The United States is escalating tensions with Cuba, reviving threats of military action and casting doubt on diplomatic pathways to resolve a decades-old standoff.
Cuba announced its oil reserves have been depleted due to a U.S. embargo, with an estimated 2 million Cubans fleeing the island over five years amid economic collapse following the COVID-19 pandemic and violent government crackdowns on protests over food shortages.
Persistent power outages now define daily life in Cuba. Food is spoiling in refrigerators, schools and bus services operate intermittently, and citizens are speaking out about having “had enough.”
People bang utensils during a protest against frequent power cuts as the capital has faced its worst rolling blackouts in decades amid a U.S. blockade that has strangled Cuba of fuel, in Havana, May 13, 2026.
“A spirit of perseverance”
Sheila Rivero, in her early 30s, is a technology specialist in Cuba’s state sector. She lives in the capital with her young daughter, alongside her parents, brother, and sister-in-law. She’s deeply religious, and a few international travel experiences over the years have made her yearn for a different kind of life in Cuba, replete with “freedom, dignity, and possibility,” she says.
Cuba has always been synonymous with happiness, simplicity, camaraderie, delicious food, and music. Rhythm in general. But above all, for me, it’s characterized by a spirit of perseverance.
But, that was the Cuba of my past. Today, it’s falling apart. It feels sad, lifeless, hopeless. Its music is no longer what it used to be. Marginality has supplanted our rich culture. We no longer get to enjoy our good food, we aren’t even cheerful people anymore. And our long history of having a helping spirit is at risk of disappearing into a ‘save yourself if you can’ mentality. Everyone is just trying to survive.
I like to imagine a prosperous Cuba. Healed and restored cities. Freedom of the press, freedom of expression. Real, truly private enterprises, music made without censorship. As a mother, I want a country where my daughter can dream. I dream of a Cuba where she will want to stay, where she can live on a decent wage.
From the government, I want one thing: That it actually works. That politicians are accountable, and leaders are chosen through free elections, serve their terms, and actually deliver on their promises. For communism to be something that only lives on in history books.
My fear is that all of this from the United States will amount to nothing more than a media spectacle. That whatever agreements are reached will solve absolutely nothing. And what truly terrifies me is the possibility that a bombardment could break out here, ultimately claiming the lives of innocent people. Especially when you consider that the militarized zones within the city are close to schools, residential areas, and various workplaces.
“The very essence of being Cuban”
Iván Luis Arcia is an engineer who specializes in metal processing. Several years ago, he started his own car repair business. Although he considers himself an entrepreneur, investing in a piece of private land to set up his workshop, his work still relies on the Cuban government.
The way things are now is not how they will remain. I follow the news. A post-Trump Cuban society would be like Switzerland or Costa Rica or Germany. Because with the capital that will be invested in Cuba, a country that has the potential to grow exponentially, change will arrive in the blink of an eye.
You can ask any Cuban on the street, you don’t have to go looking for them. I was at the bank today and there was this really long line and someone shouted, “Hey, we really need Trump to get here already,” and everyone started laughing. I mean we’re waiting for the United States. It’s an open secret: We have our hopes pinned on Trump.
Ana Maria Vazquez sits outside her house, where she sells secondhand clothing, as Cuba’s electrical grid experienced a partial collapse early one morning, cutting power across eastern Cuba amid a U.S. fuel blockade, in Havana, May 14, 2026.
But my fears? I fear that with an economic opening, things like guns and crime could flood in. I also fear that someone like me, who has spent his entire life in Cuba working hard and pushing ahead, might suddenly see someone else arrive with less knowledge but more resources. I’m an engineer, I’ve spent my life studying, yet someone could come along with $40,000 or $50,000 and make an investment that leaves me without the capital to compete. Here I am, someone who stuck it out, and then I’d have to work for them?
Anyone with even a little capital is going to grab the biggest slice of the pie. I believe we need to set a quota, not necessarily a hard limit on investments, but specifically on foreign investments. Just consider an average person in the rest of the world and the savings or loans they have access to. That’s the fear: That Cubans might be relegated to the background while some foreigner comes along and leapfrogs right in front of us. If our country ends up parceled out among people who aren’t Cuban, the very essence of being Cuban will be lost.
“Total abandonment”
El Chino Libre, a Havana resident of Chinese descent, asked to use his nickname out of fear of reprisals for sharing his feelings about this moment in Cuba. The professional chef tried dabbling in small, entrepreneurial restaurant projects over the past decade, but each shuttered, he says, due to arbitrary obstacles and regulations placed on Cuba’s small private sector by the government. More recently, he has tried to make ends meet by catering for special events – including at various embassies on the island.
Cuba is its people, but we’re a people who are exhausted. In the past you might hear people talking about joy and music and the warmth of Cuban people. That’s still here, but it’s not the same. We have to wake up every day figuring out how to scrape together a meal, survive without electricity. I fear our essence as a people is slowly wearing away.
I don’t expect saviors, and certainly not saviors coming from outside Cuba. But what is clear to me is that we also can’t keep using outside factors as an excuse for everything that’s happening here. Saying “Oh, it’s all because of the embargo.” That isn’t the whole story.
My fear is that everything will remain exactly the same way it is and has been. That there will be no change, and that we will continue to justify the unjustifiable here. But I also have hope, including that there will be no way left to keep ignoring our struggles. That things will begin to flow freely.
This notion that everyone should have access to healthcare, to education, it’s only fair in theory. It’s something that any country, including the United States, should probably aspire to guarantee. But the problem arises when that idea evolves into a system that controls everything. It becomes a system that limits opportunities and prevents growth. And so then it ceases to be real. Access to school or medical care is meaningless if the quality of services are in a state of decay, if doctors, professionals, and teachers lack the proper working conditions. This shouldn’t be about idealizing a concept or demonizing it. We have to look at the whole picture.
When the power goes out in Cuba, I just sit here, I try to stay calm, and I wait. I start thinking about what this actually represents. When the power goes out, it’s not just a blackout. What I feel is total abandonment on the part of my government.
“A zest for life”
Zoila Caridad González recently became a great-grandmother. She says she would love to dote on her growing family, but that she spends a large chunk of her time instead standing in line for medicine and state-rationed groceries. She speaks about Cuba as if she’s reciting poetry – with rhythm, cadence, and emotion.
Idiosyncrasy is the very essence of Cuba. We are gracious hosts, we’re sincere. I want to see Cuba return to its full potential: A joyful, vibrant community with a zest for life.
What I wish for most is democracy. It’s fundamental to any government in the world. Cuba needs urgent change, it needs to uproot communism. The people themselves should decide our future. I have high hopes about the attention from the U.S., I have no concerns. How will the U.S. government go about it? Well, I don’t think it could be any worse than this.
