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DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, Navigating Grief, And Gratitude for Where You Come From

DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, Navigating Grief, And Gratitude for Where You Come From

Gillian Williams
DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS

It wasn’t the lush emerald vegetation, the palm trees, or the green banana trees on the album cover. It wasn’t the familiarity of the white plastic chairs. It wasn’t even the earnestness of his voice throughout the album.

Over the past week, Bad Bunny’s latest offering, DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS has refreshingly washed over social media like that first swim after months away from the beach. Following the release of lead single “EL CLúB” on December 5th last year, the new album dropped exactly one month later on January 5th, with fans taking to tracks such as the uptempo nod to Nuyoricans “NUEVAYoL” that samples the 1975 song “Un Verano en Nueva York” by El Gran Combo De Puerto Rico, a renowned and legendary Puerto Rican Salsa Orchestra with modern reggaeton and dembow infusions, “BAILE INoLVDIABLE” another salsa leaning and heartfelt offering about a lost love, and “LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii”, a plea for his native island not to suffer the same fate as modern day gentrified Hawaii. 

The warm reception is most deserving for Bad Bunny’s most politically forward album yet. But it’s the photo and video compilations of people posting recaps of their past year, passed on loved ones and pets, and places they miss dearly to the title song, DtMF (the album name abbreviated) that moved the artist, full name Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, to tears in a shared Tik Tok post. In that moment it wasn’t Bad Bunny the multi platinum Global Superstar that was deeply moved, it was Benito, the person who loves his country, his family, his people, and his culture, that bore witness to how universal that sentiment is for so many others.

This isn’t an album review. The captivating and thoughtful genre bending musical asopao (or sancocho if you prefer) of reggaeton, salsa, dembow, hip-hop cadences, with a heavy homage and use of African instrumentation and roots speaks for itself. You can feel it in the rhythms, you can see it in the video reactions of elders instantly connecting to the album’s songs that their children or grandchildren share with them creating intergenerational bridges, and without understanding or speaking a word of Spanish, you can hear it in Bad Bunny’s impassioned vocal performances throughout this album.

Instead, this will be a focus on how DtMF has viscerally and virally encapsulated the ears and hearts of so many across the world, particularly the CONCACAF region, evident in the reaction that has cut through the cacophony of the online world as a contemplative salve.

DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS translates to “I should’ve taken more photos” in English. What has connected all the shared compilations to the title song, although the first part of the track is about an ex-love, is that it has been received as a collective acknowledgement of what once was will never be again, and gratitude and reverence for the past and present all while trying to protect the future. If we only knew or understood at the time how important the moments were we would’ve taken more stock of them.

How many of us across the Caribbean, Central American, Black American and Native American diaspora and otherwise are connected to the feelings of not wanting our cultures to be erased or co-opted by gentrification, access denied to our ancestral lands, and missing those we love and times spent once they’ve transitioned on? The latter of which is not specific to any particular culture, just part of the human experience.

My family is Jamaican. My parents are from a small town on the north coast called Galina in St. Mary parish, not too far from the popular vacation destination Ocho Rios, and located right near GoldenEye Resort. My dad was born in Galina and my mom would come from Kingston to visit all her family there in the summers. They’ve always been proud of their culture and taught my siblings and I to uphold Jamaican traditions despite the fact we were born here in the States.

The beaches and waterfalls my parents and family used to freely frequent and swim in are now either private and gated off, like many other beaches in Jamaica that do not allow public entry. Or there is now a fee. Tourism that in theory would help the local economy has mainly benefitted those who own the resorts, Airbnbs, and other private businesses. Toward the end of last year, my mother unfortunately passed away after a two-year battle with late stage breast cancer.

As we prepare to take her ashes back to the island for final burial, I’ve had to reconcile that the Jamaica I haven’t been to in years, the one I spent summers going to when I was a kid, is not the same Jamaica I will be returning to. And definitely not the same exact one she knew and loved. But I know there aren’t many other final resting places she would want to be other than the same grounds as her parents, my grandparents. And after all, even with as much change that has happened, Jamaica is still home.

In addition to my mother, my grandmother (my dad’s mom and my last living grandparent) passed away exactly one week after my mom’s memorial celebration. And at the beginning of this year, one that has only just begun, a dear mentor and friend who poured so much love and wisdom into me and others, and played an instrumental role in my foundation as a young adult unexpectedly passed away.

I saw the DtMF videos online after news of her passing. And then that was it. The translation of the song lyrics, coupled with the feelings of emptiness left by those who once proverbially sat in those white plastic chairs in my life juxtaposed against the fullness of that familiar tropical background on the cover art got me. The vacantness representing that which once was is no more, and ultimately gratitude to have experienced my mother, my grandmothers, my mentor, and so many others before them that have transitioned on, in the first place. 

Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve
Debí darte más beso’ y abrazo’ las vece’ que pude
Ey, ojalá que los mío’ nunca se muden
Y si hoy me emborracho, pues que me ayuden”

Translated to:

“I should’ve taken more pictures when I had you
I should’ve given you more kisses and hugs whenever I could
Ayy, I hope my people never move away
And if I get drunk today, I hope they help me out”

Through navigating all the ups and downs of a mother-child relationship over the years, I have never doubted that my mother loves me. Last year when I told her I was going to finally see if I could create a lane for myself in the football world, particularly at the intersection of music, art, and the beautiful game, she was beyond excited for me.

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When I played club and school soccer growing up she wasn’t able to attend most of my matches because she was a nurse and worked the weekend shift. But when I got to high school, I had weekday games and she would show up and yell much to my teenage dismay “Go Gilly!”, a family nickname that I wasn’t too excited was being shared with the world. With that same enthusiasm, she supported all of my dreams throughout my life and deeply believed in me, especially during times I didn’t believe in myself.

Even over the past year as she got more and more ill as time went on, she would encourage me to keep going on my new path. We would watch matches together at the hospital with her yelling at the tv. She would always ask me what’s going on with Arsenal, the club I’ve supported since a kid, or the latest news on the Jamaican National teams. And as we planned her memorial service last year, I was sad when I realized I didn’t have many good photos of us together on the pitch. I’ve always been camera shy. But now, a photo during those times is another thing I wish I had now that she’s not here. Or to hear her yell “Go Gilly!” one more time. Or one last hug.

So no, this isn’t an official in depth album review. I do highly recommend checking out DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS though, and watching the accompanying short film on YouTube. I hope you feel joy and dance to the music, cry if you feel the need to, and read the English translations of the lyrics if you don’t understand the words of Bad Bunny’s Puerto Rican Spanish slang that he’s incredibly (and rightly so) proud of.

I hope you feel empowered to stand with the Puerto Rican people as they fight to protect their land and culture, and feel the same empowerment to continue to protect and preserve your own culture and local communities. 

But most of all, I hope this year you take more photos and cherish the moments. Even when it feels like the world is falling apart, even if things feel nothing but bleak, the time spent with the people you love is most important. That’s what our parents, grandparents, and ancestors did as they faced their own adversities in their lifetimes.

Media personality and digital creator, Estefania “Tefi” Pessoa, in a tearful reflection of DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS as it relates to her own Colombian heritage, her late grandfather who helped raise her, and upbringing in Miami, had this to say in regards to the unimaginable loss from the ongoing L.A. fires, “I know the fires in Los Angeles are devastating and surreal, but if people go to heaven, I think homes go to heaven too. Because where else would they [our loved ones] know where to meet us? And how else would we know that we’re home?”

I really hope that’s true. From the pitch to the places and people you call home, I hope whoever is reading this has a good year and remembers to find some joy despite whatever you face. I’m going to try my best to, as my loved ones would want for me. And I’ll be damn sure to take more photos.


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