Commentary
Mariela Castro’s ‘little ticks’
Former Cuba president’s daughter mocked independent LGBTQ activists

Editor’s note: Tremenda Nota, the Washington Blade’s media partner in Cuba, published this op-ed on its website on May 8. Tremenda Nota published a Spanish version on May 6.
LA HABANA — Mariela Castro Espín sparked another controversy this past Tuesday at the socially-distanced, online launch of the annual Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia. The organization she leads, Cuba’s National Center for Sexual Education (CENESEX), has organized the event since 2008.
The legislator, government official, and LGBTI activist, broadcasting together with the lawyer Manuel Vázquez Seijido and the journalist Francisco Rodríguez Cruz, took the opportunity to denigrate those who pursue activism outside of Cuba’s governmental institutions. She referred to them as “cheap junk” and “little ticks.”
In Cuba’s revolutionary tradition, anyone who speaks without the government’s backing is pre-emptively discredited as prejudiced. For those with a militant anti-Castro mindset, anyone who speaks from the government’s institutions is similarly discredited.
So as not to play this game myself, and to give Mariela Castro the credit she deserves, I have to mention that she has advanced LGBTI rights in every area she could influence. And she’s fought for them in the Cuban parliament, closed as it is to any debate. All the prestige she enjoys among international LGBTI organizations was earned.
The legal aid, educational, and health services CENESEX offers decisively favor the aspiration of equality of the gay, lesbian, and trans community in a country that has had more homophobic and transphobic policies than other western nations, particularly since the Cuban revolution.
For the LGBTI community, the work of this agency and the discussion spaces it has promoted were a revolution. People far from Cuba and with other perspectives have criticized this as “pinkwashing.” Here, in our day-to-day lives, considering the charismatic leadership she exercises as a “fag hag,” she’s seen as an all-powerful fairy godmother.
For the fags arrested in some cruisy spot, or for the trans people rejected when they apply for a job, Mariela’s name is a talisman. She’s a “boss” who inspires the same degree of devotion that most of the Cuban people dedicated to Fidel Castro.
This cult-like mentality is not how healthy institutions function, but it’s become normalized in Cuba. The people justify it, undoubtedly because they lack other experiences of political participation. I do not know how she sees it herself, nor if, in her most revolutionary moments, she critiques this model.
Where CENESEX and Mariela Castro have contributed nothing to LGBTI activism is when it comes to horizontality, transparency, and coherency, all qualities this movement demands as its size and ambition grow.
That a heterosexual, cisgender person, not a fag, not a dyke, not trans-anything, would be the activist with most recognition and authority, reveals the incoherent foundation underlying Cuba’s official activism.
Mariela Castro also fails to critique the system she inherited, a social project that excluded sexual dissidence. When she has had to take sides, as in 2018 — when Cuban politicians suppressed a revision to the constitution about marriage equality and agreed to submit it to a national referendum in two years — she aligned herself with the official position and asked her followers to do the same, betraying themselves in order to remain loyal to the system.
There is a moment that marked the close of Mariela Castro’s time as an activist, leaving her role as a government official intact. The dilemma she lived for years was resolved on May 11, 2019, the day when hundreds of LGBTI people and allies marched through Havana to protest the cancellation of one of the public activities that Mariela herself promoted for a decade.
She had to speak about this on television, and what came out was the voice of an official. At that time, denying her activist side and offering no evidence, she said that the independent march was not legitimate, that it was paid for by the enemies of the state. In contrast to those who referred to it as “the Cuban Stonewall,” she said it did not deserve a place in the LGBTI history of Cuba and the world.
Her attitude towards the events of May 11, the only attitude she could hold as a government official, liquidated all Mariela’s prestige as an activist. The violent images we all remember were the government’s response to its LGBTI citizens.
Some of the “little ticks” she referred to yesterday had to leave the country after May 11. Others continue in Cuba and struggle to work independently, despite the legal limits imposed by the government when it prevents them from incorporating legally or raising funds, as CENESEX does.
The metaphor of the “little ticks” reminds us of Mariela’s other controversial phrases with the same folksy flavor. And in this case, it’s very apt. Out-of-control activists are insects that bite. The legislator, fixated as she is on disobedient activists, wants an insecticide. May 11 was the end of arrests. The plague must be treated with a spray.
Yesterday, Mariela said that independent LGBTI activists lack “political culture,” but this should be read only as a lack of adherence to the authoritarian social project of the Communist Party of Cuba. Among these activists, there are liberals, those who sympathize with the U.S. sanctions, but also anarchists, libertarian communists, and anticapitalists.
Mariela gives the traditional response of the political class in Cuba towards the conservative opposition, as though there were no other to give, as thought she was left without adequate language for the “Elvis-Presleyans,” as Fidel called them.
What does Mariela Castro have to say to those of us who disapprove of U.S. interference into Cuba’s affairs, but also reject the authoritarian style of the Cuban government?
Her anachronistic response, her willful lack of understanding — as though her previous blunders and insulting metaphors weren’t enough — will cost her more than silence would, with all the “cheap junk” who marched through Havana, against tradition, without the White House and without Revolution Square.
Today, on World AIDS Day, we honor the resilience, courage, and dignity of people living with HIV everywhere especially refugees, asylum seekers, and queer displaced communities across East Africa and the world.
For many, living with HIV is not just a health journey it is a journey of navigating stigma, borders, laws, discrimination, and survival.
Yet even in the face of displacement, uncertainty, and exclusion, queer people living with HIV continue to rise, thrive, advocate, and build community against all odds.
To every displaced person living with HIV:
• Your strength inspires us.
• Your story matters.
• You are worthy of safety, compassion, and the full right to health.
• You deserve a world where borders do not determine access to treatment, where identity does not determine dignity, and where your existence is celebrated not criminalized.
Let today be a reminder that:
• HIV is not a crime.
• Queer identity is not a crime.
• Seeking safety is not a crime.
• Stigma has no place in our communities.
• Access to treatment, care, and protection is a human right.
As we reflect, we must recommit ourselves to building systems that protect not punish displaced queer people living with HIV. We must amplify their voices, invest in inclusive healthcare, and fight the inequalities that fuel vulnerability.
Hope is stronger when we build it together.
Let’s continue to uplift, empower, and walk alongside those whose journeys are too often unheard.
Today we remember.
Today we stand together.
Today we renew hope.
Abraham Junior lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan.
Commentary
Perfection is a lie and vulnerability is the new strength
Rebuilding life and business after profound struggles
I grew up an overweight, gay Black boy in West Baltimore, so I know what it feels like not to fit into a world that was not really made for you. When I was 18, my mother passed from congestive heart failure, and fitness became a sanctuary for my mental health rather than just a place to build my body. That is the line I open most speeches with when people ask who I am and why I started SWEAT DC.
The truth is that little boy never really left me.
Even now, at 42 years old, standing 6 feet 3 inches and 225 pounds as a fitness business owner, I still carry the fears, judgments, and insecurities of that broken kid. Many of us do. We grow into new seasons of life, but the messages we absorbed when we were young linger and shape the stories we tell ourselves. My lack of confidence growing up pushed me to chase perfection as I aged. So, of course, I ended up in Washington, D.C., which I lovingly call the most perfection obsessed city in the world.
Chances are that if you are reading this, you feel some of that too.
D.C. is a place where your resume walks through the door before you do, where degrees, salaries, and the perfect body feel like unspoken expectations. In the age of social media, the pressure is even louder. We are all scrolling through each other’s highlight reels, comparing our behind the scenes to someone else’s curated moment. And I am not above it. I have posted the perfect photo with the inspirational “God did it again” caption when I am feeling great and then gone completely quiet when life feels heavy. I am guilty of loving being the strong friend while hating to admit that sometimes I am the friend who needs support.
We are all caught in a system that teaches us perfection or nothing at all. But what I know for sure now is this: Perfection is a lie and vulnerability is the new strength.
When I first stepped into leadership, trying to be the perfect CEO, I found Brené Brown’s book, “Daring Greatly” and immediately grabbed onto the idea that vulnerability is strength. I wanted to create a community at SWEAT where people felt safe enough to be real. Staff, members, partners, everyone. “Welcome Home” became our motto for a reason. Our mission is to create a world where everyone feels confident in their skin.
But in my effort to build that world for others, I forgot to build it for myself.
Since launching SWEAT as a pop up fundraiser in 2015, opening our first brick and mortar in 2017, surviving COVID, reemerging and scaling, and now preparing to open our fifth location in Shaw in February 2026, life has been full. Along the way, I went from having a tight trainer six pack to gaining nearly 50 pounds as a stressed out entrepreneur. I lost my father. I underwent hip replacement surgery. I left a relationship that looked fine on paper but was not right. I took on extra jobs to keep the business alive. I battled alcoholism. I faced depression and loneliness. There are more stories than I can fit in one piece.
But the hardest battle was the one in my head. I judged myself for not having the body I once had. I asked myself how I could lead a fitness company if I was not in perfect shape. I asked myself how I could be a gay man in this city and not look the way I used to.
Then came the healing.
A fraternity brother said to me on the phone, “G, you have to forgive yourself.” It stopped me in my tracks. I had never considered forgiving myself. I only knew how to push harder, chase more, and hide the cracks. When we hung up, I cried. That moment opened something in me. I realized I had not neglected my body. I had held my life and my business together the best way I knew how through unimaginable seasons.
I stopped shaming myself for not looking like my past. I started honoring the new ways I had proven I was strong.
So here is what I want to offer anyone who is in that dark space now. Give yourself the same grace you give everyone else. Love yourself through every phase, not just the shiny ones. Recognize growth even when growth simply means you are still here.
When I created SWEAT, I hoped to build a home where people felt worthy just as they are, mostly because I needed that home too. My mission now is to carry that message beyond our walls and into the city I love. To build a STRONGER DC.
Because strength is not perfection. Strength is learning to love an imperfect you.
With love and gratitude, Coach G.
Gerard Burley, also known as Coach G, is a D.C.-based fitness entrepreneur.
Commentary
Elusive safety: what new global data reveals about gender, violence, and erasure
Movements against gender equality, lack of human rights data contributing factors.
“My identity could be revealed, people can say whatever they want [online] without consequences. [Hormone replacement therapy] is illegal here so I’m just waiting to find a way to get out of here.”
-Anonymous respondent to the 2024 F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index from Iraq, self-identified as a transgender woman and lesbian
As the campaign for 16 Days Against Gender-Based Violence begins, it is a reminder that gender-based violence (GBV) — both on– and offline — not only impacts women and girls but everyone who has been harmed or abused because of their gender or perceived gender. New research from the Franklin & Marshall (F&M) Global Barometers and its report A Growing Backlash: Quantifying the Experiences of LGBTQI+ People, 2022-2024 starkly show trends of declining safety among LGBTQI+ persons around the world.
This erosion of safety is accelerated by movements against gender equality and the disappearance of credible human rights data and reporting. The fight against GBV means understanding all people’s lived realities, including those of LGBTQI+ people, alongside the rights we continue to fight for.
We partnered together while at USAID and Franklin & Marshall College to expand the research and evidence base to better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons through the F&M Global Barometers. The collection of barometers tracks the legal rights and lived experiences of LGBTQI+ persons from 204 countries and territories from 2011 to the present. With more than a decade of data, it allows us to see how rights have progressed and receded as well as the gaps between legal protections and lived experiences of discrimination and violence.
This year’s data reveals alarming trends that highlight how fear and violence are, at its root, gendered phenomena that affect anyone who transgresses traditional gender norms.
LGBTQI+ people feel less safe
Nearly two-thirds of countries experienced a decline in their score on the F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index (GBPI) from 2022-2024. This represents a five percent drop in global safety scores in just two years. With almost 70 percent of countries receiving an “F” grade on the GBPI, this suggests a global crisis in actual human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people.
Backsliding on LGBTQI+ human rights is happening everywhere, even in politically stable, established democracies with human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people. Countries in Western Europe and the Americas experienced the greatest negative GBPI score changes globally, 74 and 67 percent, respectively. Transgender people globally reported the highest likelihood of violence, while trans women and intersex people reported the highest levels of feeling very unsafe or unsafe simply because of who they are.
Taboo of gender equality
Before this current administration dismantled USAID, I helped create an LGBTQI+ inclusive whole-of-government strategy to prevent and respond to GBV that highlighted the unique forms of GBV against LGBTQI+ persons. This included so-called ‘corrective’ rape related to actual or perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression” and so-called ‘conversion’ therapy practices that seek to change or suppress a person’s gender identity or expression, sexual orientation, or sex characteristics. These efforts helped connect the dots in understanding that LGBTQI+ violence is rooted in the same systems of inequality and power imbalances as the broader spectrum of GBV against women and girls.
Losing data and accountability
Data that helps better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons is also disappearing. Again, the dismantling of USAID meant a treasure trove of research and reports on LGBTQI+ rights have been lost. Earlier this year, the US Department of State removed LGBTQI+ reporting from its annual Human Rights Reports. These played a critical role in providing credible sources for civil society, researchers, and policymakers to track abuses and advocate for change.
If violence isn’t documented, it’s easier for governments to deny it even exists and harder for us to hold governments accountable. Yet when systems of accountability work, governments and civil society can utilize data in international forums like the UN Universal Periodic Review, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, and the Sustainable Development Goals to assess progress and compliance and call for governments to improve protections.
All may not be lost if other countries and donors fill the void by supporting independent data collection and reporting efforts like the F&M Global Barometers and other academic and civil society monitoring. Such efforts are essential to the fight against GBV: The data helps show that the path toward safety, equality, and justice is within our reach if we’re unafraid of truth and visibility of those most marginalized and impacted.
Jay Gilliam (he/him/his) was the Senior LGBTQI+ Coordinator at USAID and is a member of the Global Outreach Advisory Council of the F&M Global Barometers.
Susan Dicklitch-Nelson (she/her/hers) is the founder of the F&M Global Barometers and Professor of Government at Franklin & Marshall College.
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