There’s an axiom that I coined with a bestie who, like me, doesn’t have children: Aunting is the best. We get to experience much of the joy of parenting but with fewer burdens; we’re typically allowed more closeness than uncles but are hipper than grandparents.
Our cool auntie north star is the wealthy and similarly fiftysomething Tracee Ellis Ross (actress, hair mogul and daughter of Diana), who’s a modern day Auntie Mame with a better stylist and Pilates bod.
I’m blessed to have three nieces, all of whom have inherited the discerning, arts-loving spirit that characterizes Infantry women. I’ve bonded with the eldest over Drake and Kendrick, while the youngest, a toddler, sings along in the car to the S.O.S Band on my ‘80s mixtape.
So I wasn’t surprised when my middle niece Beli snapped up tickets for a Bad Bunny concert in the Dominican Republic, without a plan to get there. I’ve always loved travel anchored by a cultural agenda – concerts, plays, exhibits – and have hopped on planes to find enrichment, from Prince in Montreux, to Fela! on Broadway and Ai Weiwei’s Sunflower Seeds at the Tate Modern.
The Honours Spanish student, avid salsa dancer and budding filmmaker is not quite ready for solo overseas travel, so when she couldn’t find a friend with the interest or means to go with her – and neither parent could attend – I offered to chaperone.
I was familiar with the global Puerto Rican sensation’s 2018 collaborations I Like It and MíA, with Cardi B and Drake, respectively; his Kardashian connection via a short-lived 2023 liaison with model Kendall Jenner; and the quirky, gender-disarming fashions he has showcased at many a Met Gala.
However, by the time we landed in Santo Domingo in November for what turned out to be the kickoff for his eight-month world tour, I was up to speed on the multiple Grammy winner who has been Spotify’s most-streamed artist of the year four times since 2020 (with Taylor Swift topping the other two years).
It wasn’t just the preparatory playlist Beli sent me, either. In the six months since she’d purchased the pricey floor seats with her high school graduation cash, the musician – born Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio – had migrated to the centre of pop culture.
His sixth album, Debí Tirar Más Fotos (I Should Have Taken More Photos), released last January, spawned buoyant hits – DtMF, Baile Inolvidable and NUEVAYoL. The Spanish-language project, a mélange of pop, house, reggaeton, salsa, plena and other updated Puerto Rican folk rhythms, is a critically acclaimed homage to his musical and familial roots, homeland and Latin culture.
Bunny doubled down on the nostalgia with a 31-date summer residency in San Juan called No Me Quiero Ir de Aquí (I Don’t Want to Leave Here). Although the first nine concerts were open only to residents of Puerto Rico, the sold-out shows brought over 500,000 tourists to Puerto Rico and generated about $200 million in revenue during the typically slow hurricane season, plus untold indirect economic and cultural impact.
Many of those visitors travelled from the U.S. mainland where Bunny declined to tour the current album, citing the potential for immigration officials to target his fans at concert venues. That triggered a backlash and sparked debates about national identity, when he was announced as the Feb. 8 halftime show headliner for Super Bowl LX. But the NFL stuck with the selection.
“He’s one of the leading and most popular entertainers in the world,” said NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. “I’m not sure we’ve ever selected an artist where we didn’t have some blowback or criticism.”
In his Oct. 4 monologue on Saturday Night Live, Bunny, 31, alternating between English and Spanish, as he typically does in interviews, addressed the controversy: “I’m very excited to be doing the Super Bowl, and I know that people all around the world who love my music are also happy…. It’s more than an achievement for myself; it’s an achievement for all of us. It shows our footprint, and our contribution to this country, that no one will ever be able to take away or erase. And if you didn’t understand what I just said, you have four months to learn.”
He closed out the year with multiple Latin Grammy wins, and he racked up six Grammy nominations, making history as the first Spanish-language artist with simultaneous nominations for Album, Record and Song of the Year. [Ed Note: On Feb. 1, he won three of those Grammys, including the top award Album of the Year, the first Spanish-language album to do so.]
All that to say, on the flight to DR, I was far from a grudging escort. I was just as giddy as Beli and the evident Los Conejos (The Bunnies) all around us, nattering about the upcoming shows. Not only could I now recognize the hooks and grooves (and lyrics, thanks to translation sites) of his most popular songs, I’d also come to appreciate the performer’s audacity, politically tinged tunes and commitment to continue singing in Puerto Rican slang even as his audience grows. My Jamaican roots and fondness for reggae and afrobeat primed me to identify with the pride and passion fueling Bunny’s music. After settling into our hotel in the upscale Piantini District of downtown Santo Domingo, we ventured out into the nightlife. On the concierge’s recommendation, we went to a bar that offered live music, karaoke and multiple screens showing the Miss Universe pageant like a sporting event. In the DJ room – where we heard several Bad Bunny songs and couples exuded So You Think You Can Dance precision – Beli got a chance to test her salsa and bachata moves.
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The next day, we made a quick trip to the nearby mall for last-minute outfit deliberations. From the overheard buzz, we weren’t the only ones in a scramble for breezy concert fits. For the Puerto Rico shows, Los Conejos tended towards varying combos of long skirts, short shorts, bikini tops, denim, lace, sandals and sneakers. Think Coachella vibes with island complements, like a traditional pava straw hat Bunny himself often wears. We both ended up sticking with the clothes we brought, reluctant to buy new summer items we didn’t need. We went back to the hotel for a few hours at the hotel’s rooftop pool, and then it was time to get ready.
Despite concerns about logistics, getting to and from Estadio Olímpico Félix Sánchez for the sold-out Friday night show of 50,000 was easy. The security and entry lines moved quickly, and Beli had enough time to complete the “I’m Going to See Bad Bunny Tonight” Tik-Tok challenge before we took our seats in the humid night air.
The Dominicans received Bunny like he was their own. For all the putative rivalry between Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic over food, music, baseball…both flags and representative colours abounded at the two-hour concert. Benito was charming, exuberant and energetic, performing more than 30 songs in a seamless set with a live band and dancers, as couples danced in the aisles and cheered him on. I felt right at home at the Caribbean love-in.
I was seated on one side by New York-based Puerto Rican sisters who, once they realized I was a Latino-concert neophyte, announced each song title and showed me the relevant dances; and on the other by Dominican cousins who shared their rum and pizza with me. Beli was entranced throughout, though, like many of the younger attendees, she watched most of the concert through her phone and ran out of video storage by time the show ended with an extended fireworks display that punctuated the audience’s collective exhilaration.
On our final day, we visited Zona Colonial, the capital’s oldest neighbourhood, where we had a chance to explore the island’s history. As we sat in Parque Colón, near a statue of Christopher Columbus, reliving the concert via Beli’s endless videos, committing to attend if Bunny announces a Toronto date in 2026, and scheming about the best place to watch his Super Bowl performance, I basked in the glow of peak aunting.
