The Cuban Woman's Revolutionary Experience: Patriarchal

Culture and the State's Gender Ideology, 1950–1976

Johanna I. Moya Fábregas

Journal of Women's History, Volume 22, Number 1, Spring 2010, pp. 61-84
(Article)

Published by Johns Hopkins University Press

DOI: [Link]

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2010
The Cuban Woman’s Revolutionary
Experience
Patriarchal Culture and the State’s Gender Ideology,
1950–1976

Johanna I. Moya Fábregas

Soon after the triumph of the 1959 Cuban Revolution, the government led
multiple efforts to reconstruct Cuban society. The state’s articulation and
implementation of new gender politics was central to the massive mobi-
lization of Cubans. During the first twenty-five years of the revolution,
politics were constructed through and built upon a familiar and accepted
gendered framework in which men held social power. In this process, in
which socially reconstructed sexual differences and roles came to serve
the needs of the new political agenda, new ideas about womanhood were
produced. This article contends that the revolutionary state framed its
expectations of Cubans using a familiar gendered language that made
possible the popular acceptance of the reconfiguration of traditional gen-
der roles. In order to shed light on the evolution of Cuban women’s gender
identities under a socialist government, it contrasts Cuban premises of
womanhood during the 1950s with postrevolutionary reconfigurations
of, sometimes contradictory, notions of womanhood.

T he allegiance of Cubans to the revolutionary project was paramount for

the reorganization of society during the first two decades of the revolu-
tion. Cubans, familiar with women as mothers, wives, and homemakers,
would have been hard found to accept women in the role of protagonists
in national affairs—especially given that only wealthy women enjoyed
the freedom and visibility to work toward the well-being of society before
1959.1 How, then, could a society unaccustomed to seeing middle- and
lower-class women holding rifles or cutting cane come to accept them in
such typically masculinized roles?
This article contends that the revolutionary state framed its expecta-
tions of Cubans using a familiar gendered language that made possible
the popular acceptance of the reconfiguration of traditional gender roles.
Indeed, the revolutionary government’s articulation and implementation of
its gender politics was built upon Cubans’ prerevolutionary assumptions of
gender identity. Thus, at least during the first fifteen years of the revolution,
revolutionary politics were constructed through and built upon a familiar
and accepted gendered framework in which men held social power.2 In
this process, during which socially reconstructed sexual differences and

© 2010 Journal of Women’s History, Vol. 22 No. 1, 61–84.

62 Journal of Women’s History Spring

roles served the needs of the new political agenda, progressive ideas about
gender roles and relations were produced. 3 The revolutionary government
attempted to create an image of womanhood that could transcend but not
disregard the typical domestic portrayal of women. The New Woman was
construed as an exemplary revolutionary who, in addition to her traditional
role in the private sphere, was also expected to be concerned and involved
with the transformation of Cuban society; she would be a professional, a
leader, and a caregiver. As far as the New Man, it entailed a more sensible
man who understood the importance of women to the revolution while
simultaneously maintaining his virility. Stemming from a larger research
project, this article seeks to contrast premises of womanhood during the
1950s—that comprise the skeleton undergirding the island’s multiple gender
identities—with postrevolutionary reconfigurations of sometimes contra-
dictory notions of womanhood to shed light on the evolution of Cuban
women’s gender identities under a socialist government.

Pre-1959 Popular Concepts of Womanhood

Throughout modern Cuban history the patriotism of the mambisas
(female warriors of the independence wars) secured them national rec-
ognition as heroines who abandoned the comforts of their home to fight
for Cuba’s sovereignty.4 These women of humble origins occupy a special
place in the nation’s history, and the revolutionary government has taken
the task of keeping their memory alive very seriously. The inclusion of
the mambisas in the state’s revolutionary discourse was paramount for
the government’s promotion of a trajectory of female activism in national
affairs and facilitated the public’s acceptance of women’s participation in
revolutionary programs.
During the first half of the twentieth century, middle- and upper-class
white women mobilized to advocate for reforms and programs to alleviate
social problems endured by women from both ruling and dispossessed
classes.5 These women participated in the suffrage struggle of the 1920s,
which contributed to a tradition of female civic action that laid the ground-
work for the massive incorporation of women into the 1959 Revolution.
While organized female politicization often unsettled the dynamics of
patriarchy by challenging the idea that women should refrain from po-
litical participation, they were not always concerned with breaking down
traditional gender structures.6 Their accomplishments, guided by humanist
ideas of social development, aimed to equip women with the necessary
tools for social mobility and individual growth. Under the premise that
Cuban womanhood revolved around the concept of motherhood, women
argued that by bettering their conditions they would be better fit to raise
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 63

honest and productive (male) citizens who would lead the nation in the
right direction. Some of their most important achievements included the
opening of trade schools for poor women, attaining improved conditions
for female prisons and working facilities, passing legislation regarding
maternity and illegitimate children, implementing a welfare system, and
attaining universal suffrage in 1934 that aimed for the political participation
of all citizens regardless of gender, class, economic status, or race.7 Although
politically active women accounted for a minority of the female population,
over time their public presence contributed to the popular acceptance of
women’s involvement in national affairs.8
The division of gender roles in both Cuba and post–World War II United
States offered some room for women’s mobilization as long as their motive
was humanitarian and did not directly threaten the political equilibrium
of gender hierarchies. In line with traditional patriarchal prescriptions of
gender, the role of women in Cuba as mothers and wives remained preva-
lent, and their mobilization and public participation toward accomplishing
national goals was embraced only in special circumstances.
As one of the Latin American countries with the most widespread ac-
cess to film and television from the United States, the image of the domestic
woman whose main concern was tending to her husband and children and
that of the father as the main wage earner spread rapidly throughout the
island.9 According to historian Louis Pérez Jr., extensive access to movie
theaters ensured that Cubans from all corners of the island became familiar
with Hollywood concepts of beauty, sexuality, and gender relations. “Hol-
lywood did not merely transmit North American notions of beauty. The
ideals presented in movies could seize the popular imagination precisely
because they arrived scripted with subtext.”10 Ideas of beauty, sex appeal,
and sensuality were culled from motion pictures and rearticulated in a Cu-
ban context. Such magazines as Vanidades, Carteles, and Bohemia provided
a forum for the local discussion of Hollywood.11
In addition to the presence of Hollywood through films, the island re-
ceived significant attention as a vacation destination for Hollywood artists,
international figures, and tourists from the United States. As a result, Cuba
became a place of leisure in the international as well as national popular
imaginary. In this tropical paradise, Afro-Cubans, and more specifically
mulatas were also portrayed as desirable objects to be consumed. The exoti-
zation of Afro-Cubans presented the mostly white visitors from the United
States a culturally safe means to approach blackness without compromising
the segregation dynamics to which they were accustomed. Indeed, segrega-
tion was also a common practice in Cuba’s entertainment industry. Havana
offered its white tourists a selection of fine casinos, cabarets, and luxuri-
ous hotels where they could enjoy flamboyant performances by beautiful
64 Journal of Women’s History Spring

mulatas in Las Vegas-style shows and experience Afro-Cuban music per-

formances in a controlled stylized environment.12 The air of exoticism and
opulence attached to the island also impinged on popular perceptions of
womanhood, naturalizing feminine sensuality in the eyes of both foreign-
ers and Cubans as a central trait of Cuban women. Sensuality, however,
was only one of many characteristics that Cuban women were expected to
deploy as part of their femininity. As it happened, most of the characteristics
that defined Cuban women in the popular imaginary stemmed from their
relation to men either as their companions or their mothers.

Representations of Motherhood
Popular media clearly exposes Cuban society’s general expectations
of women during the 1950s. Indeed, the language, images, and values
used both to address and represent women in magazines and newspapers
echoed general assumptions of women’s roles as mothers, wives, and girl-
friends. In line with twentieth-century Latin American patterns of female
mobilization, Cuba’s 1950s gendered discourse construed motherhood not
only as the primary goal of every woman but also as a political tool that
justified women’s participation in social movements geared to improve
their children’s lives.13 Many newspapers and magazines paid special hom-
age to the Cuban mother throughout the month of May, before and after
Mother’s Day. The mother’s sacrifice and abnegation for her children were
constantly invoked as reasons to praise her and respect her. Prensa Libre’s
1953 Mother’s Day editorial provides a good example of the national value
placed on mothers’ self-sacrificing traits: “One day of the year? This is not
a generous tribute for she for whom everyday of every year is made of
sacrifice and abnegation. . . . From the moment when a new life begins to
develop . . . the mother becomes a martyr. . . . And that dedication will not
perish until the very instant where death is to meet her.”14
This type of eulogy was common in Cuba’s twentieth-century publi-
cations, making clear that women were ultimately valued for their unique
maternal instincts. In this case, the editorial was likely calling for men to
honor their mothers based on these grounds. The high proportion of ad-
vertisements directed toward men in comparison to those targeting women
suggests that Prensa Libre’s readership was mainly composed of men, save
for the social pages that reported women’s charity events. As the editorial
suggests, mothers were expected to surrender themselves completely to
their sons. On that account, women’s political mobilization was nationally
embraced as long as it stemmed from their concerns as mothers or wives.
It is understandable then, that in Cuba major political struggles—such as
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 65

the wars for independence and the revolutions of 1930 and 1959—have
invoked women’s nurturing instincts to mobilize them.

The Aesthetics of Womanhood

Women’s personal appearance was one of the few areas in which it
was socially acceptable for them to be self-centered. The physical appear-
ance of the home and the nuclear family was considered a reflection of their
success as mothers and wives. This picture of success was present in all
advertising for detergents, canned foods, and electrical appliances, which
generally included an illustration of a happy homemaker or a family of
four: a girl, a boy, and two parents.15
The popular magazine Bohemia, which reported on national and in-
ternational affairs, fashion, and entertainment, played an important role
in depicting women to its readership, both men and women. Throughout
the 1950s, women depicted in the magazine were mostly white and young;
and while single women’s body attributes were constantly emphasized,
married women’s maternal qualities were exalted. The young women
who appeared in photographs were often dressed in revealing clothes and
the accompanying caption usually made references to their bodies and
charismatic personalities. The assumption that young women were to be
admired primarily for their bodies and their coquettishness was embedded
in these ads. For instance, the young singer Gloria Díaz appears dressed
in a baseball jersey and high heels while seemingly catching a ball. Her
candid smile coupled with the open inviting pose showcases this singer in
an innocent yet provocative way that makes her femininity stand out. The
text accompanying the picture reads: “No batter can hit this pitcher. As you
can see, she has a little bit of everything; but most of all she has curves. If
she decided to pitch for the Havana team, poor Lions! She would turn them
into tame little lambs.”16 This type of image correlates with political scien-
tist Catharine A. Mackinnon’s assertion that “socially, femaleness means
femininity, which means sexual attractiveness, which means sexual avail-
ability on male terms.”17 As such, entwined with these images in the Cuban
press was the expectation that the male readership of Bohemia would be the
consumers of such femininity. Furthermore, these types of ads implied that
coquettishness and sexual availability were defining traits of womanhood.
Consequently those women who did not find the time to take care of their
appearance and manners, which made them sexually desirable, would be
subject to harsh criticism.
By placing an unbalanced emphasis on female hygiene, product adver-
tising implied that the personal appearance of young women—a reflection
66 Journal of Women’s History Spring

of their femininity—was expected to be their most pressing preoccupation.

Ads for female products assumed that finding a boyfriend or husband
constituted women’s main goal; therefore cleanliness and tidiness were
often proclaimed as important qualities in attracting a man. A 1951 ad for
the oral antiseptic Listerine includes an illustration of a couple seated in a
sofa, where the man appears to be ignoring the woman. Underneath the
illustration the ad narrates the story of how, due to bad breath, this woman
was driving away the man of her life.18 An ad for the deodorant Arrid simi-
larly includes two illustrations: one of a woman without deodorant who
is driving away a man, and another of a woman with Arrid who is kissing
the same man. The ad reads “foul odor drives away romance. Arrid drives
away foul odor.”19 The connection between hygiene, the achievement of
expected gender roles, and modernity was widespread with the introduc-
tion of American products into Cuba at the turn of the century. Personal
hygiene products not only promised an effective way of maintaining a
pleasant appearance but they also sold an image of modernity that rested
on the idea that personal image and proper gender roles were crucial for
women’s social advancement. Cuban women aspiring to be modern strove
to be impeccable in every aspect of their persona.
Whiteness, also considered a trait of modernity in twentieth-century
Latin America, could be acquired through personal products. Ads for skin-
lightening creams and hair-relaxing products were commonplace in popular
media. Indeed, the deliberate location of ads featuring Afro-Cuban women
was in itself telling of Cuba’s racial hierarchy. Placed in a small corner of the
last pages of Bohemia magazine, an ad for Perma-Strate reads “Curly Hair
. . . For what? Immerse yourself in progress: Start with Perma-Strate from
grade school.”20 While assuming a direct correlation between whiteness and
modernity, these ads reproduced the assumptions—still prevalent today—
that black women must straighten their hair and “whiten” themselves to
be considered beautiful. Whereas Cuba’s racial politics influenced concepts
of beauty, the correlation of whitening with beauty is not entirely a Cuban
phenomenon. This idea dates back to the racial dynamics that emerged in
Latin American colonial societies where whitening became the only means
of social advancement for people of African and indigenous descent.
While the participation of Afro-Cubans in the wars for independence
at the turn of the twentieth century and the 1959 Cuban revolution have
marked turning points in the nation’s racial dynamics, the idea that white-
ness is modern and blackness is backwards remains ingrained in the na-
tion’s social fabric.21 Though Afro-Cubans who witnessed the transition
into the revolution have often claimed the increased level of tolerance and
opportunities experienced under Fidel Castro’s leadership, the role of racial
prejudice in Cuba’s society was never addressed systematically or ideologi-
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 67

cally.22 However, racism was addressed at the institutional level through

the unprecedented opportunities for work, education, leisure, and social
integration that the government extended to members of the most marginal-
ized classes, where Afro-Cubans had been historically overrepresented.
The Marxist premise that collective interests should be prioritized over
individual interests is somewhat responsible for leaving social problems
unaddressed—such as racism or sexism—which are deeply ingrained in
the social fabric of Cuban and other communist societies. The revolution-
ary state, accordingly, did not take into account how patriarchy posed an
obstacle, at a deeper cultural level, for the effective emancipation of women.
Instead, it assumed that women’s participation in work outside the home
and their involvement in national affairs would free them from the shackles
of domestic work that impeded their total integration into a productive
society, conceived as the key to shedding their subordination.23 This Marxist
approach to gender equality, and its shortcomings, is not endemic to Cuba.
Historian Maria Bucur argued that in Eastern European countries, “What
communism did not do was to fundamentally question the labor division
in the private sphere.”24 In Cuba the state did question the division of labor
within the private sphere, but this did not happen until the second decade
of the revolution, when the problems caused by women’s double burden
began to interfere with the production goals of the state.

Women’s Representations in Leftist Media

Deeply influenced by Eastern European Marxist women’s struggles,
the leftist magazines and newspapers that existed in Cuba prior to the
revolution portrayed the role of women as complementary to that of men.
As such, their domestic roles were not considered an obstruction to their
liberation but rather a natural part of being a woman. The comparison of
gender assumptions articulated in both leftist and mainstream media is
fundamental to understanding how patriarchal ideas, without necessarily
posing a conflict, were embedded in capitalist as well as Marxist ideolo-
gies. Understanding the gender ideology that operated as the backdrop
for the implementation of different political ideologies confirms political
scientist Shannon Bell’s assertion that “socialism, as an ideology and as a
practice, liberates women no more and no less than capitalism. However,
the socialist political process can emancipate women as an integral part of
their wider strategy of socio-economic change.”25 Taking this into account
becomes essential when probing the reasons that led many Cubans to ac-
cept the revolution’s gender policies, which may have appeared to break
with traditional norms or be too radical to be embraced immediately by
the majority of the population.
68 Journal of Women’s History Spring

Leftist publications such as Hoy and Mujeres Cubanas challenged

traditional women’s roles by advocating for their involvement in collec-
tive struggles.26 Yet, similar to mainstream publications such as Bohemia,
Vanidades, El Mundo, Carteles, and Prensa Libre, leftist magazines did assume
that motherhood and marriage were women’s primary responsibilities. Fur-
thermore, their articles and ads supported the idea that proper gender roles
were based on women’s “natural” role as mother and/or wife. As political
scientist Kimberly Ens Manning has suggested for the People’s Republic of
China during the late 1950s, this “Marxist maternalist equality rested on the
important assumption that women were naturally invested with a ‘maternal
instinct’ and that motherhood was a sacred duty of women.”27 In addition,
these roles always developed under the tutelage of a man, whether father
or husband, who secured the woman’s material and emotional protection.
Addressing mainly women, the articles featured in the magazine Mujeres
Cubanas during the 1950s provide an insight into the national expectation
that women be moved by their caring qualities.
It was common to encounter in the pages of Mujeres Cubanas stories
about women in the Soviet Bloc and Communist China as examples of how
socialism could emancipate women. These stories were usually borrowed
from publications of different Women’s International Democratic Federation
(WIDF) chapters and translated into Spanish for a Cuban audience. In its
quest to foment a sense of connection among women of different milieus
through its magazine the Democratic Federation of Cuban Women (FMDC)
reproduced assumptions of female primacy in the domestic sphere: “The
union between women of Cuba and the world becomes indispensable with
every day that goes by. Let us work so that the Democratic Federation of
Cuban Women will become the point of convergence of us all. This is neces-
sary to undertake the struggle towards the constitution of a Unique Front,
the struggle against the high cost of living and for democratic liberties, for
better conditions for children, and for peace. Today more than ever the
word of the day is unification, as Martí said it.”28
A concern for improved everyday living conditions is the driving force
behind this call for women’s unification in prerevolutionary Cuba. This
preoccupation stems from the assumption that women were the main ad-
ministrators of the domestic economy. In light of this belief, shared by many
Cubans, the demands to lower food prices, to make more services available
to children, and to end the brutal assassinations carried on by Fulgencio
Batista’s government were strongly embraced by women. This discourse
was based on the principle that once the nation was at peace women would
be able to enjoy the placid domestic life to which they aspired.
The short-lived monthly magazine Mujeres Cubanas, published during
the 1950s by the left-leaning FMDC was also anchored in traditional gender
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 69

notions while calling for the participation of women in political struggles.

Still in line with Marxist ideology, the magazine’s stance towards women
assumed that their motherly instincts instilled in them a sense of worry for
the well being of not only their own children but that of humanity. As such,
the concerns articulated in the magazine’s pages were guided by women’s
maternal role of protecting their children from the Korean War, as well as
advocating against the interests of imperial domination. Articles by Helena
Gil, who after the revolution became part of the Communist Party Central
Committee, called for ending the Korean War and stopping the sacrifice
of young men in the name of foreign economic interests.29 These reports
on the role of women in international anti-war efforts usually emphasized
the anguish of mothers and wives, and called Cuban women to empathize
with these women on the grounds of motherhood.
In spite of the fact that Mujeres Cubanas was not a mainstream maga-
zine, it plays an important role in tracing the government’s revolutionary
gender discourse, which employed the same Marxist premises of female
liberation and reproduced similar ideas of motherhood and domesticity.30
Whereas some of its articles incited women to oppose war and denounce
social problems to which the government had turned a blind eye, its other
sections were devoted to fashion, home decoration, and tips for cooking,
cleaning, and caring for children. They even offered detailed descriptions
of how to please a man by perfectly ironing his long sleeve shirts.31 What
distinguished this magazine from mainstream women’s magazines was
its advocacy for voicing the precarious living and working conditions of
women from the dispossessed classes and encouraging cross-class coali-
tions to solve these social problems. The layout of the magazine and its
content were borrowed from Soviet magazines such as Rabotnitsa, whose
founders subscribed to the idea that “only a class struggle could eliminate
gender problems.”32
This idea was unprecedented in Cuba. Fidel Castro’s founding of the
Federation of Cuban Women (FMC) in 1960 similarly constituted an un-
matched effort in the history of the island. The FMC became instrumental in
operating as vehicle through which women could play an important role in
the transformation of Cuban society. The discourse used to mobilize them,
however, was framed by old patriarchal formulas that called upon women’s
roles as moral educators of society to partake in the reorganization of the
revolutionary nation. Drawing from the national tradition of praising the
self-sacrificing woman, their participation in the revolution was nationally
embraced because it developed within the unquestionable boundaries of
motherhood and marriage.
70 Journal of Women’s History Spring

The Revolutionary State’s Articulation of Gender Identity

Despite maintaining old paradigms of women’s gender roles, the revo-
lutionary state led the way in reconfiguring the patriarchal language used
to both address women and refer to them. As such, the state transformed
Cuban women into national icons to be mentored and protected by the
revolutionary government. After all, the future of a unified national con-
sciousness rested on guiding the women’s role in shaping national character.
Fidel Castro, as the embodiment of the revolution, was represented as the
paternal and virile mentor who would steer the contribution of women to
the nation; and women responded to this mentor with countless displays
of affection and gratitude. Reciting poems, songs, and chants in honor
of Fidel Castro was commonplace among the young women who were
awarded scholarships to come to Havana from the provinces to learn skills
that would allow for their participation in the salaried workforce. Women
like Lourdes Díaz used their musical skills to express their appreciation for
the opportunities that Castro had extended to them:
I thank you Fidel/ I thank you optimistically/ for you I will be-
come a seamstress/ and it has been a pleasure for me/ because
you wished, Fidel/ that I become a seamstress./ That is why over
in my prairie/ we all shout viva!/ over there in the cooperative/
called Paco Cabrera.
I have no phrases, Fidel/ to show you in this moment/ the hap-
piness and contentment/ that has penetrated my being./ I repeat
thanks Fidel,/ with the scissors in my hand/ I continue cutting
through the best path/ so that everything will come out alright,/
I thank you for my parents/ and for my fourteen siblings.33

This young composer was one of the many members of the Ana Be-
tancourt schools, which were created in 1960 to bring young campesinas
[country women] to Havana to teach them the seamstress craft. By tempo-
rarily separating these young women from their nuclear family, the Cuban
state challenged traditional ideas that called for señoritas to remain in their
parents’ home until they married. Nonetheless, the state simultaneously
reconstructed a family environment where Castro would be the father fig-
ure to which ladies responded. The FMC training in traditional feminine
crafts, along with the familial environment created by the state, was also
instrumental in helping secure the support of the young women’s parents,
who under other circumstances might have not allowed their daughters to
leave their homes and be exposed to city life on their own.
During the first years of the revolution the government established
a discourse of change and rupture with old gender paradigms. The FMC
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 71

served as a vehicle for the government to define the role and importance of
women for the success of the revolution. During the FMC’s first Congress in
1962, participants formed an array of committees to steer the incorporation
of women into the revolution and find ways to ease their domestic respon-
sibilities: “The tasks of our Revolution demand the incorporation of women
into the work force. For this to happen it is necessary to provide women
with a solution to their domestic problems, which pose an impediment in
most cases to their involvement in the fundamental production chores that
will conduce our fatherland to the path of progress.”34
In an effort to address the participation of women in the revolution,
the 1962 FMC Congress organized commissions for social services, inter-
national solidarity with women’s struggles, childcare centers, and educa-
tion, which sought to convince women of their ideological importance to
the revolution and to ease their domestic responsibilities to ensure their
unobstructed participation. For instance, during the first congress, the
Education and Divulgation Commission, intent on developing strategies
to recruit the support of Cuban women, reached the decision that the
magazine Mujeres would be the promoter of nivel cultural (cultural level)
that women were expected to attain under the revolution. Therefore, it was
paramount that the magazine be of interest to a wide array of women of
different educational and ideological backgrounds.35 In Cuba, like in other
communist societies, publications targeting women were only one of the
many angles through which the revolution sought to construct the Cuban
New Woman. Programs such as the Ana Betancourt Schools for peasant
women, which offered campesinas scholarships to study in Havana, also
played an important role in shaping the New Woman.36 The FMC reports
of the Ana Betancourt Schools reveal the ideological agenda behind these
schools for women: “The peasant women will not only receive classes in
sowing and clothing confection but they will also receive classes in general
culture, as well as in acquiring hygiene habits, social behavior, physical and
mental health, etc.”37 In this way, the state’s effort to reach all social sectors
of the population facilitated the dissemination of the government’s defini-
tion of female gender roles, which the revolution construed as instrumental
for the ideological and social development of all Cubans.
Castro’s closing speech at the FMC’s 1962 congress advocates for the
construction of a social environment in which women will be able to fully
develop their capabilities. His recurring public communications with female
supporters served to feed the father figure image held by his followers. Yet,
this paternalistic relationship coexisted with his effort to incite women to
take charge of their own lives: “It is evident that women have extraordinary
interests in the revolution; first, the conditions that will allow them to engage
in useful and decorous work; the conditions of social order, of legal order,
72 Journal of Women’s History Spring

of institutional order, and also, the conditions that will allow them to free
themselves from all the constraints that tied them to an array of activities.
For that reason, since they are the most affected by this, women should be
the ones in charge of pushing this agenda.”38 This type of rhetoric planted
the seeds for women to formulate gender-specific demands, but the cen-
tralized control of the state over the female agenda for liberation truncated
the development of feminist demands.39 The paradoxical nature of Castro’s
gender discourse did not seem to cause friction among Cubans. On the
contrary, the ambiguity of his rhetoric assured his followers that although
he proposed changes in gender roles that served the common good, his
ideas were part of a national tradition of altering gender norms in times
of need. The example of self-sacrifice and abnegation articulated through
the history of the independence war’s mambisas set a precedent for Cuban
women who took on non-traditional roles amidst moments of crisis. 40
In tune with the belief that women were expected to pass on from
one generation to the next important patriotic values, investing time and
resources in the formation of women’s revolutionary character would
eventually result in good male revolutionaries. This explains why women
were often called upon to guide their sons’ morals to become righteous
men. This expectation is evident in the regular column entitled “Nuestros
Hijos” (Our children), in which the magazine Mujeres offered advice to
women on child rearing. The first issue of the magazine in 1961 sets the
tone for what is expected of mothers as moral educators: “In this, our first
issue, we want to direct our attention to you, with the purpose of talking
about a topic that is to all of us a constant source of tenderness, happiness,
and also distress and preoccupation: our kids . . . We women, have always
struggled in adverse conditions, until recently, for the future of our children,
for their health, for making them into strong and honest men, intelligent
and able [citizens].”41
This type of language assumed that children—and in particular
boys—as the future of the nation, ought to be the women’s main concern.
Patriotism and motherhood became intertwined as the main function of
Cuban women. In the same year, the newspaper Revolución invoked these
premises of motherhood in an announcement entitled “Welcome peasant
mothers!”
You! Who are now visiting Havana to see for yourself the progress
that your daughter has made in her studies in the capital.
You! Who have suffered the loss of your son, who died in the
glorious battle of Bay of Pigs in the hands of the mercenaries paid
by the American imperialism.
You! Who are now aware that ignorance separates families and
incites your son to emigrate in search of other means for his
future.
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 73

You! should now help the Revolution, by struggling for PEACE for
all the people of the world. You will see for yourself how social-
ism empowers everyone and offers future protection to prevent
emigration from your land and the separation of the family.42

This propaganda was aimed to appease the concerns of women regard-

ing the future of their children and to recruit them for the work programs
directed by the FMC. Notwithstanding its call for action, these words also
bring to light the state’s vision of women as the pillars of the family and
society as well. For that reason, it appeals to their concerns regarding the
separation of their family and the welfare of the collective. Moreover, the
order in which these statements are organized suggest that having volun-
teered a daughter to be trained by the revolution and having lost a son to
the revolutionary struggle earned these mothers the responsibility of help-
ing the revolution and, thus, the right to receive protection from the state.
This advertising ultimately functioned similar to other literary productions
that, according to Ana Serra, were used as “rhetorical constructions with the
objective of persuading an audience” and, in this case, securing women’s
loyalty to the state.43

The Revolucionaria’s Double Burden

Traditional domestic hierarchies were affected by the incorporation of
women into the revolution. The participation of women in work outside
their homes required the reorganization of gender roles. The implementa-
tion of the 1975 Family Code proved groundbreaking for its time—Cuba
became the only country whose constitution outlined equality within the
home—but the punitive and rewarding social mechanisms to enforce this
legislation were never developed. In addition, the disappearance of do-
mestic labor added to the burden of women who worked or studied and
were also expected to take care of their homes. In a recent testimony, Teté
Puebla, the first woman to become a brigadier general in Cuba’s Revolution-
ary Armed Forces, attests to this imbalance: “The revolution has brought
enormous progress for women. But we all recognize that whatever the talk
of equality, of men sharing household tasks with women, we still have not
achieved total equality. They do a few tasks, but when we get home we still
have to do or direct everything.”44
The majority of women who I interviewed in Cuba recall that as they
became involved in work outside the home men began helping them with
domestic chores.45 The term help is a recurring one in all the interviews,
where many women express gratitude towards their compañeros (male
partners) for alleviating some of the women’s domestic responsibilities.
Nonetheless, they made clear that although they worked outside the home,
74 Journal of Women’s History Spring

domestic life was still under their responsibility. Admittedly, many ex-
pressed satisfaction in their superwoman abilities to work outside the home,
volunteer over the weekends, take care of their husbands and children, and
keep their houses impeccably clean. Indeed, the aesthetics and hygiene of
the entire family and the home mirrored their success in fulfilling their
role as women. That this mentality remains alive after forty-seven years of
revolution speaks volumes about the dichotomy between the liberation of
women through work and their continued subjugation within their domestic
world. The revolution has been recognized chiefly for its accomplishment in
offering women opportunities for advancement through education, work,
and legislation.46 Yet, the gendered hierarchy within the home was not as
aggressively questioned by the state. On the contrary it was often repro-
duced in the rhetoric of revolutionary leaders and in the implementation
of the Federation of Cuban Women’s programs.
The formation of the Federation of Cuban Women consolidated all
pre-existing women’s organizations and canalized their political participa-
tion into the construction of the revolution. As women became involved
in national literacy and hygiene campaigns, their presence in the public
sphere gradually became commonplace. Instead of expressing overt resis-
tance, many Cubans who believed themselves to be traditional in terms
of gendered practices sanctioned the role of women at the center of the
revolution. This acquiescence of the masses may have been partly due to
the practice—whether it was strategic or haphazard—of assigning women
jobs within a context that did not appear at odds with social expectations.
Directed by the FMC, the women’s work brigades undertook jobs such as
teaching literacy, health and hygiene, and sewing. Oftentimes women from
Havana were sent to temporarily live with families in the countryside or in
poor urban neighborhoods to teach—mainly the women—proper ways of
cleaning to prevent diseases. Alluding to the liberation of women brought
about by their revolutionary labor, the FMC director, Vilma Espín, explained
in a 1974 report that the FMC had assumed the task of changing women’s
traditional mentalities. Then again, in the same report she highlighted the
role of women directing hospital kitchens during the Bay of Pigs Invasion.
Her public addresses and interviews also mentioned the role of women
in non-traditional areas such as the militia but she always stressed and
naturalized motherhood as the aspiration of all women: “What did the
triumphant revolution offer to our women? A new life, filled with possi-
bilities and prospects, in which their deepest dreams might become reality.
A society in which that which is most precious to us all—our children’s
future—would be assured.”47
Fidel Castro similarly portrayed the revolution as the emancipator of
women and in return demanded from them a significant degree of loyalty:
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 75

“If women in our country were doubly exploited, doubly humiliated in the
past, then this simply means that women in a social revolution should be
doubly revolutionary [applause].”48 The national media echoed this senti-
ment. During the 1960s and early 1970s the importance of women for the
revolution and vice versa received significant media coverage. Bohemia’s
portrayal of Cuban women took a nationalist revolutionary turn. The cover
of the magazine began to include young women with their gaze facing
the sky.49 Featuring young brigadistas (literacy brigade volunteers), these
photographs alluded to the nation’s new beginning where women would
carry the responsibility of reeducating the masses and transforming the
island’s society.50 Numerous articles of young brigadistas began to flock the
magazine’s pages, emphasizing their stories of happiness and satisfaction
resulting from their work for the nation and the revolution. For example,
the description over the picture of a brigadista lifting a baby reads: “Next
to their brigadistas, the mothers observe a solid image of tenderness. Family
ties become stronger while they are away doing their duty. And sometimes
girls consciously become women and learn how to be a mother with the
neighbor’s little baby. Those who say that the revolution is against the
family are lying.”51
This report on the brigadistas, published around Mother’s Day, draws
the readers’ attention to the revolution’s embracing of traditional family
values. It reassures the reader that although these brigadistas are away from
their homes, they are still learning the basics of being a woman—mother-
hood—through their contact with the neighbor’s baby. While extolling the
indispensable contribution of women to the revolution, this publication
stresses how taking women away from their home environment is not
incongruent with their principal social role of motherhood.
In line with conventional gendered divisions of labor, other articles
portrayed women in traditional occupations such as the female nurse
whose principal role is to help the male doctor. This type of professional
gendered role is established by a 1963 report on a nursing school completely
run by women in Camagüey: “As a result of the radical transformations
brought about by the revolution throughout all social structures, the lives
and functions of [female] nurses have suffered qualitative changes. Today
she is a complete professional, who is scientifically approved and who is
clearly conscious of her social duty. This has placed her in the category of
indispensable collaborator of the doctor [male].”52 Implied in this caption
is the idea that the revolution professionalized nurses and furnished them
with a social consciousness. Also implied is the underlying assumption that
all nurses were female and all doctors were male, reproducing a patriarchal
power structure in the profession and placing nurses in a subjugated posi-
tion. Gender power relations between doctors and nurses, however, kept
76 Journal of Women’s History Spring

women in that subordinate position. The framing of these changes within

these familiar paradigms and the benefits that revolution offered to women
proved very effective in the popular acceptance of the state programs.
The policies and opportunities that the revolutionary state offered to
Cuban women had a twofold ideological impact. On one hand, they set the
basis for a feminist consciousness by immersing women in the project of
national reconstruction and extending to them the opportunity to develop
professionally through work and education.53 These state-led efforts sent the
message that Cuban society valued women’s involvement in national affairs
and that under the revolution they could become anything they desired.
On the other hand, the preponderance of premises of female motherhood
and domesticity reaffirmed pre-revolutionary gender identities, demand-
ing that women be outstanding in traditional domestic roles as well as be
accomplished workers.
Along the lines of the revolutionary state’s discourse, Mónica Ramos
Reyes, one of the interviewees of anthropologist Oscar Lewis during 1969–
1970, articulated her accomplishments: “Just now, the focus of my life is the
Revolution, which I serve through my work. I feel that as a psychologist I
can fulfill myself and at the same time be useful to the revolution. The new
viewpoint here in Cuba—that a psychologist is to serve the community—
makes it possible to combine both kinds of satisfaction. So the revolution
and my work are the two central interests in my life. My third interest is my
children. To them and to my grandchildren and the rest of their generation
will fall the task of carrying on the struggle in the rest of Latin America.”54
Ramos’s comments highlight the characteristics that the Cuban state pro-
claimed as exemplary of a good female revolutionary; she lived for her
country and her children. Not only did she contribute to the revolution
through her work as a psychologist but also as a mother by instilling in
her children the responsibility to “carry on the [revolutionary] struggle in
the rest of Latin America.” Since the Cuban independence struggle of the
late nineteenth century, female abnegation has been celebrated as a funda-
mental national trait of the Cuban woman.55 Akin to the mambisa (female
warrior) symbolism, for Ramos the ability to fulfill herself through what she
is doing for others—her children, her grandchildren, and Cuban society in
general—make her an admirable woman in the popular imaginary. This case
shows that the revolution provided Ramos the opportunity to break with
traditional roles by working as a psychologist for the good of society. How
she framed that opportunity, nonetheless, exposes how pre-revolutionary
gendered configurations carried over into the revolution.
The constant highlighting of how empowered women had become
under the revolution spread the popular belief that since women did not
need to stay in an unwanted relationship out of economic necessity, it
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 77

was only logical that they could easily abandon a man who abused them.
This premise played a part in forestalling public discussions on the issue
of domestic violence, which to this day remains a taboo subject on which
there is scarce documentation available. In addition, the authorities’ lack of
interference in cases of domestic violence, unless in a public setting where it
bothers others, has contributed to the notion that these issues should only
be resolved between couples.
Prior to the revolution, the notes on domestic violence that appeared
in newspapers were strictly informative and oftentimes jealousy on the
part of the man was implied to be the source of the dispute. Following the
triumph of the revolution articles on domestic disputes begin to disappear
from popular periodicals and statistics on the topic become somewhat
of a mystery. Among the men and women I interviewed, the notion that
women who were victims of domestic violence liked to be hit or deserved
this treatment was prevalent. They also believed that outsiders should not
intervene in domestic violence disputes, since the women who were usually
the victims would always return to their abuser in the end. Likewise, state
officials assumed that the revolution provided women with the educational
tools and the resources to break away from abusive men. Thus, people often
assumed that women who remained in these relationships did not mind
the abuse, and some even believed that they derived pleasure from being
hurt.56 These comments, coupled with limited official information on the
subject, reveal the lack of discussion and education on domestic violence at
a national level. Caridad Gonzalez had strong feelings about the topic and to
illustrate her ideas she shared with me stories about one of her workmates
who would talk about her abusive partner during the bathroom breaks at
the steel mill where she worked. “I’m telling you, there are women who are
submissive and who deserve the things that sometimes happen to them;
you know? You can tell me anything but I do not put up with being yelled
at; people have to talk to me like a person. But I have had workmates who
have had it difficult. I would tell her ‘let’s go camping for a weekend . . .’
But her husband would slap her around anytime he had a jealousy fit.
Since I worked with her husband too, I would tell him ‘I wish you were
my husband, so when you hit me I could stick a metal rod through you’
and he would say ‘No, not you, I wouldn’t hit you.’”57
While sharing this story, through both her gestures and words, Gon-
zalez set herself apart from this incident by telling me in a very animated
way how she would have “let that man have it” if he had been her husband.
In the end her narrative revealed that the problem was the woman’s for
letting the man treat her without respect. Indeed, women like Gonzalez
understood the government’s lack of intervention in a way that correlated
with the gender ideas embedded in their upbringing. For them, domestic
78 Journal of Women’s History Spring

violence was considered a family issue that should always be resolved in

the intimacy of the home. By claiming that the family was at the core of
the functioning of society, the 1975 Family Code and the 1976 Constitution
drew attention to the centrality of traditional family values for the revo-
lution.58 How Cubans interpreted these values, however, was a different
matter altogether.

Conclusion
Family values were critical for the popular acceptance and involve-
ment in state-led efforts. It became paramount to assure Cubans that their
gendered understandings of society would not be challenged. After all, an
apparent social cohesion was necessary to mobilize women as a labor force.
Fidel Castro benefited immensely from the patriotic mambisa imagery to se-
cure the support of men and women for the massive incorporation of women
into the revolution. Yet, he also benefited much from the perpetuation of
ideas of womanhood that emerged from a lingering patriarchal framework.
However, this was ultimately counterproductive for the development of
a social revolution that sought to liberate women from their subjugated
position because, among other things, it reproduced structures of inequal-
ity responsible for unbalanced power relations between men and women.
As sociologist Robert W. Connell has stated, the patriarchal definition of
femininity—defined by dependency and subjugation—constitutes a type
of violence that is more effective than physical violence in itself because it
reproduces the structures that maintain women in a subordinated position.59
In that way, the revolutionary government turned women into dependants
of the Cuban state. In turn, by preempting the definitions of femininity
and female citizenship the state sustained pre-revolutionary patriarchal
structures. Cubans’ familiarity with that structure facilitated the popular
acceptance of the state’s new policies, which were articulated using a lan-
guage underpinned by patriarchal gendered premises. This reproduction
of patriarchy proved to be one of the main obstacles for the development
of strong feminist movements in various Marxist states.60
By examining the reproduction of a national gender discourse in a
selection of media sources, as well as some of the responses to that dis-
course, this article has brought to the surface the makeup of Cuban women’s
gender identity over a period of sociopolitical transition. The Constitution
of 1976 marked the official institutionalization of the laws and statutes
that established the sociopolitical transformation of Cuba following the
triumph of the revolution in 1959. The passing of this new constitution,
however, did not imply that after 1976 the revolution stopped its efforts to
foment change and transformation in Cuba. Indeed, it is the obstacles that
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 79

Cuba confronted during the 1970s that caused the initial public enthusiasm
towards the revolution to wane, leading the government to adopt more
radical and coercive methods with the purpose of keeping the revolution
afloat rather than transforming Cuban society.61 As a result, the lack of a
plan to transform gender concepts or to even enforce the Family Code, left
Cuba’s patriarchal social structure largely unchanged. For that reason, it is
not surprising to find that pre- and post- revolutionary conceptualizations
of women’s identity have remained anchored in a patriarchal worldview of
society.62 Nonetheless, this does not mean that the struggle towards female
equality remained stagnant. On the contrary, a number of Cuban women
took the opportunities provided by the revolution to defy constraining
premises of femininity that kept them for many years in subordinated posi-
tions. In order to arrive at how Cubans reconfigured gender ideas during
the first fifteen years of the revolution, my ongoing research project probes
into the subjectivities that inform both men and women’s understanding
and internalization of the revolution’s conceptualization of gender.

Notes
Thanks to Hugo René Viera Vargas, Arlene Díaz, and the anonymous JWH review-
ers for their constructive critiques and helpful suggestions.
1
K. Lynn Stoner, From the House to the Streets: The Cuban Woman’s Movement
for Legal Reform, 1898–1940 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991); Julio César
González Pagés, En Busca De Un Espacio—Historia De Mujeres En Cuba, Pinos Nuevos.
Ensayo (Havana: Ediciones de Ciencias Sociales, 2003).
2
In her thought-provoking historiographical essay, Sandra McGee Deutsch
discusses more profoundly the ways in which people understand authority relations
in society using their authority relations in the home as a frame of reference. Sandra
McGee Deustch, “Gender and Sociopolitical Change in Twentieth-Century Latin
America,” The Hispanic American Historical Review 71, no. 2 (1991): 259–306.

To examine how these identities were produced, my work conceptualizes

3

gender as a shifting sociopolitical and cultural process that interacts with other
categories such as race, class, and sexual orientation to define both womanhood
and manhood.
4
González Pagés, En Busca De Un Espacio.
5
Raquel la Villa, “La Mujer Cubana En La Lucha Contra Las Dictaduras,” La
Mujer Cubana: Historia e Infrahistoria (Miami, FL: Ediciones Universal, 2000).
6
González Pagés, En Busca De Un Espacio, 113.
7
Stoner, From the House to the Streets, chap. 2.
80 Journal of Women’s History Spring

8
It has been a common tendency of Cuban magazines such as Bohemia, Vani-
dades, Carteles and a number of newspapers to report and extol the Independence
war’s mambisa. In addition, and perhaps due to the upscale social status of many
women activists, these magazines also published notes on the suffrage movement
and on the efforts to alleviate poverty by helping women and children in need.
9
Jessica Weiss, To Have and to Hold: Marriage, the Baby Boom and Social Change
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), chap. 1.
10
Louis Perez Jr., On Becoming Cuban: Identity, Nationality, & Culture (New
York: Ecco Press, 1999), 299.
11
For a discussion of how Cuban magazines presented American actresses
as ideals of feminine beauty, see Ibid., 289–91.
12
For more on Cuba’s twentieth century nightlife, see Robin Moore, Music
and Revolution: Cultural Change in Socialist Cuba (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 2006), 34–44; and Perez Jr., On Becoming Cuban, 198.
13
For a discussion of domestic issues as the driving force for women’s move-
ments in Latin America, see Asuncion Lavrin, Women, Feminism, and Social Change
in Argentina, Chile, and Uruguay: 1890–1940 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press,
1995), chap. 3. Donna J. Guy, “True Womanhood in Latin America,” Journal of Women’s
History 14, no. 1 (2002): 170–73.
14
Editorial, Prensa Libre, 13 May 1956. (All translations are mine except oth-
erwise noted.)
15
These ads are also telling of the influence of American models of family and
notions of modernity on Cuban society. For a detailed discussion on this subject see
Perez Jr., On Becoming Cuban, chap. 6.
16
“Lanzadora De Cartel,” Bohemia, 14 December 1952, 41. “A esta lanzadora
si que no hay quien le batée. Tiene de todo, como verán. Pero más que nada, curvas.
Si se decidiera a ‘pitchearle’ al Habana, ¡pobres de los ‘leones’! Los iba a convertir
en mansos corderitos.”
17
Catharine A. MacKinnon, “Feminism, Marxism, Method, and the State: An
Agenda for Theory,” Signs 7, no. 3 (1982): 531.
18
“Listerine Ad,” Bohemia, 22 July 1951, 139.
19
“El Olor Ahuyenta El Romance. Arrid Ahuyenta El Olor,” Bohemia, 8 July
1951, 129.
20
“Cabello Rizado . . . ¿Para Qué?,” Bohemia, 17 February 1957, 141. “Incor-
pórese al progreso: Comience con PERMA-STRATE desde la edad escolar.”
21
Ada Ferrer, Insurgent Cuba: Race, Nation, and Revolution, 1868–1898 (Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999); Alejandro de la Fuente, A Nation for
All: Race, Inequality, and Politics in Twentieth-Century Cuba, Envisioning Cuba (Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001).
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 81

22
Alejandro de la Fuente, A Nation for All, chap. 7.
23
For a discussion of the challenges of Marxist revolution in attaining gen-
der equality, see Margaret Randall, Gathering Rage: The Failure of Twentieth Century
Revolutions to Develop a Feminist Agenda (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1992),
chap. 4.
24
Maria Bucur, “AHR Forum: An Archipielago of Stories: Gender History in
Eastern Europe,” American Historical Review 113, no. 5 (2008): 1379.
25
Shannon Bell, “The Political-Libidinal Economy of the Socialist Female
Body: Flesh and Blood, Work and Ideas,” in Women and Revolution: Global Expressions,
ed. M. J. Diamond (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1998), 341.
26
Hoy, the publication of the Cuban Communist Party, began its official cir-
culation in May 1938. Louis A. Pérez, Cuba: Between Reform and Revolution, 3rd ed.,
Latin American Histories (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 211. Mujeres
Cubanas was the official publication of the Democratic Federation of Cuban Women
(FDMC), a leftist organization tied to the Women’s International Democratic Fed-
eration (WIDF), founded in December of 1945. This magazine is located in reel 5 of
The Women’s Movement in Cuba, 1898–1958, The Stoner Collection on Feminism, Stoner
Microfilm Collection, Herman B. Wells Library, Indiana University, Bloomington,
IN.
27
Kimberley Ens Manning, “The Gendered Politics of Woman-Work: Re-
thinking Radicalism in the Great Leap Forward,” Modern China 32, no. 3 (2006/07):
356.
28
“Para la mujer y el hogar,” Hoy, 21 July 1953, 6.
29
Helena Gil, “La Bien Informada Prensa Imperialista,” Mujeres Cubanas,
June 1951, 19; “Lo Que Envían a Corea Las Mujeres Del Mundo,” Mujeres Cubanas,
June 1951, 19; and “Las Madres De Costa Rica Entran En Ronda De Paz,” Mujeres
Cubanas, June 1951, 19.
30
In fact, some of Mujeres Cubanas’s core writers, such as Helena Gil, occupied
important roles in the programs directed by the FMC during the early 1960s. I was
able to identify some of these writers in the documents housed at the Archive of
the Federation of Cuban Women.
31
“Para Planchar,” Mujeres Cubanas, June 1951, 14.
32
Natasha Tolstikova, “Rabotnitsa: The Paradoxical Success of a Soviet
Women’s Magazine,” Journalism History 30, no. 3 (2004): 133–39.
33
“Escuela Ana Betancourt” Verde Olivo, 1961, 38, newspaper clipping in a
file labelled “Escuela Ana Betnacourt,” box 32, Fondo Bibliotecario y Archivo de la
Federación de Mujeres Cubanas, Havana, Cuba, hereafter FBAFMC.
34
Informe del Primer Congreso Nacional de la Federación de Mujeres Cubanas, 1962,
38. This unpublished report comes from a file labeled “Informe del Primer Congreso
de la Federacion de Mujeres Cubanas,” box 32, FBAFMC.
82 Journal of Women’s History Spring

35
Nivel cultural is usually associated with the concept of a well-rounded,
holistic education that includes knowledge about history, science, the arts, and
current events. Ibid., 48.
36
Lois M. Smith and Alfred Padula, Sex and Revolution: Women in Socialist
Cuba (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996).
37
Escuela para Campesinas Ana Betancourt, “Informe del trabajo desarrol-
lado por el Frente de Corte y Costura, 1960–1979” (Havana: Fondo Bibliotecario y
Archivo FMC, 1979). Copy in “Escuela Ana Betnacourt,” box 32, FBAFMC.
38
Fidel Castro’s closing speech, Informe del Primer Congreso Nacional de la
Federación de Mujeres Cubanas, 1962, 70.
39
Randall, Gathering Rage, 108.
40
For a detailed discussion of Cuba’s pattern of glorifying women’s sacrifices
for the nation, see K. Lynn Stoner, “Militant Heroines and the Consecration of the
Patriarchal State: The Glorification of Loyalty, Combat, and National Suicide in the
Making of Cuban National Identity,” Cuban Studies 34 (2003): 71–96.
41
“Nuestros hijos,” Mujeres, 15 November 1961, 64.
42
“Bienvenidas Madres Campesinas!” Revolución, 18 January 1961, 6.
43
Ana Serra, The “New Man” In Cuba: Culture and Identity in the Revolution,
Contemporary Cuba (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007), 5.
44
Teté Puebla and Mary-Alice Waters, Marianas En Combate: Teté Puebla & El
Pelotón Femenino Mariana Grajales En La Guerra Revolucionaria Cubana, 1956–58 (New
York: Pathfinder, 2003), 73.
45
From these conversations I sought to draw how people negotiated their
preconceived ideas of gender with the state’s discourse and their daily gendered
practices during the transitional years of the revolution. However, since the current
article is mainly concerned with contrasting the representations of women in the
pre- and postrevolutionary period, I do not engage in a comprehensive analysis
of the interviews, which I address in specific chapters of my dissertation. Johanna
I. Moya Fábregas, The Reconfiguration of Gender Identities in the Cuban Revolution,
1953–1975 (PhD diss., Indiana University, 2009).
46
For a discussion of the impact of the revolution on women’s lives, see Smith
and Padula, Sex and Revolution; Helen Icken Safa, The Myth of the Male Breadwin-
ner: Women and Industrialization in the Caribbean, Conflict and Social Change Series
(Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995).
47
Vilma Espín, Memories, Second Congress, Cuban Women’s Federation (Havana:
Editorial Orbe, 1975), cited in Elizabeth Stone, ed., Women and the Cuban Revolution,
5th ed. (New York: Pathfinder, 2001), 52.
48
Fidel Castro, “The Revolution within the Revolution,” speech delivered at
the closing of the Fifth Plenary of the FMC at the Sandino Stadium of Santa Clara,
9 December 1996, cited in Stone, ed. Women and the Cuban Revolution, 65.
2010 Johanna I. Moya Fábregas 83

49
Vanguardia Del Estudiantado: Los Brigadistas,” Bohemia, 2 May 1961, 3.
50
For more details on how the Castro government set out to transform Cuban
society during the different phases of the Cuban revolution, see Julie Marie Bunck,
Fidel Castro and the Quest for a Revolutionary Culture in Cuba (University Park: Penn-
sylvania State University Press, 1994).
51
“Vanguardia Del Estudiantado,” 38.
52
José Gil de Lamadrid, “Enfermeras De Camguey: Blanco Ejército De La
Paz,” Bohemia, 10 May 1963, 16.
53
Julie D. Shayne, The Revolution Question: Feminisms in El Salvador, Chile, and
Cuba (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2004).
54
Oscar Lewis, Ruth M. Lewis, and Susan M. Rigdon, Four Women, Living
the Revolution: An Oral History of Contemporary Cuba (Urbana: University of Illinois
Press, 1977), 3. I am well aware of the controversy surrounding this book and the
unproblematic representation that it offers of life under the Cuban revolution. Jane
Jaquette perspicaciously argued in her review of Four Women, Living the Revolution,
“The most startling generalization one can draw from this material is not about
the impact that the revolution has had on women or any sense that women have
influence over revolutionary policy. Rather, it is the ease with which personal
characteristics, from middle class intellectualism and elitism to religious fervor
to docility, are carried through unchanged from childhood into the revolutionary
present.” Similarly, I make use of these testimonies to examine how, in light of their
own personal characteristics and experiences, women understand and make sense
of the revolutions’ gender discourse and agenda. Jane Jaquette, “Review of Four
Women Living the Revolution: An Oral History of Contemporary Cuba,” The Hispanic
American Historical Review 59, no. 2 (1979): 350–51.
55
Stoner, “Militant Heroines,” 72.
56
Miriam Lang, “Violencia De Género: Un Tema Público En El Socialismo
Cubano?” (Lateinamerika-Institu, Universidad Libre de Berlin, Alemania, 2003).
57
Caridad González, interview with author, Havana, Cuba, March 2006. All
interviewees have been given pseudonyms to protect their identity.
58
These family values implied the exclusion of homosexual identities from the
emerging society and the state took very aggressive steps to “reform” homosexuals
and eradicate homosexuality, which was perceived as a capitalist ailment, by creat-
ing labor camps under the name of Military Units to Aid Production (UMAPs). For
more on the revolution’s conceptualization of homosexuality, see Lourdes Arguelles,
“Homosexuality, Homophobia, and Revolution: Notes toward and Understanding
of the Cuban Lesbian and Gay Male Experience, Part I,” Signs 9, no. 4 (1984): 693;
Emilio Bejel, Gay Cuban Nation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001); Brad
Epps, “Proper Conduct: Reinaldo Arenas, Fidel Castro, and the Politics of Homo-
sexuality,” Journal of the History of Sexuality 6, no. 2 (1995): 231–83.
59
R. W. Connell, Masculinities (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995),
chap. 3.
84 Journal of Women’s History Spring

60
Randall, Gathering Rage, chap. 1.
61
Bunck, Fidel Castro, chap. 1.
62
In her examination of the magazines Mujeres’s and Muchacha’s representa-
tion and engaging of women, Verity Smith has shed light on the return to traditional
gender roles as part of the Cuban government’s discourse in the 1980s. Verity
Smith, “What Are Little Girls Made of under Socialism? Cuba’s Mujeres [Women]
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