I translated this with Google Translate and ran it through Copilot to smooth the language. I hope it’s accurate, because the piece is powerful.

Reading it, I kept thinking of Madeleine Albright’s answer to Lesley Stahl’s question about the half‑million Iraqi children who died under sanctions: “The price is worth it.” I don’t have polite words for leaders who make decisions like that — then or now.

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A bit disconnected? If only. | Gustavo Horta

A bit disconnected? If only.

It’s just that I don’t think you understand.
I don’t think you do.
And you don’t want to.
At least that’s how it looks.
And honestly, I couldn’t care less.

I’m fed up.
Annoying noises.
Annoying people.
So many annoying people.
The annoying one is me.

There are the humiliated. Passive.
The mocked. Passive.
The messed‑up. Passive.
The torn‑apart. Passive.

Unbelievable.
Such massive, stupefying manipulation.
An entire generation, numbed.
Compliance, complacency, condescension, complicity.

What a boring, backward mess.

—Gustavo Horta

🇨🇺 Cuba 🇨🇺 Cuba 🇨🇺

Open Letter to the World: A Cuban Woman Speaks of a Crime No One Wants to See

To humanity.
To the mothers of the world.
To Doctors Without Borders.
To journalists with dignity.
To governments that still believe in justice.

My name is like that of millions. I carry no famous surname, no important title. I am a Cuban woman of the people — a daughter, a sister, a patriot. And I write this with a broken heart and trembling hands, because what my people are living through is not a “crisis.” It is a slow, calculated suffocation, carried out from Washington.

And the world looks away.

For My Grandparents

I denounce that elderly Cubans die prematurely because the blockade prevents heart medication, blood‑pressure medication, and diabetes medication from reaching the island. This is not a lack of resources. It is a deliberate prohibition. Companies that try to sell to Cuba are fined, threatened, and pursued. Their governments stay silent. And meanwhile, a Cuban grandfather clutches his chest and waits. Death doesn’t warn. The blockade does.

For My Children

I denounce that incubators in Cuba have been shut down for lack of fuel. That newborns fight for their lives while the U.S. government decides which countries may sell us oil. That Cuban mothers have watched their babies’ lives placed at risk because an order signed in an office 90 miles away outweighs the cry of a child.

Where is the international community.
Where are the organizations that defend childhood so fiercely.
Or do Cuban children not deserve to live.

For the Hunger That Is Not Accidental

I denounce intentional hunger.
Not scarcity by chance — scarcity by design.

Ships carrying food are pursued.
Bank transactions are blocked.
Companies that sell us grains, chicken, and milk are sanctioned.

The famine in Cuba is not an accident. It is a policy refined over six decades, adjusted by each administration, intensified under Donald Trump, and pushed further by Marco Rubio. They call it “economic pressure.” I call it hunger as a weapon.

For My Doctors

I denounce that our doctors — the same ones who saved lives during the pandemic — now lack syringes, anesthesia, and X‑ray equipment. Not because we lack knowledge or talent, but because the blockade blocks access to supplies, spare parts, and technology.

Our scientists created five COVID‑19 vaccines. Five. Without help. Against all odds. And still, we are punished for succeeding.

To the World

Cuba does not ask for charity.
Cuba does not ask for soldiers.
Cuba does not ask to be liked.

Cuba asks for justice.

Call the blockade what it is: a crime against humanity.
Stop normalizing the suffering of my people.
Do not be fooled by talk of “dialogue” while the pressure tightens.

We do not want charity.
We want to be allowed to live.

To the governments that stay silent: history will remember.
To the media that distorts: truth finds its cracks.
To those who sign sanctions: the Cuban people do not forget.

To anyone who still carries humanity in their heart:
Look at Cuba.
Look at what is being done.
And ask yourself which side of history you choose.

From a small island with a giant people —
A Cuban woman who refuses to surrender.

If This Moved You, Share It

It doesn’t matter if you have ten friends or ten thousand.
It doesn’t matter if your page is public or private.
It doesn’t matter if you never share anything.

This is different.

This is not a sunset photo.
Not gossip.
Not just another opinion.

This is a cry.
Cries are not kept.
They are heard.
They multiply.

I’m not asking for a “like.”
I’m asking you to use your thumbs for something larger than scrolling.

Share.

So the world knows there is no “crisis” in Cuba — there is a crime.
So mothers elsewhere know that babies here fight for life in darkened incubators.
So grandparents elsewhere know that elders here die waiting for medicine that never arrives.
So complicit governments feel shame.
So dishonest media cannot hide.
So those who enforce this suffering know we will not be silenced.

One person sharing doesn’t change the world.
Millions can.

Do not keep this to yourself.
Do not join the silence.

Let this denunciation travel farther than the blockade.

Share. Now.

Ikay Romay

✊🏼🇨🇺 💔