News
Una ciudad cubana que no quiere ser gueto
Santa Clara se debate espacios exclusivos para la comunidad LGBT

Una noche de sábado en el Cabaret Cubanacán, de Santa Clara. (Foto por Yariel Valdés González/Tremenda Nota)
Esa nota salió originalmente en el sitio web de Tremenda Nota.
SANTA CLARA, Cuba — Una de las ciudades cubanas más hospitalarias con las personas LGBTI+ también se debate entre la demanda de espacios exclusivos para las minorías sexuales y las desigualdades económicas que crecen en la Isla.
Cada sábado Miguel Antonio Castillo viaja cerca de dos kilómetros para encontrar una discoteca.
En San Diego del Valle, su primer destino, hay pocos lugares para bailar o simplemente disfrutar de espectáculos culturales. Por eso, desde que supo que existía una “noche para las personas LGBTI+” en Santa Clara, la capital de la provincia, Miguel Antonio decidió alargar su travesía por más de 30 kilómetros hasta el Cabaret Cubanacán.
“Las actividades que hacen allá [en San Diego del Valle] son muy generales,” se queja. “Y tampoco hay un día específico para los homosexuales.”
Al joven le seduce que “en las fiestas gais todos son gais.” Además, allí puede “encontrar amigos e intercambiar con personas que tienen gustos sexuales, estéticos o musicales similares, sin riesgo de sufrir homofobia.”
Más allá de las cabeceras municipales cubanas la recreación se reduce a una discoteca improvisada y a un parque central donde la gente se reúne a “cotillear.” Las fiestas concebidas para personas LGBTI+ tampoco son comunes más allá de La Habana y de algunas capitales provinciales.
En la pequeña ciudad de Camajuaní, a 20 kilómetros de Santa Clara, nunca ha prosperado una “fiesta diversa,” aseguran varias personas LGBTI+ entrevistadas por Tremenda Nota.
Según Leonel Jacomino Jiménez, promotor del proyecto Hombres que tienen sexo con otros hombres (HSH), las gestiones para crear un espacio inclusivo “tienen que hacerse sobre la base de cartas y tocando puertas para molestar a algunos funcionarios del gobierno.”
En otros casos, como ocurrió el pasado año en Sagua la Grande, una de las principales ciudades de la provincia, las fiestas LGBTI+ fracasan por falta de público o de buenas estrategias de promoción.
Solo el proyecto itinerante “Me incluyo,” organizado por el promotor cultural Ramón Silverio, creador y director de El Mejunje, ha presentado espectáculos de transformismo y otras actividades inclusivas en poblados y zonas apartadas.
Santa Clara, por su parte, cuenta con tres espacios que celebran las llamadas “fiestas gais,” y que incluyen shows de transformismo. El Centro Recreativo El Bosque, el Cabaret Cubanacán y El Mejunje de Silverio son los únicos lugares que introducen en su cartelera semanal una “noche diversa.”

En la última década las “fiestas diversas” han alcanzado varias ciudades cubanas, aunque todavía La Habana y Santa Clara son las que ofrecen más opciones recreativas “exclusivas” para las personas LGBTI+. (Foto por Yariel Valdés González/Tremenda Nota)
¿Gueto homosexual?
Junto al Cabaret Cubanacán funciona otro espacio recreativo nombrado Disco Isla. Los públicos se muestran segregados cada sábado. De un lado hacen fila las personas gais, trans y lesbianas; del otro aparecen jóvenes heterosexuales que evitan mezclarse con “sus vecinos.” Las personas LGBTI+ permanecen en el gueto “asignado” socialmente.
“La creación de espacios exclusivos genera también una especie de exclusión,” cree Félix Izaguirre, un joven que hace fila para entrar a otra de las “fiestas diversas” de la ciudad.
“Mucha gente no va al Cabaret los sábados ni vienen a El Mejunje, precisamente porque saben que es noche gay,” dice. “Siempre existen heterosexuales que tienen amigos gais y los acompañan sin prejuicios, pero son los menos.”
Ramón Silverio creó hace más de tres décadas el centro cultural El Mejunje, acusado en sus primeros años de ser un “club exclusivo para personas gais.” Sin embargo, la institución sobrevivió el paso del tiempo y, en vez de apartar en un gueto a las personas LGBTI+, abrió las puertas al resto de la sociedad.

El público asiste a un show de transformismo en El Mejunje. (Foto por Yariel Valdés González)
Aun así, muchas personas homosexuales y transgéneros prefieren acudir a “espacios exclusivos para gais.” Javier Olivera, transformista que se presenta en el escenario de El Mejunje como Cinthia, aseguró que en sitios “aparentemente para heterosexuales” suele encontrarse conflictos entre la clientela homofóbica y los gais.
Por eso, Denet Oliva Triana, colega de Javier conocida como Blacuchini, respalda la existencia de lugares dedicados a la comunidad LGBTI+, aunque siente que está “en un círculo” que le lleva siempre al mismo sitio con la misma gente.
Si es caro no es incluyente
A pesar del éxito del Cabaret Cubanacán y del Centro Recreativo El Bosque ― actualmente en reparación ―, el sitio más popular para la comunidad LGBTI+ de Santa Clara sigue siendo El Mejunje, por sus razonables precios y su cercanía al centro de la ciudad.
“Cada uno se divierte donde le permiten sus ingresos,” aseguran varios entrevistados. Las incipientes clases sociales que se consolidan en Cuba hace más de una década también dividen a las minorías sexuales.
Al Cubanacán, al Bosque, van quienes cuentan con mejor economía, pues solo la entrada cuesta como mínimo 25 pesos (1 CUC, equivalente a un dólar). Ese precio, por ejemplo, quintuplica el valor del boleto de entrada a El Mejunje.
En un país donde el salario medio es 767 pesos mensuales (poco más de 30 dólares estadounidenses), “no se puede decir que un lugar sea inclusivo si cobra cuarenta pesos por la entrada,” advierte Ramón Silverio.
Reinaldo Gil, un joven artista plástico, confirma que “al Cubanacán va la gente que tiene un poco más de dinero.” Al principio, cuando acababan de abrir la “noche diversa” en el cabaret, “los mismos trabajadores de allí te discriminaban un poco, existía homofobia.”
“En el Carishow — una céntrica discoteca de la cadena de servicios extrahoteleros Palmares — a veces no aceptan que entren los homosexuales,” denuncia Gil.
Sin embargo, uno de los agentes de seguridad del Carishow aseguró a Tremenda Nota que allí nunca han existido manifestaciones de homofobia y que “se trata a todos los clientes por igual,” en tanto se comporten de acuerdo a “las normas generales establecidas” en el centro recreativo.
Hace algunos meses dos jóvenes fueron expulsados de Efe Bar, en La Habana, supuestamente por besarse dentro del establecimiento privado. También el KingBar, otro centro nocturno bastante frecuentado de la capital, invocó el derecho de admisión para negar la entrada al poeta Norge Espinosa y un grupo de activistas LGBTI+ en 2015.

La transformista Blancuchini (a la izquierda) durante una de sus presentaciones en el Cabaret Cubanacán de Santa Clara (Foto por Yariel Valdés González)
Orlando Reinoso Castillo, barman del bar Tacones Lejanos de El Mejunje, se atreve a asegurar que este resulta el único sitio en la ciudad frecuentado a diario por personas gais que se mezclan sin dificultad con la población heterosexual, o con las chicas trans, o con los “pepillos.”
“A este lugar le llaman el bar de los escachados,” comenta, en alusión a los bajos ingresos de muchos clientes. “Además, aquí vienen las parejas, se besan y no pasa nada. La diversidad es tan natural en El Mejunje como sus ladrillos.”
Arts & Entertainment
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Colombia
Gay Venezuelan man who fled to Colombia uncertain about homeland’s future
Heberth Aguirre left Maracaibo in 2018
BOGOTÁ, Colombia — A gay Venezuelan man who has lived in Colombia since 2018 says he feels uncertain about his country’s future after the U.S. seized now former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.
“On one hand I can feel content, but on the other hand I feel very concerned,” Heberth Aguirre told the Washington Blade on Tuesday during an interview at a shopping mall in Bogotá, the Colombian capital.
Aguirre, 35, is from Maracaibo, Venezuela’s second-largest city that is the heart of the country’s oil industry.
He developed cultural and art initiatives for the Zulia State government.
“Little by little, I suddenly became involved in politics because, in a way, you had to be involved,” recalled Aguirre. “It was necessary to be involved because the regime often said so.”
“I basically felt like I was working for the citizens, but with this deeply ingrained rule we had to be on their side, on the side of the Maduro and (former President Hugo) Chávez regime,” he added.
Maduro in 2013 became Venezuela’s president after Chávez died.
“There are things I don’t support about the regime,” Aguirre told the Blade. “There are other things that were nice in theory, but it turned out that they didn’t work when we put them into practice.”
Aguirre noted the Maduro government implemented “a lot of laws.” He also said he and other LGBTQ Venezuelans didn’t “have any kind of guarantee for our lives in general.”
“That also exposed you in a way,” said Aguirre. “You felt somewhat protected by working with them (the government), but it wasn’t entirely true.”
Aguirre, 35, studied graphic design at the University of Zulia in Maracaibo. He said he eventually withdrew after soldiers, members of Venezuela’s Bolivarian National Guard, and police officers opened fire on students.
“That happened many times, to the point where I said I couldn’t keep risking my life,” Aguirre told the Blade. “It hurt me to see what was happening, and it hurt me to have lost my place at the university.”
Venezuela’s economic crisis and increased insecurity prompted Aguirre to leave the country in 2018. He entered Colombia at the Simón Bolívar Bridge near the city of Cúcuta in the country’s Norte de Santander Province.
“If you thought differently, they (the Venezuelan government) would come after you or make you disappear, and nobody would do anything about it,” said Aguirre in response to the Blade’s question about why he left Venezuela.
The Simón Bolívar Bridge on the Colombia-Venezuela border on May 14, 2019. (Washington Blade video by Michael K. Lavers)
Aguirre spoke with the Blade three days after American forces seized Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, at their home in Caracas, the Venezuelan capital, during an overnight operation.
The Venezuelan National Assembly on Sunday swore in Delcy Rodríguez, who was Maduro’s vice president, as the country’s acting president. Maduro and Flores on Monday pleaded not guilty to federal drug charges in New York.
President Donald Trump on Tuesday in a Truth Social post said Venezuela’s interim authorities “will be turning over between 30 and 50 million barrels of high quality, sanctioned oil, to the United States of America.”
“This oil will be sold at its market price, and that money will be controlled by me, as president of the United States of America, to ensure it is used to benefit the people of Venezuela and the United States,” wrote Trump.
Trump on Sunday suggested the U.S. will target Colombian President Gustavo, a former Bogotá mayor and senator who was once a member of the M-19 guerrilla movement that disbanded in the 1990s.
Petro has urged Colombians to take to the streets on Wednesday and “defend national sovereignty.” Claudia López, a former senator who would become the country’s first female and first lesbian president if she wins Colombia’s presidential election that will take place later this year, is among those who criticized Trump’s comments.
“Let’s be clear: Trump doesn’t care about the humanitarian aspect,” said Aguirre when the Blade asked him about Trump. “We can’t portray him as Venezuela’s savior.”
Meanwhile, Aguirre said his relatives in Maracaibo remain afraid of what will happen in the wake of Maduro’s ouster.
“My family is honestly keeping quiet,” he said. “They don’t post anything online. They don’t go out to participate in marches or celebrations.”
“Imagine them being at the epicenter, in the eye of the hurricane,” added Aguirre. “They are right in the middle of all the problems, so it’s perfectly understandable that they don’t want to say anything.”
‘I never in my life thought I would have to emigrate’
Aguirre has built a new life in Bogotá.
He founded Mesa Distrital LGBTIQ+ de Jóvenes y Estudiantes, a group that works with migrants from Venezuela and other countries and internally placed Colombians, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Aguirre told the Blade he launched the group “with the need to contribute to the general population, not just in Colombia.”
Aguirre met his husband, an American from California, at a Bogotá church in December 2020 during a Christmas event that SDA Kinship Colombia, an LGBTQ group, organized. A Utah judge virtually officiated their wedding on July 12, 2024.
“I love Colombia, I love Bogotá,” said Aguirre. “I love everything I’ve experienced because I feel it has helped me grow.”
He once again stressed he does not know what a post-Maduro Venezuela will look like.
“As a Venezuelan, I experienced the wonders of that country,” said Aguirre. “I never in my life thought I would have to emigrate.”
The Colombian government’s Permiso por Protección Temporal program allows Aguirre and other Venezuelans who have sought refuge in Colombia to live in the country for up to 10 years. Aguirre reiterated his love for Colombia, but he told the Blade that he would like to return to Venezuela and help rebuild the country.
“I wish this would be over in five years, that we could return to our country, that we could go back and even return with more skills acquired abroad,” Aguirre told the Blade. “Many of us received training. Many of us studied a lot. We connected with organizations that formed networks, which enriched us as individuals and as professionals.”
“Returning would be wonderful,” he added. “What we’ve built abroad will almost certainly serve to enrich the country.”
District of Columbia
Imperial Court of Washington drag group has ‘dissolved’
Board president cites declining support since pandemic
The Imperial Court of Washington, a D.C.-based organization of drag performers that has raised at least $250,000 or more for local LGBTQ and non-LGBTQ charitable groups since its founding in 2010, announced on Jan. 5 that it has ended its operations by dissolving its corporate status.
In a Jan. 5 statement posted on Facebook, Robert Amos, president of the group’s board of directors, said the board voted that day to formally dissolve the organization in accordance with its bylaws.
“This decision was made after careful consideration and was based on several factors, including ongoing challenges in adhering to the bylaws, maintaining compliance with 501(c)(3) requirements, continued lack of member interest and attendance, and a lack of community involvement and support as well,” Amos said in his statement.
He told the Washington Blade in a Jan. 6 telephone interview that the group was no longer in compliance with its bylaws, which require at least six board members, when the number of board members declined to just four. He noted that the lack of compliance with its bylaws also violated the requirements of its IRS status as a nonprofit, tax-exempt 501(c) (3) organization.
According to Amos, the inability to recruit additional board members came at a time when the organization was continuing to encounter a sharp drop in support from the community since the start of the COVID pandemic around 2020 and 2021.
Amos and longtime Imperial Court of Washington member and organizer Richard Legg, who uses the drag name Destiny B. Childs, said in the years since its founding, the group’s drag show fundraising events have often been attended by 150 or more people. They said the events have been held in LGBTQ bars, including Freddie’s Beach Bar in Arlington, as well as in other venues such as theaters and ballrooms.
Among the organizations receiving financial support from Imperial Court of Washington have been SMYAL, PFLAG, Whitman-Walker Health’s Walk to End HIV, Capital Pride Alliance, the DC LGBT Community Center, and the LGBTQ Fallen Heroes Fund. Other groups receiving support included Pets with Disabilities, the Epilepsy Foundation of Washington, and Grandma’s House.
The Imperial Court of Washington’s website, which was still online as of Jan. 6, says the D.C. group has been a proud member of the International Court System, which was founded in San Francisco in 1965 as a drag performance organization that evolved into a charitable fundraising operation with dozens of affiliated “Imperial Court” groups like the one in D.C.
Amos, who uses the drag name Veronica Blake, said he has heard that Imperial Court groups in other cities including Richmond and New York City, have experienced similar drops in support and attendance in the past year or two. He said the D.C. group’s events in the latter part of 2025 attracted 12 or fewer people, a development that has prevented it from sustaining its operations financially.
He said the membership, which helped support it financially through membership dues, has declined in recent years from close to 100 to its current membership of 21.
“There’s a lot of good we have done for the groups we supported, for the charities, and the gay community here,” Amos said. “It is just sad that we’ve had to do this, mainly because of the lack of interest and everything going on in the world and the national scene.”
