I feel that I have fulfilled the part of my duty that tied me to the Cuban revolution in its territory, and I say farewell to you, to the comrades, to your people, who now are mine.

The music is one of the beautiful things that has survived the Castro regime. I have played for audiences all over the world but I've never played for a Cuban audience. For [husband] Emilio and me, the music is the one tie to our homeland.

Well, I'm proud of it. I was declared persona non grata not by the country but by a terrorist regime. But I know that Cubans love me and my music.

I'm looking forward, though, one day, if I'm not too old, to do a free concert in a free Cuba. That to me would be fantastic. We're looking forward to it. Well, hopefully, I mean he's [Castro] gotta go [die] sometime. He's gotta go sometime -- let's hope it's sooner [rather] than later.

But I could sing. It was given to me; it was a gift. And I thought everybody could sing.

[I would like to be] one of [the first pop singers to perform in a free Cuba]. I know the list is huge. And it would be hard to pull off -- I'd have a lump as big as a tostone [fried green plantain] in my throat. But oh my God, what a dream -- it would be the height of my personal and professional career.

From my spirit's gray defeat,
From my pulse's flagging beat,
From my hopes that turned to sand
Sifting through my close-clenched hand,
From my own fault's slavery,
If I can sing, I still am free.

For with my singing I can make
A refuge for my spirit's sake,
A house of shining words, to be
My fragile immortality.

I have been singing folksongs of America and other lands to people everywhere. I am proud that I never refused to sing to any group of people because I might disagree with some of the ideas of some of the people listening to me. I have sung for rich and poor, for Americans of every possible political and religious opinion and persuasion, of every race, color, and creed. The House committee wished to pillory me because it didn’t like some few of the many thousands of places I have sung for.

I, Parastoo, the girl who wants to sing for the people I love. This is a right I couldn’t overlook—singing for the land I deeply adore. Here, at this point in our beloved Iran, where history and legends intertwine, hear my voice in this imaginary concert and imagine this beautiful homeland…

[While her father was a political prisoner in Cuba] I was always singing and dancing and reciting poems -- that was how I used to do my crying over my father. There were a lot of negotiations between the US and Cuban governments over the next couple of years [1961 - 1963]. [Castro proposed an exchange of prisoners for food, medicine and building machinery], and eventually my dad was released. It was wonderful to have him home -- it was probably the happiest time in my life. For once, the whole family was together, living a normal life. That was when my sister, Becky, was born , and it was also when I started guitar lessons. I would lock myself away in my room for days, learning how to play. Even then I was beginning to work out that music was a way to cut throught all the BS.

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom.

Sing until the city becomes a women's song
Until this homeland, becomes a home land.

Won't you help to sing, These songs of freedom? 'Cause all I ever had, Redemption songs.

Now my life is pretty much bliss. I have two healthy children and a great marriage (Emilio and I have been together for 28 years). I still have one ambition: to do a concert in Cuba. It's the beginning of the end for Castro and, well, I've performed for every audience of practically every nationality except my own. Performing there would be one of the highlights of my life.