…but before talking about Gisela, I would like to tell you a story:

The resilience of love

At school, I used to hate physics classes. Whenever the class started and I opened that 400-page Physics book, full of theories and formulas, I could see, in practice, what advocated the law of Reagent Concentration and Reaction Speed, which says that the greater the concentration of reactants, the greater the probability of effective collisions between their particles and the greater the rate of reaction. In other words, the more formulas and theories in that damn book, the higher my hate level.

The class barely started and I already lost the will to live. My grades were horrible and I dreamed of being able to burn down that school along with its entire collection of physics books.

My only motivation to endure these hellish Physics classes was Artur (Artur Austin Umbelino, if you're reading this post, know that I loved you) that beautiful and romantic guy who used to kiss my hand every time he saw me. Without him, physics classes would be a waste of life. Artur loved Physics classes and I loved spending time looking at him. Remember the Law of Gravity? The one that came about after Newton (with nothing else useful to do) saw an apple fall from the tree and concluded that the Earth must have a force of attraction that forced the apple to fall down? So Arthur was the Earth and I was the apple.

One day the Physics teacher happily arrives in the classroom announcing the new subject for that day. In bold, he wrote on the blackboard “RESILIENCE OF MATERIALS”. My desire to leave the classroom was immediate, of course. A very typical reaction of the Columbus Law, which states that bodies with electric charges of the same sign repel each other. Me and Physics classes were both negative charges.

The professor started this class by saying that resilience was a property observed by scientists when they needed to measure the ability of a given material to resist an external force. High temperatures, shocks, exposure to toxic gases and atmospheric pressure are some of the aggressions tested in the laboratory that would determine, for example, the resistance of an object. Resilience is not limited, however, to evaluating the strength of a material, but, fundamentally, to measuring the adaptive resistance of each material. When scientists measure equipment resilience, they also want to know how each material retains its initial properties and characteristics after being exposed to different aggressions.

Artur was handsome and loved by all the girls at school and I was too shy to declare my love for him. He never wanted anything to do with me, but my love for him remained intact, unalterable, and highly adaptable to the adversities that unrequited love imposed on me. I gladly accepted my bad luck without complaining, without rebelling, without showing any kind of fragility, instability, and corrosion. That heartbreak was like a truck driving over me, and I survived unchanged. The resilience of love.

…

In Cuba, people live as if they were in a laboratory where people's resilience is measured. In Cuba, people live in cities where sanitation is a privilege, where chicken for lunch is a luxury, where money is increasingly scarce and taxes are plentiful. In Cuba, most grocery stores only sell canned food and, if you're lucky, you can find the much-coveted canned Spanish sausage, a gastronomic specialty, a kind of superstar on grocery stores’ shelves. Everyone wants to touch it, but few get the chance. In Cuba, water is scarce, electricity is expensive. In some parts of Havana, we can have the strange sensation of walking in any bombed Syrian city. In Cuba, some people breed pigeons at home. Cute, right? Turns out they don't breed pigeons because they love pets. Sometimes they don't have enough money to pay for those coveted cans of Spanish sausage. Empty belly, snoring with hunger, it hurts, it burns. If you've ever had the misfortune of going a few days without eating, you should know that hunger burns the stomach.

This whole problem in Cuba began in 1962, in the post-Cuban revolution, when a country known for being a defender of human rights and freedom, the United States of America, decided to enact one of the toughest economic embargoes in our history. This embargo prohibits any country considered to be an economic partner of the US from buying or selling anything to Cuba.

Gisela, this lady who radiates strength and tenderness in her eyes, was born in Cuba, works as an administrative assistant at a school in Havana, and lives every day with the cowardly reality imposed by the US embargo and the inability of local politics to find alternatives capable of guarantee a more dignified life for Cubans. Gisela is the manifestation of resilience.

When I arrived in Cuba in 2019, I was ready to find scorched land, I knew little or nothing about what Cubans thought about their situation. From the information I had about Cuba, what I really expected was to find a people morally devastated. When I met Gisela, it was all this preconceived idea that fell apart. Gisela radiated optimism and courage while I remained doubtful. Despite all the difficulties suffered by the Cuban people, Gisela felt deeply proud of her country and felt like a revolutionary fighter because the difficulties imposed on her were the motivational engine for her to overcome herself and thus keep alive the dream of being able to live better days.

Yes, Gisela is a strong, hardworking woman who doesn't give up and I think that's a huge quality because I honestly don't know if I could keep my hope, my optimism when all the opportunities to live a more dignified life slip through my hands.

EVEN SO

I refuse to write here that these deprivations that have plagued the Cuban people since the 1960s are “impositions of life”, as many in Cuba often say as if these impositions were created by chance. No, they are not. The deprivations suffered by Gisela and the Cuban people have father, mother, and brother: the US, the Cuban administration, and the silence of the rest of the world. The United States still cannot understand that the human values ​​and freedom it defends so much for itself are not only valid for its territories and allies but are also valid for countries like Cuba. The name of it is hypocrisy.

The Cuban government, on the other hand, seems to have accommodated itself to the situation, as it does not create real conditions for the emancipation of its people and its economy. It is true that Cuba has more limitations to increasing and diversifying its economy since the basic needs of the population are still a big problem to be solved. However, the US-imposed embargo should not be seen as the end of all possibilities. Cuba cannot afford to sit down and wait for the day when the Biden administration recognizes how cruel this embargo is for 11 million people. Cuba must find new alliances, compromises, and partnerships to overcome the brutality imposed by the US. Despite all the difficulties, the Cuban government is doing a good job, but not enough.

Being resilient is really amazing. To be able to suffer and, after suffering, to smile again, keeping unaltered pride, courage, and hope for better days. This is a fantastic feature, but with limited benefits. Behind the strength that emanates from Gisela's eyes, I wonder if resilience is not the banalization of the anguish we all feel in the face of injustice. If by being resilient, we are not just being obedient and accepting injustices without questioning them. If resilience is not the romanticization of this suffering. How does the resilience of the Cuban people ironically contribute to the country's dramatic situation?

After all, who gains from people's resilience?

I think good resilience is one that ends in social upheaval.