Brave Cuban Med Student Reproaches State Security

“I don’t want any more agents in my house”

Another university student warns, amid the advance of dollarization, that the country “also belongs to those of us who don’t have dollars”.

By 14ymedio

HAVANA TIMES – “I don’t want any more DTI [Technical Investigations Department] agents in my house,” blurts out a young medical student, in front of her professors and classmates, with the courage that only comes from being fed up. The scene, caught on video and widely circulated on social media in recent hours, has put a face, a name, and anguish to the latest chapter of university repression in Cuba.

Anisleydis Reyes, a student at the University of Medical Sciences of Las Tunas, is no longer afraid to speak out, even if it means losing everything. Her crime: raising her voice against the Etecsa (telecommunications monopoly) rate hike. The future doctor reports that political police have come to her home and holds State Security responsible for any harm her mother may suffer because of these coercive tactics.

Since data package prices soared on May 30, classrooms have turned into trenches. Students protested however they could: denouncing the submission of their representatives who hold posts in the student control apparatus, skipping class, and posting statements on social media. What followed was the same worn-out playbook from State Security: warnings, interrogations, manipulations, and thinly veiled threats (or not so veiled). “It’s a shame to study for six years only to find out in the end that you don’t get your specialty,” they told Reyes, while accusing her of being a ringleader, an instigator, and a counterrevolutionary.

But Reyes’ social media profile doesn’t resemble that of an activist, let alone a dissident. She is a teenager, like many others, who shares photos at the beach or with friends, who likes reading The Little Prince, and follows famous soccer players. If these protests have revealed anything, it’s that frustration and open confrontation with power are no longer rare or exceptional—they are widespread feelings among Cuban youth.

In circulating videos, another student is heard saying: “This country also belongs to those of us who don’t have dollars.” Another young woman questions: “If our government violates its own laws, how can they demand that we obey them when we break them?”

The pressure wasn’t selective. Raymar Aguado Hernández, one of the activists who openly supported the protests from Havana, received an unwelcome visit at his home. They came to get him, put him in a patrol car, and took him to the Zanja and Dragones station. The first interrogation was mild, almost bureaucratic. Then came confinement in a windowless room and a direct threat, whispered with the name of State Security’s favorite prison: “Villa Marista is waiting for you.” He refused to sign the record. They took his documents. And they warned him that without them, stepping outside could get him arrested.

Aguado, 24, knows exactly what that means. In 2022, he left his psychology degree studies after constant harassment by political police. They told him he would never set foot in an official classroom in Cuba again. Today he studies Humanities at the Felix Varela Center, publishes essays, organizes cultural events, and moves within the always-narrow space allowed for activism on the island. And while he’s gained experience, he’s never lost that vulnerability that comes with having the regime monitor your every move.

The modus operandi is well-known by now: nighttime visits, “informal” conversations with deans, threats about academic futures, interrogations that begin as dialogue and end as a sentence. In the hallways of universities there is fear, but also dignity. The anger over the data rate hike was the spark, but the fuel had been building: insufficient scholarships, poor-quality food, constant blackouts, parents telling them to “keep their voices down,” and a general feeling of unstoppable national decline.

The faces of Aguado and Reyes, however, have managed to break through the wall of silence. Their protests are not just against the rate hike. They’re against a system that turns students into enemies, that responds to protests with surveillance, that reduces the university to a field of political loyalty.

On social media, the video has sparked both solidarity and outrage. Many recall that this is not the first time a student protest has ended in sealed files, expulsions, or forced exile. In 2021, young David Martinez Espinosa was expelled as a lecturer from the University of Medical Sciences of Cienfuegos for posting on digital platforms “doubts against the Cuban social process” and expressing himself “with open defiance and criticism” of the political system.

But what’s new this time is the widespread discontent. The protests over the rate hike weren’t an isolated outburst—they were a movement that spread spontaneously across the country. And although the government managed to snuff out the fire using its old intimidation methods, something remained. A crack. A message. A phone that was left on that they couldn’t detect.

First published in Spanish by 14ymedio and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.

Read more from Cuba here in Havana Times.