I grew up in a typical Cuban family; my father was a communist party member as many family members.
Me, on the other hand, always felt out of place. In the ’80s, during my teenage years, we were a “rebellious youth,” listening to American music and not believing a word that came from the government or our parents, which looked pretty much like the same.
In those days, the Cuban government sent many of my friends and I to schools where you had to do hard labor as part of the daily routine.
I always felt the communist system is there to penalize individual expressions, and we were trying as any other youth, to find our voices and ourselves.
Schools in the Fields.
In this society, I was accused more than once of “Diversionismo Ideológico” ( ideological distortion or something like that). You were not the “new men” they wanted to create.
In this type of system, people learn to comply with the authority and even get afraid of your thoughts. It’s a life of making believe and say what the other ones want you to say.
I never played that game well, so my communist friends will never understand why I was not afraid of speaking my mind, and they tried more than once to change me unsuccessfully. My rebellious mind took me in many not so good experiences, including expulsions of schools, meetings with the school directors or the communist party leader at school or work.
I grew accustomed to staying on the sidelines while watching all the none sense take charge. At an earlier age, I notice how everyone plays the government line and live big hypocrisy. I told myself I would not do that, and I always declined to participate in political acts.
I also had dreams; I’ve read about what people can accomplish in the USA and how individual efforts are rewarded. I always dreamed of going to the USA to try hard to create something and be someone.