[please ignore my terrible photos of a screen, Apple TV does not allow screenshots]

I slowly turned my head to look at my husband in what can only be described as a record-scratch-break-the-fourth-wall moment, and paused the TV to show to gather myself. Just two nights earlier, during dinner, I had been telling my husband about Athens. The biggest surprise in the history of modern basketball.

I was shocked this was a throwaway reference on a TV show and such a coincidence that it had been top of mind for me last week (clearly written by someone who knows their basketball, which gives me even more appreciation for the writing).

It was 2004. It was, as usual, a warm August day in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico. School had started in early August, and with it my sophomore year. Although I grew up to be an unabashed Olympics fan (and World Cup… am a sucker for worldwide sporting events), at the time I only had a very vague notion that the Olympics were taking place in Athens, until the morning of August 15. My biology teacher, who had access to one of the few portable TVs in school, wheeled it into the biology lab and turned on a basketball game. Soon, other classrooms began to stream in and sit around us on the floor or lean against the walls – this was a standing room only situation. It was rare that at my very academically minded school we would take a break to watch something on TV, which added to the thrilling energy in the room. The TV was tuned to the Olympics, where Puerto Rico was playing against the US in the opening basketball game of these Olympics. Unbeknownst to me, across the island things had come to a standstill; everyone was watching.

The US team, undefeated since NBA players had been allowed at the Olympics in 1992, included the likes of Allen Iverson and Tim Duncan, and some younger talent like LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Carmelo Anthony and Amar’e Stoudemire. The Puerto Rico selection was led by beloved basketball legend José “Piculín” Ortiz and a young star named Carlos Arroyo.

Cuento largo corto, Puerto Rico had no business winning that game, period. Going into it, no one would have bet on our selection to win, and in fact, it should have been an easy opportunity for the US team to show off. But Puerto Rico dominated team US from the very start, and the game ended with a victory for the islanders, 92-73. To say that the crowd went wild would be a gross understatement. I remember the burst of cheers in the classroom, and people running around all over the school informing others. The adrenaline from that moment would carry me for a week, and honestly, it still has an effect on me today. The next day, the headlines read: “Puerto Rico basketball shocks the world.”

At the end of the game, Carlos Arroyo, the young player who scored 24 points, would grab his jersey where “Puerto Rico” was printed out and show it to the audience in a gesture that became emblematic of that moment. It was a moment of such national pride that people still celebrate it every year, even 21 years later.

Beating US players was one thing; handing the famed Dream Team their first defeat in 12 years was something else entirely. It was a victory that carried emotional, historical and cultural heft given Puerto Rico’s relationship with the US, and the David and Goliath nature of the match. We rarely got wins like this one.

This day was on my mind last week because José “Piculín” Ortiz, a sports legend for Puerto Ricans, passed away last Tuesday, and I always associate him with my memory of Athens. That was the last time he’d been part of the Puerto Rico Olympic selection. May he rest in peace.

Puerto Rico lost the next few matches, so that time we did not get Olympic glory. The US went on to get bronze, as Nick says, but the team was heartbroken. But that is the story of Athens 2004, a quick little line on a TV show with a lot of meaning for an entire island.

PS. You can watch it here. The last 10 minutes are great.

1. Are we losing the words to describe our work? As language evolves, what words do we evolve away from, and how does that impact what we notice and what we value?

2. I’m probably late on this one since it’s been going around since the Artemis launch, but fascinating trivia on how a group of deaf students from Gallaudet University participated in NASA experiments that were crucial to send astronauts into orbit.

3. This week’s Modern Love. Somehow it’s the third story on divorce I’ve heard this week, so that makes a trend. It’s the Strangers effect.

4. My book club met this week, on World Book Day (Sant Jordi’s Day). We’ve now been meeting sort of regularly since 2019, with an ever-evolving group of people. This story about a book club that’s been meeting for 30 years really moved me.

5. The great Ozempic experiment. For better and for worse, there’s still a lot we don’t understand.

A central theme in both plays was grief, which naturally is something we try to push away. A friend I went with lamented afterwards: “If I go to the theater, I want the play to be happy; an escape from the horrors of daily life, not this.” Totally fair. I found that giving myself permission to sit with my own grief, in public no less (!), allowed me some measure of relief from horrors I try to escape. Sitting there, crying in a dark theater surrounded by strangers who were doing the same, I felt connection with and affection for those going through a similar experience.

The first play I saw was My Joy is Heavy. I was familiar with the folk band duo and real-life couple who created and starred in it, The Bengsons, because somewhere around 10 years ago I saw Hundred Days, their play about how they met. Hundred Days really moved me, so I was very excited to see their newest work. It is not a spoiler to say this work is also autobiographical and the subject-matter is pregnancy loss and the blinding grief that can accompany it. I do not exaggerate when I say I cried so much that my tears ran down along my neck and pooled in my chest. There were lines in those songs that felt like I could have written them (if only I was a folk artist) and touched on such incredibly specific memories of my own experience with pregnancy loss that at times I had to actively stop myself from loudly sobbing in the theater. Judging by the intense sniffling all around me, others felt it just as deeply. That loss, which is incredibly lonely in nature because it is literally happening only inside you, is one I carry and feel every single day still. For someone else to name it, externalize it, feel it so deeply on the stage and allow me to do the same was frankly, therapeutic. “Catharsis,” my husband said, as I walked him through the plot after coming home that night and explaining to him that I felt lighter after the play (although that could have been just dehydration after crying a gallon of tears).

The other play I saw was Every Brilliant Thing, with Daniel Radcliffe. My husband had seen it during the original run with the author performing the monologue and said it might be his favorite play he’d seen, so I had to go see it. This work is also autobiographical, about a young boy who begins to keep a list of every brilliant thing to try to help his mother want to stay alive in the wake of a suicide attempt. I gather this production is very different from the original one, in that it has been adjusted for capital B Broadway and its big star and made shiny and exciting in new ways, but it still is very much about grief. It still packs a heavy emotional punch, and again judging by the tears around me, others felt it too. [This post is not a review, but I will say, if you can handle the themes in this one, Radcliffe is excellent in it and it’s a unique/rare type of play experience, so I would recommend going if you can.]

Both times, I wept in the theater, feeling companionship with my fellow weepy theatergoers, and both times I felt lighter coming back home. If/when you’re ready for it, there is something to be said for shamelessly giving yourself permission to wallow and feel your pain and grief in a dark theater with a bunch of strangers who are doing the same. In our own way, we are all quietly grieving and it can be incredibly difficult to find (or even seek) companionship or community as we grieve. If there is one thing I have learned about my own experiences with loss is that it is very true that sorrow shared is sorrow halved, and to me, these communal moments of shared grief are one of the few things that help.

El domingo del Super Bowl en la tarde, mi hermana escribió en el group chat de la familia que Emmanuel López Alonso iba a salir en el Super Bowl, y nos envió el video que él había puesto en su Instagram de cuando se enteró que lo habían seleccionado para participar. Emmanuel estudió en mi escuela, y aunque es menor que yo (no diré por cuanto), me acuerdo de él perfectamente, un niño de nueve años bailando salsa en una asamblea escolar. Aún en ese momento, siendo yo también joven, me quedaba claro que el niño tenía talento (y tenia razón, fue campeón del World Salsa Open tres años consecutivos, ha salido en Broadway, televisión y cine). Ya yo estaba emocionadísima por el Halftime Show, obvio, pero saber que iba a bailar alguien que “conozco” le añadió otra dimensión de emoción. Inmediatamente supe que quería hablar con él acerca del Halftime Show, así que le escribí para entrevistarlo. Aquí un poco del BTS del Super Bowl:

¿Qué significó para ti ser parte de este show?

Mira, desde el primer momento que escuché que Bad Bunny iba a hacer el Super Bowl, yo quería estar ahí. No sabía si iba a poder, porque todo dependía de dónde iba a ser el Super Bowl. Y da la casualidad de que el Super Bowl iba a ser en California y estaban buscando talento mayormente de esta área. Por eso tuve un poco de ventaja, por estar aquí localizado en LA. Pensando que Bad Bunny tiene canciones de salsa, yo dije “Dios mío, si hay un momento en la vida donde yo pueda hacer un Super Bowl es ahora”. Yo soy puertorriqueño, nacido y criado en Puerto Rico, y me fui a los diecisiete años de Puerto Rico en búsqueda de oportunidades acá afuera. Entonces, pensar que yo podría bailar salsa en este Super Bowl significaba demasiado. No tan solo para mí, pero para mis papás, para mi familia. Después de todo el esfuerzo que ellos hicieron para que yo me convirtiera en un bailador de salsa, que yo les pudiera regalar esto, que pudiera bailar en la tarima más grande del mundo, eso no tiene precio. No tiene precio.

¿Cómo te enteraste de que estaban audicionando para bailar salsa y como fue el proceso?
A mediados de diciembre, un amigo me preguntó cuando era mi audición, asumiendo que ya la tenía, siendo bailador de salsa. Así fue como me enteré de que la audición de Bad Bunny iba a ocurrir en tres días. Yo estaba en un trabajo, pero saqué el teléfono, y empecé a llamar a medio mundo buscando algún contacto con la coreógrafa, Charm La’Donna. Ya Charm me había bookeado para los Oscars anteriormente y aunque no lo pude hacer, al menos ella sabía quién era. Finalmente conseguí a su asistente y le dije “Mira, esto es lo que yo hago, yo soy un puertorriqueño que baila salsa. This is my thing. Yo quiero que me den la oportunidad de que me vean para esto.” Y ella me dijo “Pues ven.” Fui, eran casi doscientas personas, solo para la parte de salsa. El callback fue a la semana, y cuando llegué vi que todavía quedábamos cien personas. La audición era con música de LA MuDANZA, y teníamos solo 15 segundos para improvisar, no era coreografía. Tenía 15 segundos para demostrar que bailo salsa y que merecía estar en esa tarima, y recuerdo que yo lo dejé todo. Hasta grité, porque yo pensaba, yo quiero estar ahí y punto. Después, el 31 de diciembre la coreógrafa de salsa, Melanie mercedes, me llamó. Yo estaba en Cabo Rojo con mi mamá y ya ella estaba dormida y yo la desperté: “Mami, me están llamando. No sé qué me van a decir, pero saca la cámara y ponte a grabar esto porque si el momento es ahora, hay que tenerlo evidenciado, esto es para la historia.” O sea, esto es lo más grande que uno – que cualquier bailarín puede hacer. Y efectivamente, me dice: “Felicidades, vas a estar en el Super Bowl”.

¿Cómo reaccionó tu mamá en ese momento?

Yo me eché a llorar, mi mamá me se echó a llorar también. O sea, imagínate. Estábamos hechos una porquería, porque es que ese proceso de audición, the stakes are super high.
¿Tú me entiendes? Esto es una oportunidad que uno no quiere que se le vaya de las manos. Y mucha gente se quedó sin hacerlo y les dolió, porque nosotros no tenemos estas oportunidades todo el tiempo. Los roles para los latinos casi no existen. Entonces, está esta oportunidad tan grande y está ahí, alcanzable. Todo el mundo la quiere, así que cuando te dicen que sí, es como, ay, Dios mío, es como poder respirar.

¿Cómo ocurrieron las prácticas?

Ellos, si no me equivoco, habían empezado a ensayar a finales de diciembre, principios de enero, y los de salsa como en la segunda semana [de enero]. Es así: te enseñan una coreografía, ellos la ven, deciden si les gusta, la cambian el próximo día o al momento. Es un proceso muy difícil porque todo está cambiando constantemente. Y había bailarines que los sacaban, había bailarines que los ponían, había bailarines que no llegaron al Super Bowl. Todo el tiempo tienes que demostrar y ejecutar para asegurar tu espacio en esa tarima. La gente piensa: Ah, audicionaste y te bookearon y ya. No, allí las formaciones cambiaron hasta el día antes del Super Bowl. A mí me cambiaron de formación el día antes. Es muy tenso porque uno no sabe si va a llegar al final. Así que fue un proceso bien difícil, física y emocionalmente. Y ensayábamos todos los días alrededor de ocho horas al día, que ya al final el cuerpo dolía.

¿En qué momento supiste que ibas a compartir tarima con Lady Gaga?

Nosotros estuvimos ensayando desde el principio con la canción instrumental de lo que iba a ser la parte de salsa. Sabíamos que íbamos a hacer Baile Inolvidable, pero de la canción que va antes, que terminó siendo la de Lady Gaga, no sabíamos quién era el artista. No ensayábamos con la letra, con los back vocals, solamente escuchábamos los instrumentos. El martes antes de Super Bowl, una amiga me lo choteó y yo quedé frito. Yo le decía: ¿Qué es esto? ¿Que yo voy a bailar con Gaga? Y el día después ella llegó al ensayo, que ya estábamos ensayando dentro del estadio. Y Ricky Martin llegó allí ese mismo día también y yo dije: ¿Y qué es esto? Ricky Martin tampoco sabíamos que iba a estar.

Yo soy fanática de los dos, pero te tengo que decir que ver a Ricky Martin me dio mucha emoción, porque yo pienso que Ricky Martin, en verdad, fue quien abrió camino a nivel mundial para el talento de Puerto Rico, pero lo tuvo que hacer a la manera de esa época. Tuvo que crossover, esconder su sexualidad, hacer muchos sacrificios para lograrlo. Yo digo que Ricky Martin walked so that Bad Bunny could run. Y que pudieran compartir ese momento tan histórico me pareció tan bonito.
No, mira, ese primer día corrimos el show y en ese momento ya yo estoy preparado con las banderas, y no lo puedo ver desde la tarima. Pero lo estoy escuchando en el micrófono y cuando lo escucho por primera vez, que empieza con “Quieren quitarme el ríííooo…”
Cuando yo escuché eso, yo me eché a llorar, atacado, atacado, atacado. Escuchar a Ricky Martin fue escuchar a mi mamá, fue escuchar a mi papá, fue escuchar a mi niñez, fue escuchar a mi familia, Puerto Rico. Y después de tanta presión, tantos ensayos, fue un momento donde yo pude respirar, porque me sentí en ese momento conectado con el show y con lo que estaba ocurriendo de verdad.

El mismo domingo del Super Bowl compartiste en las redes el video que grabó tu mamá cuando Melanie llamó. Así me enteré que ibas a salir, y de inmediato vi que muchísima gente lo compartió con gran emoción. ¿Como se sintió sentir todo ese apoyo?
He recibido tantos y tantos y tantos mensajes, tantas llamadas que todavía yo no he terminado de procesar todo ese amor y todo ese apoyo que yo he recibido. Y siempre han sido las mismas personas que como tú bien dices, que me llevan viendo desde chiquito, que han visto toda mi trayectoria desde que yo bailaba en los talent shows y en las asambleas. Me han visto crecer y son como mi familia. Me han visto en este transcurso y a veces sí he tenido éxito y a veces estoy años y meses sin hacer nada. La gente me pregunta: “¿Y qué vas a hacer?” Y yo a veces les digo: “No tengo nada porque es que no hay nada” Yo creo que el ver que logré esto es una satisfacción para todos y, y de verdad que estoy sumamente agradecido con el amor y el apoyo y todos los mensajes. Y luego lo de Bonaire…

¿Qué de Bonaire?
Hay un video que se fue viral. Al final del, del show yo salgo con la bandera de Bonaire y el Departamento de Turismo de Bonaire sacó un video diciendo que estamos buscando a este muchacho porque lo queremos traer a Bonaire, y ese video tiene casi dos millones de views. Y yo mañana me voy para Miami y el viernes llego a Bonaire con mi mamá. Jamás yo pensé que yo iba a recibir tanto y tanto amor y apoyo de la isla de Bonaire. Ver cómo ellos están tan contentos y agradecidos de que yo haya puesto su bandera ahí en primera plana. Y si vez los comentarios, la gente dice: “Mira, no sé lo que es Bonaire, no sé dónde es, pero ahora quiero ir”.

Que lindo, de eso se rata la representación. Y cuéntame, el día del show, ¿sentias nervios, adrenalina…? ¿Cómo te preparaste el día del Super Bowl?
De verdad, yo nunca me puse nervioso porque habíamos ensayado tanto que estábamos todos confiados de que íbamos a partirla, como decimos en PR. Que íbamos a dejarlo todo allí. Y lo digo con mucha humildad, no de ego, sino que todos sabíamos que ya nos sabíamos la coreografía y lo que queríamos era compartirla con el mundo y enseñar esa pasión. Recuerdo que antes del show yo estaba brincando porque ya quería que el mundo viera lo que habíamos preparado. Y saber que teníamos millones de personas esperando para ver su cultura representada en la televisión, o sea, nos llenaba y nos daba unas energías y una adrenalina que… no sé cómo explicarlo.

¿Qué te pareció el show después de verlo? Porque obviamente tú estuviste ahí, pero no es lo mismo que verlo en la televisión.

Nosotros no sabemos cómo está grabado, no sabemos cuáles son las tomas, no tenemos ni idea de lo que va a salir en la toma final. No fue hasta el lunes en la noche que yo llegué a Los Ángeles, llegué a mi casa y prendí el televisor, que lo puse y yo me eché a llorar desde el principio. Me da hasta sentimiento hablarlo, porque yo estaba demasiado orgulloso por toda esta gente que lo dio todo allí. Y después, cuando salgo yo, yo me hice otra porquería más porque yo no lo podía creer. Yo pensaba what is life? He tenido muchos años difíciles. En Los Ángeles he tocado el fondo, y mucha gente no lo sabe, pero salir de, esa cueva y salir de muchas cosas y llegar hasta aquí... La vida da demasiadas vueltas y esto solamente me enseña que todo es posible y que los momentos oscuros se van y siempre hay luz al final.

Y siempre hay un poco de todo, pero en general me parece que las reseñas han sido muy positivas, me imagino que eso también es emocionante…
Mi abuela me llamó ahorita…mi abuela, que jamás pensé que le iba a gustar el show de Bad Bunny y mi me dijo: “Wow, ese show estuvo brutal”. Allí todo el mundo fue representado y reaccionaron ante el mensaje de que el amor es más poderoso que el odio. Ese es el mensaje que debemos de llevar en este país. Creo que vivimos unos tiempos donde hay demasiada división y todo es blanco y negro y nadie se da cuenta del in between.

Esta pregunta es pura curiosidad mía, ¿sabías que esa pareja se iba a casar ahí? [Risas] Sí, siempre sabíamos que ellos se iban a casar. En realidad, se casaron ese mismo día, a las dos de la tarde, firmaron los papeles y Bad Bunny fue el testigo.

Wow! Eso hacia Bad Bunny a las dos de la tarde antes de su Halftime Show?
Yo vi la foto de Bad Bunny y sí, él fue el testigo.

Hablando de eso, no sé cuánto tiempo pasaste en persona con Bad Bunny, pero ¿qué te parece él como persona y artista después de esta experiencia?
Después de haberlo visto, sabes, tras bastidores, es muy autentico y humilde. Bad Bunny representa...¿Qué te puedo decir? Es una figura demasiado importante en este mundo. Hay mucha gente que lo critica pero creo que pierden el movimiento social, sociopolítico que representa Bad Bunny en este momento. El mensaje más grande que trae Bad Bunny es eso, que el amor lo puede todo y que bailemos y que cantemos y que vivamos felices, que estemos felices. Me siento sumamente agradecido con Bad Bunny. Alguien me dijo que yo estoy pasando el efecto de Bad Bunny, que todo lo que él toca le trae frutos.

Finalmente, después de haber bailado en el show y el escenario más grande del mundo ¿qué es lo próximo para Emmanuel?
Ahora mismo estoy tratando de audicionar para unirme al elenco de un show en Broadway que se llama Buena Vista Social Club. Quisiera regresar a Nueva York. Y también estoy trabajando con una película que escribí hace como dos años, que es de salsa, obviamente, porque eso es lo que está en mí. Y estoy deseando tener el contacto con Lin-Manuel Miranda, porque yo creo que esto es una película que a él le interesaría y él me puede ayudar a llevar esta película, pues, al próximo paso.

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ENGLISH

On Super Bowl Sunday, I found out via my sister that Emmanuel López Alonso would be dancing in the Halftime Show. I remember him as that super talented kid in my school that wowed us all with his salsa dancing skills at age 9. We were all young, but it was clear he was talented (he would go one to become Champion of the World Salsa Open three times, to appear on Broadway, movies and TV shows, so we weren’t wrong). Knowing someone that would be dancing in the show added another layer of excitement to my day, and I knew immediately that I wanted to talk to him about his experience. So without further ado, here is my conversation with the now viral salsa dancer from the Super Bowl Halftime Show:

What did it mean to you to be part of this show?

From the moment I heard Bad Bunny was doing the Super Bowl, I knew I wanted to be there. I didn’t know if I’d be able to, because it all depended on where the Super Bowl would be held, but it just so happened that it was in California, and they were mostly looking for talent from this area. So I had a bit of an advantage being based in LA. Knowing that Bad Bunny has salsa songs, I thought, “My God, if there’s ever a moment in my life when I could do a Super Bowl, it’s now.” I’m Puerto Rican, born and raised in Puerto Rico, and I moved here at seventeen in search of opportunities. So the idea that I could dance salsa at this Super Bowl meant everything. Not just for me, but for my parents, for my family. After all the effort they put into helping me become a salsa dancer, being able to gift them this moment, to dance on the biggest stage in the world, that’s priceless. Truly priceless.

How did you find out they were auditioning for salsa dancers, and what was the process like?

In mid-December, a friend asked me when my audition was, assuming I already had one. That’s how I found out the Bad Bunny audition was happening in three days. I was at work, but I pulled out my phone and started calling everyone I knew, trying to find some connection to the choreographer, Charm La’Donna. She had booked me for the Oscars before (even though I couldn’t do it) so at least she knew who I was. I finally got in touch with her assistant and said, “Look, this is what I do. I’m a Puerto Rican salsa dancer. This is my thing. I want the opportunity to be seen for this.” And she said, “Ok, show up.” There were almost 200 people there just for the salsa portion. The callback was a week later, and when I arrived, there were still 100 of us left. The audition was to music from “LA MuDANZA,” and we only had 15 seconds to improvise, no choreography. Fifteen seconds to prove that I dance salsa and that I deserve to be on that stage. I remember I left it all out there. Then on December 31st, the salsa choreographer, Melanie Mercedes, called me. I was in Cabo Rojo with my mom. She was already asleep, and I woke her up: “Mom, they’re calling me. I don’t know what they’re going to say, but grab the camera and start recording because if this is the moment, we need it documented. This is history.” I mean, this is the biggest thing any dancer can do. And sure enough, she said: “Congratulations, you’re going to be in the Super Bowl.”

How did your mom react?

I burst into tears. My mom burst into tears. We were a mess. The stakes are so high in a process like that. It’s an opportunity you don’t want slipping through your fingers. A lot of people didn’t make it, and it hurt, because we don’t get opportunities like this all the time. Roles for Latinos are scarce. So when something this big feels within reach, everyone wants it. When they tell you yes, it’s like, ay Dios mio, you can finally breathe.

What were rehearsals like?

If I’m not mistaken, they started rehearsing at the end of December or early January, and the salsa group joined in the second week [of January]. They’d teach us a choreography, review it, decide if they liked it, then change it the next day — or on the spot. It’s a very intense process because everything is constantly changing. Some dancers were cut, some were added, some didn’t make it to the Super Bowl at all. You have to keep proving yourself every day to secure your place on that stage. People think you audition, get booked, and that’s it. No. Formations were still changing the day before the Super Bowl. They changed mine the day before. It’s tense because you never know if you’ll make it to the end. It was physically and emotionally demanding. We rehearsed about eight hours a day, every day. By the end, our bodies hurt.

When did you find out you’d be sharing the stage with Lady Gaga?

We’d been rehearsing from the beginning with instrumental tracks for the salsa section. We knew we were doing “Baile Inolvidable,” but for the song before it, which ended up being Lady Gaga, we didn’t know who the artist was. We rehearsed without vocals, just instruments. The Tuesday before the Super Bowl, a friend spilled the secret, and I was stunned. I kept saying, “What? I’m dancing with Gaga?” The next day she showed up at rehearsal which by then was inside the stadium. And that same day, Ricky Martin showed up too. We had no idea he would be there either.

I’m a fan of both, but I have to say, seeing Ricky Martin moved me deeply. I truly believe Ricky Martin paved the way globally for Puerto Rican talent, but he had to do it within the confines of that time. He had to crossover, hide his sexuality, make so many sacrifices. I would say that Ricky Martin walked so Bad Bunny could run. Seeing them share that moment was beautiful.

That first day we ran the show, I was already in position with the flags and couldn’t see the stage. But I heard it through the mic, and when Ricky began singing, “Quieren quitarme el ríííooo…” When I heard that, I broke down. Hearing Ricky was hearing my mom, my dad, my childhood, my family, Puerto Rico. After so much pressure and so many rehearsals, it was the first moment I felt truly connected to what was happening.

Hours before the show, you shared the video your mom recorded when Melanie called you. So many people shared it with emotion. How did that support feel?

I’ve received so many messages and calls that I haven’t fully processed all the love. It’s been the same people who’ve known me since I was little, who saw me dance in talent shows and school assemblies. They’ve seen the highs and the lows. At times I’ve had success, and sometimes I’ve had months or years with nothing. People ask, “What are you doing now?” and sometimes I’d say, “Nothing, because there’s nothing.” I think seeing me achieve this was satisfying for all of us. I’m deeply grateful for the love. And then there’s the Bonaire thing…

What Bonaire thing?

There’s a viral video. At the end of the show, I came out with the Bonaire flag, and the Bonaire Tourism Department posted a video saying they’re looking for this young man because they want to bring him to Bonaire. It has nearly two million views. I’m flying to Miami tomorrow and arriving in Bonaire on Friday with my mom. I never imagined I’d receive so much love from Bonaire. Seeing how happy they are that I put their flag front and center, and reading comments like, “I don’t even know where Bonaire is, but now I want to go” has been really moving.

That’s what representation is all about. On the day of the show, were you nervous? How did you prepare?

Honestly, I didn’t feel nervous. We had rehearsed so much that we felt confident we were going to partirla, as we say in Puerto Rico. Not in a cocky way — just confident. Before the show I was jumping around, excited for the world to see what we’d prepared. Knowing millions were waiting to see their culture represented on TV filled us with energy and adrenaline I can’t even explain.

What was it like watching it afterward? I imagine it’s entirely different to actually see it on TV…

We had no idea how it would look on camera. It wasn’t until Monday night when I got home to LA and turned on the TV, that I watched it and I cried from the start. I’m getting emotional even talking about it. I was so proud of everyone who gave everything on that stage. And when I saw myself, I couldn’t believe it. I’ve had many hard years. I’ve hit rock bottom in LA, though not many people know that. To come out of that darkness and arrive here…life takes so many turns. It reminded me that everything is possible and dark moments pass. There’s always light at the end.

And you know, there’s always a bit of everything, but in general, it was very well received, which I’m sure is even more rewarding.

My grandmother called me earlier, and I never thought she’d love a Bad Bunny show, but she said, “Wow, that show was incredible.” Everyone felt represented, and people responded to the message that love is more powerful than hate. That’s the message we need in this country. We live in times of so much division, everything feels black and white, and no one sees the in-between.

This is for my own curiosity, did you know the couple was going to get married there?

Yes, we always knew they would get married there. Well, in reality they got married that same day at 2 PM, somewhere in the stadium, and Bad Bunny was the witness.

What? That’s what he was doing at 2 PM ahead of his big moment? That’s incredible.

Yeah, I mean, I saw the photo and he was the witness.

What was Bad Bunny like as a person?

He’s authentic and humble. Bad Bunny represents… what can I say? He is a very important figure in this world. A lot of people criticize him, but they are missing the social, sociopolitical movement he represents at this moment. His message is that love conquers all, that we should dance, sing, and live happily. I’m incredibly grateful to him. Someone told me I’m experiencing the “Bad Bunny effect” - that everything he touches turns gold.

And finally, after dancing in the biggest show in the biggest stage in the world, what’s next for you?

Right now, I’m trying to audition to join the Broadway show “Buena Vista Social Club.” I’d love to return to New York. I’m also working on a film I wrote about two years ago — about salsa, of course. And I’d love to connect with Lin-Manuel Miranda. I think this is a film he’d be interested in and could help take it to the next level.

I’ve started to write about Bad Bunny so many times over the past few months and have either come up short or some new development happened that made me rethink what I had written. First, I was writing about La Residencia and its undeniable economic and cultural impact, and how it should be the blueprint for how countries/cities export culture, when the Amazon Live was announced. I waited for that to incorporate into my thoughts and then failed to put into words what it meant to have him bring out Marc Anthony to sing Preciosa – how I screamed an internal scream and wept as I watched on my phone next to my sleeping husband while my phone exploded with all my Puerto Rican people collectively losing their minds. [Prime Video never officially published figures, but by some estimates, it was the most viewed non-sport event on the platform.] And as I was struggling to put those feelings in writing, it was announced that he would be performing at the Super Bowl.

Now, three Grammy’s later and deep into Benito’s history-making run, I return to the task.

Over the past few weeks, many others, including Ricky Martin (in this open letter) have eloquently expressed what Bad Bunny means to our people. I will say, he has reminded us that the impossible can be possible. That a young man who works as a grocery bagger at a supermarket in a small town in Puerto Rico, can with a lot of talent and some luck, in the span of 10 years win three Grammy’s, perform at the world’s biggest stage and make history.

He has shown us that there is a path to success for which you don’t have to give up your roots. In this current political moment, where immigrants (and in particular Hispanic immigrants) are so maligned, he has succeeded by not only speaking only Spanish, but specifically Puerto Rican slang, and continuing to honor Puerto Rico via La Residencia and in all his songs and appearances and in doing so, has blown open a new path for future generations on how to “make it.” He’s shown us you don’t need to turn yourself into something else to be more palatable.

He’s put words to the collective nostalgia 5.9 million Puerto Ricans and a good chunk of the 68 million Latins living in the US feel about leaving our countries. /Otro sunset bonito que veo en San Juan/ Disfrutando de toda’ esas cosas que extrañan los que se van/ Disfrutando de noches de esas que ya no se dan/ Made it OK to for two things to be true at once: that we are here (or elsewhere) in search of a better life, but that we are always wishing for home.

He’s shown us that it’s OK to reinvent yourself and evolve. One speech my husband is probably tired of hearing is how Bad Bunny has evolved over the years – I will fight anyone that suggests he doesn’t have range – educating himself about Puerto Rican history, incorporating it into his songs and exploring other genres. /Si mañana muero, yo espero que nunca olviden mi rostro/ Y pongan un tema mío el día que traigan a Hostos/ En la caja, la bandera azul clarito/ The salsa version of Callaita is the best song in his ouvre – change my mind. In the process, he has learned to (and this is one of the things I most admire about him) pay homage to the artists that came before him, both in his music and his performances. Watching him bring out Ednita, Gilbertito, Tito Auger, Kany Garcia and others during La Residencia made me cry every time. He knows he doesn’t exist in a vacuum and proudly stands on the shoulders of those who came before him.

I could keep going, but am going to switch gears and talk about the Halftime Show. Here are some facts to bring to your Super Bowl party:

FIRST, some ground rules: DON’T YUCK SOMEONE ELSE’S YUM

This is a core value in my household. I see a lot of people, even Puerto Ricans, asking: aM i tHe OnLy OnE tHaT dOeSn’T lIkE hIs MuSiC? And here I would like to remind you – you don’t have to like his music and you certainly don’t have to understand it. Not everything is for everyone, and this may not be for you. And that is OK! But the fact that it may not be for you doesn’t negate the fact that it is for a lot of other people, that a lot of other people find incredible significance in it and that your opinion won’t change that.

The fact that it’s not for you also doesn’t negate the historical significance of this moment: this is likely the first time a Super Bowl performance is mostly, if not entirely, in Spanish. This is the first time a Puerto Rican trap and reggaeton singer is the headliner. And, prepare yourself, it may not be the last. In the words of my Aunt when she wanted tickets to La Residencia: “I’m not a fan of his music, but this seems to me like a historic event and I’d like to bear witness to it…”

On that note, if this show is at all like La Residencia, if you are not Puerto Rican there may be a lot of beautiful details that go right over your head. Specific instruments, certain sounds, visual cues, attire – come into it with an open mind and curiosity or you might miss it.

3 FUN FACTS TO BRING TO YOUR SUPER BOWL PARTY:

1. Bad Bunny is 31. 31!!!! Ten years ago he was bagging groceries at Supermercado Econo and playing the odd gig around the island (my sister saw a few in Mayaguez) and uploading his songs on Cloudtune. And now he’s here, on what is arguably the most important stage in the world, having made it on sheer talent and a lot of luck. If that’s not the American Dream, I don’t know what is.

2. La Residencia brought over $400 million to Puerto Rico’s economy and its impact literally changed the GDP outlook of the island. There it is in dollars and cents – the man has significance.

3. Bad Bunny was the most streamed artist on Spotify worldwide in 2020, 2021, 2022 and 2025. He was edged out in 2023 and 2024 by the Taylor Swift. That, on its own, is another record-breaking run.

I want to be careful with this one; disclaimers coming soon. Serena Williams was all over my news and feed recently with the launch of her new campaign for yet another GLP-1 brand (one her husband is an investor in). Overall, I think the messaging is muddy and that her participation feels off given her brand, but the thing that really rubbed me the wrong way is the connection the campaign is drawing between postpartum bodies, weight gain, and health.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against GLP-1s or anyone that uses them. Anyone’s reasons for using them are irrelevant to me – if you want to go on it for whatever reason, I do not judge. As of this moment, they are not for me, but hey, never say never. My point is more around how these medicines are being marketed and to whom.

It feels out of character for Serena Williams to suggest that she’s at a point of “unhealthy weight” in the first place. And to say that “after kids, it’s the medicine my body needed” feels like a slap in the face of postpartum women. Is this the same Serena that famously reached two US Open Finals after having her first baby? The same Serena that won the Australian Open while pregnant? Someone that seemed to be saying (and maybe did say) that pregnancy and motherhood would not stop her from reaching the highest levels in her sport, which presumably require a high level of fitness and health?

I get what the brand is trying to do – they are clear about their intention. They are expanding the category by bringing in new consumers and changing the “archetype” of a GLP-1 user. From a marketing standpoint, this campaign is following a well-honed playbook. Grow the category, grow your brand. During my brand management days we used the “pie” metaphor ad nauseam: if, instead of stealing someone else’s slice, you were able to grow the pie, you would still have more pie, and so would everybody else. It’s a win-win for all the brands involved.

Except, except. Our bodies are supposed to change after pregnancy and labor. It takes time to get back to a new normal, acceptance that some of these may be permanent changes and strength to rebuild self-confidence. The postpartum period, even the first year after giving birth, is an extremely delicate, sensitive and hormonal period in a woman’s life. For these brands to come in and directly say that postpartum weight gain weight is unhealthy and that you need medicine in this moment, frankly feels predatory.

If Serena had said she wanted to lose weight quickly and look skinnier and the messaging was around helping people look the way they want to look instead of focusing on unhealthy baby-related weight gain, it would have at least felt more honest, although perhaps still problematic.

…I’ll leave my thoughts on how it’s sad that as a society we’re re-obsessed with skinny bodies after an era of curves and acceptance for a future post.

I quit Twitter, my main vice, at the beginning of the year. I did so out of principle, out of anger, out of boredom. Since the acquisition, my feed (like everyone else’s I suppose), had veered far away from my carefully curated interests into a cesspool of misinformation, bad political takes and casual misogyny.

I replaced my Twitter addiction with a LinkedIn addiction, again, out of boredom, and probably to soothe a 21st century brain desperate for the high of a never-ending content stream. To be clear, LinkedIn is also no good. Despite having hundreds of connections, the algorithm seems intent on sharing only the activity of roughly 2 dozen people who are not really even that active. It tragically doesn’t update at the speed I’m accustomed to, showing me the same posts from 3 weeks ago every time I log on, and perhaps unsurprisingly, it is also filled with bad takes.

I’ve been getting really into a few Substacks and newsletters; suddenly I crave longer-form content and better-formed points of view than what other places tend to offer. It’s been lovely to discover new creators and get recommendations from friends on who to read next. The whole endeavor has been soothing, slow and purposeful. A rebuke on everything social media offers. Is this what it feels like to heal my brain?

Clearly not, because only a deranged brain would decide that I too have a right to throw my own [potentially bad] takes out into the ether. Now that I’m consuming longer-form content, I’ve been itching to write it. I need a new project about as much as I need to get called on for jury duty, but here we are.

And since we are here, here I will be sharing my takes on marketing, motherhood, modern life, movies, books (ran out of “m” words), twins and a miscellany of other topics I might have a take on. I’ll try to keep myself to a regular cadence, for the sake of discipline, and I promise to at least try to not be boring.

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