[Congressional Record Volume 169, Number 184 (Tuesday, November 7, 2023)]
[House]
[Pages H5476-H5478]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
RELEASE OF CUBAN PRISONERS OF CONSCIENCE
The SPEAKER pro tempore. The Chair recognizes the gentlewoman from
Florida (Ms. Wasserman Schultz) for 5 minutes.
Ms. WASSERMAN SCHULTZ. Mr. Speaker, two years ago, thousands of
Cubans peacefully demonstrated for their basic rights, and their
corrupt rulers responded with a brutal, indiscriminate crackdown.
Maykel Castillo Perez and Luis Manuel Otero Alcantara both helped
forge the historic and resurgent prodemocracy movement on July 11. They
have been imprisoned ever since. Maykel, a Latin Grammy-winning rapper,
coauthored the song ``Patria Y Vida,'' an anthem for the mass
demonstrations. Luis Manuel, an Afro-Cuban visual artist, has fought
passionately for free expression and against censorship.
Maykel disappeared from public view after being detained without a
warrant on May 18, 2021, and a kangaroo court sentenced him to 9 years
in prison. The U.N. reports Maykel remains in prison ``solely for his
prodemocracy activism,'' enduring inmate threats, solitary confinement,
and denied family visits and medical attention. Yet he still rebels
however he can. On the anniversary of the July 11 protests, he sewed
his mouth shut and tattooed ``Patria Y Vida'' on his arm. Maykel told
friends: ``I have enough strength to keep bleeding . . . I prefer with
great pride to descend in a coffin than to bow.''
Luis Manuel's despicable treatment is compounded by the jarring
legacy of anti-Black racism in Cuba. On July 11, he too was arrested
after posting a video on his plans to join Cuba's mass democracy
demonstration.
Like Maykel, he was tried behind closed doors and thrown in a maximum
security prison. Due to abuse, bad medical care, and denial of food and
water, Luis Manuel is suffering from extreme weight loss and severe
medical issues.
I am grateful the Biden administration granted humanitarian parole to
both Luis Manuel and Maykel, but for the Cuban regime, exiling these
patriots isn't enough. Their very existence is a threat.
While these cases are egregious, thousands of peaceful prodemocracy
protesters have been jailed, tortured, or killed. If we truly intend to
live up to our Nation's values, we must work tirelessly to liberate
those who continually sacrifice their freedom for others.
As co-chair of the Cuba Democracy Caucus, I proudly join forces with
Freedom House and Amnesty International to demand justice for Maykel
and Luis Manuel through the Defending Freedoms Project.
I intend to use my platform to ensure their unconditional release is
a top priority in any discussion of Cuba policy.
I hope my colleagues on both sides of the aisle will join me.
(Spanish translation of the statement made in English is as follows:)
Hoy me levanto para exigir la liberacion inmediata de dos presos de
conciencia cubanos. Maykel Castillo Perez y Luis Manuel Otero Alcantara
ayudaron a empezar el movimiento pro-democracia el once de julio.
Ellos estan encarcelados desde ese dia. Maykel, rapero y ganador del
Grammy Latino, es coautor de la cancion ``Patria y Vida'' que fue himno
de las protestas.
Luis Manuel es un artista visual afrocubano que ha luchado duro por
la libre expresion y contra la censura.
Maykel desaparecio de la vista del publico tras ser detenido sin
orden judicial, y un tribunal irregular lo condenoa nueve anos de
prision.
Segun el informe de las Naciones Unidas, Maykel sigue encarcelado
``unicamente por su activismo a favor de la democracia''.
Sin embargo, todavia se manifiesta como puede. En el aniversario de
las protestas, se cosio la boca y se tatuo ``Patria Y Vida'' en el
brazo.
El trato despreciable recibido por Luis Manuel se ve agravado por el
preocupante legado del racismo contra los Afrocubanos.
Tambien fue arrestado luego de publicar un video sobre sus planes de
unirse a manifestaciones masivas por la democracia en Cuba.
Al igual que Maykel, fue condenado y encarcelado atras de a una
prision de maxima seguridad. Luis Manuel a sufrido una perdida extrema
de peso y graves problemas medicos.
Agradezco que President Biden este ofreciendo libertad humanitaria a
Luis Manuel y Maykel, pero para la dictadura cubana exiliarlos no es
suficiente. Su propia existencia es una amenaza.
Si queremos estar a la altura de los valores de nuestra nacion,
debemos trabajar todos los dias para liberar a los que sacrifican por
los demas. Como copresidenta del Caucus para la Democracia en Cuba, voy
a luchar al lado de Freedom House y Amnistia Internacional para
demandar justicia para Maykel y Luis Manuel.
Voy a hacer todo lo posible para abogar por su liberacion
incondicional.
Espero que mis colegas de ambos partidos se unan a mi.
I'd like to share more about these brave patriots, in their own words
and those of people who know them well. The following is a letter
written by Luis Manuel Otero Alcantara to the Miami Herald, entitled:
`Cuba's authorities have stolen my youth just for speaking my mind'. It
was published July 10th of this year, two years after his arbitrary
arrest.
[[Page H5477]]
I am an artist and a political prisoner in Cuba. I was
arrested on July 11, 2021, on my way to a protest in which
thousands of my compatriots rose up across the island to
demand freedom.
I've been imprisoned ever since.
Last year, I was sentenced to five years in prison on
charges of contempt and insult to national symbols, because I
used the Cuban flag in a performance in August 2019. This is
how the Cuban government views my art. I was tried, alongside
my dear friend, the Grammy Award-winning rapper Maykel
Castillo--known as El Osorbo--who is now serving a nine-year
sentence for similar offenses. My imprisonment is a result of
the Cuban authorities' systematic strategy to silence the
voices of young people. They have been harassing me for
years, arresting me 50 times between 2017 and 2021 and also
through defamation, violation of privacy, threats and police
beatings. But it wasn't until the historic protest of 2021
that the regime decided to lock me up for a longer period of
time so I could no longer communicate with my people.
I'm imprisoned in Guanajay, a maximum-security penitentiary
southwest of Havana. Many of my fellow prisoners are serving
life sentences for murder. The authorities have separated me
from other political prisoners. I share a cell with three
others. I'm allowed to talk to other inmates in the hallway,
but I'm only taken out to the yard when other prisoners are
gone. I should be allowed to spend an hour outside every day,
but I'm only let out occasionally at the whim of the guards.
I've lost weight because of the scarcity of food and poor
quality of meals. I'm often afraid to eat because the food
looks rotten. After I was sentenced in June 2022, the rules
for visiting me changed. Now my family can only visit me once
a month, instead of twice. No one else is allowed. Even my
beloved uncle is banned because of his involvement in
activism.
More than 1,800 Cubans, mostly young and Black, were
arrested in the protests in 2021. Of these, 897 have been
tried, and 777 remain in prison. Many are minors. Some have
been sentenced to up to 30 years for sedition. But there's no
evidence that the protest was premeditated. It started in a
small town outside Havana, when a young boy posted a video on
Facebook of people protesting power outages. Within hours,
thousands of Cubans decided to take to the streets.
Since that day, hundreds of young Cubans have been trapped
behind bars. Every day is the same. Violence is constant.
Only one's body changes. Your hair falls out and your face
ages prematurely from pain, frustration and sadness. Your
friends leave the country. Lovers' caresses are long gone.
The soundscape here is always the same. All you hear is the
murmur of death slowly approaching. In these harsh
conditions, human beings are stripped of their youth. They
wander the four square meters of their cells with no sense of
future.
I speak as a young man in today's Cuba. We are full of
energy and confidence, determined to lend our talents to the
quest for a truly democratic and free Cuba. The regime that
has survived for 64 years on the Caribbean's largest island
is once again trying to crush a generation, just as it
crushed and erased those who preceded us.
Today every young Cuban is a political prisoner. A censored
artist. An exile inside and outside Cuba. Even if you're an
accomplice of the system, you will inevitably be crushed like
the others, because to be young is to be daring and reckless,
eager to bring change to the world. It means fighting for
love, dreams and utopia. But these qualities are
considered crimes in Cuba, and that condemns us all to
martyrdom.
Today, as I approach the age of 35 behind bars, I reflect
on the loss of youth under a dictatorial system. Forced to
survive political violence, we all lose 90% of our physical
and intellectual productivity. Only 10% is left for creative
and life-affirming pursuits.
On behalf of the young Cubans locked up in the island's
horrible prisons, I appeal to people of conscience around the
world to support our struggle to liberate ourselves and our
country. All we did was demand the right to choose our
political future and to speak our minds.
No one should have to give up their youth for such a just
cause.
Next, I'd like to share a story written by Julyssa Lopez and
published January 6th, 2023 in Rolling Stone magazine detailing Maykel
Osorbo's life and current detention. The article is titled ``Two Years
After `Patria Y Vida.' Cuban Rapper Maykel Osorbo Remains in Jail.''
Maybe it was the excitement of post-lickdown celebrations
or the simple triumph of getting through the worst of the
pandemic, but the energy felt different at the 22nd annual
Latin Grammys back in November of 2021. Thousands of people,
dressed in shimmering gowns and slick suits, had gathered at
MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas for the awards ceremony.
At the end of the night, when it was time for the anticipated
Song of the Year category, the air turned electric as people
waited to hear who might take home the trophy--maybe be a
massive pop name like Cammilo or Rauw Alejando, who were both
nominated and sitting in the audience.
Instead, the award went to ``Patria Y Vida,'' a song that
started out in a small studio in Miami and spiraled across
the streets of Cuba in 2021. The title, which inverts the
popular Fidel Castro-era slogan ``patria o muerte,'' took on
such force that it became a common chant during the
unprecedented demonstrations that swept the island that
summer. Despite its political impact, no one expected
``Patria Y Vida'' to win in Las Vegas, particularly because
of how traditional the Latin Recording Academy can be. Five
of the song's performers--Yotuel Romero, Descemer Bueno,
Eliexer ``El Funky'' Marquez Duany, Alexander Delgado
Hermandez, and Randy Malcom Martinez--appeared onstage,
shocked and tearful, to accept the award. But there was one
artist notably absent: the rapper Maykel Osorbo.
At that precise moment, Osorbo was sitting in Kilo 5 Y
Medio, a maximum-security prison in the rural, tobacco-rich
region of Pinal del Rio, Cuba, far from the glamour and
glitterati of the awards show. By then, he'd been jailed for
six months, after authorities detained him on accusations
that included assault, resistance, public disorder, and
``propagating the epidemic,'' all of which outside lawyers
supporting him say are false charges. His family heard from
him only sparingly, and they worried about his health, which
had deteriorated since his arrest.
Since the late 2010s, Osorbo--whose real name is Maykel
Castillo Perez--had gained attention on the island as one of
the most public figures of Movimiento San Isidro (MSI), a
collective made up of dissident artists and intellectuals in
Havana. He was also known for his bold, outspoken music,
which caught the ear of Romero. Romero had begun working on
``Patria Y Vida'' in October of 2020, and he'd been
collaborating with other artists who, like him, had moved to
the U.S. from Cuba. Still, he felt the track--which was
inspired by the political anthems of nueva trova legend
Silvio Rodriguez--needed the voices of people still living on
the island. He asked Osorbo to be part of the song, aware
that the music risked provoking the Cuban government; the
lyrics call for freedom and mention several activists by
name. Bus Osorbo wasn't afraid.
He and his close friends El Funky recorded verses in
secret, sending them to Romero through WhatsApp. Over the
next few months, they watched in awe as the song caught on in
Cuba, becoming a rallying cry as unrest started brewing in
the country. Frustrations had been mounting as Cubans faced
food and supply shortages something many saw as a direct
product of government mismanagement and the effects of the
pandemic--though others, including Cuban president Miguel
Diaz-Canel, pointed to the effects of the U.S. embargo.
Additionally, there was a tightening of restrictions during
lockdown that reflected the Cuban government's broader limits
on civil liberties. Osorbo continued working with MSI, often
using his platform to speak out and demand justice for people
who'd been detained for expressing themselves. His rising
popularity and outspokenness made him a frequent police
target and, according to the humanitarian organization
Prisoners Defenders, he was arrested and beaten multiple
times before he was thrown in prison in May 2021.
Meanwhile, tensions in Cuba boiled over in July that year,
resulting in rare nationwide protests. Many of them were set
to the sound of ``Patria Y Vida''--a sign that even if Osorbo
was locked away, the messages he'd gotten out were still
resonating with people.
After the Latin Grammys that November, there was a faint
sense of hope: Perhaps such massive international attention
would eventually mean Osorbo's release. In February 2022, the
United Nations Group on Arbitrary Detention responded to a
complaint, spearheaded by Prisoners Defenders, and determined
that Osorbo had been ``persecuted and arbitrarily detained
for exercising his fundamental rights to freedom of opinion,
expression, assembly, association and participation.'' They
demanded his release, and Osorbo's friends organized to fight
for him. El Funky, who moved to the U.S. in 2021, released
music lambasting Cuban authorities for imprisoning artists,
and Osorbo's partner, the activist Anamely Ramos, spoke out
at demonstrations and rallied supporters on social media.
But in June 2022, a court in Havana made its final
decision. Osorbo was sentenced to nine years in prison;
artist Luis Manuel Otero Alcantara, a close MSI associate,
was sentenced to five. Javier Larrondo, the president of
Prisoners Defenders, believes some of the recognition Osorbo
got for his music did help. In addition to winning Song of
the Year, ``Patria Y Vida'' also secured the award for Best
Urban Song, making Osorbo a two-time Latin Grammy winner--
and, perhaps, lightening his sentence. ``Given the way crimes
were fabricated the way they were for Maykel, if he'd been
hidden in anonymity, he perhaps could have even had a 12- or
13-year sentence dropped on him,'' Larrondo says.
Still, the sentence was a painful one for him and those
who'd been following Osorbo's case. Osorbo will turn 40 this
August: he'll be almost 50 by the time he's released. People
have continued to denounce his imprisonment: Last month on
Christmas Eve, the Argentine-Venezuelan singer Ricardo
Montaner called for his liberation. Others, like El Funky,
want to make sure Osorbo isn't forgotten. ``We're going to
keep making music, keep speaking up, until Maykel is free,''
he says.
Maykel Osorbo grew up in Old Havana as an only child. When
he was 10 years old, his mother left in the dead of the
night, part of a swell of Cubans who left the island after
the 1994 Maleconazo protests that led then-
[[Page H5478]]
president Fidel Castro to briefly allow citizens to leave the
island voluntarily. Osorbo was largely on his own after that.
``Maykel had a hard childhood,'' says El Funky, who met
Osorbo in the neighborhood as a kid. ``He had to become a man
at a really young age and went through really difficult
things.'' They stayed friends throughout the years, and they
always had a love of music in common. They both wanted to be
performers, but El Funky had to put his career ambitions on
hold in 2005, after his first child was born, to focus on
opening a cafe with his father.
In 2013, Osorbo came knocking on his door. ``He said,
`Compadre, you have talent, we've known each other for years.
There are all these music festivals in Cuba with prizes. I
have a studio where we can work without a problem,'' El Funky
remembers. At first, El Funky told Osorbo that he was done
with music, but Osorbo had a way of inspiring. Within a few
months, they were releasing songs together and independently,
building recognition as artists in the neighborhood. They
rapped about life in Cuba, and invariably what they were
releasing was political. ``I've always said that anyone who
writes songs about everyday realities in Cuba is talking
about the situation in Cuba,'' he says. ``So, without meaning
to, we were making protest music.''
Osorbo's work took on a radical urgency in 2018, when Cuba
proposed Decree 349, a law that prohibited any artistic
expression in both public and private spaces without approval
by the government's Ministry of Culture. Authorities were
also given the power to shut down artistic activity that they
deemed as containing ``sexist, vulgar or obscene language.''
Many artists and poets spoke out against the law, many of
them eventually creating the MSI collective. Osorbo took on a
central role alongside Otero, who was arrested dozens of
times for staging demonstrations and art performances.
Osorbo's music became more direct than ever, filled with
lacerating critiques of the government. In late 2020, he
teamed up with El Funky for ``Diazcarao,'' a heated,
blistering rap that directly took aim at president Diaz-
Canel. El Funky believes that song is what started to rattle
the government, just before ``Patria Y Vida'' exploded into
the world.
Once they'd recorded their parts in ``Patria Y Vida,''
Osorbo and El Funky decided to take a huge risk by shooting a
few scenes for a music video Romero was planning. They worked
with the video director Anyelo Troya, who pawned off one of
his cameras to get better equipment for the shoot, and snuck
into an abandoned building in the dead of night. The Cuban
government had enforced lockdown curfews, and they'd all face
fines and even jail time if they got caught. They had three
friends stand watch the entire night, switching off so they
could sleep, and featured Otero in the video as well. Once it
was finished, the video made an impact quickly, garnering one
million views within three days.
``People who know me and my work were like, `Now you really
went crazy.' I knew there was going to be a fallout,'' El
Funky remembers. Ramos says that shortly after the song came
out, she heard people starting to use the phrase 'patria y
vida' casually on the street, and she noticed neighbors
playing the song in public. She says that she was stunned by
how much other Cubans were connecting to ``Patria Y Vida,''
but she was concerned about Osorbo. ``All of us knew when we
saw the reaction it got that there were going to be
consequences. We know the authorities weren't going to
forgive something like that.''
Cuba, at the time, had been ramping up arrests on artists
in particular. A 2021 report from the international NGO
Freemuse, which has been documenting and researching
incidents of censorship and suppressing freedom of
expression, showed that Cuba's rappers are some of the most
persecuted rap artists in the world. Prisoners Defenders
outlined more than 120 ``repressive police acts'' committed
against Osorbo between 2019 and 2021, including beatings and
arbitrary detentions. In one incident, he was picked up by
police when he was at a park with his two-year-old daughter,
who was left alone after authorities took him away.
Clashes that intensified that April ultimately led to his
arrest. According to Prisoners Defenders, Osorbo had been
walking to MSI headquarters when he saw police harassing a
woman on the street. He attempted to intervene, and police
moved to arrest him instead, despite not having a reason. By
then, Osorbo had become a beloved figure in town, and
neighbors quickly jumped in and helped him escape. They
surrounded police officers and screaming at them to let
Osorbo go, showing the mass support he had from Cubans. (An
image of Osorbo holding one handcuffed arm up in the air
after evading arrest went viral.) Almost a month later, on
May 18, authorities picked him up again, handcuffing him
shirtless and without shoes on while he was at home. Like
many of the previous arrests, this one was made without an
arrest warrant or clear charges against him. He's been held
ever since.
EI Funky was detained at one point as well, but ultimately
let go. ``I'm not the type of person they were going to
arrest,'' he says. ``I've done stuff, don't get me wrong, and
I'm a person who has a lot of support, but I don't have a
personality like Maykel and Luis Manuel. These guys are
leaders--natural leaders. When they thought of things, what
they'd come up with was so ingenious that it was a danger to
the state.''
In addition to his work with Prisoners Defenders, Larrondo
is a singer who's played the most renowned Venues in Spain
and several other parts of the world. He's performed with the
legendary Celia Cruz and sang on an album alongside artists
such as Gloria Estefan and Alejandro Sanz. He understands the
value of freedom of expression intimately. His interest in
Osorbo's case came from his experiences both as a musician
and a defender of human rights, and he's been working with
the hope of finding organized, systematic ways for the
artistic community to show solidarity with artists who are
oppressed around the world.
``Patria Y Vida'' was the main storyline at the 2021 Latin
Grammys, and the song's two wins made headlines around the
world. There was some inevitable controversy, with skeptical
fans and musicians arguing that ``Patria Y Vida'' reflected a
Western, anti-left political agenda and noting that the
government organization USAID has used Cuba's hip-hop scene
in the past as a way to infiltrate the Cuban government.
(Some Cuban rappers Rolling Stone spoke to have countered
that regardless of what the U.S. has done, Cuba's artists and
hip-hop scenes have their own voice.) But more broadly, the
Latin Recording Academy was applauded for swaying from its
more risk-averse tendencies and recognizing a song with a
strong social message.
And then, as the months passed, Osorbo's story largely
faded from mainstream coverage--and, seemingly, from the
Latin industry and Latin Grammy's consciousness. Osorbo, who
remains behind bars, wasn't mentioned at the 2022 awards
ceremony this past November, and El Funky says no one
contacted him about other efforts to raise awareness.
However, he has kept writing music about Osorbo and other
political prisoners in Cuba, refusing to back down. Artists
such as Romero have also spoken out; he's currently working
on a documentary about ``Patria Y Vida.''
Larrondo believes that cases such as Osorbo's illustrate a
violation of fundamental rights, and that limits on artistic
expression--like other human-rights violations--require
bigger, broader movements in response. ``In the music
industry. as well as in the sports industry. there isn't a
systemic process to show solidarity with oppressed artists or
athletes,'' he says. ``I say this thinking of the Iranian
case of the athlete sentenced to death. I haven't seen soccer
players, or soccer clubs, express themselves against that
sentencing in a big way, doing things like organized moments
of silence at stadiums. the same way I haven't seen artists
defending the freedom of Maykel Osorbo in a massive way.''
He adds: ``The fact that some artists have stood up for
Maykel is good, but without some coordination or a major
response from the collective art world to support a Latin
Grammy winner, and a constant, permanent message--without
that. you can't have that person set free from prison. Any
artist in any regime could suffer things similar to Maykel.''
Ramos worries constantly about Osorbo's medical condition
in prison. She says he went through a critical period in
which skin lesions and boils appeared on his skin, perhaps a
result of contracting scabies or an infection in prison.
Though he's since stabilized, she wonders if the symptoms
could be a sign of cancer, and she believes the Cuban
government is actively withholding medical attention--
something it has been accused of doing with prisoners in the
past. Beyond that. she says Osorbo's mood has dipped,
especially after the holidays ``He's really not doing well,
and he's been that way for a long time.'' she says.
``Especially these days toward the end of the year, which is
a tough time that you typically spend with family.''
Despite all this, Osorbo recently managed to share an audio
recording, which was posted on his social media accounts.
It's a message of gratitude to his family, his friends, and
above all, those who have supported him. ``Those supporters
have been there for me at all times, they have made me
grow,'' Osorbo says. ``They have made me leave behind who I
was and they've made me who I am.''
The SPEAKER pro tempore. The gentlewoman from Florida will provide
the Clerk a translation of her remarks.
____________________