Reinaldo Arena

A pale man with shaggy black hair smiles slightly. He wears a light jacket and striped scarf.

Content warning for rape, suicide

"Writing those books kept me alive, especially the autobiography. I didn't want to die until I had put the final touches. It's my revenge."

– Reinaldo Arenas

Reinaldo Arenas was a member of the Cuban Revolution. Born into poverty, he joined the movement at the age of sixteen with hopes of overthrowing Cuba’s ruler, Fulgencio Batista. He believed that he was aiding in transforming his country into a place of freedom and peace for all. While the revolution began to gain support and power, however, Arenas slowly became disillusioned. Reinaldo was a gay man, so the freedom the revolution promised was not meant for him.

Realizing that he was just as much what the revolution wanted to quell from Cuba as Batista was, he removed himself from the ideas he supported so fervently before. Instead, he worked on his writing, winning awards and publishing a book called Singing from the Well, the only book of his to be published in Cuba. Even this book, though, was quickly curbed from publication. Only two thousand copies were distributed before it was decided that the writing lacked realism, and it was banned.

This deterrent, however, did not stop his writing but instead strengthened his resolve. He worked as a journalist and editor for a literary magazine while also writing novels. All of his subsequent books would be banned in his home country, but they often receive international acclaim when he was able to smuggle them out. He was also open about his sexuality at a time when sexuality was under the microscope of Castro’s dictatorship.

Castro, himself, was a violent homophobe and pushed his bigoted ideas into the very fabric of his government. He had an idea in his mind of what his country was, and when that idea was challenged, he reacted with anger and oppression. Reinaldo Arenas challenged many of Castro’s attempts at self-deception. Where Castro believed that the rural areas were paradises for his hateful belief system, once saying, “In the country, there are no homosexuals.” The obvious answer to that was Reinaldo who lived in a rural area and was a gay man.

As queer people around the country were being sent to labour camps modelled after the concentration camps of the Nazi regime, Reinaldo was forced to marry a woman to give the illusion of heterosexuality and gain housing. Despite the marriage, he was denied a home. Years after this, he was robbed, and upon reporting this to the police, he was arrested. While he was arrested for being gay and sending one of his novels across the border to be published without the government’s permission, that is not what was reported.

In an attempt to disgrace Reinaldo, the police claimed that he was being sent to jail for raping and murdering an older woman. The only benefit of this outright lie is that it spared Reinaldo from being jailed with other queer people and receiving the same brutal treatment they did. Instead, he was put with rapists and murderers, which led to him receiving better treatment from the guards and fellow inmates.

As many other inmates could not write, Reinaldo wrote love letters to their partners for them, using the back of the pages he was given to write his work. It was only after being tortured for years in prison that Reinaldo finally signed a “confession” which stated he detested homosexuality, recanted all of his writings, and said the only hope of redemption was to embrace the revolution and constantly work on its behalf. He was also forced to sign a confession saying that he raped a minor - another claim that was completely fabricated in an attempt to justify his torture to the global community.

It was only in 1979 that Reinaldo was finally able to escape Cuba. Reinaldo walked into the police station, declared his sexuality, lied about his name, and managed to secure his freedom. He then moved to Florida, where he worked as a visiting professor and taught a course in Cuban poetry. In 1980, he went to New York City, having received an invitation to speak at Columbia University. He continued writing there, living in Hell’s Kitchen without a telephone, and contributing to a magazine for other Cuban refugees.

In the winter of 1987, however, Reinaldo was diagnosed with AIDs. Unable to afford treatment, he killed himself three years later. He left two suicide notes: one for the police, describing his death's particulars, and the other as an open letter to other people who were forced to leave Cuba.

The second suicide note is available for any who wishes to read it. In a conversation with a friend, Reinaldo said:

“I want to die. I don't want my health to improve...and then deteriorate again. I've been through too many hospitalizations already. After I was diagnosed with PCP [AIDS pneumonia], I asked Saint Virgilio Piñera, to give me three years to live so that I could complete my body of work. Saint Virgilio granted me my request. I'm happy. I do wish, though, that I had lived to see Fidel kicked out of Cuba, but I guess it won't happen during my lifetime. Soon, I hope, his tyranny will end. I feel certain of that.”

Twenty-six years later, Reinaldo’s prophecy was completed. Castro, the man who terrorized a nation, is gone, and though his brother replaced him, it is worth taking a moment to be thankful for this. Reinaldo Arenas was tortured, harassed, and falsely accused of horrific crimes. The only positive is through it all, he kept writing. He never gave up that power to Castro. He kept working. While looking at all he was forced to endure it is hard to know how he was able to keep on. Even in his last days when it became painful for him to speak, he still kept going, dictating his autobiography to a tape recorder. He said of this:

“The writer has a fundamental responsibility to write well or to write the best he can because if he doesn’t, he’s not a writer. And when a writer writes, he’s always referring to a social and historical context. It’s impossible for Argentinian writers not to write as Argentinians because to be Argentinian is a circumstance of fate like it is to be Cuban.

When you analyze the bourgeois writer’s novel, you see the shortcomings of bourgeois society. Even when you try to write a fantasy story, in some way, that fantasy is going to be connected to reality. But regardless, if someone is a true writer—not an opportunist who wants to be in favor with the government of the day—that person is always going to be for freedom. The simple truth is that without freedom, the writer cannot exist. And the writer who is for freedom is, by definition, not for any totalitarian system. So the duty of the writer is to write well and champion freedom. And he champions freedom because he has an obligation—what better obligation than this?”

[Disclaimer: some of the sources may contain triggering material]

Kirchick, J. (2016, November 27). Fidel Castro’s Horrific Record on Gay Rights. The Daily Beast. Retrieved from http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2016/11/27/don-t-forget-fidel-castro-s-brutal-oppression-of-gay-people.html

Manrique, J. (2003). In Memoriam: Reinaldo Arenas. BOMB Magazine. Retrieved from http://bombmagazine.org/article/6392/in-memoriam-reinaldo-arenas

Manrique, J. “A Sadness As Deep As The Sea”. ACT UP. Retriever from http://www.actupny.org/diva/CBmanrique.html

McDowell, E. (1990, December 9). Reinaldo Arenas, 47, Writer Who Fled Cuba, Dies. The New York Times. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/1990/12/09/obituaries/reinaldo-arenas-47-writer-who-fled-cuba-dies.html

Slater, A. (2013, December 5). The Literature of Uprootedness: An Interview With Reinaldo Arenas. The New Yorker. Retrieved from http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-literature-of-uprootedness-an-interview-with-reinaldo-arenas

Slater, A. (2013, December 19). On Exile and the Longing for Home: Cuban Writer Reinaldo Arenas. The Huffington Post. Retrieved from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ann-tashi-slater/on-exile-and-the-longing-_b_4451017.html

Tatchell, P. (2001, June 8). The Defiant One. The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/film/2001/jun/08/cuba.artsfeatures