(Brown Sugar and Allat)
Different Languages, Different Genres, Same Struggle
12/19/25
Chance the Rapper’s newest album, STAR LINE, has critically important similarities with Bad Bunny’s latest DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS. Aside from the playful similarities of nostalgic beats, lamenting lost loves, and artists being unapologetically themselves, we cannot ignore the overarching outcry of what’s happening in their communities.
In earlier songs Chance raps about the necessity that families unite over property, homes, and land ownership, highlighting nostalgia as a motivator. The context is voracious gentrification, displacing Black and Brown people from neighborhoods they have called home for generations. Chance has been relentless in criticizing policies and leadership of his hometown, Chicago. Both the crisis and the rallying cry that Chance taps into are remarkably similar to the precarious situation in Puerto Rico.
Ever since Puerto Rico was claimed as a colony of the United States, the looming question has been: how can this island be made to serve US imperial goals? Military bases and exercises have deemed people and ecosystems collateral damage. Policies masked as development drew people out of sustainable agriculture and into factories and urban poverty to exploit them as pawns in an imperial economy. Today, Puerto Rico remains buffeted by similar interests. One crisis that Bad Bunny calls substantial attention to is, likewise, gentrification. Wealthy US Americans increasingly find interest in Puerto Rico for vacation homes and real estate ventures. Such interests price Puerto Ricans out of homes and lands that have been theirs for generations. These forms of gentrification inevitably trample over, erase, and forget the proud cultures of POC namely Black American and Puerto Rican cultures both of which deserve a closer and dignified look by the mainstream. Furthermore, both artists tap into larger philosophies of justice and liberation from oppression, adding to a rich history of activism.
Their differences are also critical. Although both albums employ music forms that invoke nostalgia, one channels juke parties of Chicago and RB beats of 90s and the other Puerto Rican salsa and plena. One key difference is the context. Puerto Rico carries a history of colonialism first by Spain and then by the United States. Tragically and embarrassingly, many US Americans, including some of the most powerful US Americans, know neither what happens in Puerto Rico today nor the history of the island which is part of our nation. On the other hand, Chance references Pan Africanism, drawing on the symbolism of the famous Back to Africa Movement and Garveyism, finding purpose in seeking Black flourishing. Chance also addresses such issues as medical malpractice against people of color, police brutality, and Black on Black violence, fueling the cultural shift that must accompany impressive policy efforts that are reducing violence in the city.
STAR LINE has critically important similarities with DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, highlighting how these cultures and their struggles are similar, unique, and intertwined. Understanding the similarities as well as the differences between these two albums is essential to realizing goals of solidarity and liberation.
The Day I Learned to Love My Name
9/14/25
I’ve always loved my name. Ever since I was coloring on walls and learning the patience required to grow a pumpkin. Robert, my dad’s name. My mom told me it meant shining star. And I love stars. The idea that I could somehow be one, soaring above the struggles of this world, fixed among constellations, was beyond my imagination.
In Mandarin I was Fang Le Wen. In Spanish I’ve been Roberto.
I hadn’t given my name much thought until I met Vlad in Costa Rica. Immediately after introducing ourselves, his curiosity poked through, “Ahh Robert. What does that name mean, Robert?” In the moment I was stumped. I hadn’t thought about this since I was a kid. I echoed the question back to him, who was not at all stumped and in fact had given this deep thought.
“I used to hate my name, Vladimir,” he reflected with a disgusted face. “In Ukraine that’s the name of a conqueror, a warlord. “But recently” he noted, “I heard another definition of Vladimir, that it can also mean a peacemaker, someone who brings balance and tranquility,” gazing out at the permaculture paradise that flanked and cornered us.
Fast forward two years and I am in rural Panamá, living in an Indigenous community that throws a name-giving party for each baby that’s born, a community full of endearing nicknames.
“Todi, mhm, Todi, Mm,” Multiple voices came to accord.
Todi? Really? They want to name me Todi. People already think I’m a joke here with my six-foot stature, my afro, and the most puzzling, turning down drinks when offered. Now this name cements it. I must be the joke of the town.
“Que significa Todi,” I pressed them, “What does it mean?”
“Un nombre pues.” “It’s just a name.” Came the first response, with a shrug and lips pushed into an upside-down U.
Just a name, huh.
Another said it’s an ancestral name, and another, the name of a hard worker.
It wasn’t until the next day when my feelings towards my new name solidified. As people pounded bamboo into a curtain and tied knots in metal wire, I asked where did you all learn all of these skills, and received the reply, “de nuestros antepasados, claro.” From our ancestors. From those who could start a fire from one strike of rocks against the right wood.
The same day they tapped me in for a bunch of work.
“Todi, hold this for me.”
“Todi, tie this wire up there.”
“Hold on tight, Todi.”
Now I get it. They saw that I show up. And they saw these veins on the back of my hands. “Todi,” we’ll call him, “cómo no.”
And Todi I’ll be, as I become fixed among the constellations of a new place.
Fourth of July in Panama
7/4/25
I am not silent on the Fourth of July. I celebrate, and here’s why.
Sometimes you don’t see the beauty of your nation until you see the beauty of other nations, and let them harmonize. Only so, can a fish look at water and say, “I think I’d like to get back into that.”
María Elena told me about her roots, coming from poverty in the Panamanian “interior,” and realizing, young, that her only option was to study hard. She pursued and achieved academic excellence, always among the best grades in her classes, and earned a scholarship to study in the US through USAID. The strength of America, I thought, is that we make pathways for anyone who wants to study hard. And what did María Elena do with that gift? She came back to Panama and started working for perhaps the most essential international organization, the Peace Corps, serving volunteers and ensuring their safety for nearly 25 years. Her strength cannot be glossed over— to earn a scholarship, earn a degree, and then come back and lay down her strength in service of both of our nations, speaks volumes.
And on that note, the true strength of America came rushing to my mind. We shine with the perspectives and work ethic that people of color bring from all around the world. How could I not celebrate today?
Today I celebrate our inevitable sway as Billy Joel sings of a piano man. Today I celebrate the electric slide and the smell of barbershops. Today I celebrate barbecue and sweet potato pie. Today I celebrate a Chicago-style hotdog that may or may not fall apart depending on how you bite it.
The strength of America is its Black people have carried our nation to new heights. Today I celebrate the Black people who have always challenged this nation to live up to its ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all people.
Today I celebrate the opportunity to participate in a democracy, the opportunity to escape poverty, freedom of religion, freedom of food and nutrition, though in each of these strengths, we have work to do. And for those that don’t believe compassion and empathy have a place in public policy, oh, we shall see, because that is what I celebrate on the 4th of July.
‘Barber Joe’ looks to help students find a sense of belonging on campus (Article for the Notre Dame Observer)
2/28/24
https://www.ndsmcobserver.com/article/2024/02/students-find-belonging-in-a-barber-shop-on-campus
