Veronica Vega reflects on how Christmas in Cuba evolved from prohibition to legalization in 1998, but this year it is tinged with sadness due to the ongoing crisis. Despite being permitted, the holiday brings no expected joy amid poverty and hardships. The author yearns for a rebirth in the new year.
In her childhood, Veronica Vega only knew Christmas through American movies and postcards from New York sent by her father, a magical distant world for Cuban girls. Her mother clarified that Santa Claus did not exist and gifts came from her stepfather's work or her sewing on an old Singer machine. There were no presents on those dates, only special meals and homemade fritters.
At twenty, with her first boyfriend, Christmas became outings to affordable restaurants paid with salary, filled with festive atmosphere and hope for prosperity and freedom, without religious connotations.
In the early 1990s, she attended Midnight Mass at the Cathedral of Old Havana, where the priest emphasized: “Christmas here is forbidden, but no one can stop us from celebrating it in our homes. Find a pine branch and decorate it however you can—let no one take away that special happiness of the birth of the child Jesus…!”. Vega describes Christmas as an energy that dissolves grudges, a reminder of human coexistence without arrogance or competition, though mixed with dinners involving animal suffering.
After Pope John Paul II's visit in 1998, Christmas was decriminalized: for the first time, an image of Jesus Christ covered a facade visible from Revolution Square; mentioning “God” was allowed on radio and television; Christian sermons were authorized, and Good Friday was declared a holiday. Dollar stores sold dismantlable plastic Christmas trees and holiday accessories, invading the country with promises of an inclusive world.
The Pope stated: “May Cuba open itself to the world with all its magnificent possibilities, and may the world open itself to Cuba”. Twenty-seven years later, in 2025, Cuba faces devastation from continuous corrosion: separated families or united in poverty and overcrowding, frustrated emigrants, viruses, abuses, long blackouts, and abusive prices. In her community, few decorated houses, and the papal message echoes as an omen. Vega concludes that, though permitted, Cuba has not had a true Christmas, urging statism to shatter by the force of life and common sense to rebirth beyond the limit between illness and decomposition.