When the body becomes currency

For years, discussing prostitution in Cuba almost inevitably conjured an image: a young woman, a foreign tourist, and a survival economy. The scene changed abruptly in the early 1990s. The disappearance of the Soviet Union and the socialist bloc left Cuba without a significant portion of its markets, supplies, and sources of financing. The country then entered what the Cuban government referred to as the "Special Period in Times of Peace": a profound economic crisis characterized by scarcity, a loss of purchasing power, and the urgent need to obtain foreign currency.

In that context, international tourism gained increasing importance. With the visitors came the dollars and a new economic reality: while a part of the population struggled to survive on increasingly insufficient wages, having access to foreign currency meant the ability to obtain goods and opportunities that were practically unattainable for others.

It was then that the phenomenon known as jineterismo gained particular visibility and the figure of the "jinetera" became known: young women who formed relationships with foreigners that could involve a mix of sex, companionship, money, gifts, financial assistance, and, in some cases, the hope of a stable relationship or an exit from the country.

Thus, that image was established which for years seemed to sum up these stories. But that image, although real, turned out to be too small. What happens when we remove the foreign tourist from the scene?

And that is where another story begins. The scene changes. The outsider is no longer at the center of attention. Or, at least, it's no longer necessary for them to be. When looking inward at Cuban society, another reality emerges—one that is less discussed and much harder to encapsulate in a single word. A reality that, for many, is part of everyday life and precisely for that reason may have ceased to provoke questions.

How did we come to accept certain forms of exchange as part of our daily lives that, at another time, would have generated greater rejection, concern, or debate? What happens when something stops surprising us, not necessarily because it has ceased to be problematic, but because we have learned to live with it?

It’s not that we don't see it. Perhaps we’ve simply stopped asking ourselves.

What happens when someone who has something that another needs does not have to come from another country? It could be money, a car, a house, access to certain products, the ability to fulfill a need, or in other cases, something even more intangible: the promise of a different life.

In a society marked by scarcity for decades, human relationships are not entirely unaffected by the economy. And this is where the line begins to blur.

There are situations in which sex is linked to money, gifts, housing, transportation, food, financial assistance, access to goods, or a possible exit from the country. In other cases, what exists is companionship or affection mixed with material expectations. Not all of these situations are the same, nor do they all involve a sexual exchange relationship.

When sexual encounters are directly or indirectly linked to the acquisition of money, goods, services, protection, or other benefits, we can refer to this as transactional sex. The transaction does not always take the form of an explicit payment. It may manifest as gifts, financial assistance, support, housing, opportunities, or promises of the future. Furthermore, it can exist within relationships that those involved do not consider to be prostitution.

Precisely for that reason, it is necessary to make distinctions. A relationship of convenience is not necessarily prostitution. A relationship with economic differences is not necessarily transactional sex. And a relationship where sex exists along with some material benefit cannot automatically be interpreted in just one way.

Where does a relationship based on interest end, and where does a transaction begin? And what happens when those involved don’t even use the word prostitution to describe what they are doing?

Not all of these situations can be labeled as prostitution. We need to look from within, distinguish their forms, and ask ourselves what social forces are behind them. Because perhaps the most uncomfortable question is not who is selling themselves. Maybe it's what a society is willing to exchange when survival becomes a way of life.

The youth

Who is entering this scene now? Among the faces that appear, there are young people.

Some stories begin far from Havana. A young woman in her thirties was traveling from an inland municipality to the capital to meet men with whom she established relationships in exchange for money and other benefits. She did not speak of prostitution. She spoke of work.

For a while, traveling was part of that job. But when the transportation crisis made traveling increasingly difficult, something changed. He didn't stop working. He changed his approach. The need remained. The landscape shifted.

In his case, there was also a purpose behind that activity: to raise money, improve his living conditions, and find an opportunity that could open a door for him to leave the country.

We don’t know how many stories like this exist. And that’s precisely why we shouldn’t turn an individual experience into a statistic. However, there is something we can observe. When transportation changed, the way work was done changed as well.

What happens when an activity that once required physical presence can be moved to a screen? But the story doesn't end with who performs that activity. There's also family to consider. In this story, his mother understood. She didn't reproach him for what he did, and part of the benefits obtained also helped address the household's needs.

That did not necessarily appear to be a secret that needed to be hidden. It was simply a way to earn income. And here the word is important again. Work. Not prostitution. Not a transaction. Work.

During the so-called Special Period, there were also experiences in which young people were sent from other provinces to Havana to "fight." That expression could conceal various forms of survival, including relationships with men in exchange for money, goods, or assistance.

When the outcome allowed for food, clothing, money, or other resources to be brought home, the line between what was condemned and what was tolerated could become less clear.

What happens when a society condemns a behavior in public but tolerates it in private because it helps meet a need?

Adult men and women

So far we have talked about young people. But this reality does not end with them. There are also adults: men and women who, for different reasons, enter into relationships where affection, need, and resources can end up intertwining.

And it is not always the man who has something to offer. In a society where certain assets have become particularly valuable—a house, a car, a job with specific benefits, access to scarce products, a personal economic activity, or the ability to provide financial support—these elements can weigh heavily when establishing a relationship.

A woman may have a home that someone else needs. A man may have a car. Someone might have access to certain products. Another person may own a small business, have contacts, higher income, or the opportunity to travel and emigrate.

These resources can change the relationships between people. It does not mean that every relationship where there is an economic difference is a transaction. Nor does it mean that every person seeking a partner with certain conditions is exchanging affection for benefits. The issue is different.

What happens when what a person can offer starts to weigh as much as who that person is?

In everyday conversations, phrases that seem innocent appear: someone who "helps you," someone who "solves things for you," someone who "has the right qualities," someone who "can pull you through." These expressions are part of the language of necessity. However, they can also reveal something deeper: the way material conditions end up permeating spaces that, at least in theory, belong to intimacy.

Because we are not just talking about money exchanged for sex. We are talking about relationships in which companionship, desire, affection, economic necessity, protection, future expectations, and convenience can coexist.

Sometimes it will be one thing. Sometimes, another. And often, several at the same time.

There is no formula to determine where affection ends and convenience begins. Human relationships rarely fit into a single explanation.

The family and the "good match"

There is something else that happens within these relationships that is rarely considered: family.

When a mother seeks a partner who can help her improve her living conditions, that possibility may also be observed by her children. For them, the chance that their mother finds someone who can provide stability, housing, resources, a different life, or even an opportunity to leave the country can turn into their own hope.

What benefits the mother can also benefit the children.

And then a word appears that belongs to another time, but perhaps has not completely disappeared: a good match. For generations, finding a "good match" meant, among other things, finding someone who could guarantee certain material conditions, stability, and social standing. Marriage was never solely a matter of feelings. It was also related to assets, security, family, and the future.

The difference is that today those expectations may arise within a context marked by scarcity, emigration, and necessity. Perhaps for this reason, certain relationships can be met by the family environment not with concern, but with hope.

What happens when a relationship that may appear to be based on convenience from the outside is viewed by a family as an opportunity?

Perhaps there we can better understand why some behaviors cease to elicit rejection. Not necessarily because people have changed. Maybe it's also because the circumstances from which we judge what happens have changed.

When the encounter fits on a screen

If the needs and resources that people seek change, the places where they meet also change. For a long time, those meetings required the street, a bar, a park, a hotel, or a shared friendship. Now they can begin on a screen.

The telephone changed more than just the way we communicate. A photograph can substitute for the first meeting. A message can open a door that previously could only be opened in person. A conversation can start hundreds of kilometers away. A profile can showcase, before any encounter, what someone wants to present about themselves. And behind a screen, relationships can begin that combine companionship, affection, economic need, future expectations, or the hope for a different life.

Social media did not create those searches. However, they have changed the way people connect, the distance, the speed, and, in some cases, the privacy with which these contacts are made.

WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram, Telegram, and groups aimed at meeting new people are all part of this new landscape. Some are looking for companionship. Others seek a stable relationship. Some hope to find a partner living outside of Cuba. There are those who wish to emigrate. And then there are those who are simply trying to find a way to improve their living conditions.

Everything can start with a photograph. With a message. With a "Hello." But what happens next? A screen can facilitate the meeting, but it doesn't explain what each person is looking for on the other side.

When vulnerability takes the stage

So far, we have spoken about adults. About people who seek, offer, negotiate, wait, or need. However, there is a boundary we cannot cross using the same words. These are minors—children and adolescents who can become ensnared in situations of sexual exploitation, abuse, or benefit exchange involving adults.

Here the question can no longer be just what each person is looking for. We must also ask who holds the power. And who can say no.

Some testimonies mention adolescents who, still of school age, find themselves in situations with adults that may involve money, gifts, phones, clothing, food, outings, or other forms of benefit. Sometimes the family environment is aware of the situation. At times, it may even tolerate it. However, the knowledge or tolerance of an adult does not turn that situation into a relationship of equals.

A teenager does not hold the same position of power, experience, or decision-making ability in front of an adult. Therefore, when we talk about minors, words matter. This is not merely about "prostitution." We are facing situations that may constitute sexual exploitation and other forms of violence and abuse against minors.

And here the problem ceases to be merely individual. What happens when the economic need of a family, the lack of opportunities, or the normalization of certain behaviors end up exposing their own minors? What occurs when what began as a way to "resolve" finally turns the vulnerability of a teenager into a resource for others? What must happen within a society for need to reach those who should be the most protected?

There is no easy answer. However, there is a difference that we cannot overlook. Understanding the circumstances surrounding a situation of exploitation does not mean justifying it. It means trying to comprehend how a society reaches that point. And upon reaching here, the journey inevitably returns to our initial question: What happens to the codes of a society when survival is prolonged over generations?

Final curtain

After exploring these stories, perhaps the question is no longer just about who sells, who buys, or who seeks a chance to improve their life in a relationship. Maybe we need to look a little further beyond individual decisions. Because societies also change while trying to survive.

They change their words, their limits. They change what they condemn, what they tolerate, and sometimes, what they stop questioning.

Not all stories are the same, not all relationships are driven by the same reasons, and not all situations can be explained in one way. However, there is one thread that runs through this journey: need also modifies the way in which people relate to each other. Over time, what once seemed unthinkable may begin to become part of the everyday.

It's not just about how much a crisis impoverishes a society. It also matters how much it transforms it. What is a society willing to exchange when survival becomes a way of life? And when we talk about the body becoming a form of currency, are we referring only to the physical body? Or are we also talking about will, emotions, expectations, convictions, the boundaries we are willing to shift, and what a society gradually learns to accept?

What are we really putting at stake when necessity begins to negotiate with our own codes?

Perhaps that will be the question that remains when the final curtain falls.