Nicaragua's Sandinista revolution (1979-1990) initiated a broad program of social transformation to improve the situation of the working class and poor, women, and other non-elite groups through agrarian reform, restructured urban employment, and wide access to health care, education, and social services. This book explores how Nicaragua's least powerful citizens have fared in the years since the Sandinista revolution, as neoliberal governments have rolled back these state-supported reforms and introduced measures to promote the development of a market-driven economy. Drawing on ethnographic research conducted throughout the 1990s, Florence Babb describes the negative consequences that have followed the return to a capitalist path, especially for women and low-income citizens. In addition, she charts the growth of women's and other social movements (neighborhood, lesbian and gay, indigenous, youth, peace, and environmental) that have taken advantage of new openings for political mobilization. Her ethnographic portraits of a low-income barrio and of women's craft cooperatives powerfully link local, cultural responses to national and global processes.
I am definitely using the table of contents to get what I want to get out of this book. I am really noticing the distance between Florence Babb and the people who she writes about. I am missing the feeling of Nicaragua in the 90's. She follows in the style of anthropologists who study people and stay distant. Her intention of going to Nicaragua and writing a book never seemed to be influenced by who she met and fell in love with. It feels like she went to Nicaragua and never saw it as a place she was a part of, never saw herself able to fall in love there. Always distant. always studying. always making deadlines. confirming her biases and perspectives. never surprised. never personal. stiff. guarded. never using her speaking voice, her own voice. never speaking to me. speaking to who?
Florence Babb offers a descriptive account of how Nicaraguan society—especially women—navigated the profound economic and cultural shifts that followed the Sandinista revolution. What I appreciated most about the book is how grounded it is in lived experience: rather than writing only in broad strokes about “neoliberal restructuring,” the author traces the consequences of these policies in neighborhoods, cooperatives, and households.
One striking section discusses residents of Barrio Monseñor Lezcano in Managua, showing how everyday people fared as neoliberal policies, enforced by Chamorro and Aleman administrations, dismantled state supports and shifted the burden onto families and communities. Babb captures the frustration and creativity of people adapting to a harsher economic landscape that prioritized market logic over social welfare.
She also follows the trajectory of Sandinista-created CONAPI cooperatives, once symbols of collective economic empowerment, as they were reconfigured into PAMIC-sponsored microenterprises under right-wing governments. The shift from collective, solidarity-driven models to individualized microbusinesses mirrors the broader neoliberal turn, where entrepreneurship was framed as empowerment but often came with heightened precarity.
The gendered impact of these policies comes through vividly. During the Compactación programs (downsizing of public-sector jobs), women were disproportionately pushed out of formal employment. Babb shows how they were then “encouraged” into microentrepreneurship—often home-based activities like selling goods or services. While these enterprises allowed some women to generate income, they also reinforced domestic confinement and carried none of the stability or benefits of salaried work.
Overall, this book is an important contribution for anyone interested in Latin American studies, gender and development, or the cultural politics of neoliberalism. Babb writes with clarity and empathy, giving voice to Nicaraguans whose stories complicate simplistic narratives of empowerment under neoliberal reforms.