Queens of the Revolution at the Havana Glasgow Film Festival

One of the most remarkable films we’ve ever shown at Havana Glasgow Film Festival, and one that got the best audience reception, was Rebecca Heidenberg’s Queens of the Revolution, a documentary about a revolutionary LGBTQ+ centre in Cuba that focuses on the history of trans people on the island. It’s customary for films to receive a round of applause at festivals; this had the audience clapping and cheering long before the credits rolled, due in part to one particularly defiant drag act standing up to violence.

The film is a unique document of El Mejunje (Spanish for ‘mixture’ or ‘concoction’) which was set up by Ramon Silveria in the city of Santa Clara, – which, coincidentally, was the decisive location in the Cuban Revolution – as the island’s first LGBT cultural centre in 1991. This idea was revolutionary for the times, a space for everyone – not just queer people, but straight friends and potential allies – to freely mix and express themselves without fear.

Cuba, like all countries, has long had a conflicted response to its queer population, which is powerfully conveyed in the film, through oral histories conducted with the protagonists, who speak powerfully about their experiences of being persecuted for their gender non-conformity against the backdrop of a macho society. Castro’s revolutionary project sought to create a ‘new man’, but that new man would be formulated within the strictures of conventional gender codes , and there could be severe penalties – including incarceration and conversion therapy – for those who deviated from ‘the norm’.

One of the most striking aspects about the film, and the testimony of the Queens themselves, is the manner in which they still stay loyal to their identity as Cubans, and to the ideals of the Revolution, despite all that they have suffered. Cuba today is one of the most liberal Latin American countries for LGBTQ+ people to live in, with one of the highest levels of trans visibility in the world, and trans health care officially available. However, the reality of life on the ground isn’t so rosy, as the film demonstrates, with transphobia still lurking, partly driven by a resurgence in Christianity on the island.

These problems aren’t specific to Cuba, of course, as authoritarian regimes clamp down on newly-gained freedoms worldwide. Queens of the Revolution, with its conception of the revolution of daily life as an ongoing project, has much to say to us as well, as the UK is currently being dragged into a moral panic over these issues as part of a larger culture war.

We spoke with the film’s director Rebecca Heidenberg ahead of bringing the film back to Scotland for a mini tour.

HGFF – What was your initial interest in making a film with a Cuban subject?

RH – It was really learning about El Mejunje that drew me into the film—it’s such a powerful, incredible space and I was really intrigued by the idea of diving into and learning about what it was actually like.

HGFF – How did you discover El Mejunje, and what do you think its importance is in Cuban culture?

RH -Kristen Brown, who worked on the film as a DP, had been introduced to the space through members of the punk band Adictox. She was working with a Canadian organisation that was bringing instruments to musicians as they can be extremely hard to access. Through that work, she met them and they brought her to El Mejunje. They perform in the film with Juana. She came back from this trip and I was in graduate school studying film and was looking for a subject. I was immediately intrigued. I think El Mejunje has played a huge role in Cuba and continues to be a very important space in the country as well as in the hearts of those who have left. 

HGFF – How is El Mejunje regarded by the town of Santa Clara, and how does it fit in?

RH – El Mejunje offers so many opportunities for different types of people of all ages and backgrounds to feel at home there, so I think it really is kind of the heart of Santa Clara. From kids’ shows on Sunday mornings with clowns and other performers to live music and dancing Sunday afternoons with older folks, hip hop, spoken word, punk shows, art shows and everything in between, it has a huge reach and is really driven at its core by an incredible ethos of inclusivity and openness. Even as a foreigner, I was immediately welcomed and felt at home. 

HGFF – Ramon Silverio comments that El Mejunje is an ongoing revolutionary project, like the Cuban Revolution itself. What are your thoughts on this?

RH -Silverio is a very firm believer in the core ethos of the Revolution and so are most of the subjects in the film. I think this is a very important point that many people find hard to swallow – they see only the failed parts of the Revolution and do not see any possibility in it and frankly can’t understand how any Cuban would support it. For Silverio, he acknowledges how they have failed but believes that they must keep changing and growing while maintaining the ethos. What he has built with El Mejunje is kind of a microcosm of the utopian vision of Revolution that fails on a larger scale. At El Mejunje, while he is the director, he is extremely humble and has no interest in power or money, so many of those ideals that are destroyed by politicians can survive at El Mejunje. Of course there are still problems, but as he says, it is an ongoing project.

HGFF – While filming the centre, your focus shifts to the role of the trans people there – how did this occur, or was it a conscious decision?

RH – Their community was always going to be important to the film but it was really in post-production that it became clear it had to be the focus. We filmed many, many people that we were sad to cut from the film but in the end, we had to narrow the focus.

HGFF – One of the most surprising aspects of the film is how devoted the Queens are to Cuba as a country, and the role of the Revolution, despite the suffering they have endured. Why do think this is?RH – Yes, there is a deep love of the country. That said, some people did end up leaving in recent years. I think that there is a stark contrast with what’s understood about the way of life in the United States for example, and that particularly in El Mejunje’s community, the notion of collectivity is really vital and important. For them, that is also Cuba. You do sense that collectivity – it is how we made the film. So many people jumped in to support the film and we all worked together to make it happen. I think Joel says it so eloquently when he talks about staying—it was really hard but they stayed and changed the country. From the outside, we see it sometimes as so black and white but in reality, it’s not like that. It’s very complex and there is so much beauty in Cuba, it’s an incredible place.

HGFF – The interviewees speak very candidly about their – sometimes harrowing – experiences. How easy was it to get them to open up?

RH – I never forced that. It was really important to build trust and real relationships with people and then I never asked questions that directly asked people to reveal anything. All of the interviews were done with open-ended questions only so that the subjects could guide and shape their own narrative. I think that given the space, most people do want to share their story. People want to be understood, but it has to come from them.

HGFF – I know that last time we spoke, the Queens hadn’t seen the film. Have they seen it yet, and if so, what was their reaction?

RH – Unfortunately, not yet, but Eirene (Houston, HGFF’s director) is working on bringing it to Santa Clara so hopefully that will happen soon!

HGFF – Trans rights are the focus of intense debate at the moment, and coming under attack in the US and UK. What do you think this film can teach about Cuba can teach us in the Anglosphere?

RH -For me, one of the most important aspects of the film is that it is kind of a study of this incredible space that made a real impact on the larger culture and legislation too.I think El Mejunje can be viewed as a template, and its community members as role models. For me, I think the most powerful changes happen on a small scale, face-to-face, and then grow and expand. It also teaches us that community and perseverance are the keys to change.

Text – Brian Beadie

review: queens of the revolution

Reeling 2021: Queens of the Revolution celebrates queer Cubans and the lives they have built

BY B.L. PANTHER, September 21, 2021

Documentarian Rebecca Heidenberg presents Cuba’s queer community and the work they have done to make the revolution theirs with care and thought.

This review is part of our 2021 coverage of Reeling: The Chicago LGBTQ+ International Film Festival

Being part of any revolution means staying with the trouble. Rebecca Heidenberg’s insightful new documentary Queens of the Revolution introduces a community of queer people who have remained in Cuba during its dynamic and sometimes dangerous history to form Mejunje, a safe space in Santa Clara, that they can call their own. The documentary is a testament to their resilience and a gentle treatise on what it means to lead a queer revolutionary life.

Throughout the ninety-minute documentary, Heidenberg introduces an incredible array of gay, lesbian, trans, and HIV-positive folks who willingly offer up their stories, hopes, and ideas. Many of them know people or have themselves been put in prison, exile, or forced labor because of their sexualities and identities during the fraught time leading up to the fall of communism and afterward—when Cuba’s economy cratered. Despite these injustices and cruelties, each makes a point to say that they remain inspired by the revolution and its idea that they are no insignificant workers or people.

Queens of the Revolution‘s main guides through the streets of Santa Clara are Ramon Silverio, Senora Cynthia, and The Queen Mother. Silverio founded Mejunje (meaning ‘mixture’ or ‘concoction’) in 1991 as a public place where all people, not just queer people, could mix freely as themselves. His commitment to this space and Cuba is grounded in patriotic love for his people. His strong words for those who abandoned the nation come from a place of intense belief that Cuba has to be made better and only Cubans can build a better Cuba.

The fabulous Senora Cynthia demonstrates life for Cuban drag queens. Many of these performers work with limited resources. But they have learned how to make fabulous costumes and makeup from things around the house (or in the case of one queen who ground brick to make blush, from the house itself). These queens have been doing this themselves in spiritual service to their community for years. It’s endearing to see them interacting and supporting new queens as they’re folded into the family.

It’s The Queen Mother, a transgender rock n roller with Elizabeth Taylor eyeliner, who gives us a bitter perspective about queer life in Cuba. She was the first woman to be arrested for not wearing the appropriate clothes for what the state considered her gender and spent a good deal of the 80s and early 90s in and out of prison. Through depression, substance abuse, and attempted suicide, Queen Mother remains standing as a testament to the willpower of trans people to survive in the face of state violence and live to tell their stories.

Queens of the Revolution does an excellent job at
showing that the revolution is ongoing.

Cuba did change its policies towards queer people, but only after queer people made the revolutionary cause a gay rights issue. Like the United States government, the post-revolution Cuban government penalized and punished queer folks for not conforming to its aesthetic and sexual expectations of its ideal citizens.

Since the early 1990s though, the government has unlearned much of its sexual hegemony, though the work continues. “Homophobia, no! Socialism, yes!” the queer community chants in the street during Cuba’s first trans pride parade,  celebrating TransCuba’s fifteenth anniversary as a sanctuary for Cuba’s queer and trans people. It’s a passionate display of Cuban revolutionary pride that makes clear that the queer struggle and the struggle for socialism are inexorably intertwined.

This is most evident in Senora Cynthia’s story. At first, her tale feels tragically common, an all-too-familiar hate crime story to stand alongside far too many similar tales. Still, Senora Cynthia’s story has a uniquely Cuban ending: she did not have to leave the hospital swamped with medical debt. While she does not discuss this directly, the relief in her voice as she about being able to heal and continue the struggle unburdened by debt is palpable.

While it might be tempting for American audiences to shame the Cuban government for its homophobia and transphobia, Queens of the Revolution does an excellent job at showing that the revolution is ongoing. Political movements grow and change, just like people, because they’re composed of people. Though it’s evident that queer people in Cuba aren’t yet fully socially or politically acceptable, it’s equally clear that these revolutionaries see themselves as part of a work in progress: even when that process gets difficult, they’re in it together for the good of everyone.


Best World Documentary

The Harlem International Film Festival (Hi) announced the award winning films and filmmakers for this year’s virtual edition. Voodoo Macbeth was named Best Narrative Feature, with Tarabu Betserai Kirkland’s 100 Years from Mississippi taking the award for Best Documentary Feature. Ílker Savaskurt’s Reflection (Ákis) was cited as Best World Film (Narrative) and Rebecca Heidenberg’s Queens of the Revolution took the prize for Best World Documentary.

Review: Queens of the Revolution

Inside the loving, revolutionary walls of El Mejunje

BY SARA HUTCHINSON, 10:31PM, TUE. NOV. 17, 2020

“We live in a world that demands resistance,” explains a speaker early on in Queens of the Revolution.

Rebecca Heidenberg’s new documentary ( which got its world premiere at the Sound Unseen Film Festival) tells the story of El Mejunje, a cultural center in Santa Clara, Cuba. It serves as a hub of social resistance, a safe harbor for Santa Clara’s queer community, and an artistic powerhouse. At El Mejunje, we meet all the key characters of the film. Drag queens preparing for their performances, long standing employees, and loyal patrons who have spent decades as members of the community.

It’s clear from the start that El Mejunje is a special, even sacred place for its members. And while the center serves as the connecting fiber for all of the film’s subjects, each character offers up their own story. It’s remarkable how many different experiences the film is able to capture: the HIV+ custodian, who remains a proud Cuban despite being incarcerated by the government or the grande dame of the house, Cynthia, who mentors young performers, despite her own traumatic past.

Each story is simultaneously miraculous and devastating, yet, thanks to the film's observational tone, the sadness of the stories never becomes heavy handed. We watch the queens prepare for an organized action, see them chant “Yes Socialism, No Homophobia!” or we listen to them speak plainly about their struggles as queer people. Yet there’s no further commentary beyond these everyday scenes and the historical and policy implications of their lived experiences, while inherent, are left implicit.

Poet and academic Audre Lorde once described self-preservation as “an act of political warfare.” And of course, she was right. Living a life honestly and openly, despite great persecution, existing in spite of violent oppression is most certainly an act of resistance in and of itself. Yet, it feels wrong to describe the film as a story of resilience or one of resistance, even though it is both those things.

Most essentially, it feels like a story of creation. Unlike many of their LGBTQ+ peers who fled the country during Cuba’s most severe period of persecution, the community of El Mejunje chose to stay. It’s their home after all, and, as many speak about in the film, they’re too proud of it to leave it behind. In Queens of the Revolution, we witness world builders, carving out a safer, more beautiful, and entirely new place to call home.

Top Tracks for Sound Unseen Film + Music Festival

Queens of the Revolution

The story of El Mejunje, a cultural center in Santa Clara, Cuba, that has served as a powerful force in expanding LGBTQIA rights for more Top Tracks for Sound Unseen Film + Music Festivalthan four decades. The center has also provided a safe harbor for the queer community and is an artistic powerhouse in and of itself, regularly hosting drag shows, punk rock, and spoken word performances. Rebecca Heidenberg's film follows multiple members of El Mejunje, building a joyful and meditative portrait of a remarkable community that has survived despite great persecution – a reminder to us all how revolutionary it is to live a life boldly and honestly. (World premiere.)


Sound Unseen festival unveils virtual 2020 lineup

MOVIES

Sound Unseen festival unveils virtual 2020 lineup with Bee Gees, Bowie films

By Chris Riemenschneider

OCTOBER 22, 2020 — 12:05PM

One of the Twin Cities’ most popular film festivals — and quite a popular music event, too — Sound Unseen will live on as a virtual marathon in 2020 led by movies aboutfamous dead musicians, including David Bowie, Frank Zappa and the Bee Gees.

Since all the events are happening virtually this year, Sound Unseen is being made intoan interstate affair with involvement from Austin, Texas, which has a better film sceneand almost as good a music scene as the Twin Cities. Sound Unseen director JimBrunzell moved there several years ago to head up the All Genders, Lifestyles andIdentities Film Festival (aGLIFF).

Austin music hero Kathy Valentine of the Go-Go’s has thus been lined up for one ofSound Unseen’s virtual discussions. Other talks will include Twin Cities music scribesJim Walsh and Steven Hyden and director Allan Moyle and actress Samantha Mortonfrom “Pump Up the Volume,” which will be given a 30th anniversary screening.

The full schedule and list of films for Sound Unseen 2020 are up now on the festival’s website (http://www.soundunseen.com/take-action)