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The symbolic proposal for the independence of the Isle of Youth, following daily power outages of up to five hours, sparked a torrent of reactions on social media ranging from sarcasm to solidarity, anger, and resignation.
The publication from CiberCuba on this unique proposal sparked a flood of comments that, beyond the anecdotes, reflect the widespread frustration experienced by Cubans in light of the collapse of the national electrical system.
"Independence for five hours without electricity? I've been dealing with it for 20. I want the abolition of slavery!", wrote a user, summarizing in a sarcastic tone the sentiments of many other provinces that endure much longer blackouts.
The phrase went viral and was replicated with memes and responses: "If the Island gains independence in five hours, Guantánamo demands to be a sovereign republic now!", expressed one of the over 1,000 comments that the post received on Facebook in less than 24 hours.
From outrage to dark humor
Although the proposal for Piñera's independence may seem absurd, for many Cubans it became an emotional outlet.
“If that's what it takes for them to listen, then we're all going to demand the independence of our provinces too,” a commentator from Villa Clara quipped. Another, from Cienfuegos, wrote: “We've been without power and water for 24 hours here. Can we ask for annexation to Norway?”
Acidic humor was abundant. Some suggested "to annex Jamaica or the United States", and there were those who proposed: "Let the communists keep the Isle of Youth while the rest of the country becomes independent from them".
Amid this rain of sarcasm, more elaborate ideas also emerged. Some envisioned a "Democratic Republic of the Isle of Pines", with free trade, foreign relations, and even its own currency. "There would be lines to get in!", wrote one user, while another joked: "Where do I get my Pine passport?".
A collective catharsis
What became clear is that the article ignited a spark that illuminated, even if just momentarily, the daily desperation of millions.
The comments section became a space for national catharsis, where testimonies from Sagua, Pinar del Río, Holguín, Santiago, Ciego, Matanzas, and more converged.
“We have been without power here in Palmira for 22 hours,” reported a resident of Cienfuegos. Another added: “In Caibarién, we have flickers, not blackouts, because the light comes for one hour and goes away for 23.”
The most common complaint was the lack of logic and fairness in the schedule of power outages: “There’s no schedule or notice here, they cut off the electricity at any hour, at dawn, at noon, whenever”.
But there were also those who harshly pointed out the apparent passivity of the people: “On May 1st, everyone paraded, and now they complain. This happens because we continue to applaud those responsible.”
Several users pointed out that the only possible solution is not the independence of a province, but rather the political system: "What needs to be abolished is the regime that keeps us in misery."
"We laugh to avoid crying."
Despite the anger, many comments took on a mocking tone. "Visa for the independent Island? Do you have to wait in line at the pinero consulate?", one said.
“I’m already packing my bags to move there”, wrote a woman from Artemisa. There was even a joke made about a new dictator from the Castro dynasty: “Put Sandro as president of the new republic, so he can practice”.
Others, with sharp irony, pointed to the double standards of the authorities. "Blackouts are not for everyone. The homes of the leaders have electric generators. That's why they ask us to endure, because they don't know what it's like to be in the dark with heat and mosquitoes,” wrote an indignant user.
One point that was repeatedly emphasized was the contrast with Varadero and some privileged areas of Havana, where power outages are less frequent or nonexistent.
“Here, the power goes out for 20 hours, in Varadero only 2. Who makes that decision and why?”, asked a commenter from Matanzas. Others shared similar testimonies from Sancti Spíritus, Baracoa, Las Tunas, and Ciego de Ávila.
What remains in the end?
What began as a striking piece of news ended up revealing a reality shared across Cuba: a country fractured by scarcity, lack of rights, and inequality.
The demand from the people of La Isla de la Juventud, more than a concrete request for secession, was a desperate way to seek attention, to break the silence.
“It's not about a republic, it's about us being on the brink”, wrote a young woman from Nueva Gerona. “We no longer sleep, we don't cook, we don't live”.
In the midst of that storm, a voice summarized the general sentiment: “If the Island becomes an experiment in autonomy and it works, who would want to remain tied to this nightmare?”.
Meanwhile, millions of Cubans remain in the dark, literally. Without electricity, without water, without medicine, without answers.
And every night, when the lights go out, the mosquitoes return, along with the heat... and the rage.
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