Immigration

No food, no water, no electricity—and, increasingly, little hope for the future. Cuba’s humanitarian crisis has deepened dramatically as the Trump administration escalates a decades-long U.S. sanctions regime that has already strangled the island’s economy and access to basic goods. The embargo was supposedly intended to promote democracy, but after more than 60 years, no regime change has come. Instead, ordinary Cubans are living with blackouts, fuel shortages, collapsing public transportation, scarce medicine and food that cannot even be kept cold.

When I studied at the University of Havana in 2024, blackouts and water shortages were already part of daily life. Now, friends I met there tell me the situation has become almost unrecognizable. Paula and Lupita, two women in their twenties, say electricity may come for only two or three hours a day—sometimes in the middle of the night, forcing people awake to cook, wash clothes and charge their phones. Without electricity, there is often no running water, no refrigeration and no relief from the Caribbean heat. Food spoils, preserved food costs more, and even cooking has become a challenge as gas grows scarce and families turn to charcoal.

Children, pregnant women and families are bearing some of the crisis’s heaviest costs. Schools have closed early or shortened their days, hospitals are operating through blackouts, medicines are increasingly difficult to find, and women are giving birth in darkened, understaffed facilities. Menstrual products that were once subsidized are now largely available only in private stores many women cannot afford. And after dark, entire neighborhoods are pitch black, making already-expensive transportation harder to access and leaving young women feeling less safe simply walking outside.

“We know that we are inside of a dictatorship,” says Paula. “We need help to change the government. It has been 70 years without us being able to actually do something about it, like 70 years of brainwashing, of indoctrination, of exile, emigration. The population that we have left, [is] not strong enough to face the government. If you don’t have the basic needs covered, or at least [enough] power to sleep at night, you wouldn’t have the strength to actually face the government.”

For young Cubans, the crisis has become inseparable from the question of whether there is any future for them on the island. Paula told me that nearly everyone she knows between 20 and 30 is trying to leave. She is painfully clear-eyed about the Cuban government’s repression and failures—but also about the failure of decades of U.S. sanctions to produce the democracy they supposedly seek. Cubans are caught between a government that will not change and a U.S. policy that has not forced it to, while ordinary people are left exhausted, hungry and desperate. After seven decades, it is past time to confront the human cost.