Working at CENESEX Today?
HAVANA TIMES — A friend kindly asked me if I would be willing to work at CENESEX (the National Center for Sexual Education). I told her I would love to, but its national director is Mariela Castro Espín, and just because of that, a “no” comes out of my mouth faster than a “yes.” My friend replied that I should ignore that detail and focus on the work being done at the center. Right now, they’re looking for a coordinator to work with groups of women.
Frankly, the job interests me. Besides, I feel I’m well-suited for that kind of work. My training in the seminary included feminist formation and everything was read with a gender perspective. I took numerous socio-theological workshops and courses of that nature. And I admit that working in communities with that profile is something I’m passionate about, but I feel it wounds my spirit to accept a job that would validate me professionally when there’s a Castro (she is Raul’s daughter) at the helm. My friend told me to think it over, and that if I decided to say yes, I should call her back so she could put me in touch with the person who could grant me the position.
It would be very good for me to have a job, and one like this would be a joy. I want to do what my friend told me: “ignore the detail that bothers you and focus on what you could achieve,” to translate it. I mentioned it to my mother, who was a History teacher her entire life and even a coordinator for the Federation of Cuban Women (FMC). She didn’t answer me directly—rather, she asked: “So you’re thinking of applying to CENESEX?”
She said: First of all, they’re not going to let you in, because the background check will show that you write for independent outlets. And that alone is horrifying for them. The first thing they’ll say is: “She’s coming here to stick her nose in and write for the enemy about what we do and don’t do.” So they won’t let you in. Still, tell your friend this: if you’re very interested in that job, ask if they would accept you writing for the places you write for, and whether they could give you the job under those conditions.
So that’s what I did. I called my friend back and told her I practiced what’s known as grassroots journalism and I asked whether they would grant me the job under those circumstances. (I never told her that the time I was detained by State Security where they asked me why I didn’t write for Cubadebate. I answered that I don’t trust state-run outlets and would rather write for places where I’ve had opportunities, like Catholic magazines and independent publications).
My friend, who didn’t know this about me, told me they’d have to see what kinds of issues I wrote about and published, and then they could consider the job.
Mariela Castro Espín’s name comes back to mind. To me, that shouldn’t be a minor detail. I remember how I distanced myself from the Red Cross when I learned that in Cuba it wasn’t an NGO but belonged to the Ministry of the Interior (MININT), and I want nothing to do with them—at least not in this reincarnation under the Cuban dictatorship. My friend and I haven’t spoken since, and I don’t want to insist on a job that I don’t doubt would be very good, but which is weighed down by the politicization that is so suffocating in this country.
But I have to admit that this job offer, though it fell through, ultimately made me happy. Because it’s true that I have to think long and hard before telling myself: that’s not a door I should knock on, or they themselves will make sure not to open it because “she’s not one of ours.” It encourages me to know that when this totalitarian government ends — and I’m hopeful it will end very soon — I and so many other people will have many job alternatives. Because having different opinions won’t mean a threat or a danger or generate the desire to eliminate anyone. It will be another life, a very different one, and much better. At least, that’s what I believe.