Lis Cuesta Peraza Advocates for Cuban Women: "Endurance and Progress Are Key"

During the IV Patria Colloquium held at the University of Havana, Lis Cuesta Peraza, the national director of events at the Ministry of Culture and spouse of Cuban leader Miguel Díaz-Canel, presented her personal insights into the challenges and contradictions faced by Cuban women today. In an extensive interview with the state-run Alma Plus TV, Cuesta discussed issues such as machismo, family roles, women's professional development, and identity within the Cuban state's institutional framework.

"Being a woman and managing responsibilities at work and home remains a challenge," Cuesta acknowledged, admitting that despite six decades of public policies "defending women," initiated by the Federation of Cuban Women (FMC), Cuban women still encounter significant barriers. "Even with supportive men who are not sexist and strive for women's advancement, we still bear the major family responsibilities," she emphasized.

One of the most revealing moments of the interview occurred when Cuesta recounted her childhood and her father's influence. Describing him as a retired military officer with a "macho" attitude at home, she shared, "One day, I found out through television that my father wasn't considered sexist. They praised him. I was stunned because at home, he was. Nevertheless, he didn't stop me. Or perhaps, he tried but failed."

This anecdote, shared in a personal tone, highlighted a persistent tension: the existence of structural machismo within key Cuban institutions, like the Revolutionary Armed Forces, which manifests at home and restricts women's pathways. Recognizing the potential backlash, Cuesta quickly defended the FMC's achievements as a platform for female empowerment within the so-called revolution. "We still have battles to win, quite a few, but we're handling them well," she asserted.

Cuesta expressed pride in her journey within the institutional system, from her beginnings as a teacher in Holguín to her current role organizing festivals, including the ill-fated San Remo, and culinary events with guidance from her personal chef. From her birthplace in Sancti Spíritus, her education in Holguín, to her move to Havana, where she brought her mother and family (a detail she omitted in the interview), Cuesta endeavored to appear relatable and down-to-earth.

Despite the official tone of her statements, she candidly acknowledged the limits of gender equality in Cuba, where the egalitarian ideal often falls short in practice. "Endurance and progress are key," Cuesta remarked, aligning with Díaz-Canel's ideology of "creative resistance" and "we advance, and it bothers them."

In an era where independent feminism in Cuba is persecuted and criminalized, with minimal space for critical voices, Cuesta's words illustrated the stance of official feminism: rhetorically assertive yet aligned with the regime's power. It's a narrative that doesn't challenge the structure perpetuating inequalities but rather seeks to overcome them through institutional obedience and ideological loyalty.

"Endurance and progress are key," stated a woman flaunting luxury items like Cartier watches, whose heart supposedly aches with the power outages endured by Cuban women, forcing many to cook sparse meals over woodfires. "Endurance and progress are key," echoed a woman untouched by blackouts, transportation issues, or medicine shortages, enjoying private medical facilities for herself and her family, who has not set foot in a ration store since donning Christian Louboutin shoes.

"Endurance and progress are key," declared a woman who trivializes Cuban suffering by affectionately calling her husband "dictator of my heart" and appointing her son, Manuel Anido Cuesta, as a personal advisor—a dandy without a trade, living lavishly in Spain alongside Ana de Armas, a "federated empowered" star from La Colmenita, enamored with shining the boots of the regime's men.