On the western edge of Havana lies the La Lisa neighborhood . It's Saturday morning: the main streets are teeming with cars, motorcycles, and people coming and going, lines forming at various stalls, and many waiting for the bus in the shade of a tree. Margarita 's house is far from this hustle and bustle, on one of the neighborhood's side streets, surrounded by more greenery than city.
Their front yard is open when we arrive: we're greeted first by the children's voices, then by the smiles of Maritza and her aunt Margarita. As every week, today is the art workshop for children and teenagers. The brushes, paints, and recycled materials are already outside; the artists are focused on their work. Containers of all kinds, eggshells, and fabrics that will soon be transformed are piled on the tables. It's all part of La Muñeca Negra 's project , an initiative that for decades has combined tradition, art, and popular education.
A trained art instructor, Margarita Montalvo began the project in the 1980s: she saw in the creation of Black dolls a way to highlight the value of Black culture in Cuba. “Black dolls were practically forgotten; nobody wanted to make them, and almost nobody knew about them,” Margarita recounts, recalling those early years. “They were like a taboo; many associated them only with religious matters. We wanted to make them so that everyone could play with them, so they could decorate their homes, and also to celebrate the beauty of Black women. That's how we started making our dolls. And from there, many other things emerged.”
But doll making was never a solitary endeavor; it became a community activity. Margarita created workshops attended by other women: there they shared experiences and learned artistic techniques that opened new economic opportunities, always through collaboration. Workshops were also created for children, who learned through shared play. These workshops continue to this day . “It’s the moment I enjoy most, when I’m working with them, when I’m working with the grandmothers. When I see the parents of those children who were also my students. We’ve already gone through three or four generations, and I see how this work continues.”
Over the decades, the project grew and became intergenerational. Today, Margarita's nieces continue her legacy. "It's a rescue of tradition, a rescue of culture, a rescue of our identity ," Maritza tells us, as the workshop continues around us and her aunt moves from table to table, assessing each child's progress. "We want that identity to endure. We try to pass it on to young people, older adults, and children, who are our future, so they know where they come from and where they are going. Everything related to tradition, to our Yoruba culture, to our ancestry: we do what is necessary to ensure that it is maintained."
Over the years, the project encountered obstacles and, with them, found new ways to overcome them . The Special Period of the 1990s made it difficult to access raw materials for their products , jeopardizing the initiative's continuity. However, La Muñeca Negra continued its work through creative solutions: faced with a lack of materials, they increased their use of recycled and native organic materials. Today, some of their dolls are made from the berries of the flamboyant tree, a typical local tree whose blossoms paint the island red.
Another key aspect of the project's growth was its commitment to collective and community-based development. Over the past decade, La Muñeca Negra has become an integral part of Cuba's Women in Spiral Movement : a collaborative space that seeks to strengthen economic initiatives and community projects for women.
“We are a community project that has become an economic initiative, but without losing the values of the solidarity economy and community work itself,” Maritza explains. “We generate employment so that these women can support themselves, especially older women, many of whom are already retired.”
According to her account, the possibility of creating safe spaces among women, which also allowed them to generate income, meant for many of them the chance to break free from violent dependency relationships. “We’re talking about bringing together popular education, the solidarity economy, and feminism: about empowering women. But women’s empowerment isn’t just economic; it’s political, cultural, and social. Everything must go hand in hand.”
The conception of the project from and for the community has marked a way of thinking about economic activity: a model based on collaboration instead of competition, in which profit - while important - is not the only determining factor.
“We sell to the community and outside the community as well,” Maritza tells us. “Of course, the price isn’t the same. But that doesn’t bother us: we never lose money because we work with recycled materials. It’s true that the materials cost us money, but we don’t lose money by bringing a product to the community at a lower price. We know they can’t afford the price a foreigner pays in Old Havana. And it’s satisfying for us that the community has what we sell. Because we’re part of it too, with the same needs, and we like to offer something that’s affordable for the money we have in our pockets.”
Tatiana Martínez Montalvo is part of La Muñeca Negra (The Black Doll) and, through this initiative, has also developed other spaces that seek to empower and give voice to the place of Black women in Cuban society. For some time now, she has also been working on a master's thesis about the positive impact these projects have in their communities : “The change is significant because we cultivate responsibility, empathy, and solidarity with children and adults.” For Tatiana, as for the rest of the women who are part of La Muñeca Negra , the key lies in collective and community effort. That is the spirit that drives La Muñeca Negra , and they hope it will be replicated in other similar initiatives. “We live here: it's a vulnerable community that needs this, these projects. Who else, if not ourselves, who live here, can solve our problems?”
rainpizza in cuba
Cuban Style: "The Black Doll" and its rescue of tradition from the popular solidarity economy
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On the western edge of Havana lies the La Lisa neighborhood . It's Saturday morning: the main streets are teeming with cars, motorcycles, and people coming and going, lines forming at various stalls, and many waiting for the bus in the shade of a tree. Margarita 's house is far from this hustle and bustle, on one of the neighborhood's side streets, surrounded by more greenery than city.
Their front yard is open when we arrive: we're greeted first by the children's voices, then by the smiles of Maritza and her aunt Margarita. As every week, today is the art workshop for children and teenagers. The brushes, paints, and recycled materials are already outside; the artists are focused on their work. Containers of all kinds, eggshells, and fabrics that will soon be transformed are piled on the tables. It's all part of La Muñeca Negra 's project , an initiative that for decades has combined tradition, art, and popular education.
A trained art instructor, Margarita Montalvo began the project in the 1980s: she saw in the creation of Black dolls a way to highlight the value of Black culture in Cuba. “Black dolls were practically forgotten; nobody wanted to make them, and almost nobody knew about them,” Margarita recounts, recalling those early years. “They were like a taboo; many associated them only with religious matters. We wanted to make them so that everyone could play with them, so they could decorate their homes, and also to celebrate the beauty of Black women. That's how we started making our dolls. And from there, many other things emerged.”
But doll making was never a solitary endeavor; it became a community activity. Margarita created workshops attended by other women: there they shared experiences and learned artistic techniques that opened new economic opportunities, always through collaboration. Workshops were also created for children, who learned through shared play. These workshops continue to this day . “It’s the moment I enjoy most, when I’m working with them, when I’m working with the grandmothers. When I see the parents of those children who were also my students. We’ve already gone through three or four generations, and I see how this work continues.”
Over the decades, the project grew and became intergenerational. Today, Margarita's nieces continue her legacy. "It's a rescue of tradition, a rescue of culture, a rescue of our identity ," Maritza tells us, as the workshop continues around us and her aunt moves from table to table, assessing each child's progress. "We want that identity to endure. We try to pass it on to young people, older adults, and children, who are our future, so they know where they come from and where they are going. Everything related to tradition, to our Yoruba culture, to our ancestry: we do what is necessary to ensure that it is maintained."
Over the years, the project encountered obstacles and, with them, found new ways to overcome them . The Special Period of the 1990s made it difficult to access raw materials for their products , jeopardizing the initiative's continuity. However, La Muñeca Negra continued its work through creative solutions: faced with a lack of materials, they increased their use of recycled and native organic materials. Today, some of their dolls are made from the berries of the flamboyant tree, a typical local tree whose blossoms paint the island red.
Another key aspect of the project's growth was its commitment to collective and community-based development. Over the past decade, La Muñeca Negra has become an integral part of Cuba's Women in Spiral Movement : a collaborative space that seeks to strengthen economic initiatives and community projects for women.
“We are a community project that has become an economic initiative, but without losing the values of the solidarity economy and community work itself,” Maritza explains. “We generate employment so that these women can support themselves, especially older women, many of whom are already retired.”
According to her account, the possibility of creating safe spaces among women, which also allowed them to generate income, meant for many of them the chance to break free from violent dependency relationships. “We’re talking about bringing together popular education, the solidarity economy, and feminism: about empowering women. But women’s empowerment isn’t just economic; it’s political, cultural, and social. Everything must go hand in hand.”
The conception of the project from and for the community has marked a way of thinking about economic activity: a model based on collaboration instead of competition, in which profit - while important - is not the only determining factor.
“We sell to the community and outside the community as well,” Maritza tells us. “Of course, the price isn’t the same. But that doesn’t bother us: we never lose money because we work with recycled materials. It’s true that the materials cost us money, but we don’t lose money by bringing a product to the community at a lower price. We know they can’t afford the price a foreigner pays in Old Havana. And it’s satisfying for us that the community has what we sell. Because we’re part of it too, with the same needs, and we like to offer something that’s affordable for the money we have in our pockets.”
Tatiana Martínez Montalvo is part of La Muñeca Negra (The Black Doll) and, through this initiative, has also developed other spaces that seek to empower and give voice to the place of Black women in Cuban society. For some time now, she has also been working on a master's thesis about the positive impact these projects have in their communities : “The change is significant because we cultivate responsibility, empathy, and solidarity with children and adults.” For Tatiana, as for the rest of the women who are part of La Muñeca Negra , the key lies in collective and community effort. That is the spirit that drives La Muñeca Negra , and they hope it will be replicated in other similar initiatives. “We live here: it's a vulnerable community that needs this, these projects. Who else, if not ourselves, who live here, can solve our problems?”