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A non-binary Cuban artist is born again in Spain

Nonardo Perea suffered persecution in his homeland

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Nonardo Perea (Photo courtesy of Nonardo Perea)

Nonardo Perea lives in Michel’s body. He uses it at will to be vulgar, angelic or diabolical, male or female. Nonardo can be whatever he wants. Michel, shy and withdrawn, hides behinds that alter ego that lends him his face and hands to show the world his claims as an artist.

Nonardo is an invention that comes to life in photographs, video art, performances, stories, installations, journalistic articles, ceramics, and whatever other format is possible, since Nonardo long ago lost any limits. His mind lost that ability as he reinvented himself as an empirical artist, as no one ever gave him the opportunity to attend art school.

He has been greatly misunderstood, mainly because his pieces overflowed with eroticism and Cuba is still too prudish to appreciate his queer art and his other works the regime has labeled as “politically incorrect.” Michel and Nonardo were discriminated against by society and the dictatorship that governs the country and represses anyone who does not agree with its dogmas.

Nonardo nevertheless overcame those barriers and began creating, without anyone’s guidance. He was first a writer and received some tools once he graduated from the Onelio Jorge Cardoso Literary Training Center in Havana. He won several competitions, such as the 2017 Franz Kafka Prize for his work “Los amores ejemplares” and the 2012 Félix Pita Rodríguez Prize for the novel “Donde el diablo puso la mano.”

In the visual arts, where he is usually very restless, he won the third prize for photography at the GendErotica Festival for “La casa por la ventana 2014” with his Vulgarmente Clásica project. He participated in the Bienal 00, organized by independent artists, with his “En la cama con Nonardo” project and presented Vulgarmente Clásica at Madrid’s La Neomudéjar Museum in 2019.

Nonardo belongs to the San Isidro Movement, a group of independent artists and intellectuals who fight for a democratic Cuba. That battle has also been fought through his art and in pursuit of LGBTQ rights, such as marriage and adoption rights for same-sex couples, and an end to gender violence that remains a problem on the island.

Nonardo Perea used his art to highlight his opposition to Cubans voting on whether same-sex couples should have the right to marry. (Photo courtesy of Nonardo Perea)

Due to his work and political activism for a truly democratic Cuba, Nonardo suffered police harassment and Cuban state security agents threatened him with jail. Fearing for his life, he took refuge in Spain, a country where he feels he has been reform and from which he speaks with the Washington Blade.

WASHINGTON BLADE: Those who follow your art on social networks and off of them know you as Nonardo, but few know that your real name is Michel. How and why was Nonardo Perea born?

NONARDO PEREA: I remember starting my writing career and I needed another name that was not so common. I did a big search and I didn’t like any of them. I wanted a unique name if possible. One afternoon I was sitting in the living room of my house with my father and I told him about the need for a name. It was he who proposed Nonardo. At first it sounded a bit ugly to me, but then with Perea it seemed a little better. It had strength. I liked it because it began with “no”, denial, and was followed by “nardo”, flower, that is, Nonardo had a lot to do with me. Since then I started using it for all of my work, both literary and audiovisual.

BLADE: How does your artistic training take into account that you are an empirical creator?

PEREA: My artistic creation from the beginning was always very complicated, taking into account that I had to abandon my studies at an early age for inclusion reasons, so I have no academic training; then add to that that I am a very obvious gay. At one point in my teens I was seen as a person who was too feminine. The fact of looking like a woman was a problem when trying to fit in a macho and homophobic society. Where I first tried to break through was in writing. I started by attending literary workshops, where I won several contests quite quickly. I was never exempt from criticism and rejection of the themes that my narrations addressed, which almost always focused on LGBTQ issues and dirty realism. Many times I felt that being the way I am made many uncomfortable. But despite the rejections and bad times that I lived in various periods of my life, I continued doing narrative, and I also began to write articles about social issues for the Havana Times digital newspaper. Then, over time, I had the opportunity to apply to a video journalism workshop in Prague organized by the People in Need organization, and thanks to a woman I love very much, Clara González, who saw some potential in me, I was accepted to participate in the course, in which I learned some video editing, and received help with equipment that helped me to start doing audiovisual work with better quality. All my creative works have been done empirically, and above all I am an artist who works based on improvisation.

BLADE: You have ventured into artistic genres as different as writing, journalism and acting. How do you define yourself as an artist and why?

PEREA: I am a person who cannot be inactive. I spend every day of my life thinking about doing something new. Sometimes I have so many things on my mind, and the fact that I can’t do everything I want to do makes me feel a bit frustrated. I have no words to define myself, I can only say that in some way my creative processes have helped me to cope with the life that I had to live, everything I have done and do has served as a way of escape from reality and everyday life, I could no longer live without creating.

BLADE: In a recent interview you precisely declared that your art was a process of liberating yourself. What exactly do you free yourself from when you create?

PEREA: I free myself from the day-to-day, the everyday, my fears and censorship.

BLADE: In most of your visual works you work with your own image. Why?

PEREA: I use myself as an artistic object because in Cuba I lived in solitude for a long time. I somehow isolated myself and created a space of comfort in my home, a place where I felt more free. The confinement somehow helped me to stay away from society that did not tire of making me feel bad about my obvious homosexual condition in much of my youth. My literary proposals and art in general, on the other hand, were not taken into account. I always perceived that most people underestimated me, and proposing someone to collaborate with me on erotic photographs without receiving anything in return was complicated, and still is. I have control over my body. If I want to undress in a photo or in a video, even if I feel sorry, I strip myself of complexes and do it. If I want to take a photograph that is too vulgar, I also do it. I do not have to request permission from anyone to do so. I don’t put up barriers. I take a risk, then I think that they say what they want. I understand that I am doing a job where I express my personal and social problems, as a human being.

BLADE: You identify yourself as an androgynous person. How many difficulties has that brought you considering that you have lived most of your life and developed your work in Cuba, a country where macho and homophobic ideals still predominate?

PEREA: I consider myself a non-binary androgynous person, because I do not identify with any sex. I can feel at ease as a girl as well as a boy. I have no problem with male or female pronouns. I do not like to victimize myself, but I can tell you that the road has been very difficult, and it has been not only for me, but for many other gays and lesbians who have chosen not to hide their sexual identity in their lives and have had to fight against the world. Being who I am in Cuba has not helped me much in terms of being able to be recognized for my work, but being who I am has helped me to strengthen myself and to understand that I do not need the approval of any institution to continue creating. I am a Cuban artist and like it or not, a large part of my work was created in Cuba.

BLADE: Many Cuban artists prefer to separate their creations from politics and even refuse to give their true judgment on the situation on the island. However, your work has a high dose of activism against the dictatorship and in defense of LGBTQ rights. What consequences, professional and personal, has being an artist labeled by the Cuban regime as “counterrevolutionary” brought you?

PEREA: The main consequence is that I had to go into exile; leave the country where I was born, abandon my mother and family, my friends, my dogs and a lifetime. But I think it had to be that way. There was no other way than to say goodbye, because under no circumstances was I going to allow my creative processes to stop, and above all I was going to continue doing my activism. I know that perhaps I was not going to be able to withstand so much pressure from state security agents, who wanted me to collaborate with them to expose my colleagues from the San Isidro Movement. If I returned to Cuba right now, I don’t know what my life would have been like from that moment on. If being a counterrevolutionary means saying what I think, and being in favor of oppressed minorities, and being against a dictatorship that has left Cuba and its people in a nameless misery for 61 years, then I am a counterrevolutionary and with great honor. I have nothing for which to thank that country, where I was always seen as a freak, and what little I got was thanks to my effort and dedication, because while in Cuba I received criticism and obstacles for everything, for this reason they are collecting what they sowed with me, they do not expect roses from me.

BLADE: In Cuba, to be accepted as part of the official LGBTQ movement you have to share the ideology of the dictatorship, the same one that put equal marriage to a popular vote and represses independent activists. In your opinion, what are the dangers of “politicizing” the struggle of the Cuban gay movement?

PEREA: The danger is in seeing how it becomes politicized. While in Cuba, I never stopped going to the marches staged by CENESEX (the National Center for Sexual Education) and I will not forget how Mariela Castro (CENESEX’s director and the daughter of former Cuban President Raúl Castro) herself politicized those mini-carnival marches with slogans in favor of the five spies imprisoned in the Empire (a reference to the U.S.), and with cries of “socialism yes and homophobia no.” I do not remember seeing any gay or lesbian carrying a sign demanding equal marriage, or demanding freedoms, or a law against gender violence. It is really pathetic considering that the system itself is the number one cause of the persistence of homophobia and constant abuse of people from the community, mainly transgender people, in Cuba, a country where your rights are constantly violated, either because of race or sexual orientation. Those marches were politicized by CENESEX itself in favor of a supposed socialism, which has never worked and will never work because that is a hybrid between communism and underdeveloped capitalism, and we all know that it is nothing other than a dictatorship, and of the crudest in history because it has managed to last for 61 years. If Mariela Castro and all her loyal followers politicize the march for their benefit, I don’t see why the community cannot independently arm its own fight in favor of the most basic rights of the LGBTQ community in Cuba.

IDAHOT, International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia, Havana, Cuba, gay news, Washington Blade
A march in support of the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia the National Center for Sexual Education organized in Havana on May 14, 2016. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

BLADE: In what way has the forced exile that you have faced in Spain changed your work?

PEREA: Right now I continue to do what I want to do, regardless of being in Spain. I still feel that I am in Cuba. My vision as an artist has not changed much. I’ve only been here a year and seven months, although I believe that wherever I am, in some way my work will be linked to that of the island because I have not yet cut that umbilical cord that links me to the place where I was born and took my first steps. It is true that one acquires other mechanisms of creation and invoicing in the work while abroad, but at the moment I do not think that the focus of my work has changed much because of being in another country. Of course, here in Europe there are other problems that I may be able to take advantage of, but be that as it may, they will be appreciated from the perspective of an exiled Latin American artist.

BLADE: On a personal level, what has it been like to be a gay immigrant in Europe?

PEREA: I am very grateful for Spain, mainly for Madrid, which is the place where I have lived since I arrived in 2019. At the moment, I have not felt discriminated against because of my sexual orientation or because I am a foreigner. I have received emotional and legal support from the NGO Rescate, which welcomed me and where I have received the care that I never had in my own country. With all the social and political problems that may exist, it is in this country where I have somehow been able to know what true freedom is.

BLADE: What can we expect from Nonardo Perea in the near future?

PEREA: I am in another difficult moment in my life right now, because I cannot find a job, and I do not receive any money for my artistic work, so what I do is for the love of art and because I cannot stop building my own world. The COVID situation has managed to make things more difficult, not only for me but for everyone, but taking into account that I am an exile and that I have been here for a short time, it is very complicated. Even so, I eventually continue to make video art for the Vulgarmente Clásica audiovisual project, which I have been doing for several years. And more recently I started with a new project, “Maricón Tropical: Living in Madrid”, this one is a bit more comprehensive not to call it ambitious because I insert various artistic manifestations: Performance, audiovisual, literature, drawing and photography, and it is focused on my new life as an exile in Madrid, everything seen from a self-referential point of view, as are almost all my proposals.

BLADE: If you had to create a work that describes your life right now, what would it be like?

PEREA: I consider that my life, my true life, has started now, what it was before was not. For the purposes I was born on March 19, 2019, when I set foot in Spain. All the past is left behind. I want to imagine that the past was a bad dream. My “Maricón Tropical: Living in Madrid” project is a work that somehow reflects that past, which is unfortunately impossible to forget and it is also good that people know what that other life was like, but I focus more on the present, my current problems as a person who faces a new life as an adult who feels like a newborn. I can only tell you that my life’s work is in progress.

Part of Nonardo Perea‘s “Maricón Tropical: Living in Madrid” series (Photo courtesy of Nonardo Perea)
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MISTR’s Tristan Schukraft on evolution of HIV prevention

From ACT UP to apps, embracing stigma-free care

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Tristan Schukraft (Photo courtesy of Schukraft)

It was not too long ago that an HIV diagnosis was read as a death sentence. In its earlier decades, the HIV/AIDS crisis was synonymous with fear and loss, steeped in stigma. Over recent years, open conversation and science have come together to combat this stigma while proactively paving the way for life-saving treatments and preventive measures like PrEP. Now, in 2026, with discreet and modern platforms that meet people where they’re at in their lives, HIV prevention has evolved from hushed words of warning into something far more sex-positive and accessible. Game-changing services like MISTR are a testament to this shift, showing our community that healthcare doesn’t have to feel clinical or shaming to work. It can be empowering and, dare I say,  celebratory.

Few people embody this evolution quite like Tristan Schukraft, founder of MISTR. With one hand in healthcare and the other high-fiving through queer nightlife, Schukraft gets that, from the bar to the bedroom and beyond,  prevention happens in person and in real life. His approach has helped turn PrEP, DoxyPEP, and testing into normalized parts of our daily queer life, reaching hundreds of thousands of people across the US.

In our conversation, Schukraft shares candidly about stigma, policy, and why the future of sexual health depends on keeping it real.

BLADE: You have one hand in healthcare and the other in nightlife and queer spaces. Can you share with us how these two spheres impact and inform each other? How do they impact and inform you? 

SCHUKRAFT: Honestly, for me, they’ve never been separate. Nightlife and queer spaces are where people meet, date, hook up, fall in love, and make friends. That’s real life. Being in queer spaces all the time keeps me grounded and reminds me who we’re building MISTR for. 

BLADE: MISTR markets sexual health in a sex-positive, stigma-free fashion. Can you share with us how you measure the impact of this approach? 

SCHUKRAFT: This year, we held the first-ever National PrEP Day.  Dua Lipa performed, and Cardi B was there.  After the event, Cardi B went on her Instagram live to encourage people to sign up for PrEP.  

When you make sexual health stigma-free and sex positive, people talk about it. We see it in how people use the platform. When 700,000 people are willing to sign up, get tested, start PrEP, and add things like DoxyPEP, that tells us we’ve made it feel safe and normal instead of scary or awkward. And then we see it in the results. Since we expanded DoxyPEP, STI positivity among our patients dropped by half.  

BLADE: How have you seen the conversation of sexual health in our LGBTQ+ community change in mainstream culture in recent years? 

SCHUKRAFT: Ten years ago, nobody was casually talking about PrEP, and if they did, it likely referenced one being a Truvada whore. Now it’s part of the culture. Popstars like Troye Sivan post pictures of their daily PrEP pill on social media. Cardi B goes on Instagram Live telling people to get on PrEP.  

For many sexually active gay men, taking PrEP is simply part of the gay experience.  For people in more remote areas, it might not be as talked about. Particularly in rural or more conservative places, MISTR can be a life-changing option. No awkward visits to the family doctor or the local pharmacy where everybody knows your business. It’s all done discreetly online and shipped straight to your door. 

BLADE: You have publicly argued that cuts to government HIV prevention funding are of high risk. Would you please elaborate for us on what those budget decisions mean on an individual level? 

SCHUKRAFT: It means real people fall through the cracks. Someone doesn’t get tested. Someone waits too long to start PrEP. Someone finds out they’re HIV-positive later than they should have. Community clinics will be the hardest hit, especially those in underserved communities. The good news is that MISTR is ready to help people who might lose their access to care. All you need to do is sign up at mistr.com, and it’s totally free with or without insurance. 

BLADE: From your (and MISTR’s) perspective, how do these funding cuts threaten ongoing efforts to end the HIV epidemic? 

SCHUKRAFT: For the first time, we have all the tools to end HIV. If everybody who is HIV negative is taking PrEP and everyone HIV+ is virally suppressed, we can end all new HIV transmissions in the United States.  We have everything we need today.  All we need is to get more people on PrEP. Cutting funding risks losing that momentum. Ending HIV requires scale and consistency. Every time funding gets cut, you lose momentum, trust, and infrastructure, and rebuilding that takes years. 

HIV transmissions don’t pause because budgets change. 

BLADE: In our current climate of decreased federal investment, what role do you feel private healthcare and business should play in sexual health? 

SCHUKRAFT: With reports that the current administration is considering cuts to HIV and prevention funding,  we face a moment of reckoning. At the same time, some employers are seeking to exclude PrEP and HIV prevention from their coverage on religious freedom grounds. If these challenges succeed, and if federal funding is slashed, the consequences for public health will be devastating. But this is where the private sector must step up to fill the gap, bridge divides, and deliver results. 

Businesses have the power and platform to normalize HIV prevention and drive measurable outcomes. At MISTR, we see firsthand what’s possible: since introducing DoxyPEP, STI positivity rates among our patients have been cut in half. But it’s not just about medication. It’s about messaging.  

Our sex-positive, stigma-free marketing speaks directly to our community, making sexual health part of everyday life. No awkward doctor visits, no needles, no paperwork — just free online PrEP and STI testing, prescribed by real physicians and delivered to your door. That kind of impact could grow exponentially if more employers embraced this approach and made HIV prevention part of their employee wellness programs. 

Employers, this is your call to action. Start by making sure your health plans cover PrEP and DoxyPEP. Partner with platforms like MISTR to give employees private, stigma-free access to care. Offer on-site testing. Talk openly about sexual health, not just during Pride, but every day of the year. This is not political — this is about protecting lives, strengthening communities, and building a healthier, more productive workforce. Because healthy employees aren’t just good for public health — they’re good for business. 

When the private sector steps up, outcomes improve. And when businesses align with platforms like MISTR, scaling impact isn’t just possible — it’s happening. 

BLADE: Has MISTR experienced any direct effects from these recent shifts in public health funding? 

SCHUKRAFT: MISTR’s unique model is totally free for patients with or without insurance, and we don’t cost the government or taxpayers a penny. We are scaling up our efforts to reach people who might be losing their access or care. 

BLADE: What would be your message to policymakers who are considering further cuts to HIV/AIDS programs? 

SCHUKRAFT: During his first term, President Donald Trump committed unprecedented resources to the Ending the HIV Epidemic initiative here at home. Bipartisan support has shown what’s possible when bold leadership meets smart strategy. To policymakers: I urge you to reconsider any cuts to HIV prevention funding. This is not the time to pull back. It’s the time to push forward. Ending HIV is within reach — but only if government, private industry, and community organizations stand together. 

BLADE: What is one perhaps overlooked win from last year that impacted you on a personal level? 

SCHUKRAFT: Seeing our STI positivity rate drop by half after expanding DoxyPEP. 

BLADE: Looking at the year ahead, what are MISTR’s most significant priorities for sexual health in 2026? 

SCHUKRAFT: Expanding access, especially in the South and in communities that still get left out. Rolling out injectable PrEP. And just continuing to make sexual healthcare easier and more normal. 

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PHOTOS: Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leather 2026

Gage Ryder wins annual competition

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Gage Ryder, center, wins the title of Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leather 2026 in a competition at the Hyatt Regency Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, Jan. 18. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The 2026 Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leather competition was held at the Hyatt Regency Capitol Hill on Sunday. Seven contestants vied for the title and Gage Ryder was named the winner.

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

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Voiceless ‘Antony & Cleopatra’ a spectacle of operatic proportions

Synetic production pulls audience into grips of doomed lovers’ passion

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Stella Bunch as Mardian and Irina Kavsadze as Cleopatra in Synetic Theatre's ‘Antony & Cleopatra.’ (Photo by Katerina Kato)

‘Antony & Cleopatra’
Through Jan. 25
Synetic Theater at
Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre
450 7th St., N.W.
Synetictheater.org

A spectacle of operatic proportions, Synetic Theater’s “Antony & Cleopatra” is performed entirely voiceless. An adaptation of the Bard’s original (a play bursting with wordplay, metaphors, and poetic language), the celebrated company’s production doesn’t flinch before the challenge. 

Staged by Paata Tsikurishvili and choreographed by Irina Tsikurishvili, this worthy remount is currently playing at Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Klein Theatre, the same venue where it premiered 10 years ago. Much is changed, including players, but the usual inimitable Synectic energy and ingenuity remain intact.  

As audiences file into the Klein, they’re met with a monumental pyramid bathed in mist on a dimly lit stage. As the lights rise, the struggle kicks off: Cleopatra (Irina Kavsadze) and brother Ptolemy (Natan-Maël Gray) are each vying for the crown of Egypt. Alas, he wins and she’s banished from Alexandria along with her ethereal black-clad sidekick Mardian (Stella Bunch); but as history tells us, Cleopatra soon makes a triumphant return rolled in a carpet.  

Meanwhile, in the increasingly dangerous Rome, Caesar (memorably played by Tony Amante) is assassinated by a group of senators. Here, his legendary Ides of March murder is rather elegantly achieved by silver masked politicians, leaving the epic storytelling to focus on the titular lovers. 

The fabled couple is intense. As the Roman general Antony, Vato Tsikurishvili comes across as equal parts warrior, careerist, and beguiled lover. And despite a dose of earthiness, it’s clear that Kavsadze’s Cleopatra was born to be queen.

Phil Charlwood’s scenic design along with Colin K. Bills’ lighting cleverly morph the huge pyramidic structure into the throne of Egypt, the Roman Senate, and most astonishingly as a battle galley crashing across the seas with Tsikurishvili’s Antony ferociously at the helm.

There are some less subtle suggestions of location and empire building in the form of outsized cardboard puzzle pieces depicting the Mediterranean and a royal throne broken into jagged halves, and the back-and-forth of missives.

Of course, going wordless has its challenges. Kindly, Synectic provides a compact synopsis of the story. I’d recommend coming early and studying that page. With changing locations, lots of who’s who, shifting alliances, numerous war skirmishes, and lack of dialogue, it helps to get a jump on plot and characters.

Erik Teague’s terrific costume design is not only inspired but also helpful. Crimson red, silver, and white say Rome; while all things Egyptian have a more exotic look with lots of gold and diaphanous veils, etc. 

When Synetic’s voicelessness works, it’s masterful. Many hands create the magic: There’s the direction, choreography, design, and the outrageously committed, sinewy built players who bring it to life through movement, some acrobatics, and the remarkable sword dancing using (actual sparking sabers) while twirling to original music composed by Konstantine Lortkipanidze.

Amid the tumultuous relationships and frequent battling (fight choreography compliments of Ben Cunis), moments of whimsy and humor aren’t unwelcome. Ptolemy has a few clownish bits as Cleopatra’s lesser sibling. And Antony’s powerful rival Octavian (ageless out actor Philip Fletcher) engages in peppy propaganda featuring a faux Cleopatra (played by Maryam Najafzada) as a less than virtuous queen enthusiastically engaged in an all-out sex romp. 

When Antony and Cleopatra reach their respective ends with sword and adder, it comes almost as a relief. They’ve been through so much. And from start to finish, without uttering a word, Kavsadze and Tsikurishvili share a chemistry that pulls the audience into the grips of the doomed lovers’ palpable passion.

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