While I may not be Boricua, I’m all too familiar with the ancestral beats that pulsed through the Coliseo. From the stage set with banana trees, live chickens, and a lush greenery backdrop—scenes so many of us from the Caribbean can relate to, like sitting under a shaded tree—to the house-party vibe of La Casita that felt like home for anyone raised in the islands, Bad Bunny brought our memories to life.
He oozed with a remembrance of what our countries once were before gentrification, capitalism, and over-tourism took their toll. His melodies carried the truth of our African and Indigenous ancestry—songs that make the soul yearn, weep, rebel, and celebrate all at once.
In that space, he reminded not only Puerto Rico but the neighboring islands of the strength we carry as a people—to fight for our cultures, honor our ancestors, and protect the culture for generations to come. He reignited in us the fire of ancestral rage, a force that resists modern-day colonization and oppression.
As a proud Jamaican, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much my country has changed—how our Indigenous practices have been watered down or are on the verge of disappearing.
It made me pause and ask: How can I contribute to my ancestors’ legacy?
In that moment, standing in the Coliseo with thousands, listening to Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii and feeling the electrifying energy surge through the crowd, I heard a soft but stern voice within me demand: HEALING.
That is what I stand for and what I offer—wholeheartedly—as an immigrant, Jamaican, Black woman, and mother living in America. Healing for my community and its people. Healing from intergenerational trauma, oppression, colonization, and the pain of being torn from our families!
Image Description: A sea of fans surrounds La Casita, the glowing centerpiece of Bad Bunny’s concert at the Coliseo. The stage is designed like a vibrant Caribbean house, with arches, plants, and warm orange lighting spilling into the crowd. Thousands of people press close, phones raised to capture the moment, while smoke and lights create a charged, electric atmosphere. The scene feels less like a concert and more like a massive block party—an intimate house gathering expanded to arena size, with the spirit of the Caribbean pulsing through every corner.
