Editorial: My Plea for a Nation Under Duress

HAVANA — For those of us who have borne witness to the slow, steady decline of Cuba, the current reality is a profound, heart-wrenching tragedy. The narrative we often receive—of classic cars and world-famous cigars—is a romantic but dangerous distraction from the severe humanitarian and economic crisis crippling the island. This is a crisis fueled by a potent mix of government inaction and intensified U.S. sanctions, an oil blockade in particular, that has choked the life out of a resilient people.

I have traveled to this island nation, just 90 miles from Key West, five times over the past nine years. My first trip was in 2016, amidst the hopeful diplomatic thaw of the Obama administration. Donald Trump reimposed some restrictions, and Joe Biden continued Trump’s policy. Today, that hope feels like a distant memory. What I now see is drastic fuel scarcity, crippling blackouts, and acute shortages of food and medicine—a deepening crisis that has cut work and school weeks short, halted industry, and is driving a mass exodus of desperate Cubans.

Cuba is accurately known for its iconic American cars, but it is the Cuban people who have truly captured my heart with their kindness and compassion. It is their plight that truly breaks it. They endure poverty, crumbling infrastructure, and a Communist government that represses them. Yet, through five trips, I remain fascinated by their creativity and resourcefulness. Their warmth and profound love for family are virtues many Americans, more focused on ‘living’ than on community, could learn from.

The blame, however, is multifaceted. The more than 60-year U.S. trade embargo has clearly restricted the island’s ability to prosper. But it is easy for the Cubans to blame the Americans, even though Cuba had the opportunity to trade elsewhere.

They remember the ‘Special Period,’ when Soviet support vanished, forcing them to “go it alone.” Now, as the U.S. squeezes what remains of its economic life by controlling the flow of fuel from Venezuela, the situation is becoming untenable. There are electrical blackouts, food and medicine shortages, and many things must be purchased through the ‘black market’. With each visit, I’ve noted a decline: fewer street performers, more historic buildings collapsing, and more people saying goodbye, seeking a better life off the island.

The internet, once a repressed novelty, is now a window to the world for those who can afford it. I communicate with my Cuban friends online—like the medical surgeon who earns more from her side hustle as a manicurist—and I see their struggles and small joys. When one friend posts, “Where have my friends gone?” she is lamenting the exodus, the obvious, heartbreaking flight from a nation that can no longer sustain its own.

My last trip in January 2025 was shadowed by the unsettling thought that I might not see my Cuban friends again due to a shifting political environment. I worry deeply for the people of Cuba, especially the ones I know in Havana and Vinales, the beautiful agricultural land that produces their world-famous cigars.

The repressed people of Cuba deserve better than the Communist government provides, but they also deserve a compassionate, humane approach.

We must recognize that the hidden heartbreak of Cuba lies not in the past, but in the present, where an enduring, kind people are being crushed by a crisis that the world cannot afford to ignore.