Hiding in Plain Sight
Responding to Batería by Dami Sainz Edwards
Batería, 2016 (Film still)
“Este es el único lugar,” the nameless voice shares. This is the only place… to be safe, to be oneself, to be at peace.
In Batería, Dami Sainz Edwards captures the raw beauty of a ruinous set of bunkers in a former military fortress on the outskirts of Havana, Cuba. Once a bastion of hypermasculinity, a fortified base for soldiers who epitomised stereotypical ideals of strong discipline and neat order, the fortress has since become a cruising spot and refuge for gay and bisexual men, as well as men who sleep with men.
As the documentary unfolds, the viewer is left with the question, how can one create a place of belonging in a world that would rather discard you? The answer it seems is hiding in plain sight among the ruins left by others. Unfurling like a blossoming morning glory in the tropical stillness of dawn, Batería plays out as an ethereal and elegiac tribute to the spaces and communities crafted by Cuban queer men against a society riddled with religious conservatism, machismo and homophobia.
Sainz Edwards employs an airy soft focus with his camera to capture the natural flora and fauna surrounding the fortress. Visually this footage could easily be used for a nature documentary, but it is the subject matter that allows the filmmaker to interrogate how the site's former history intersects with ideas of queer resistance and pleasure. He interviews three nameless men who never appear on screen. It is only their words and voices that underscore the camera movements through the interior of the dilapidated fort. As the camera lens twists and turns along labyrinthine halls, one cannot help but feel a quiet reverence for this communal space that is both clandestine and sacred. The interviewees’ revelations are humorous, harrowing and poignant. Recounting casual hook-ups and moments of grave danger, each man offers personal reasons as to why this fortress is such an important haven for their communities, one they will fight to the end to maintain.
Batería proves that beauty can be found in the unlikeliest places, in what is discarded, pushed out to the margins of society. This ability to take something broken and turn it into a place of resistance is a magical feat of queer imagination and survival. There is a long history of gay and bisexual men (as well as men who sleep with men) retreating into the fringes of urban landscapes to find refuge and companionship, also known as cruising. Be it public restrooms in city centre parks, forests bordering the edges of town or the rundown piers bringing in cargo and sailors from across the seven seas, men have always found a way to meet other men.
Despite Cuba ranking quite highly for LGBT human rights, especially since introducing provisions to their Family Code in 2022 to extend marriage and adoption rights to same sex couples, members of Cuba’s LGBTQ+ communities still face daily discrimination and violence. There are many reasons why these men still have to escape to this fortress, be it fear of family breakdown, living on the down low or simply because being too openly visible would endanger their lives. I should note that these legal changes to same sex rights were brought in six years after this documentary was produced.
As the nameless interviewees share more and more of their intimate recollections of cruising around the fortress, birdsong and traffic can be heard in the distance as bountiful light pours in from the bright sun. There is a palatable tension from the encroaching flora, almost out of control and all-consuming. Mother Nature taking back what is rightfully hers, but also allowing this sexual paradise to be camouflaged from an outside world that would happily eradicate these men. It is as if they are safer the more their refuge is subsumed by the wild overgrowth.
In his poem Some nights, I just want to hold a man in my arms because this would make everything better in my life— Mexican-American poet Joe Jiménez writes, “Being entered is when I know I am human. /Being entered is when I know I’m part of something bigger.” A shocking line to read, yes, but it is a reminder of how poetic, lyrical even, that pleasure can be, and Sainz Edwards’ documentary proves that. There is something so affirming in reading and listening to these unnamed men unashamedly owning their desire and pleasure, and their reverence for the larger communities they are part of. Pushing against religious dogma and toxic masculinity (or machismo) that pervades many Latin American cultures, these men and the queer communities they belong to have built an oasis in the only place that has allowed them to be their fullest selves.
“Fear holds you back. But, when you know you are different, you must have courage,” implores one of the interviewees. He emphasises the need to have courage in order to firstly face the self, then one’s family, and eventually wider society. I cannot help but be amazed at the bravery of queer people across the globe. No matter the endless violence and discrimination many of us still face, we choose to wake up each day and actively work towards a life not only that we deserve, but which is rightfully ours despite what the world tries to tell us. To me that is a specific type of courage shared amongst LGBTQ+ communities. Long may it allow us to continue to build places where we can be safe, be ourselves, and peacefully commune together.
