In the mid 1990's, still a student in college, I had the opportunity to travel to Cuba. Wandering the streets of La Habana, in a semi-industrial area near the Central Railway Station, I came upon a group of kids playing stickball. After the requisite request for permission to photograph them, they settled back into their game and I settled into my role of photographer. Half an hour later, ball players tired, we all took a break. Sitting in a nearby doorway we chatted, along with a relative of one of the children. Having heard of the levels of continued de-facto segregation in the United States, she (the relative) proudly pointed to the variety of colors and racial make-up of the players. "Blanco, Mulato," and even, "Negro Azul!". I felt like this observation/description of the ball players (friends, really) was indicative of some of the differences in ways race is perceived and treated in Latin America vs. the United States. Everyone was, in fact, playing together. Everyone lived as neighbors side by side. Yet, of course the boy was not happy to be called "Negro Azul", despite the fact that it was just used as a descriptive term (by someone who in the United States would be considered Black). But maybe his reaction wasn't about a discomfort with his deep African roots (like I have witnessed in other people I've met) and more about being singled out as different and extreme? I'm not sure how much a pale white child would like to be called "Blanco Transparente" either! Regardless, 10 minutes later they were all back out on the "ballfield". Here's one of the shots...