Cuba Libre:
An Exploration of America’s Little Brother
In 2019, I wanted to leave the United States for the first time to embark on a documentary project. I intended to travel solo, an experience I had many times in the U.S. but never overseas. I didn’t want to travel too far, but I wanted to go somewhere that felt foreign enough and would require some nerve. The Caribbean came to mind. Cuba felt mysterious and forbidden, shrouded in the shadow of an embargo set by the United States. I heard it was an island trapped in time where old Chevys rumbled down cracked streets and crumbled, but colorful Colonial architecture dominated the Havana skyline. I read of green sweeping tobacco fields, cigars, and rum you could never try in the United States. I researched and learned that travel to Cuba is risky, not in terms of physical safety (Cuba is a top-rated country safe for travelers), but it’s still a risk for Americans.
No American embassy exists in Cuba today, meaning you’re trapped in the country if you lose your passport. No wire transfers are available either. The money you bring is the money you have, so if you lose it or spend too much, you could be in serious trouble. Wifi exists, but you need internet cards and have to locate hot spots to access it or make calls through app services, and the card could expire before you get connected. If your trip is incorrectly done, the American government could apprehend you for visiting Cuba. Despite this, I was determined to investigate America’s little brother.
Was it true that Cubans were still suffering due to the embargo? How do their agricultural, educational, medical, and labor systems operate in their socialist state? Did the Obama administration’s attempt to improve relations with Cuba in 2014 create better living conditions for those on the island? And how do Cubans feel about America now after Trump repealed Obama’s policies?
I packed my camera and set off to find the truth.
Cuba Libre: An Exploration of America’s Littler Brother. Written by Stephanie Spence. Images by Stephanie Spence. Copyright Stephanie Spence 2024. I’m available for assignments. Fine art prints are available for purchase. Contact me for inquiries.
Havana, Cuba Skyline, shot from Cristo de la Habana, 2019.
To understand Cuban life today, I had to understand the history of the relations between these two nations. The embargo was imposed on Cuba in 1960 following the Cuban Revolution led by Fidel Castro. The revolution initially presented itself as a nationalist movement seeking social justice, land reforms, and the end of U.S. influence in Cuban affairs. The embargo was implemented as a response to the nationalization of U.S.-owned properties and businesses in Cuba by the revolutionary government. Many Cuban citizens had their personal property and businesses seized by Fidel’s regime. Almost overnight, Cuba became a socialist state. The tensions escalated further after the failed Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961, which was a CIA-backed attempt to overthrow the Cuban government.
The U.S. government, led by President Dwight D. Eisenhower and continued by President John F. Kennedy, imposed the embargo to put economic pressure on Cuba to influence its political direction and encourage a change in leadership. Over the years, the embargo has undergone various adjustments, and it remains a complex and controversial aspect of U.S.-Cuba relations. Some have criticized the embargo as ineffective and harmful to the Cuban people, while others argue that it serves as a tool for promoting democratic values and human rights.
Cuba played a significant and complex role in the Cold War, particularly during the early years following the Cuban Revolution in 1959. Seeking support and facing hostility from the United States, Fidel Castro's government turned to the Soviet Union for economic, military, and political assistance. The Soviet Union, under Premier Nikita Khrushchev, saw an opportunity to gain a foothold in the Western Hemisphere and extended significant economic and military aid to Cuba.
In 1962, the Cuban Missile Crisis was a major Cold War confrontation between the United States, the Soviet Union, and Cuba. The Soviets deployed nuclear missiles to Cuba, leading to a tense standoff with the U.S. Cuba became a strategic ally for the Soviet Union in the Western Hemisphere, hosting Soviet military bases and receiving economic assistance through subsidies, trade agreements, and investments. The crisis was resolved through negotiations, with the Soviets agreeing to remove the missiles in exchange for the U.S. pledging not to invade Cuba and dismantling missiles in Turkey.
Many supported Fidel’s regime, and many did not, fleeing to the United States under the Cuban Adjustment Act, created in 1966, where Cubans could apply for US citizenship after one year of presence. Many abandoned their homes, everything they knew, and the people they loved to come to the United States for the promise of a free life. Many Cubans who fled settled in Miami, referring to it as “Little Havana.”
With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Cuba faced economic challenges due to the loss of its principal benefactor. The Cuban people refer to the collapse of the Soviet Union and the loss of its aid as the “Special Period.” It was characterized by severe economic contraction, scarcity of resources, and a decline in the standard of living. Cuba underwent economic reforms in the early 1990s in response to the economic challenges it faced during the Special Period after the collapse of the Soviet Union, such as allowing Cuban citizens to own businesses and to be self-employed. Still, the economic damage was done, and the regrowth process was slow. With no aid from the Soviet Union and an embargo imposed by its closest and most opportunistic trading partner, Cuba fell into economic collapse. No food. No petrol. No resources. Some Cuban people became even more desperate to flee.
A woman peaking through bars in her Centro Havana home, 2020.
As a kid in the 90s, I remember news stories of Cubans creating make-shift rafts to sail 90 miles to the United States. Many died in their efforts. But if they touched land, they were safe and granted asylum. The U.S. government implemented the "Wet Foot, Dry Foot" policy, allowing Cubans who reached U.S. soil (dry land) to stay and pursue permanent residency. However, those intercepted at sea (wet foot) were subject to return to Cuba unless they could demonstrate a credible fear of persecution. The policy was repealed in 2017 by President Obama just days before the end of his second term, as part of an effort to normalize border relations between the U.S. and Cuba and to accept Cubans as legal migrants.
The Obama administration attempted to reopen relations with Cuba. During his presidency, Obama took several steps to improve relations between the United States and Cuba and to make it easier for Americans to visit the island nation. One significant move was the announcement in December 2014 of re-establishing diplomatic relations between the two countries after more than 50 years of estrangement. Obama visited Cuba on March 20-22, 2016. This historic visit marked the first time a sitting U.S. president visited Cuba in nearly 90 years. During his visit, Obama met with Cuban President Raúl Castro, Fidel Castro’s brother, and discussed various issues. He attended a baseball game between the Tampa Bay Rays and the Cuban national team. The visit aimed to strengthen diplomatic ties, promote cultural exchange, and encourage economic cooperation between the United States and Cuba.
Things were looking up for the Cuban people. Tourism is their best economic industry. With wealthy Americans now able to take a direct 1-hour flight from Miami to Cuba, the opportunity to prosper from the influx of American spending became a way to lift some resourceful Cubans out of poverty. Before this, Americans could only enter Cuba through other countries, such as Mexico, and could be detained by the American government for doing so. Rumors of “travel to Cuba now before it changes” cropped up. I decided to take a chance and travel alone to the island trapped in time.
1950s Opel Rekord, Chinatown, Havana, Cuba, 2019.
I traveled to Cuba alone in 2019 and again in 2020 with a friend under the visa “Support for the Cuban People.” I was required to create and document an itinerary of at least 6 hours per day that benefited the Cuban people, not the Cuban government. I was required to maintain this itinerary for 5 years and was subject to the U.S. government's random investigation of my activities in Cuba. “Support for the Cuban People” meant direct investment in Cuban-owned businesses, such as restaurants, street vendors, tour guides, and independent taxi drivers. I was forbidden to stay in major hotels, as they were all owned by the Cuban military. I was banned from spending money in government-owned establishments. I stayed in “Casa Particulares,” rooms in Cuban homes rented out to travelers through companies like AirBnB. I visited Cuban-owned restaurants, often being the only patron. I hired Cuban photographers as tour guides to show me the real life of Cubans in Havana, Trinidad, and Vinales. My guides spoke excellent English and acted as translators. Some of them are still friends of mine today.
Cubans are surprisingly friendly by American standards and very open to having their photo taken, much different from the suspicious American attitude. Many people I met spoke little English, and my Spanish is stuck in the present tense, but as a blond, blue-eyed young woman with tattoos, I was perhaps obvious as an American. Walking alone down streets, I heard chirps and whistles, a machismo attempt to get my attention. Women would call “Que linda!” as I walked by, complimenting my attributes. “Where are you from?” I heard constantly in thick accents. “Los Estados Unidos,” I’d reply. Big smiles and handshakes followed. “I love the United States!” was a typical response. “But not Trump” was a regular follow-up. Had the Obama-era policies changed American likeability? But was Trump’s negative attitude toward Cuba threatening that relationship? Yes and no.
“Do Cubans dislike Americans?” I asked David Martinez, my core photography guide, who was 34 when we met in 2019. “No, we understand the difference between government and people,” he stated. “Obama was good for Cuba, but we are worried about Trump.” understood that while you can love the United States as a country and culture and befriend its citizens, you can equally be critical of its leadership.
Trump undid much of the Obama-era policies meant to strengthen relations with Cuba. Beginning in 2017, the U.S. Treasury Department and the U.S. Department of Commerce announced changes to regulations affecting travel and business dealings with Cuba. These changes included restrictions on individual people-to-people travel and limitations on transactions with entities tied to the Cuban military. In June 2019, days before I landed in Cuba, Trump imposed new restrictions on cruise travel to Cuba, prohibiting cruise ships from stopping in Cuban ports. In September 2019, The U.S. Treasury Department announced new restrictions on remittances to Cuba, limiting the amount of money that Cuban Americans could send to family members in Cuba, further threatening the support Cubans could receive from American family members. In the final days of the Trump administration, Cuba was designated as a "state sponsor of terrorism" by the U.S. Department of State. Supporters of the previous diplomatic approach criticized this decision as it reversed the removal of Cuba from the list in 2015.
A woman makes breakfast and smokes outside her building, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
Over my two-week span in the country, I heard first-hand experiences from the Special Period. “It was a difficult time,” David shared. “We barely had food or petrol. We were bussed around in trailers with what fuel we had. My mother was a single mom. My dad died when I was young. My mom tried to work. I barely remember life before the special period, but the times were much better. She encouraged me to learn English. She said it was one way I could make money from tourists.” He studied at the University of Havana after mandatory military service, a requirement of all Cuban citizens per the constitution. He got a job in IT while working as a tourist photography guide. He learned English using Rosetta Stone, which he pirated.
Despite the challenges of the Special Period, Cuba has made significant accomplishments. The country has a well-established higher education system, and attending college is a common path for many students who pursue further academic qualifications. The country has universities and technical institutions offering various programs in advanced fields.
The country's healthcare system is often cited as one of its notable achievements. Cuba has a well-developed healthcare system and produces many medical professionals, including doctors. The government places a strong emphasis on education and healthcare, and as a result, it has a relatively high number of medical professionals per capita compared to many other countries. Cuba has a universal healthcare system, and healthcare services cost free to all Cuban citizens. Cuba even successfully created a COVID-19 vaccine after the outbreak. But despite the abilities of their universities and health care systems, the educated professionals aren’t paid enough. No one is.
The average Cuban salary is USD 50 per month, and it operates with a mostly nationalized labor system. While riding in a taxi, my friendly driver spoke with me, “I’m a physician,” he shared. “This is how I help my family.” A physician working on the side as a taxi driver? How could this be? I learned from David that many professionals also work in tourism for extra income. Learning English is an opportunity to make a better wage in Cuba because you can benefit from tourism and the tips that come with it. Doctors working as bartenders. IT specialists working as tour guides. Professors renting rooms to tourists. I was starting to understand. Cuba operates under a socialist system, and the government controls most economic activities. The government subsidizes basic goods and services like healthcare, education, and housing, and provides rations for food, but David said, “It’s never enough.”
“Some people are hungry,” David shared. “The rations aren’t enough to feed the family. There are shortages of many things: cooking oil, meat, toilet paper.” I noticed long lines in Havana, leading to government stores and banks. I couldn’t shop at them per U.S. law, but I noticed an outrageous amount of one good, a scarce amount of other goods, and no trace of others. The lines were due to rations and scarcity.
A relaxing man overlooks those waiting in the queue, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
However, I noticed different kinds of Cuban-owned stores beyond those owned by the government. I encountered many markets selling fresh fruits, vegetables, flowers, and meat. These markets are owned independently. Cuba implemented reforms during the Special Period, allowing farmers to sell their goods to consumers and citizens to be self-employed. These reforms were part of Cuba's broader efforts to adapt its economic system to changing circumstances while maintaining certain socialist principles. The coexistence of state-owned enterprises, cooperatives, and independent farmers and business owners reflects the complexity of Cuba's economic landscape.
Ration cards aren’t accepted at these shops, so if a Cuban can make some extra money, they can buy some extra food. Home fronts acted as shops. Some sell coffee, street foods, rum, and small items such as cigarettes and lighters. Still, you must be exceptionally resourceful to make an extra income, and not every Cuban has the same opportunities or wants to work. “Some people are just lazy,” David scoffed. Laziness under socialism. The American sentiment that socialism breeds low productivity because of government subsidies was arguably at play.
A woman sells coffee and sandwiches in front of her building, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
A street market, Old Havana, Cuba, 2019.
A street side meat market, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
I asked David how he happened to have a Nikon camera, trying to understand how a nation struggling to provide food to its people could somehow have a state-of-the-art digital camera within its boundaries. “An American friend,” he smirked. I recalled boarding my flight in Fort Lauderdale the first time I traveled to Cuba. I saw plastic crates filled with items being loaded and unloaded through customs. Some American Cubans with proper visas travel back and forth to bring items to the United States who can afford to pay the duties and taxes. I realized that an item like his camera was unattainable for the average Cuban with little money or family overseas.
However, Cuba has a viable economy with imports and exports. Still, the nation is small, and countries that produce tech and machinery are further away. Without using the U.S. as a port for trade, the price tag of tech and machinery is even higher. New cars can be found in Cuba, but they are foreign. The cost of new vehicles, tech such as cell phones, and items like David’s camera are limited compared to other countries due to economic conditions and government regulations.
“Have you thought about leaving?” I asked David. “I have before, but for work.” David worked in IT as his state job. Cuba has its own internet system, ETECSA, and sometimes outsources its workforce to other countries. “I’ve been to China,” he relays. “I thought about staying but didn’t want to leave my mother alone.” I asked him what he meant by “staying.” He said, “You know. Not come back. People do that. They are sent for work and don’t return, doctors especially.” I realized having an education or a skill worth trading is another opportunity to flee.
“What about getting a passport?” I inquired. “They are very expensive and take months. I’ve tried, but my appointment was canceled. I want to move to Spain. Most Cubans don’t have a passport or can’t get one. Sometimes, you have to bribe, and it’s already expensive.” My heart sank. I realized that being Cuban could feel like being a prisoner in a way. The people I met would possibly never leave the island or have an opportunity to see other parts of the world. “They don’t want you leaving,” he solemnly stated. The old Chevy’s rumbling by suddenly seemed less charming.
Bus stop, Vedado District, Havana, Cuba, 2019.
A woman simultaneously uses a cell phone and landline, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
As I better understood Cuban labor, agricultural, and communication systems, I further investigated human rights conditions and discovered that Cubans have restricted rights compared to democratic societies. Freedom of the press is nearly non-existent. Cuba has a state-controlled media system, and the press operates within a framework that aligns with the principles of the Cuban socialist government. While there are media outlets in Cuba, they are predominantly owned and operated by the state. This situation has led to a lack of independent, pluralistic, and transparent media. Government control and censorship constrain the freedom of the press. The Cuban government exercises control over the content disseminated by media outlets, and there are restrictions on reporting that goes against the official narrative or criticizes the government. While there are some alternative and independent media initiatives, their scope is limited, and they often operate under challenging conditions. Independent journalists may face harassment or restrictions on their activities. The absence of a diverse and pluralistic media landscape means that mainstream Cuban media may not adequately represent alternative viewpoints and opinions. Freedom of the press and freedom of expression have been topics of concern raised by international human rights organizations about Cuba.
Cubans do not have the same degree of freedom to assemble as is often recognized in many democratic societies. The Cuban government tightly controls political activities and expressions of dissent, and public protests that challenge the government are typically not permitted. The Cuban government maintains strict control over political dissent and public expressions of opposition. Any public protest or demonstration perceived as challenging the government or its policies is generally not allowed.
Cuba is a one-party state, and the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC) is the only legally permitted political party. Political pluralism, where citizens can freely form and participate in multiple political parties with different ideologies, is not present in the same way as in democratic societies. Meaningful political participation beyond the framework of the Communist Party is limited. Democratic societies typically allow citizens to participate in free and fair elections, choose their leaders, and engage in political activities without fear of persecution.
A man reads a nationalist newspaper, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
Despite the struggles and limited freedoms of the average Cuban, I found the Cuban people to be in great spirits. Many of them love their home, and they should. It’s a beautiful place. “Muy tranquila,” meaning “very peaceful,” they would say about their island, and it was. I can’t say I’ve been to a more beautiful place than Cuba. It is magical and unlike any other in the world. It’s vibrant, musical, and spiritual. Old cars zip by, painted in bright colors of many shades. Colonial structures reach the sky with ornate and classical detail, decorated by cracked and peeling textures worn by the sea salt air. The sounds of reggaeton and salsa echo through slim alleyways while the scent of burning incense wafts from Santeria shops.
Basketball court, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2020
Santeria shop, Vedado Disctrict, Havana, Cuba, 2020
Stairs to La Guarida Restaurant, Old Havana, Cuba, 2019
But the charm of old cars and decaying paint is less enchanting when considering that these attributes result from the embargo. It has significantly impacted Cuba's economy, affecting its ability to trade freely and limiting access to specific markets. Many Cubans drive older vehicles because of a lack of production and imports in the country, and people must be resourceful to keep these older vehicles running. Construction equipment and products aren’t readily available, causing structures to rot away.
The standard of living is lower than in more developed nations. Poverty is extreme in certain areas. Buildings are crumbling and unsafe to live in. Many Havana families are crammed into one-room spaces, shared in overcrowded apartment buildings that American codes would condemn. The trash-littered streets are dirty, with uneven pavement and sidewalks. Water isn’t always available, as I discovered one day when I tried to shower at my casa, which was more like bathing under a faucet. I couldn’t even flush the toilet, to my embarrassment. It would be an improvement for Cuba to trade with the United States. Goods would be more accessible for its people, and jobs would be created. Cuba has many exports, such as tobacco, coffee, sugar, rum, nickel, medical products, pharmaceuticals, and healthcare services. Surely the U.S. could also benefit from the opportunity to trade.
A factory turned apartment building, Centro Havana, Cuba, 2020.
A mechanic's shop. Havana Centro, Cuba, 2020.
During my visits, David introduced me to many people and places I wouldn’t have discovered alone. “See? You’re becoming Cuban,” he remarked as he helped me tie a Santeria bracelet around my wrist. Cuba’s culture has so much to offer, and I took advantage of the vacation during my documentary project.
In Vinales, I learned about cigar and rum production, visited a Unesco World Heritage site, drank canchánchara, and rode bareback on a horse with a guy named Poncho, who spoke no English, and picked up a tick I took home with me. In Havana, I learned how to make an authentic mojito and wrote my name on the wall of La Bodeguita del Medio (the birthplace of the mojito) with a Sharpie I had to rent. I ate ropa vieja (the national dish of Cuba) the best damn lobster I ever had, choked down terrible wannabe pizza and burgers, and discovered the bliss of cafe bombon. I rode in colectivos (shared taxis on pre-set routes), toured El Malecon in antique cars, hopped on bicitaxis, and rode a public bus and ferry. I played dominoes with strangers and met a Columbian boxer, a girl from Ireland, and another from Belgium. I visited progressive art studios and nightclubs, ate in the same restaurants as Obama and Anthony Bourdain, and drank a daiquiri with Hemingway’s statue at La Floridita. I stumbled around drunk with fellow Americans, was scolded by a concerned host that I was not being careful at all, and got scammed by some guy giving me directions to a salsa festival. In Trinidad, I danced salsa, enjoyed pristine beaches, walked cobblestone streets, contracted the worst food poisoning of my life, got locked in my room by my hosts who thought I was sick from COVID-19 and not spoiled food, and was scammed again by a woman saying she needed money for milk for her baby. It was an adventure, and I’d do it all again instantly.
Tobacco country, Vinales, Cuba, 2019.
But despite its decaying and colorful beauty, cultural offerings, and the excellent adventure I had, the struggle of the Cuban people permeates the air. “Can you imagine?” David would repeatedly say as he explained the struggles of Cuban life. Was this Fidel's dream for Cuba? Scarcity and hunger? Countless times, I witnessed the ongoing support of the Cuban Revolution through the art and paintings of Fidel and Ernesto "Che" Guevara, who played a vital role in the Cuban Revolution and is somewhat of a folk hero in the U.S. “Soy Fidel,” meaning “I am Fidel,” is a motto of solidarity often seen on street walls and in businesses. But despite its promises of Cuban prosperity, the ideals of the Revolution failed. Were these images and mottos left over from the slowness of new construction, or was it pride? Did Cubans still believe in Fidel after 60 years?
Cuba continued to suffer further during the COVID-19 outbreak. The border closed, and tourism halted. Conditions worsened, similar to the Special Period, and illegal protests ensued.
Shortly after taking office in January 2021, President Joe Biden expressed a commitment to reviewing U.S. policy toward Cuba. The administration indicated an interest in reversing certain measures implemented by the Trump administration.
A little boy smiles from a shop window. Che Guevara overlooks. Centro Havana, Cuba, 2019.
In 2023, David fled Cuba, made it to Mexico, crossed the U.S. border in Arizona, was detained, released, and started a new life in Miami. He lives there with his wife and son, has an apartment and a car, has a work visa, and works in IT. His accomplishment remains rare for most Cubans. Ultimately, David found a way to make the extra money needed to start a new life, but he never got a passport and left his mother behind. He is still attempting to bring her to the U.S. I hope he and other Cubans find the prosperity they deserve. Until then, the island remains as I left it, decaying but beautiful, full of spirit, perseverance, and color.
The images in this gallery were created in June 2019 and March 2020.
I’m available for assignments. Fine art prints are available for purchase. Contact me for inquiries.
