Published On Fri Mar 18 2011
By Julia Steinecke Travel Reporter
SANTA CLARA, CUBA—Crowds of gay and trans people wait outside a ruined
hotel with trees growing out the windows. Inside, a disco beat pounds.
The throng files in and starts dancing, while a couple of lesbians kiss
passionately in the middle of the courtyard. This is not a trendy
nightclub in Havana—we're in a small city in the central province of
Villa Clara, an area that many tourists pass through without a second
glance. The club is El Mejunje (which means, "The Mixture") and they've
been having discos and drag shows here for 20 years.
El Mejunje was founded by Ramón Silverio, an impoverished local kid who
loved it when the travelling circus came to town. Silverio worked in
education and theatre, and dreamed of a place where artists, rock
musicians, drag performers and intellectuals of all kinds could gather
and find acceptance.
"Ramón Silverio is a very important cultural figure in Cuba," a local
tourism worker tells me in Spanish; however, the easy-going ambience
here is not just because of him. "The city culture is very friendly and
accepting; tranquilo," the worker says. Gays and lesbians can walk on
the streets with no fear of violence. Transwomen can dress as they
wish—people won't assault them or call them names, though they may say,
"Que bonita!" ("How beautiful!")
There was a lot of beauty on display during the International Day
Against Homophobia last May, when an outdoor drag show outside El
Mejunje drew thousands of spectators. It was part of the nationwide
celebration organized by CENESEX, the government's National Centre for
Sex Education, under the direction of Mariela Castro Espín, the daughter
of President Raúl Castro. She's helped bring in a number of progressive
policies, including free gender reassignment surgery. (Read more about
that topic in this previous article about Cuba in Star Travel.)
On an ordinary weekend, Santa Clara's social life centres on the main
plaza, Parque Vidal. Seniors relax on benches or dance to live music,
children ride around in miniature donkey carts, and young gay men hang
out with friends. Many are students at the Universidad Central Marta
Abreu de las Villas, a place that contributes to the city's open-minded
attitude.
My tourism worker friend is pleased with the progress of LGBT rights in
Cuba. It's easier for gay couples to live together now, he explains.
They just have to find someone with a spare room to rent them. He tells
me about his trans friend who had surgery in Spain and came back to Cuba
with a female passport, things which are now possible in Cuba, but take
much longer. With her new ID, she was able to marry a man in Cuba.
Then he goes off on a different tangent. "There are lots of trans
prostitutes in Cuba," he claims. "Everyone, all over the world, likes
the breasts and the pipi together." He's standing right in front of me,
poking out his chest, making a pretend-pipi with his hand and waving it
in my face. At that moment, his boss walks in with a disproving look.
Awkward.
I slip away and head back to El Mejunje, which has a full roster of
cultural activities during the week: rock, folk, theatre, magicians and
senior citizen's dances. Students are gathering in the café next door to
the courtyard, so I join some young women at their table. A man hovers
behind me and asks a series of questions in a slurred voice. Am I a
journalist? Do I prefer men or women? Would I like to have sex with any
of these women?
I ignore him, and chat with my companions, who are students of
psychology, journalism, art, and computer science. One wears a winter
scarf and a toque marked "CSI Las Vegas." She picks up a worn guitar and
strums a few chords, and her friends sing folk songs. Two women link
arms and tell me they are girlfriends. Another pulls out a deck of cards
and asks if I'd like to play.
Suddenly I hear a crash and see a body flying across the room. It's the
question-asking guy. Another body lands on top of him, and they roll
around on the floor, fighting. Our table slides sideways, scattering the
playing cards. We head outside and I decide to call it a night.
A couple of days later, I run into someone who'd been there. He tells me
the fighters were thrown out, everyone went back in and everything was
fine. He goes to El Mejunje most nights. "It's my Facebook," he says.
Julia Steinecke is a Toronto-based freelance writer. Find her at
www.facebook.com/juliatravels. Names are with-held in this story due to
the risks taken by Cubans speaking to tourists and journalists.
http://www.thestar.com/travel/caribbean/article/955719--pink-planet-cuba-s-gay-oasis
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