In March 2026, Cuba is experiencing its largest protests against socialism since July 11 and 12, 2021 (known as 11J). In this new wave — which began on March 6 — groups of residents take to the streets every night to protest the inefficiency of the socialist system and the lack of freedoms, factors that have plunged the island into a crisis comparable only to that of the 1990s, when the regime was left isolated following the collapse of the Soviet bloc.

On the island, the daily reality for Cubans could not be worse. Long and continuous power outages, enormous lines to purchase scarce food supplies, and the sale of basic necessities in U.S. dollars — a currency to which the average Cuban has no access — have become the norm. Repression continues unabated; among others, authorities have detained members of the independent audiovisual project El4tico, as well as the mother of a Christian influencer, for denouncing police harassment.

Yet, Cubans are raising their voices in the streets. The most recurrent forms of protest these days include cacerolazos (banging pots and pans), burning trash, painting anti-regime graffiti in public spaces, and blocking streets across various regions of the island. And, as if by a contagion effect, more people are beginning to shed their fear.

Recently, a passerby in Havana confronted Michel Torres Corona — a well-known Castro regime mouthpiece — right in the middle of the bustling Obispo Boulevard. Torres Corona makes a living by denigrating dissidents and those who oppose the status quo in the country on a television show titled “Con Filo.” He was, moreover, a henchman to be feared due to his connections with the Castro regime’s intelligence apparatus.

However, just last week, the passerby shouted at him: “Shameless communist!” The video of the incident — posted on Facebook, the social network with the highest number of users in Cuba — circulated widely among profiles across the island.

In one of his most recent television appearances, Torres Corona took issue with several young evangelical influencers and other libertarians — whom he labeled “reactionaries.” Both groups are highly critical of, and confrontational toward, the totalitarian State. To disparage them, Torres Corona displayed on screen the Spanish translation of an article originally published in The Washington Stand; the piece discussed the awakening of consciousness sparked by their voices — currently the most far-reaching independent political voices within Cuba.

Following the article’s television debut, I reaffirmed my belief that we were winning the cultural battle — that the socialists had nothing left but police batons and patrol cars. Castroism fears independent social mobilization — a form of mobilization that, between 2018 and 2022, waged a struggle against state policies such as the Constitution itself (which Torres Corona cited to justify potential repressive actions against the influencers).

Now, this massive civic resistance — this direct confrontation of power — is being reenacted through the protests of March, which have erupted across several provinces.

In Havana, a young pastor I know shared with me videos of a cacerolazo (pot-banging protest) in which he participated on March 11 in the capital’s Buena Vista neighborhood.

Those cellphone recordings captured an image characteristic of this current wave of protests: a soundtrack of pots and empty kettles being banged in the pitch-black night, with only the flames from a burning dumpster providing meager illumination to the scene. They serve as a symbol of hunger, prolonged power outages, and the systemic failure of public services — such as solid waste collection.

This Friday, March 13, perhaps the most striking milestone of the protests occurred. Hundreds of residents in the town of Morón — located in the center of the country — took to the streets chanting, “Down with the dictatorship!”; “We are not afraid!”; “Turn the power back on!”; and “Freedom!” They marched until they had surrounded the local station of the National Revolutionary Police, while uniformed officers scrambled to cordon off the building.

Subsequently, the protest reportedly spread to the municipal headquarters of the Communist Party of Cuba, where some of the demonstrators hurled stones at the building and lit a bonfire in the middle of the street using documents and furniture taken from the premises — as seen in videos circulating on social media.

Cuban military personnel reportedly used dogs to attack the crowd. Exiled journalist José Raúl Gallego confirmed that, after footage of the protest went viral, internet access was cut off in Morón.

Nevertheless, media outlets such as The Daily Wire, the BBC, and El País reported on the outbreak. It was a major event.

Between December 2025 and early 2026, similar protests erupted in Iran. Thousands demanded a shift toward a political system free from Islamist totalitarianism, following a prolonged period of water shortages and power outages. Tehran responded by killing approximately 30,000 people — according to Time — and cutting off all internet access to conceal its crimes.

A similar scenario could unfold in Cuba if the protests persist over time. In the face of previous threats, we have already experienced multi-day internet blackouts — most notably during the July 11th (11J) protests. To date, approximately 20 people have been detained since March 6th in connection with the demonstrations, and at least one person has sustained a gunshot wound.

In Iran, when protesters took to the streets, President Donald Trump pledged assistance; however, that aid arrived only weeks after the Ayatollahs had already crushed the uprising. In the Cuban case, there are a couple of key differences: its geographic proximity to the United States, the interconnectedness between millions of Cubans on the island and the diaspora, and the State Department’s close watch over the Hemisphere (of which Cuba is a part), thanks to the Donroe Doctrine.

The wave of Cuban protests in March, a spring of fire, is unfolding within a thorny context for the Castro regime.

After two months of denials, Miguel Díaz-Canel finally acknowledged what this author first reported for The Washington Stand back in January: that talks with the Trump administration were indeed taking place. These exchanges, the dictator stated — without offering further details — aim to identify areas of cooperation and concretize actions of mutual benefit.

Looking pale and haggard, Díaz-Canel acknowledged the energy crisis, which he attributed directly to the deterioration of basic services such as electricity supply, water pumping, telecommunications, production, and transportation.

Since Nicolás Maduro was effectively ousted from Venezuela on January 3rd, the once-generous shipments of Venezuelan crude oil to Havana have dwindled. “Cuba is going to fall too,” Trump declared to Politico in an interview on March 5th. “We cut off all the oil, all the money — we cut off everything coming in from Venezuela, which was their sole source. And now they want to make a deal.”

Since then, the policy of “maximum pressure” has proven more effective than Obama’s “open-door” approach. More and more signs are appearing in Cuba hailing Trump, and more voices are emerging that diverge from the leftist worldview. People have hope.

These days, whenever the sun sets, a large portion of Cubans — both those on the island and those living abroad — wonder where the next protest will take place, and whether, perhaps, it will be the final night of the long socialist night.