Overcoming my fear
I haven't dared to share this until now because I was afraid. Today marks another anniversary of the day that changed the history of post-revolutionary Cuba forever. This is what I experienced on that day. It was July 11, 2021 and the pandemic still had us all in lock-down. The morning began with the news of Mia Khalifa calling Miguel Díaz-Canel, the President of Cuba, a 'singao'. 'Singao' is one of the most vulgar insults you can be called in Cuba. The Cuban government's new monetary unification policies and management of the pandemic were having disastrous effects on the economy and society, leading everything to extreme decay. Up to that point, it seemed like an ordinary day on the island.
Around 10:30 am, a news story started to explode on my Facebook. A protest in San Antonio de los Baños began to go viral. The protesters' demands ranged from changing the system to freedom. More and more municipalities and towns around the country were joining in with the peaceful demonstrations, clearly voicing, 'We are not afraid,' 'Patria y Vida,' 'Change the System,' 'Freedom, Freedom, Freedom.'
As the day went on, new waves of protests in other regions were reported on social media. It seemed that there was no turning back, that's how I felt. The government could no longer hide the discontent of the people who were now on the streets and making themselves heard. As the hours went by, everyone in my WhatsApp group was planning where to meet to support the protests. The news of another place in Cuba joining the protests created an enthusiasm that spread rapidly. By 2 PM, the amount of protest images was incredible. I felt that I could no longer stay home and I prepared to go out to see what was happening and, of course, to film. The internet was still working at this point, but that would change very soon. SMS messages were taking minutes to arrive. At 2:46 PM, the internet was taken down. Cell calls were still going through, with quite a bit of difficulty because of congestion on the lines. I decided to go to Old Havana, where I was sure I'd find someone from my group of friends.
I decided to ride my bike to the protests. The decision to use my bike was strategic; it was easy for me to move around and film. In these protest situations, the bike is also a weapon, a shield. Most people in Cuba (and many outside as well) have never seen a small 360 video camera and how it operates. I rode my bike and mounted the camera on a long stick. I'm sure that many people who saw me that day assumed that I was just a fool observing everything with a stick raised. Maybe some people thought I was against the protests since many times government sympathizers use sticks to beat and threaten protestors. The camera stick allowed me to pass without drawing attention so I could record how the Cuban government retaliates against its own people.
I joined a group of protestors wandering without direction, dodging barriers quickly assembled by the Cuban military. The military's mission was to cut off the flow of protestors and prevent them from continuing to march, in the hopes that they would quietly disperse. The troops ran and created a barrier, forcing the protestors to change course or confront them, but the protesters improvised another route and raised their hands as a sign that they were unarmed. The crowd sang the national anthem loudly in front of the military troops who showed no signs of empathy.
The other objective of assembling these barriers was that it allowed pro-government infiltrators to join the march and identify and arrest protestors who stood out as leaders or agitators. Anyone who raised their voices or shouted slogans were quickly rounded up and arrested. Many of them are still imprisoned.
I haven't dared to share this until now because I was scared. Scared of what I saw that day, the impunity with which they beat everyone. Scared of what could happen to protestors that I filmed, as these images could incriminate them, including my friends. I was scared of what could happen to my mother and father if I ended up in prison or worse for expressing my opinions and wanting a better life for all Cubans. On July 11, I didn't see any acts of vandalism or looting. I didn't see any criminal activity. What I saw was thousands of people wanting something better for their lives. They were shouting it, using the only resource they had left -- their voice. I heard the word FREEDOM thousands of times, which is something that I will never forget.
The repression was brutal, even when the protesters were peaceful. Diaz-Canel went on national TV and called for a civil war to quell the protests. Around 1100 people ended up imprisoned that day. Others were detained days later in their homes and are still in prison. I witnessed how the government reacted in 2019 to the Gay Pride march, I saw it again at another small protest of artists that took place 8 months earlier. But now on July 11, it confirmed that those in power in my country will do anything but listen to its people. The Cuban government is not interested in changing anything. They talk about dialogue and reforms, but these never actually happen because any point of view deemed anti-government is forbidden. As long the Cuban government beats and condemns it citizens with impunity for political reasons, our country will continue to descend further into chaos. The Cuban nation is kidnapped.
My mother died. My friends left. I have nothing left but this feeling of cowardice that I want to fight against. I don't want to keep these images to myself anymore. I want to share them with the world. It was a transformative day that showed the Cuban people who the true enemy is. It revealed how the Cuban military acts against its citizens, and the world saw it. But, despite the repression that happened after these protests, I am still hopeful. I know that with each protest, the Cuban people are one step closer to creating a new democratic Cuba where people can be free and not live in fear.