Patria Y Vida: The Song That Sparked A Cuban Revolution
Throughout history, songs have shaped generations and nations, influencing decisions, even sparking rebellions.
In Cuba, many songs have helped people see the harsh realities of their situation—some expressing them directly and others with veiled lyrics. But in 2021, one song changed Cuba’s history and its people.
That year, Cubans were still enduring the repercussions of the COVID-19 pandemic, compounded by the ongoing crisis of food and medicine shortages.
Then I remember seeing a news broadcast that shocked my family and me. We saw the San Isidro Movement, a group reportedly assaulting homes and businesses. There were images of houses being destroyed—those images were far from the truth.
The San Isidro Movement, founded in 2018 by musicians Denis Solís, Maykel Castillo, Carlos Manuel Álvarez and Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara, protested against the government’s oppression.
It was never violent. It was a peaceful, artistic movement that used art to protest the abuse and misery perpetrated by the Cuban government.
The group included musicians and rappers who used their music as a form of protest. Then came Patria y Vida, a collaboration between Cuban artists: Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara, Maykel Castillo Osorbo, Descemer Bueno, Yotuel, El Funky and the duo Gente de Zona.
It united voices still living in Cuba and those in exile—to deliver a collective message of defiance and hope.
The song’s lyrics spoke truths about our reality: hunger, abuse of power, suppression of free expression and the government hindering our history.
Cubans felt heard as the song reached the world through international headlines.
Patria y Vida won two Latin Grammys in 2021—Song of the Year and Best Urban Song. It created a hashtag that reached more than 342 million views.
The Cuban government repeatedly blocked the music video, and listening to the song in the country became illegal. On the day it was released, the internet in Cuba was cut off—a common occurrence.
But the song did more than raise awareness abroad, it inspired Cubans to say, “enough” and fueled a revolution.
On July 11, 2021, Cubans took to the streets in the largest protest since 1994.
The demonstration was peaceful—at least on the people’s side. We had no weapons, only our voices and the solidarity of those around us.
Protesters were ordinary people: the poor, who stood in long lines to get a piece of chicken.
The government’s response was to deploy the military. They were not peaceful, striking out indiscriminately, with no regard for women, children or the elderly.
A friend, who was serving in the military, called me to warn me because they were sending 18-year-old recruits dressed as civilians and forcing them to beat their own people.
The government did not stop there. They lied on the news, hiding images of people being beaten, detained arbitrarily and having their homes stripped.
An example of the repression is Maykel Osorbo, who remains imprisoned to this day because of Patria y Vida.
Before imprisoning him, the government committed him to a psychiatric hospital. Osorbo is a father, and his daughter is growing up without him because he spoke the truth.
I wish I could say that July 11 changed everything, but it did not. This fight is not over.
People still stand in endless lines for little to no food and endure power outages lasting up to 12 hours.
Cubans still have to flee their country in search of happiness while the government continues to enrich itself at the people’s expense.
For Cuban immigrants like me, the struggle is a constant ache—a reminder of the loved ones left behind and a homeland that we may never see again.
Patria y Vida is more than a song; it’s a voice for those in exile, carrying their pain, their hope and fight for a free Cuba.