Confession time. I’m something of a Luddite. If you know me, you know I was one of the last to relinquish my flip phone. I still rely on a pocket digital camera to document my frequent adventures and I’ve only connected once – unsuccessfully – at a Wifi park. I’ve never, ever, read an E-book and, all my writing, including this post, is crafted old school style – with pen and paper.
In short, I’m an analog kind of gal. Except when it comes to earning my living and putting frijol en el plato as we say here. And one thing greatly handicapping me, which regularly prevents me from landing paid gigs, is my lousy internet connection. If I had a nickel for every assignment I’ve lost because I couldn’t upload a PDF, download writing guidelines or respond quickly enough to an editor’s inquiry, I could take a sabbatical, write my memoir and make some real money. So when it became possible to access mobile data here, I jumped at the chance – no more missed pitch deadlines! No more blind pitching! No more $2/minute phone calls to Mom; now it’d be pennies a piece with WhatsApp!
It took me three phone “upgrades” and several sit downs with my tech savior Ivan before I was finally able to get data (thank God Ivan came along; since our buddy and IT guru Miguel landed in jail, we’ve been even more technologically challenged than usual). Heady, I sprang for the second-most expensive package – 1GB of data for $10CUC, good for a month. No longer would editors assign pieces to those quicker with the reply. Gone were the days where I’d pitch without reading recent issues. I could even keep the Cuba Libro website current! Well, maybe. But Instagram! Yes!
Since December, anyone with the proper device and money (or Yuma sugar Mama/Papa providing said tools), jumped on the bandwagon. Including my husband – the man who doesn’t have email, had never been on the internet and with whom I rack up $200 phone bills when I travel off island (money much better spent on rent.) Finally! An alternative. I’ll never forget our first video chat – he beaming smiles from his sister’s porch in Playa, Toby at his side, me laughing out loud as my sister and I squeezed into the frame from the music-filled streets of Memphis.
Suddenly, a video chat with Granny from your living room or crystal clear, cheap phone calls to your jevito in Toronto, are possible. Of course, the rest of the Internet is also accessible but even with the infinite cultural, comic, educational, and edifying benefits of the World Wide Web just a click away, I know countless Cubans who don’t access it. No, many folks here prefer All Facebook, All the Time. Untold throngs, including my husband, are addicted, considering Facebook the end-all-be-all in connectivity.
Unfortunately, Cubans’ “pliable privacy” and wholesale lack of discretion combine with the steep digital learning curve to create a whole lot of FB bullshit and mini scandals. Tagging people in compromising situations (ie stinking drunk, pegando tarro, in salacious postures not meant for posterity); taking private messages public; and revealing racist, homophobic and misogynistic tendencies – it’s all happening on the ‘Facebu.’ Plus chain mail madness and phishing expeditions, por dios! All of this is mere annoyance. What really gets my panties in a twist is the proliferation of fake news. Cubans on the whole are savvy at parsing propaganda, reading between the lines and filling in the blanks – in traditional media and milieu. But the format and minute-by-minute nature of social media causes them to lose all sense and sensibility. When you throw angry exiles and recent immigrants seething with enmity and rancor into the mix, it makes for a toxic combination. I know: I’ve been on the receiving end of these bellicose keyboard cowboys.
For those rushed readers or those with a short attention span (tsk, tsk), here’s a quick rundown of the good, bad and questionable developments since we’ve had this in-your-pocket internet access
- Great organizing tool for mobilizing like-minded people to your cause. Civil initiatives like the #trashchallenge and street dog and cat health and rescue draw together throngs in Havana to do volunteer work. Almost every weekend there’s a coastal/beach cleanup somewhere in the capital (sorely needed; locals can be pigs. It gets especially gross during the summer) and La Rampa recently hosted the very first citizen-convened march to celebrate pets and denounce animal abuse. It was a huge success. Too bad the compañero who authorized the march was summarily sacked shortly thereafter. Doh!
- Excellent way to get the word out about local cultural events. If you’ve been to Cuba, you know how frustrating it can be to try and figure out what’s worth doing any given Saturday night. Thanks to social media and mobile data, I recently learned about free live rock on Fridays at the Jazz Café; my friend Tobias’ gig at Bombilla Verde; and Clandestina’s New York pop-up stores.
- Bootie calls are now accompanied by live video – should your would-be fuck buddy need some live-action enticement. You’ll live to regret it m’ijo. Sexting is one thing; providing explicit images is quite another.
- Sexual harassment of the sort now rampant in other parts of the world is now happening in Cuba, with bosses sending nude photos to underlings demanding employment perks and promotions in exchange for sexual favors (in the specific case to which I’m privy, the boss is a woman).
- Recent food scarcity has driven Cubans to apply their enviable pragmatism to the digital realm, starting the WhatsApp group known as Donde Hay. Launched a couple of weeks ago, users upload photos of food and goods with the price, length of line to buy said products (we’re just shaking free of two hour – or longer – lines to get chicken) and at which store they’re being sold. People dissimulating and trying to send the thousands of users to different stores with their “fake” food sightings are booted off the group. I call this a debatable development because while I admire the practicality, my little old lady neighbors and favorite grandmas, can’t take advantage of this. So while they’re tottering over to their local mercadito, Donde Hay users (many of whom are private restaurant owners, no doubt) are already picking those shelves clean.
We’ve had nearly five months of mobile data now, making it a good time to drill down and look at how this is manifesting. Most importantly, my husband no longer has to be cajoled to ‘get off the Facebu’ to make our morning coffee (I walk Toby, he brews the espresso – le toca mango bajito, eh?). Beyond our four walls, the impact of mobile data really hit home when the tornado struck Havana on January 27th. The government responded immediately and concerned citizens followed suit, taking to social media to organize relief efforts. Cars and trucks laden with clothes and shoes, potable water, non-perishable food and hygiene products started rolling into Regla, Guanabacoa and 10 de Octubre. Throngs of young people stuffed backpacks and bags full of donations, hefting them into the hardest-hit areas.
If you’re reading this and have post-disaster relief experience (either on the giving or receiving end), you can guess what ensued: chaos and confusion. In Cuba, recovery and relief is designed, implemented and coordinated by the government’s civil defense arm. International aid is requested, received, and distributed by them and only them. It has always been this way – until now. In short, the overwhelmingly quick, coordinated response by civil society, private individuals and business people – almost all of it through social media – was neither anticipated nor accounted for.
In the first days, the videos, photos and interviews depicting the confusion and trauma flooded the Internet and shot around the world. The Cuban diaspora weighed in, worried about their families. Criticisms flew. Trucks of relief, organized by reggueton stars and symphonic orchestras, rolled into damaged areas and were turned back. And social media documented it all; for the first time, those Cubans with the means followed the drama on their phones and devices.
It’s hard to get out ahead of a story – especially with Twitter, Instagram, WhatsApp and Facebook newly in the mix. With my personal post-disaster relief experience, in Cuba and elsewhere, and Cuba Libro’s years of targeted donation programming, we got involved quickly. We provided a sorting and packaging site for donations, teamed up with volunteers and drivers and participated in deliveries with CENESEX and others. We acted as an information clearing house and sent donors to other distribution sites including the Fabrica de Arte, Historian’s Office and Jesus de Monte Church.
We also calmed critics. Many people with big hearts and time on their hands, couldn’t understand the problem presented by appearing amidst crowds of traumatized, desperate people, including children and elders, with loads of donations. But this approach is rife with problems. Who was the most in need? Who had already received donations? Who was truly a tornado victim and who was just posing as such for personal gain? What happens if (ie when), strong, young men elbow their way to donation trucks, pushing past grandmothers and mothers with babes in arms?
We talked to people, explaining certain realities and complexities. For instance, in the first week, there were entire neighborhoods which hadn’t received donations – one reason why coordination is key – plus we outlined ethical relief and donation programs. One of the young, (socially-media coordinated) organizers convened volunteers for a meeting prior to a donation delivery, during which he explained the fatigue they would encounter among the victims, their possible hostility towards interview requests, the ethics of photographing the scene, and the importance of following all instructions and orientations of the coordinating authorities. In the end, Cuba Libro sent out over a dozen large donations, almost all of them using social media.
More recently, we’ve had the IDAHO kerfuffle, still simmering on the Internet. The short version goes like this: after 11 years of active, enthusiastic celebrations here on and around May 17 (International Day Against Homo- Trans and Biphobia), the “Conga,” an all-inclusive diversity parade and one of the highlights of the event, was unexpectedly cancelled. The cancellation was announced via an official note by the coordinating organization, CENESEX (published on Facebook, natch). I’ve been involved in anti-homophobia efforts for decades and many, like me, were stunned and confused, not to mention pissed. Enter social media, that efficient organizing tool, but also the bastion of passive bitching, vapid dissent and hollow valor. Cue the organizing of an “unofficial” parade in a different part of Havana and with different agendas not limited to LGBTIQ rights. CENESEX reacted with another official note, which only served to muddy the waters and fuel the extrapolatory fire. Mariela Castro, Director of CENESEX and other activists took to the national airways to explain further…
The unofficial parade – convened for one of the most touristed part of the city, with a healthy international press presence – was set for the same Saturday as the cancelled Conga. Not surprisingly, the shit hit the fan. I was working a special event at Cuba Libro that day so couldn’t participate, and regular readers know I don’t write about “bola”, ‘run run’ or any other fourth, fifth, or sixth hand accounts. Cuban friends where there, however, and texted us as things unfolded. After allowing the march to proceed along the Prado, the Rainbow Army (oops, bad word choice), was told by the police they could not continue along the Malecon for reasons of traffic and safety. Some pushed through and onward nonetheless and that’s when a handful of folks were hauled off. I don’t know how long they were detained (some of the arresting officers were plain clothed cops), but at least one of them – a known provocateur red flagged by the government for previous bouts of civil disobedience unrelated to queer issues, was released shortly thereafter.
Beyond this, I cannot say what happened or what ensued but I’m entirely confident in reporting that some people participated precisely to cause a ruckus and that the parade was infiltrated by folks not fond of – or in direct opposition – to the government; folks who previously had not participated in related LGBTQI events. I can also say that the whole clusterf*ck went viral on the Internet, with digital jockies on and off island putting in their two cents. Like everything in Cuba and social media, this will blow over but the fact remains that LGBTQI Cubans do not enjoy the same rights as their straight or CIS gender counterparts and what was it that Marti said? “Rights are to be taken, not requested; seized, not begged for.”
In a general sense, mobile data has Cuba looking and reacting more like the “real world” with flamers, viral fake news, out-of-context photos, and acrimonious finger pointing wherever you click. From an anthropological view, it’s fascinating to have a ringside seat for this digital learning curve and spectacle. In practical terms, this access and its effects mirror what happens in other latitudes: the potential for knowledge and horizon broadening of digital access is incalculable but unfortunately, it more often results in the spread of hate and disinformation. It divides rather than unites. And once again, Cuba finds itself in deep, troubled waters. Someone send me a life raft, please!!