"In exile, imagine... at first I wasn’t used to being out on the streets, to being around other people. Those first months were difficult because I arrived here on February 10, 1996, and at that time something was taking shape in Cuba (the Cuban Council), and I started connecting with different exile organizations. And it was precisely on February 24 when the Cuban Council was meeting, and nobody really knew what was going on, but there was a lot of tension everywhere. I didn’t really understand much of it because I had only been here for fourteen days. Then came the news of the downing of the four pilots from Brothers to the Rescue (Hermanos al Rescate). That was a huge shock for me. It’s an experience that won’t easily be erased from my memory, because we were all kind of on edge, and suddenly everyone was crying, shouting, doing so many things at once out of the pain of having lost four people, four of our brothers, sons of this community. Almost all of them had been born here—only one had come from Cuba—and the only thing they were doing was saving lives. And it’s very cruel to think that someone, just for saving the lives of people he didn’t even know, lost his own."
"Those four years in prison were very difficult, because everything was... Well, living with others is always the hardest part. There, the lights were turned off at night (unlike the cell I was in at Villa Marista where they interrogated me), but there was no drinking water. When they did turn the water on once a day, we had to collect it in containers. Many times, it came out brick-colored, so we had to wait for the mud and dirt to settle at the bottom, and then scoop it out so it would be a little cleaner. Of course, the parasites never went away. We had to bathe with cold water collected in a tank — using a bucket — and pour it over ourselves with a small cup. Everything was very hard. When we washed clothes, it also had to be by hand in a bucket, and we’d hang them on a rope tied to the wall. The bathrooms weren’t bathrooms at all — just a hole in the floor. From that hole came rats and all kinds of animals. It was all very surreal, difficult, and grim."
"Living so many years outside the country is hard because sometimes nostalgia hits us. And even though there are a lot of Cubans here in Miami and we’ve been able to recreate many things from Cuba, there’s always something missing. There’s something that’s gone, something that makes you feel like you have no roots, like you don’t really belong here. It’s hard… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain because I’ve lived here for many years, but you always feel like something is missing, like this isn’t truly your place. I love Miami, and I would love to keep living here, but honestly, you feel like you need to be — to go back to the places where you grew up. That’s something that… I understand that people go back now, many Cubans go, and I get it, because I would like to go too. But I want to go to a free Cuba. I know Cuba looks less and less like it used to every day, but even so, I would like to return to the place where I was born. I think that’s a need we all share."
Carmen Julia Mustelier was born on December 1, 1964, in the province of Matanzas. Later, her family moved to Havana. Her family did not agree with the communist direction taken by Fidel Castro’s Revolution. For her, this meant difficulties even during her school years, as she suffered discrimination for not belonging to the Pioneers organization. The desire to do something to change the situation in Cuba led her to join the organization Libertad e Independencia para Cuba (Freedom and Independence for Cuba). Her activities involved gathering information about the mistreatment of political prisoners in Cuba. As a result, she was imprisoned in 1992 at Villa Marista prison, where she spent 83 days in a sealed cell. The terrible conditions of heat and constant light in her cell were only interrupted during interrogations. Carmen Julia Mustelier was tried and sentenced to nine years in prison, which she had to serve at Manto Negro prison. There, she endured living alongside several extremely dangerous inmates, including murderers. While in prison, Carmen Julia dedicated herself to promoting the Christian faith. After four years of imprisonment, she was released thanks to international pressure, which was made possible through the involvement of then–New Mexico Senator Bill Richardson. Carmen Julia Mustelier was able to go into exile in the United States, where she later succeeded in bringing some of her family members from Cuba. She participated in meetings on international mechanisms for the protection of human rights, denouncing the crimes of the Cuban regime and sharing her personal story.
