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- "The World According to Bad Bunny" Sentences and Paragraphs
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I liked the part in which in the epidemic of femicides that Latin America was living he made a song “Solo de mi.” I am channeling his voice, in the video, through a woman’s bruised mouth: I am not yours I am not anybody’s I belong only to myself. I would like to think that he did it as a protest or to express his disagreement with the situation in Latin America since in these countries of this part of the world gender violence and abuse of women’s rights continue even in current times. Personally, I am not a fan of Bad Bunny, but I must admit that the song sounds good and has a good rhythm. One of the biggest problems facing Latin America is violence against women. Still, it is not mentioned much in social media or on television so it does not have the visibility it should and for that reason, the problem worsens instead of improving. Women are not only the ones affected by men’s violence but also girls who are sexually abused.
Sentence: Earlier this year, the host of the Dominican show “Alofoke Sin Censura” asked him why he is rarely seen stunting in designer logos and chains, he replied: ” My jewels are my songs.” In today’s capricious economy, Benito knows where his true wealth resides.
The article was very interesting overall but that sentence, rather two sentences stood out to me initially. I have never heard of Bad Bunny at all, up until last year or earlier this year when I was at work and my co worker shared with me that she was super excited to be going the Bad Bunny concert. When I asked her who was that she almost passed out.
That sentence stood out to me because it’s very rare that artists his age are so humble. Most young artists, once they “make it” in the music industry, splurge on materialistic items such as clothing, jewelry, automobiles etc. Attempting, I guess, to make a statement that they can now afford things they once couldn’t. His response to the host of the Dominican show made me think about how much he really values his craft and all the hard work he had to do, to get to the level where he is at today.
Technically, reggaeton isn’t really “from” any one place — Jamaica, Panama and New York City were all crucial sites in its development in the early ’90s — but it established itself as a commercial force in Puerto Rico, which is uniquely positioned to amplify diasporic music. “We’ve always been good bridges because of the colonial situation,” said the rapper Residente, formerly of Calle 13, on a recent Zoom call, “the missing link that’s needed to make the rhythm work.” Despite the packaging of reggaeton as global pop, a palpable tension remains between Puerto Rico’s subjugated political status and its boisterous, filthy, defiant and now world-dominating music. This is especially true of the music B enito makes as Bad Bunny. Earlier this year, the host of the Dominican show “Alofoke Sin Censura” asked him why he is rarely seen stunting in designer logos and chains, and he replied: “My jewels are my songs.” In today’s capricious economy, Benito knows where his true wealth
sentence: Bad Bunny has a preternatural feel for the needs of the moment, but his interventions very rarely come off as dutiful or didactic.
Sentence:
“We knew it could get worse, but we didn’t dare imagine how much. Instead, we filled our cups with pineapple juice and rum.”
Paragraph:
“There wasn’t anything remarkable about how Benito grew up: in a stable lower-middle-class family of observant Catholics, with two parents who worked “to maintain” and two younger brothers, Bernie and Bysael. His father drove trucks, and his mother taught English. At home, they talked about “the light bill, the viejaon the corner who died, cancer diagnoses”; they were “a normal family caught up in the quotidian.” A trip to San Juan was an event: “four, at most five times a year” they’d go to Plaza las Américas, the vast, lavish mall in the capital with a five-level parking garage. “You have to understand that I was just a country kid. I didn’t even know where I was. I was standing there trying to ask someone Where’s Walmart? Where’s GameStop? Whenever I went to Plaza, I went to those little kiosks that had all kinds of candies, with the little bags, and you’d fill them up and weigh them.” Benito and his friends couldn’t afford to buy anything in the big music emporiums – “they were more like museums,” Janthony said – but they always went in to look, and to dream, like, diablo, look, a whole rack of ‘Simpsons DVDs.” Instead, Benito was allowed to choose a few CDs from the catalogs his mother would order – Marc Anthony, maybe the new Vico C after he pledged his life to Jesus – but there wouldn’t be much música urbana. “The new Daddy Yankee album wasn’t going to be there.””
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