts or on commercial flights and ferries.[8] Demographically, these new
In spite of their cultural status and their whiteness, these early refugees still faced ethnic discrimination in housing and employment. It was common to find signs on apartment buildings throughout Miami that simply stated "No Cubans, no pets, and no children." Yet while I do not want to minimize the trauma and hardship of being a refugee, those who settled in Miami were entering a social environment made familiar through years of prior travel and business dealings, an advantage other immigrant groups never had. These Cubans, especially the habaneros/as (those from La Habana), saw South Florida as a pleasant vacation hub from which to await Castro's immediate downfall. With time, those who belonged to Cuba's elite attempted to re-create their golden past. For example, those who belonged to the five most exclusive yacht and country clubs in La Habana established a new club in el exilio, nostalgically named the Big Five, thereby creating a socioeconomic space for former notables (Pedraza 2001, 419).
The second wave (1962–1973) consisted of two stages. The first stage occurred from the end of the missile crisis until the Camarioca boat lift (the first of its kind) in November 1965, when Exilic Cubans sailed to that port to pick up their relatives. Although commercial flights between the United States and Cuba were suspended owing to the missile crisis, many arrived either through the Camarioca boat lift or through a third country. This stage brought 29,692 refugees. The second stage constituted the airlift from Varadero Beach to Miami, which continued until 1973. A total of 268,040 refugees arrived in this country through these "freedom flights."
The total number of refugees who came to this country during the second wave was 297,732. More than half of all Cubans who migrated to the United States arrived during this second wave (Azicri 1988, 67). Additionally,
Because of their light skin color, first- and second-wave Exilic Cubans identified with white Americans and succeeded in avoiding certain racial barriers that persist in the United States. Unlike any other group of immigrants who has come to U.S. shores, Cubans, as we saw in the last chapter, have risen to the top echelons of a city's sociopolitical structures within one generation. While poverty continues to exist among Exilic Cubans, their national average family income is closer to that of Euroamericans than to that of any other Hispanic group.
According to a 1997 survey conducted by Hispanic Business Magazine, of the eighty U.S. Latino/a multimillionaires, thirty-two are Exilic Cubans, even though Exilics represent only 5 percent of the Hispanic population. Consider this in light of the fact that only twenty-six are Mexican, even though 64 percent of Latinas/os are of Mexican origins. Or that only seven are Puerto Ricans, who represent 11 percent of the Hispanic population. Roberto Goizueta, the late CEO of Coca-Cola, was worth $836 million; the Mas Canosa family, which heads the anti-Castro lobby group, is worth $586 million; while superstar Gloria Estéfan reaches the $100 million mark.[10] Of the top fifty largest Hispanic-owned firms in the United States, about a third are located in the Miami area. "No place in the United States has a Latin community like Miami's" boasts Telemundo (a Spanish-language television station) boss Joaquín Blaya. "Here we are members of the power structures."[11] When we consider that these families arrived on U.S. shores a generation ago, their financial success is quite impressive.
Their quest for economic success, which seemed motivated by a desire to prove that they are not the gusanos Castro says they are, coupled with their anticommunist ideology, formed an integral aspect of la lucha. Their financial success in the States became evidence that God favored the Exilic
The first text is the Exilic Cubans’ ethnic composition as early refugees. The social class of Exilic Cubans affected the construction of their ethnicity once they were in the United States and spared them from the minority status of other Latinas/os. Suzanne Oboler's social scientific work shows how middle-and upper-class, college-educated Hispanics measure their incorporation into U.S. dominant culture against the experiences of Southern and Eastern European immigrants, who were categorized and seen as "white," thus allowing them to assume status as "first-class" citizens. Exilic Cubans’ socialization within Cuban hierarchical society created the expectation of immediate inclusion into the upper echelons of U.S. society. Once here, Exilic Cubans shifted their self-identity according to the predominant ethnic and racial classifications of the United States. As a result, Exilic Cubans have attempted to distance themselves from the ethnic term Hispanic or Latina/o by emphasizing instead their nationality. In contrast, those resembling the working class, whether Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, or Exilic Cubans known as Marielitos (those who came in the third wave of 1980, which will be discussed in the next chapter) measure their progress against their life changes since immigration (1995, 138–41, 163–63). Marielitos, and all subsequent Exilic Cuban immigrants, were brought up under a Castro regime and thus lacked their predecessors’ business acumen, contacts, and familiarity with capitalist paradigms. Even though they faired better than other migrating Hispanic groups, and suddenly improved their standard of living simply by arriving in Miami, they have yet to replicate successfully the rapid economic development enjoyed by immigrants of the first two waves.
It is also important to note that while all strata of Cuban society were represented in the first two waves of Cuban migration, the vast majority consisted of those from the upper echelons and the middle-class who most benefited from the pre-Castro regime. The concept of the "habitus" can help illuminate how these Exilic Cubans ascended in the socioeconomic institutions of Miami. Habitus can be abstractly defined as the system of internalized dispositions that mediates between social structures and practical activities, shaped by the former and regulating the latter (Brubaker 1985, 758). Being born into a position of privilege in Cuba, these Exilics had a socially constructed lifestyle that facilitated their rise
The second text is rooted in the propaganda value of Cubans fleeing communism, especially at the height the Cold War, which made it advantageous for the United States to ensure the economic success of these arriving refugees. Exilic Cubans’ hatred of communism furthered their usefulness in West-East global tensions. Stated then–U.S. representative Walter H. Judd (R-Minn.), "Every refugee who comes out [of Cuba] is a vote for our society and a vote against their society" (Masud-Piloto 1988, 33). The refugees’ arrival in Miami was used to discredit the Castro regime, as a place of "golden exile" was constructed to contrast with Castro's Cuba. Still, their migration to the United States was not so much motivated by a search for the so-called American Dream as it was a direct response to the political situation in the homeland. As such, they adamantly rejected the identity of "immigrant" and instead insisted on being classified as "refugee." This refugee label helps explain why many Exilic Cubans refused to identify with the civil rights movement, resulting in their belief that they were not morally entitled to government assistance in the form of welfare or affirmative action.
Ironically, for the first time in its history, the United States became an asylum to a large group of refugees by assuming the financial burden of resettling them. Total aid of approximately $2 billion was disbursed through the Cuban Refugee Program, providing assistance to more than seven hundred thousand Exilic Cubans. This does not include the millions spent by church and voluntary agencies, which were never fully reimbursed. Over a twelve-year period, aid consisted of direct cash assistance, guaranteed healthcare, food subsidies, retraining and retooling programs, college loans, English-language instruction, and financial assistance in establishing small businesses. Even though most succor was contingent on resettlement to another part of the United States, Miami's
The third text is the construction of an ethnic economic enclave by el exilio that was dependent on a large number of immigrants with substantial business experience acquired in Cuba, access to labor drawn from family members, and access to capital through "character loans." The flight of capital from Latin America to the economic and political security of the United States provided an economic space in which Exilic Cubans could manage said funds, leading to the creation and growth of banks. Once these Exilics were secured in banking positions, they provided "character loans" to their compatriots to encourage business. It mattered little whether the borrower had any standing within Euroamerican banks, whether they had any collateral, or whether they spoke English. Loans (usually from $10,000 to $35,000) were provided based on the borrower's reputation in Cuba. This practice contributed to the development of an economic enclave in Miami (Portes and Stepick 1993, 132–35). It was discontinued in 1973, because the new refugees, who were not part of the more elite first wave, were unknown to the lenders.
This Exilic Cuban economic enclave was organized to serve the needs of the Exilic Cuban's own market. Doctors, dentists, electricians, plumbers, construction workers, and other professionals who lacked proper licenses or proper documentation from regulatory boards continued to work in their professions, either from their homes or from the backs of their pickup trucks, and they were diligent in avoiding the authorities. Little overhead, cut-rate prices for fellow Exilic Cubans, and reliance on informal word-of-mouth networks allowed these early entrepreneurs to establish themselves financially before eventually competing with older Euroamerican Miami firms. Many took advantage of the recession occurring in Miami at that time and of the resulting boarded-up storefronts in economically depressed areas. Inexpensive leases minimized the risks associated with going into business, leading to the transformation of this area into what today is known as Little Havana.
This enclave also allowed Exilic Cubans to avoid the economic disadvantages that usually accompany racial segregation. The creation of an economic enclave fostered upward mobility not available to other Hispanic groups or to African Americans. Not only did the original entrepreneurs benefit, but later arrivals found established community networks providing opportunities for employment and further entrepreneurship. For example, six years after the 1980 Mariel boat lift, half the refugees were employed by Exilic-owned businesses, while 20 percent became self-employed (Portes and Clark 1987, 14–18).
Labor, needed to ensure the success of any business venture, was easily obtained from both family members and from other more recent refugees. With time, Exilic Cubans, with business acumen acquired in La Habana, filled an economic space in Miami by offering U.S. products to Latin America. Even though Exilic Cubans constitute 4.8 percent of the Latino/a population in the United States, as already mentioned, a third of all large Hispanic corporations are based in Miami. Exilic Cuban Guillermo Grenier, head of Florida International University's sociology department states, "As the Western Hemisphere becomes more Hispanic, Miami has become the frontier city between ‘America’ and Latin America" (Booth 1993, 82–85). Exilic Cubans took advantage of this emerging "frontier" space.
Additionally, this ethnic economic enclave provided a secure and familiar space in which Exilic Cubans could avoid losing their identity and hence being absorbed by the dominant culture. While other ethnic enclaves established in this country by European immigrants facilitated gradual assimilation into the dominant culture, the Exilic Cuban enclave created a space that preserved the culture by firmly establishing its economic success. This enclave eased the shock and stress of adjusting to a foreign culture. A psychological need was thus met, as Exilic Cubans developed social networks to protect them from assimilation, forging a group identity in the process. This group's religious expression developed simultaneously with their economic enclave as a holy hatred for the one responsible for causing the pain of el exilio. Castro becomes the sole cause of and reason for this pain, and therefore, acceptance into this enclave was conditional on allegiance to their religion, la lucha.
The final text involves the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and its contribution to the influx of capital into the Miami region, facilitating Exilic Cubans’ socioeconomic success. The formation in 1961 of the Consejo Revolucionario Cubano, a provisional government in exile, created a financial relationship between Exilic Cubans and their benefactor, the
It is no secret that the CIA, under the direction of then–attorney general Bobby Kennedy, conducted a secret war against Castro from Miami, code-named Operation Mongoose. Recent declassified U.S. documents show a continuous attempt to undermine and overturn Castro's government. The CIA tried to hatch a scheme for a second invasion of Cuba months after the failed Playa Girón invasion. The development of these plans continued even after the United States made a "no-invasion" pledge with the Soviet Union in order to end the October 1962 Cuban missile crisis. Some of these schemes included "Operation Good Times," which proposed airdrops of doctored photos of Castro consorting with beautiful women, sporting the caption "My ration is different." Operation Free Ride proposed airdrops of one-way airline tickets to other Latin American countries. Operation Dirty Tricks was designed to blame Cuba in the event that John Glenn's Mercury orbit failed. Evidence was manufactured to prove electronic interference from the island. Operation True Blue planned to disrupt Cuban radio and television transmissions with degrading comments about Castro. Operation Bingo would justify an August 1964 invasion by simulating a Cuban attack on Guantánamo Bay Naval Base. Other operations included planning the assassination of Castro, even hiring Chicago Mafia crime boss Sam Giacana, who formerly profited from casinos in La Habana, for $150,000 to do the job. Ironically, the assassins hired where on the FBI's most-wanted list and on Bobby Kennedy's target list of organized crime figures.[12] The Museum of the Ministry of the Interior in La Habana provides displays and documentation of more bizarre plots. One example is a plot to supply Castro with cigars containing botulism or explosives. In another plot, thallium salts (a depilatory) were to be sprinkled on Castro's boots in hopes that his trademark beard would fall off.
Operation Mongoose involved more than five hundred caseworkers, handling more than three thousand Exilic Cubans, at a cost of more than $100 million a year (Baker 1999, 42). Funds to carry out CIA missions made possible the operation of more than fifty-four front businesses, including
Exilic Cubans Bernard Barker, Virgilio González, and Eugenio Martínez, who in 1972 allegedly burglarized the Democratic National Committee in the Watergate complex, were Miami realtors previously associated with JM/WAVE. Their involvement in the burglary was an attempt to document a Castro-McGovern conspiracy. Under the rubric of the Exilic Cuban religion of la lucha, the convicted Watergate burglars became mártires de la lucha (martyrs of the struggle), the highest honor one can expect to receive in Miami. CIA-trained Cubans have also allegedly been used by foreign governments to carry out terrorist acts in the name of the global struggle against communism. For example, it is believed that in 1976, the Chilean state police reportedly hired Exilic Cubans to assassinate Orlando Letelier, former Chilean ambassador under Salvador Allende, critic of the Pinochet military dictatorship, allegedly linked to the Castro regime. His car exploded close to Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. (García 1996, 142–43).
Ironically, while the CIA continued to support several anti-Castro schemes, as in the case of armed raids on the island between 1963 and 1965, the Justice Department began to clamp down on Exilic Cuban military activities. While the CIA provided support to these groups, FBI agents infiltrated them in an attempt to collect sufficient evidence to prosecute its leaders. When the U.S. Justice Department brought criminal charges against these anti-Castro groups for violating the U.S. Neutrality Act (which forbids U.S. citizens from taking hostile actions against a foreign country), they were prosecuting the same groups that had received their training and funds from the CIA.
The socioeconomic success achieved by Exilic Cubans within a capitalist system in Miami, and their expulsion from a communist homeland,