[January 7th
marks the 60th
anniversary of Fidel Castro entering Havana to take over as Cuba’s prime minister—one
begrudgingly recognized
by a U.S. government that had opposed his revolution and would continue to
oppose his rule. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy Cuban histories in
relationship to the U.S.—leading up to a weekend post on literary works that
can help us understand the island nation and ourselves!]
Three ways to
contextualize and analyze the 1980
exodus of some 125,000
Cubans (known as Marielitos) from Mariel Harbor to
the United States.
1)
Refugee policy: Donald Trump’s Executive
Orders on refugees and immigration have of course brought debates over
refugee policy back into the news, but in a particularly
oversimplified—and fearful and paranoid and factually challenged—way. The
situation and issues facing President Jimmy Carter in 1980, on the other hand,
illustrate just how complex and multi-layered national decisions about refugee
policy are (even for those of us, like me and I believe Carter, who feel
strongly that the U.S. should always try to welcome refugees). There are the
perspectives and realities of a sovereign nation like Cuba, and of our own
evolving relationship with that nation (Carter
and Castro had worked to alleviate some tensions between the two nations
over the years leading up to Mariel). There are the humanitarian and practical
questions of where and how the refugees will be resettled in the United States,
and what that will mean for the communities to which they arrive (Miami was
most definitely and profoundly changed
by the Marielitos). And there are the thorny but inevitable comparative questions—what
do our decisions in response to this particular refugee community mean for the
millions of others seeking and waiting for the chance to asylum? All difficult
issues, and all raised with clarity by the Mariel boatlift.
2)
The boatlift in art: Refugee and immigration
histories aren’t just about governments and policies, though—they’re also and
most importantly about communities and stories, about identities and lives.
Artistic and cultural texts are particularly good at portraying those latter
sides to histories, and I would highlight three very distinct such texts about
the Mariel boatlift. The Brian
De Palma film Scarface (1983)
uses the story of one fictional Marielito, Tony Montana (Al Pacino in one of his most
famous performances), to consider some of our most overarching national
narratives, from the ideals of the American Dream to the most sordid nightmares
of violence and crime. Christine
Bell’s novel The Pérez Family (1991; adapted into a 1995 film)
focuses more fully on themes of community, both among the Marielitos (the
protagonists are characters who share the same last name and decide to pass as
a family) and in relationship to the Cuban-American community (Juan Pérez is
looking for his wife, who has already been in the United States for decades by
the time he arrives). And Reinaldo
Arenas’ autobiography Before Night Falls
(1992; adapted into a
2000 film) tells the harrowing story of one individual writer before,
during, and after the boatlift. Each text is different in medium and genre as
well as story and theme, but taken together they offer a powerful artistic
portrayal of the boatlift.
3)
Pedro Zamora: For better or for worse, the
fictional gangster Tony Montana is probably the most famous individual
Marielito. But I believe a close second would be Pedro Zamora,
who came to the United States with his family in the boatlift when he was only
8 years old, and came to prominence 14 years later as the breakout star of The Real World: San Francisco, the
1994 third season of MTV’s ground-breaking reality TV show. Zamora broke
multiple cultural barriers during his time on television: he was one of the
first openly
gay stars of a TV show, and his commitment
ceremony with boyfriend Sean Sasser the first such same-sex ceremony in TV
history; and he was also living
with HIV/AIDS throughout the show, bringing a profoundly intimate and human
face to a
disease that was, at the time, still deeply controversial and feared.
Zamora’s tragic death later that year, and his widely broadcast memorial
service, offered one more level to that prominence and its effects. None of
those events or effects are limited to Marielitos or Cuban Americans, of
course; but we can’t understand and analyze Zamora’s identity, nor perhaps
appreciate his commitment to public advocacy and activism, without remembering
the foundational role of the Mariel boatlift in his life.
Special post
this weekend,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other Cuban histories you’d highlight?
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