The last time I visited Antillean Alcatraz, I had the fortune to briefly meet and chat with Yoani Sanchez. We took the bus and showed up at her house, just like that. I remember that the elevator dial in her building has two number 5s, two 10s, and the button for 11 takes you to the 13th floor. There she was, calm, doing various things. She didn’t invite us in as they were repairing something in her apartment, so we went to a nearby place to talk. Her husband, fellow writer Reinaldo Escobar, joined us. Honestly, I was very eager to meet Yoani. I’d read a lot about her, and, in some sense, I’ve identified with her cause from the outset, having personally suffered attacks from the thugs of the Chavista regime.
Yoani is a young mother. The image I took away of her was that of a measured, fair, patient, brave, enterprising, intelligent, spiritual woman—essentially a woman I would never define as a threat in a truly free and democratic society. Unfortunately, that’s not the case in Cuba, no matter how much the bureaucrats at the United Nations, Zapatero and his ministers, and the apologists for communism define her as such. No. Cuba is a hell in the tropics. It’s a place where poverty is so extreme that life itself belongs to the state. And in places like Cuba, where barbarism reigns supreme, thinkers like Yoani represent a threat because she thinks, because she questions, because she utilizes her free will and intellect for what it is, not to concoct more ways to consume communist garbage or to rack up points against those who politically differ from her.
That’s why the security agents, following orders from higher-ups, arrested and mistreated her, as it’s the only thing their limited intellect allows them to do. Those soulless individuals don’t understand freedom or conscience. And I disagree with Yoani. It wasn’t the boot of communism that was oppressing her chest in that yellow-plate car where they shoved her in. No. It’s the boot of political correctness, of the United Nations, of UNESCO, of the European Union, of Spain, of diplomacy, of the treachery, of the inhumanity of those who continue to pretend that Cuba is a democratic state, of the thousands of tourists searching for sex, of companies that turn a blind eye, of the Church, of the Red Cross, of Hollywood, of the US and its irrational embargo, of the whole damned brotherhood of human rights organizations that criticize US policy in Guantanamo but say nothing about what happens to Yoani on the other side of the fence.
Yoani is not alone, but sadly, those of us who stand with her are few, scattered, and powerless, except for the same power she possesses: the ability to question and think for ourselves. Someone who met Fidel Castro told me he is a great speaker, that the dictator has an exceptional gift of gab and people skills. Nonetheless, I dare say that Yoani, in truly democratic conditions—which is what the internet really represents—has been able to publicly shame the Cuban communism as a whole. That’s why she is besieged and will continue to be. In this medium, words and actions are judged on their true merit. There’s no censorship here. That’s the danger Yoani represents. Those of us who disagree with the Castro apprentice have been labeled as terrorists. In Cuba, there’s no need for such subtleties. There, there is boot, kick, punch, confinement, torture, misery, death, and yellow-plate cars circulating in the place of no return.