Red Medalists: Their Sport? Leaving the Communist Party

Among us there exists a frequently practiced sport, but one whose statistics and events are not mentioned anywhere. This is the sport of surrendering the Communist Party card.
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Among us there exists a frequently practiced sport, but one whose statistics and events are not mentioned anywhere. This is the sport of surrendering the Communist Party card, for which many of my compatriots have been preparing for years. Most important is to train the senses to find the right moment to stand in the assembly and say, "Companeros, for reasons of health I can't continue to perform the task you have assigned me." There are those who claim a sick mother whom they must care for, while others announce their intention to retire to spend time with their grandchildren. Few of the testimonies of those who have ended their militancy include the honest confession that they've ceased to believe in the precepts and principles imposed by the Party.

I know one who found a novel way to get out of the meetings, the unanimous votes, the calls for intransigence and the frequent mobilizations of the PCC (Cuban Communist Party). Like a boxer, trained to endure until the sound of the bell, he went to what would be his last meeting at his workplace with the Party core. He surprised everyone with the novelty of his argument, really swinging from the left when no one expected it. "Every day I buy on the black market to feed my family and as a member of the Communist Party I should not be doing this. Because I must choose between putting food on the table for my family or abiding by the discipline of this organization, I prefer to resign." Everyone at the table looked at him with disbelief. "But Richard, what are you talking about. Here most people buy on the black market." The rehearsed "blow" came to end the brief round, "Ah... then I'm leaving because I don't want to belong to a party of hypocrites, who say one thing and do another."

He left the red book with his name and surname on the table where he would never sit again. The medal of a champion was given to him by his own wife when he returned home. "Finally, you're free of the party," she said," while planting a kiss and handing him the towel.

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

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