The Road to Healing
When it comes to football, like religion, I'm an apostate. I watch Alabama football and maybe a couple of other college teams. But football? I generally abstain. It's robotic, like Tesla or CGI. I don't think I've ever seen any part of the Super Bowl. The halftime show is spectacle that does nothing for me. Listening to music on a television is a perversion of the sound. Why sit through orchestrated thuggery to watch a marketing vehicle? You wont miss it. For the weeks that follow we will be bombarded with clips and opinions, etc.
Add Bad Bunny to the equation. I pass.
But that’s no slam on him. I have only recently thought of him as a positive. I had to overcome what I now realize was merely a resistance to change. Tropical music is a complex genre. It is melodic, well-structured, and respectful. Bad Bunny had been the culmination of things with which I was not comfortable. Reggaeton. Rap, thug shit.
His latest album set me on the road to Damascus. Bunny had made a conscious effort to link his music with my music and our culture and history. Rather than the gross sexist attitudes I had presumed were his, I saw the same sort of respect, romance, tenderness, sensuality and love that can be found in boleros, plenas, etc. He is an upsetter and now my kindred spirit, mi compañero.
I can’t emphasize enough his significance to me or other Puerto Rican Boomers, especially if you were raised up North. My family left the island as part of the 40s diaspora. We are this country's Palestinians. We are part of the supposed unwashed, the unwelcomed. We have been displaced, discriminated, and dishonored wherever we go. From New York (where we were forced out so that they could build Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts) to New Jersey, Florida, France, Denmark, etc. and so, we have a soft spot for immigrants; but for the vagaries of history, go us.
I was surprised that Rita Moreno wasn't at the show. Puerto Ricans have a special attachment to her through West Side Story. The movie started telling our story and she was its blazing star. Benito quaffs our needy thirsts but Rita carried the initial water. She broke the self-deprecating Stepin Fetchit mold of Hispanics like Monty Rock III, Carmen Miranda, and Charo by being not just good but a wonder, the proverbial GOAT (EGOT if you prefer). Her portfolio culminates in the phenomenon that we're now seeing in Bad Bunny. He wields his power - not abrasive, not vituperative, but nonetheless assertive. He is what the world needs right now, a gentleman who stands without pushing you down or keeping you back.
The idea of putting Bad Bunny in the halftime show wasn't driven by any concern for our psyche. But for us he is a welcomed accident - the elixir, the balm, the Vicks - for the insecurities and psychological injuries inflicted on us and that we have begun to weather. We will continue to survive but no longer as just more road kill thanks to a Bad Bunny.
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