From Cuba With Love, They Can't Wipe the Smile off My Face

I've forgotten the last time I cried, even though I'm not particularly strong when faced with the vagaries of life; on the contrary, I consider myself overly sentimental and given to tears. However, for more than a year I have decided to be happy at any cost, inoculating myself with placidity in anticipation of worse times. I resist letting them dim my smile, or turn me into a paranoiac, always looking over my shoulder to see who is following me.

This childish inclination to frolic has allowed me to cope with the denials of permission to travel, the radioactive circle in which they try to envelop me, the insults, the defamation campaigns, the control of the political police, and even the neurosis about possible microphones in my house. I have tried to celebrate, even what they have taken from me, like the possibility of travel, attending the various prize ceremonies, access to Generation Y from Cuban networks, contact with many of my friends, attending cultural events in my own country, and witnessing the launch of my books.

Just today I am inebriated with satisfaction because a compilation of my texts titled, "De Cuba, com carinho...", From Cuba with Love, will be launched this afternoon in Brazil. Mindful of the three hour time difference that separates me from Rio de Janeiro, I will celebrate at 5:00 pm the beautiful edition of my posts in Portuguese. I will show my teeth from several yards distance, not only because they are large with gaps, but because of the permanent laugh I wear on my face. A corrosive laugh that the grim faces of those who have prevented me from going there cannot understand; a stab of delight that cuts and pierces those who don't know how to handle the unexpected joy of the captive.

Yoani's blog, Generation Y, can be read here in English translation.