Sweating Privilege

Since arriving in Cuba (a little over two weeks now), there are a number of things that I’ve had to quickly adapt to. I’ve had to learn to accept cold showers, regular power outages, periods of time without running water, relentless catcalls, not being able to flush toilet paper, and the struggle that is finding even the most basic of vegetables. More or less, I’ve taken it all in stride. Well, that is, all of it except for the sweat. Unfortunately, it’s a much harder aspect of life in Cuba to embrace than the cheery colors and old cars. This is mainly because I have sweat…A LOT. That’s a little TMI, I know, but it’s a reality of my life here and is a constant reminder of my position of privilege in Cuban society.

Let me explain.

Due to the fact that I’ve been sweating buckets walking around the city (averaging 10 miles a day), working out in the “air-conditioned” gym that I joined, or even just sitting here writing this blog post, I’ve been constantly looking to assure myself of the normality of what my body has been doing by examining those I come into contact with for similar signs of perspiration. Luckily, I’ve found that I’m not alone. The other students with me on this program also find themselves sweating profusely despite their best efforts. One guy even carries around a hand towel specifically to wipe his sweat; it’s not fashionable, or particularly attractive, but it is extremely practical (and practicality trumps all else in Cuba). While, for us, sweat is omnipresent and a significant factor in our daily lives, you’d be hard-pressed to find a Cuban sweating as much as we have despite the fact that many wear long pants and shirts with sleeves, not to mention that this is the hottest year since 1951.

My original assumption as to why such a clear difference exists was just that Cubans are used to the heat and humidity, and that they’ve developed the ability to withstand such extreme weather without sweating, like a product of evolution. However, like much else in this world, all is not as it seems. What I have since learned is that, while Cubans may be marginally more used to this weather than we are, the more widely believed reason for the noticeable difference between us and them is that they don’t drink as much water as we do. You may be thinking, “What’s the big deal? So what if they don’t drink as much water?” Well, the reason behind it stems from the rather unique and dire socioeconomic conditions that are present in Cuba at this point in time, as opposed to simply being a matter of thirst. A bottle of water (the only type of water safe to drink here) is simply too expensive for the majority of Cubans to be able to afford, or just isn’t accessible. Already, I have been to several restaurants that cater to the local Cuban population which haven’t even had bottled water for sale. In the U.S., it’s next to impossible to find a restaurant that doesn’t provide water for free, let alone have it available for purchase.

So, what does this mean? Well, it means that, in Cuba, sweat is more than just our body’s mechanism to cool off when we get a little hot; it’s a sign of privilege, and in a country where those with privilege stick out like a sore thumb, it’s a very evident one. Due to Cuba’s double economy (characterized by the use of two currencies, the more valuable of which is specifically for foreigners to use) and the inherent costliness of traveling, the “foreign” in Cuba is synonymous with wealth and, therefore, privilege. In comparison with the native Cuban population, foreigners have access to better goods, fresher food, air conditioning, Wi-Fi, and, of course, clean, bottled water, among a wide variety of other things. As a foreigner in Cuba myself, I’ve been struggling to deal with the prominence and multi-dimensionality of my privilege as it manifests itself in daily life, and my sweat has become a regular reminder of the deeply embedded socioeconomic dynamics at play, which constantly work to divide the privileged from the Cuban.