¿Cómo es una revolución? (What does a revolution look like?) Oftentimes, it resembles advancements in political discourse and cultural reformation. What then, does a revolution sound like? Following the sunset on the musical horizon of 2022, some may associate it with the heightened presence of Spanish lyricism and the quintessential rhythm of dembow in mainstream music.
The rising leader of last year’s auditory coup is reggaetón, a genre born from Afrocentric and Latin musical traditions, civil unrest and multi-ethnic unity during the construction of the Panama Canal, as stated in Philip Samponaro’s article “‘Oye mi canto’ (‘Listen to My Singing’) The History and Politics of Reggaetón.”
Although reggaetón’s sound has changed in the past two decades due to its widening global scope and advancements in music production, the genre’s public image continues to offer a complex answer to the question of what a revolution sounds like — fighting against misogyny while it remains ever present in the industry.
Critics of contemporary reggaetón contemporary point to its lyrical themes, citing a tendency toward sexual, violent and misogynistic themes. However, these problematic elements within the genre exist within a progressive cultural and social climate, which invites a deeper look at its frontrunners.
Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, conocido profesionalmente como Bad Bunny (known professionally as Bad Bunny), was certified by streaming metrics as the most listened-to artist on Spotify for three consecutive years after releasing his fifth project, “Un Verano Sin Ti.” Bad Bunny has taken a lead role on the global stage, giving him a considerable platform that can, in some cases, be used in confounding ways.
On the one hand, the Puerto Rican artist has significantly contributed to the crowd-sourced definition of what it means “to be a man” in the 21st century. Donning signature painted nails and drag-influenced attire in music videos like the one for “Yo Perreo Sola” suggests a departure from “the profitable subjects of homophobia and sexism” that occupy the masculine tradition in reggaetón, as put by Samponaro.
Por otra parte (On the other hand), Bunny’s appearance at the 2019 Pornhub awards in addition to his lyrical content may send a polarizing message.
“Mientras integrando eslóganes feministas, o transgrediendo el género, Bad Bunny maltrata simultáneamente a las mujeres en el mismo álbum,” (“Even while integrating feminist slogans, or transgressing gender, Bad Bunny simultaneously maltreats women in the same album”) as noted by Keylor Murillo.
A similar discussion surrounds Hip Hop, which, like Reggaetón, faces ample scrutiny for its lyricism. As a Latin trap juggernaut and purveyor of Reggaetón, Bad Bunny remains a scapegoat in the eyes of his fiercest opponents — an object of affection for his most ardent fans, and a contradictory model of contemporary masculinity.
Limiting the discussion solely to the Bad Bunnies, J Balvins and Ozunas, however, would only reinforce the gap between the notoriety enjoyed by male and female artists in the genre. It’s a gap that Colombian singer Carolina Giraldo Navarro, professionally known as Karol G, both acknowledges and aspires to narrow.
“The only limit I see at the moment is people accepting our lyrics,” she said in an interview with Grammy Awards. “We have songs about love, about falling out of love … I want to be able to talk about anything … I think there needs to be a little more equality in that aspect.”
The impact of this sentiment is felt by child development senior Karla Espinoza, who spoke about the disparity in attention that female artists like Ivy Queen, the acclaimed “Queen of Reggaetón,” and male artists like Bad Bunny receive for addressing the sexualization of women.
“Ivy Queen’s message is similar to the one Bad Bunny delivers in ‘Yo Perreo Sola,’” she said. “Women in Reggaeton don’t really get the credit that they deserve, in a sense.”
A contradiction much like the one present in the masculine realm of Reggaetón also applies to the feminine. The same genre that sometimes promotes male bravado at the expense of female dignity also affords women opportunities to incite cultural change, albeit with limitations.
Ivy Queen sheds light on this dynamic through both her lyricism and onstage presentation.
The Puerto Rican singer’s authoritative vocals confidently jab through the mix of “Quiero Bailar,” a track that is part perreo classic, part ode to feminine agency. Within the chorus, Ivy Queen passionately asserts “Yo te digo ‘Sí, tú me puedes provocar’ (Ey) / Eso no quiere decir que pa’ la cama voy” (“I’ll tell you ‘Sure, you can lead me on’ (Ay) / That doesn’t mean that I’m going to bed”).
According to Samponaro’s article, Ivy Queen has also historically followed suit onstage by abandoning the norm of “using all male dancers to support the female artist.” Instead, she relies on a mostly female entourage to convey a sense of “pro-woman solidarity and female sexual agency” that reflects her lyricism.
However, these progressive actions still transpire within the industry machine, which raises a discussion of creative autonomy. It’s a tricky item to obtain for many high-profile artists, including leading women such as Ivy Queen.
In the article “‘En mi imperio’: Competing discourses of agency in Ivy Queen’s reggaetón,” Africana and Puerto Rican/Latino Studies professor Jillian M. Báez said artists sometimes lose independence within “a media industry in which women of color are forced to whiten, thin and hypersexualize their bodies.”
Although criticized by some for facilitating systemic inequality, contemporary Reggaetón nevertheless contains elements that demonstrate the genre’s movement toward inclusivity.
In spite of the obstacles faced by female artists, Espinoza points to an ongoing positive shift in the landscape of Reggaetón. Within Bad Bunny’s music video for “Yo Perreo Sola,” for instance, she noted that “there’s a neon sign behind him reading, ‘Las mujeres mandan’ (‘The women lead’). He’s trying to send the message that women are their own person.”
Beyond its conflicting representations of gender, Reggaetón has also managed to colorfully burst through the multi-genre soundscape and resonate with the masses.
“Reggaetón has become more popular, not necessarily because the songs are upbeat, or anything, but I think a lot of people do kind of steer toward Reggaetón for that as well,” agricultural business sophomore Priscilla Vazquez said. “I feel like I’ve seen it being played a lot more now compared to a couple of years ago and among everyone, not just toward a specific race or gender,” she said.
The internet’s expansion of the multilingual listening base has afforded millions of listeners around the globe the opportunity to experience everything from K-Pop to UK Drill. It goes without saying that while the rise of Reggaetón promotes diversity, it does not necessarily resolve inequality.
Sin embargo, como cualquiera revolución (However, like any revolution), the ascent of Reggaetón has inspired countless individuals to raise their voices, raise their hands and raise their eyes toward the possibility that the antidote to inequality does not lie so far away after all.
