The organizer’s goal was simple: host a group of fans who want to learn more about the cultural and historical underpinnings of Bad Bunny’s latest album and his short film. What ensued was a lively, two-hour demonstration of cultural connection, grief and release.
By Vicky Díaz-Camacho. February 19, 2025.
More than 300 people showed up that night for a film screening, album listening party and a guided conversation about the themes of colonialism, resistance and Puerto Rican pride in Bad Bunny’s work. Photo: Vicky Díaz-Camacho
The movie poster for “DeBÍ TiRAR MáSFOTos”. Source: IMDB
On Feb.12, grassroots group Philly Boricuas put Bad Bunny's new album, DeBÍ TiRAR MáSFOTos, into local context.
More than 300 people showed up that night for a film screening, album listening party and a guided conversation about the themes of colonialism, resistance and Puerto Rican pride in Bad Bunny’s work.
Sounds of overlapping chatter and sights of people greeting one another with a hug encapsulated the ambiance at Taller Puertorriqueño on Wednesday evening.
A line of attendees wrapped around the foyer, as Amy’s Pastelillos served cups full of arroz con gandules, potato salad and a selection of either pollo guisado, lentils or perníl.
The free event was co-hosted by volunteers at Philly Boricuas and Taller Puertorriqueño. Activities began with short film, also called DeBÍ TiRAR MáSFOTos which tells the story of a Puerto Rican elder experiencing the Americanization and gentrification in his neighborhood.
The animated character in the film, Concho, refers to an endangered species of toads, the crested toad (or sapo concho), facing extinction on the island. This small character shone a light on the effects development is having on the island’s natural biodiversity, as the toads only exist in preserved and protected areas such as Guánica State Forest and Punta Ventana in Guayanilla.
“Like Puerto Ricans, the frog has endured the hardships of historical processes that shape the 20th century of Puerto Rico: migration, the introduction of invasive species, and the impacts of climate change. And, like many Puerto Ricans, it continues to fight for survival,” said Philly Boricuas member Adrián Rivera Reyes.
During the screening the audience was mostly silent, save for audible laughs, cries and sighs. Then Philly Boricuas led a group discussion, inviting people to share their thoughts.
“The first feeling I can think of is that I’m not wanted – wherever I’m at. [Or this is] where I’m not supposed to be,” said Alfredo, who identified himself only with his first name.
The audience was encouraged to discuss how the film resonated with them and to identify which feelings the short drummed up. Photo: Vicky Díaz-Camacho
Folks were encouraged to discuss how the film resonated with them and to identify which feelings the short film drummed up. There was a trend in responses. Many identified with displacement and a sense of alienation.
“We remember going to our aunt’s house and … the activity in the neighborhood. Now it’s very quiet. Even the pueblos look like they’re dying. It is very sad,” Afredo continued. “I have family members who say, ‘Everybody’s leaving.’ [Leaving] after Maria or even [looking for] jobs. They say, ‘I can’t afford to live on the island anymore.’ Then they come here and they’re desperate to leave.”
He added: “This film is showing what will happen when the acceleration and displacement of our people intensifies.”
There was a consensus: Puerto Ricans are experiencing severe losses, such as their family homes and culture while wealthy U.S. residents and developers move to the island and change long-standing cultural cornerstones such as "quesitos."
“The film makes me angry as hell. The biggest thing the album did for me — a first generation [Puerto Rican] born and raised in North Philly — I always used to hear, the plan was to go back. When did that stop being the … plan?” participant Adrianna said.
The event included an analysis of five songs, with speeches by grassroot organizers Adrian Rivera Reyes, Charito Morales, Justin Roig, Deborah Rodriguez and Vanessa Maria Graber.
Morales, who introduced the song "NUEVAYOL," punctuated the significance of the title. Morales said previous generations of Puerto Rican migrants used “Vamo’ a Nueva York” to refer to the U.S. Embedded in the song is a message of how communities forged connections and built communities where they could.It’s present in New York, but also in Philadelphia’s “Hispanic North” such as Fairhill and Kensington, where the largest clusters of Puerto Rican residents live.
As soon as the salsa beats played, people began to wave their flags, sing and dance. Photo: Vicky Díaz-Camacho
As soon as the salsa beats played, people began to wave their flags, sing and dance.
Another attendee, Rafael Álvarez Febo, who was born in Puerto Rico and raised in the U.S. said he is proud of his Puerto Rican dialect. He urged the audience to hold on to their cultural ties and to build strong connections to their fellow Boricuas. To him, both the film and album were a love letter.
“Es una carta de amor,” Álvarez Febo said, reminding audiences to embrace their Puerto Rican pride. “Siempre hablan de la isla, pero es la gente que hace Puerto Rico.”
He said people always speak of the island, but it’s the people who make Puerto Rico what it is.
Bad Bunny's latest works are a reminder of Borínquen history, organizer Adrián Reyes-Rivera said.
Songs like LO QUE LO PASO A HAWAII clearly lay out Benito’s plea.
Bad Bunny Album Cover “DeBÍ TiRAR MáSFOTos”
“Quieren quitarme el río y también la playa
Quieren el barrio mío y que abuelita se vaya
In English:
“They want to take away the river and also the beach,
They want my neighborhood and for my grandma to leave,
No, don’t let go of your flag or forget the lelolai
I don’t want what happened to you what happened to Hawái”
Bad Bunny’s choice of salsa and reggaeton samples, and his use of the guïro and plena, pay homage to those who came before him. The artist uses the plena — also known as "el periodico cantado" or "the singing newspaper" — and the cuatro, Puerto Rico's national instrument.
“Se decía que la plena era el periódico de la gente, ya que se utilizaba para documentar y trazar la cotidianidad. Estos estilos musicales han sido objetos de la represión policiaca al ser considerado desordenado,” Reyes Rivera said.
Translated, he says it was once said that plenas were the people’s newspaper, used to document and map out every day life. These musical styles have been subjected to police repression, being considered disorderly in nature.
Bad Bunny’s messages serve as a rallying cry to pay attention to what happens when U.S. governments take over an unincorporated territory and local governments bend to their will.
Organizers said the musician is following in the footsteps of ancestral Puerto Rican resistance movements and leaders.
The island has seen an influx of gentrification and outward migration, which has had devastating effects in health care and the already fragile economy. The cost of living is becoming prohibitive, forcing many to sell their homes. The island is in an affordable housing and financial crises, without the proper safeguards to help support people when natural disasters or economic downturns hit.
Currently, there are only 34 affordable housing units available for every 100 low-income renter households, according to an analysis by Builders Patch. Puerto Rico ranks second among the top five states with the highest affordable housing shortage rates.
Bad Bunny continues his call to fight for Puerto Ricans – on the island and stateside – to resist outside corporations from exploiting the island. It’s a call to protect the island from government corruption, the infiltration of developers who seek to privatize natural resources, rivers and beaches.
“You don’t want Puerto Ricans but you want Puerto Rico,” said Vanessa, another attendee who used her first name only.
After the two-and-a-half hour event, Morales called on everyone to use the moment to organize and educate families and friends.
Another theme kept emerging: the desire to return to the island. Several spoke, in tears, about moving their grandmothers to the U.S. for medical care because of the lack of specialists and long wait times. Many times, elders die in the U.S., never able to return despite it being their last wish.
Photo: Vicky Díaz-Camacho
Puchi DeJesus, a Philly Boricua member and local activist, recently moved her own grandmother to Philadelphia.
“She hates it here. She wants to die back home. She wants to be buried in the family plot. It really breaks my heart. We all dream of going back.”
Younger generations in the room, whether born in the U.S. or in Puerto Rico, all echoed the same points.
“[The U.S.] did the thing. They brought us here. We got educated. We know how to do all the things,” Adrianna said. “Let’s take it back. … Let’s go get our island back.”
Several people in the audience waved their small Puerto Rican flags in the air in agreement, as others chanted, “Eso!”
This project is a part of Every Voice, Every Vote, a collaborative project managed by The Lenfest Institute for Journalism. The William Penn Foundation provides lead support for Every Voice, Every Vote in 2024 and 2025 with additional funding from The Lenfest Institute for Journalism, Comcast NBC Universal, The John S. and James L. Knight Foundation, Henry L. Kimelman Family Foundation, Judy and Peter Leone, Arctos Foundation, Wyncote Foundation, 25th Century Foundation, Dolfinger-McMahon Foundation, and Philadelphia Health Partnership. To learn more about the project and view a full list of supporters, visit www.everyvoice-everyvote.org. Editorial content is created independently of the project’s donors.