[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.

                          ____________________