California Burrito
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Take advantage of this weekly meal plan that has all the favorite recipes that families love! It is so easy…California Burrito
This delicious California Burrito is filled with well-seasoned grilled steak, pepper jack cheese, French fries, pico de Gallo, sour cream…Weekly Meal Plan #5
Weekly meal plan #5 is made up of delicious comfort meals the whole family will love. I specifically included a…The Best Swedish Meatballs
These Swedish Meatballs are smothered in the most amazing rich and creamy gravy and packed with such delicious flavor. You…No Bake Snickers Bar Pie
No Bake Snickers Bar Pie is one of the easiest and most delicious no bake pies that you make. You…Easy Grilled Bourbon Chicken
One bite of this grilled bourbon chicken and your tastebuds will be dancing with delight! It’s marinated in a flavorful…Wood-Fired Pizza Dough
This is the perfect beginner’s guide for making wood-fired pizza dough! Pizza expert, Chef Brandon Price, taught me how to…Blueberry Lemon Upside-Down Cake
Be prepared to fall in love with this blueberry lemon upside-down cake! A delicious and moist lemon sponge cake bursting…Cinnamon Roll Casserole
Get ready for a tasty treat with this easy cinnamon roll casserole! Using canned cinnamon rolls, this casserole is so…Thai Chicken Salad
Crunchy and bright, this Thai Chicken Salad with creamy peanut dressing is bursting with flavor, texture and deliciousness! Prep it in…Weekly Meal Plan #4
Take advantage of this weekly meal plan that has all the favorite recipes that families love! It is so easy…Jennifer Lopez Is the Ultimate Latina Rom-Com Queen
Sure, some of her earlier films, like 2002's "Maid in Manhattan," were criticized for perpetuating Latina stereotypes (and 2003's "Gigli," which she costarred in with Ben Affleck, was chewed up and spit out by film critics for just not being funny). But despite the naysayers, Lopez has never given up her spot as a rom-com star. The 2005 romantic comedy "Monster-in-Law," which she stars in alongside Jane Fonda, followed those less desirable films and became one of her highest-grossing films to date.
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Lopez is to the 2000s what Meg Ryan is to the 1980s and '90s. Her comedic timing is always on point, and mixing it with her vulnerability has created a recipe for success in the rom-com genre. From 2001's "The Wedding Planner," which grossed $94 million worldwide, to 2004's "Shall We Dance?" which brought in $170 million at the box office, and recent films like 2022's "Marry Me," which racked up $50 million, Lopez has continued to solidify herself as a rom-com queen. Other Latina actors have dipped their toe in the genre and done well: think Salma Hayek in 1997's "Fools Rush In" alongside Matthew Perry, and Eva Mendes in 2005's "Hitch" alongside Will Smith. However, the Puerto Rican actor continues to stretch the bounds of the rom-com characters she portrays. In one role, she's struggling with a difficult mother-in-law, and in the next, she's toting guns and combat boots, as she did in 2022's "Shotgun Wedding."
The 54-year-old multitalented star doesn't wait for the opportunities to come either - she creates them for herself. She recently dropped $20 million to produce 2024's "This Is Me... Now: A Love Story," an Amazon original showcase that coincided with her first studio album in a decade. Through breathtaking choreography, star-studded cameos, awe-inspiring costumes, and scene changes, Lopez takes viewers on a journey through her love life, a hot topic in the public eye for years. And, of course, she throws in some comedy with her therapist, who is played by longtime friend and fellow Bronx native Fat Joe. Despite the harsh criticism and low ratings, the musical film was important for Lopez to detail her love life in her own way, not the media's.
Overall, Lopez has brought in approximately $1 billion in gross revenue for her rom-com films. She is staking her claim in an arena that lacks Latine representation by a long shot. In 2019, the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative released a report that showed the low percentages of Latine contribution on camera and behind the scenes. In partnership with Eva Longoria's UnbeliEVAble Entertainment, the report found that only seven percent of films from 2019 featured a lead or colead Hispanic/Latino actor.
In other words, Lopez - for more than 20 years - has carved out representation where Latinas are nearly nonexistent. While the critics may lay on her heavily and unapologetically, we cannot deny that when it comes to rom-coms, she's doing it bigger and better than any other Latina actor. She is laughing all the way to the bank and slowly and steadily bumping up those insultingly low percentages. There's no doubt that Lopez has rewritten history and solidified a path in film that other Latina actors are sure to follow.
Zayda Rivera is a POPSUGAR contributor. She has been a professional writer for more than 20 years. Z is a Reiki Master Teacher, a yoga and Zumba instructor, a mindfulness and meditation guide, a tarot reader, and a spiritual mentor.
Aida Rodriguez: Unpacking My Childhood Traumas Through Comedy Is Cathartic
For Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latine comedians we admire how comedy has supported them in overcoming trauma and confronting life's most significant challenges. Read the pieces here.
I've always viewed comedy as a coping mechanism for people who are in lower economic situations or just dealing with very hard circumstances. In the words of Kevin Hart: "Laugh at my pain." My upbringing was no different. I didn't really engage in comedy as much when I was younger because I was a very shy and timid kid. But humor was always around me, and I learned at a very young age the power of laughter.
My grandmother was a very funny woman. She had this amazing ability to present heavy topics like poverty and even death in ways that were humorous. At first, I used to think it was insensitive, but I quickly learned that it was just a coping mechanism and a way to make things digestible because life was already hard enough. Growing up, I saw it all. There was poverty. There was violence. There were drugs, adultery, and misogyny. For some people, laughter was the only tool they had to navigate all that.
It was at school that I really started to find my comedic voice. Comedy became my way of surviving bullies and mean people. It became my armor and way of protecting myself from the kids who were clearly going through stuff at home but needed to poke fun at others to feel better about themselves. Instead of being confrontational or volatile, I was just funny.
My grandmother and mother heavily influenced my comedy and sense of humor. They were naturally funny women. My mom is a very confrontational woman. She would get into it with the other women in the building or in the neighborhood, and would always come out winning because she knew how to shut people down with her words - and oftentimes, the things she said were just straight-up funny. My grandmother was always so witty with it. It's funny when I hear people say that women aren't funny, or I'll occasionally hear Latino men say they don't really like women comedians, and then you hear them tell their stories. They're always talking about how hilarious their grandmothers or their mothers are. Latinas are really the comedians in the family. A lot of us are naturally funny - it's in our blood.
I started watching stand-up comedy when I was little. My uncle used to listen to Richard Pryor. That was my first introduction to stand-up comedy. I loved Johnny Carson, and I loved "I Love Lucy." I used to watch El Chavo and La Chilindrina with my grandmother. In Miami, they had a show called "QuA(c) Pasa USA." It was a show about a Cuban family, and the grandmother on the show was one of the funniest people I've ever seen. I started appreciating humor and experienced the relief it provided at a relatively young age. But it was not until later in my life that I realized I wanted to do this for a living.
Comedy came after acting. I was a model for years, and I moved to LA in 2000 to become an actor. I started doing stand-up in 2008. I had gone out for brunch to celebrate a friend's birthday, and she asked us to roast her. I roasted her, and a friend there said, "Oh, you should be doing stand-up. You're naturally funny." He gave me the address and information to an open mic, and I went and did it, and I never stopped.
Once I started performing at open mics, I started noticing how healing comedy was - not just for the audience but also for me. I didn't really start with observational humor. I went straight to the wound. My first jokes were about my modeling career and becoming anorexic. I addressed difficult things I had experienced in my own life, and it helped me heal from those experiences while also making folks who could relate feel seen.
My work became cathartic when I started writing material about my childhood. People would approach me after my sets and say, "Oh my god. Thank you. I've never seen a version of myself or a reflection of myself." My childhood started to influence so much of my material that it became like therapy for me. I started unpacking and healing from many traumas I experienced growing up, eventually inspiring me to write my memoir, "Legitimate Kid." It made me realize how much our stories matter, and we shouldn't belittle them because white America is telling us they don't matter. That is what has kept the fuel going for me.
Making jokes about my family, my neighborhood, and the hard things I experienced growing up has allowed others to see themselves in my stories. In terms of my own healing, that relatability was part of it. It was seeing that I wasn't alone and that there are others who also didn't grow up having their fathers in their lives. It was the first time I started to feel proud of where I came from, and it helped me work through some of the stuff I was dealing with. Even with the jokes about my mom, many people would come up to me and tell me their mom was the same way. In many ways, it's also healed my relationship with my mom because performing and having people heal through my words contributes to my own healing.
As a Latina, we're raised with this mentality that you don't share the family's business. So, while I initially had my hesitations, they approved every joke I've ever told about the family before it made it to the stage. I always make sure that they're cool with it. I was especially careful when it came to my mom and my daughter because sexism and misogyny, especially in our communities, are rampant and real, and people love to demonize women. So, I was always very leery about presenting them in a way where it would take off on its own, and people would talk shit.
Making jokes about the things I experienced growing up has also allowed me to see the beauty in my upbringing. It wasn't all dark, and it wasn't all bad. When I started doing stand-up, I used to hear all the time people say things like, "All these Black and Latino comedians talk about is their lives in the hood, food stamps, and being broke." You would hear that from white comics how our comedy wasn't "elevated." But I never allowed them to push me into a corner where I felt like I had to emulate them to be of value because a lot of people do. At the beginning of my career, I definitely saw that there was a lot of pressure placed on comedians of color not to perpetuate stereotypes, but the truth is that some of our relatives are hood. Some of our relatives did behave a certain way, and there's nothing wrong with that, and that's not just exclusive to people of color - there are white people like that as well.
Comedy brings us all together. There's a connective tissue there, especially in a community with so much diversity. Through humor, we can find each other and find relatability. People loved when George Lopez talked about his grandmother because that's something many of us have in common. Comedy also works as a universal language. Even if we're not from the same culture, everybody laughs because it has this connective tissue. Comedy connects people of all backgrounds and walks of life through laughter.
- As told to Johanna Ferreira
Johanna Ferreira is the content director for POPSUGAR Juntos. With more than 10 years of experience, Johanna focuses on how intersectional identities are a central part of Latine culture. Previously, she spent close to three years as the deputy editor at HipLatina, and she has freelanced for numerous outlets including Refinery29, O Magazine, Allure, InStyle, and Well+Good. She has also moderated and spoken on numerous panels on Latine identity.
How the "Lo Que Pasa en Casa" Mentality Held Me Back From My Comedic Voice
There's a cultural maxim within Latinidad that's always left me a bit unsettled: "Lo que pasa en casa se queda en casa." It means what happens at home stays at home - aka loyalty above everything.
Growing up in a subjectively funny family taught me invaluable lessons about the power of humor and its role as a survival tool, especially during challenging times. In my Ecuadorian immigrant family, our main coping mechanism was finding solace in humor amid chaos. But there was always a boundary, an invisible line to how far we could share drawn by the "lo que pasa en la casa" mentality - the notion that certain things should never leave the confines of our home. It became clear to me early on that this mentality stemmed from a desire to maintain appearances, protect the family's reputation, and uphold the value of privacy.
The "lo que pasa en la casa" mentality always felt like a type of silencing or secrecy that prohibited many of my tAas, tAos, cousins, and older siblings from seeking out things like therapy. It was also an invisible shackle placed around my artistry before it began. Some may argue that "lo que pasa en casa" is all about "privacy" or "protection," but it's a double-edged sword. There are situations where it's crucial (say, if someone in the family wins the lottery and you don't want everyone coming out of the woodwork for a piece of the pie). In those cases, it's about protection. But for me, the weighty subtext that demands allegiance rears its ugly head when "lo que pasa en casa'' is presented as privacy. It's always bugged me how Latine culture seems to value what other people think more than the actual truth. It's all about "el quA(c) dirA!n!" - the fear of what other people will say - which is something that haunts me as a creative person. And trust me, after over a decade as a social-first writer and producer, I figure I can't be alone in that.
As a comedic storyteller and griot who has utilized the internet as a personal testing ground, much like how a stand-up comic utilizes the stage, I've often felt the weight of this mentality bearing down on me. Although most of my content initially focused on pop culture and comedic rants, covering everything from J Lo's relationship drama to New York City characters, my pivot into personal perspectives was much easier for me in concept than in practice. It was convenient to start with truths that always painted my family in the best light - for example, a story of how my mother's fearless determination helped me get a rhinoplasty at the age of 3 to stop childhood bullying.
Tiptoeing around the easier stories with a hint of realness was second nature to me; it's how I navigated the world throughout my formative years, never truly being allowed to admit how hard things were economically, how violent my father was towards my mother, or eventually how hostile one of my sisters would become toward me. Although my mother refused to let us share the truth with teachers, friends, or even extended family, I was fortunate that her strength and wisdom decided to sign us up for family counseling when I was around 6. Unfortunately, by then, my sisters were so entrenched with the fear and consequences of "lo que pasa en casa" that they refused to talk until they stopped attending altogether.
As the youngest who longed to be understood, I toughed it out. Still, I spent years perfecting the art of omission to ensure my mother would never have to face her greatest fear in "me las van a quitar," a phrase that translates to "they're going to take them away from me." For 13 years, I'd spend my therapy sessions feeling mentally limited to how real I could be, which ultimately prolonged my healing and creativity.
Still, my first therapist must've seen I was struggling behind untold truths and advised my mother to sign me up for acting lessons. In the theater, I found the first creative outlet for my pain. The words on the page were never mine, but the emotions were, and for many years, that was enough. I eventually yearned to tell my stories, but the fear of exposing others through telling my truth kept me from exploring.
There are many different types of comedic griots: stand-ups and sketch artists, to name a few. The one I always admired most was the solo performer. I have always been a longtime fan of one-man show icons like John Leguizamo. But he's also paid the price - and validated my "lo que pasa en casa" worries when I learned his father nearly sued him for defamation of character because of his impressions of his dysfunctional family in his 1998 show "Freak."
The internet has been my most notable outlet for creativity, but I'm finally ready to explore more. As a result, I've recently decided to challenge and nurture my inner artist. The notion of "lo que pasa en la casa" has confined me to staying on the surface of my truths, but the tides are changing. I think one of the best examples of someone who leaned into her truth is Mayan Lopez, co-creator of "Lopez vs. Lopez," with her willingness to reveal parts of her family that are arguably private matters. Her choice to do a whole series dubbed "Why do my divorced parents still act like they're married?" led her to get greenlit by a studio. She told The Los Angeles Times, "Culturally, yeah, we don't air that stuff out. But that's part of some of the issues within our community - the generational trauma and the machismo aren't addressed."
It's easy to say her content went viral with much help from her recognizably famous father. Still, it was the behind-the-curtain take only she had the right and bravery to share, along with her father's support, that helped her challenge the "lo que pasa en casa" mentality. In the series, Lopez tackles themes of abandonment and daddy issues in a way that renegotiates the narrative of "the united Latine family."
Given that we're a wonderfully diverse community, it's time we prove that Latines are not a monolith. Some of us have darkness, awkwardness, rawness, realness, and unfamiliar stories that need to be told to give our community its true, varied humanity and help us all heal through laughter. Our art will expand when we, as artists, embrace our messiness.
So here I am, at a crossroads, throwing caution to the wind and ready to share some unfavorable stories with the world. I'm learning, and inviting others to challenge the "lo que pasa en la casa" mentality with me. My "content" is developing into monologues with no limitations. I've returned to the theater, and this time, I'll tell my true stories. I've taken some risks, cracking jokes about stuff like being the daughter of a dad who advocated for my mom's failed abortion to skip out on his responsibilities. While I recognize that many family members and bystanders will judge my choices, I must honor my truth, even if it ruffles a few feathers.
I'll always start with respecting others' humanity and fallibility. Culture and family are important, but so is my right to share my story. Some of us use humor to hide our darkness, but we can't be afraid to let our bold truths shine through. So, what if people don't get me? Those who resonate with my story are the ones I make comedy for.
Honestly, I think you get to choose what you keep private. Humor is personal, but we're moving into an age where authenticity is essential. And comedic storytelling isn't a one-size-fits-all deal. I'm a true believer that creativity is in all of us, but some of us keep it locked up behind secrets we're forced to keep. Art flourishes when it's relatable and healing, regardless of how it's perceived. It's not about putting on a front; it's about embracing the truth, about having the guts to challenge the norms that "lo que pasa en casa" throws at us to keep everyone else comfortable. And hey, sure, "lo que pasa en casa" has its place, but it's time to kick that custom to the curb. It's not all bad a it's like a coin with two sides a but man, that "el que diran!" part! It's one of the many things that's holding us back as a community.
Katherine G. Mendoza is a seasoned Ecuadorian American writer and producer, boasting more than a decade of expertise in social-first storytelling. Her work has graced the pages and screens of renowned publications and media outlets including PS, The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, Variety, Univision, Telemundo, Huffington Post, and Uproxx.
Fabrizio Copano Is Using Comedy to Address Political Wounds
For Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latine comedians and creators we admire how comedy has supported them in overcoming trauma and confronting life's most significant challenges. Read the pieces here.
Fabrizio Copano, a rising star in the world of stand-up comedy, isn't your typical Latine comic. His journey, shaped by his Chilean upbringing under a pos-dictatorship and his subsequent disillusionment with the American Dream, fuels a unique comedic perspective that tackles serious political and cultural themes.
Copano's early life in Chile was marked by the tail-end of political turmoil. Growing up, he witnessed firsthand the harsh repercussions of Augusto Pinochet's dictatorship, a period characterized by repression, human rights abuses, and a stifling political climate. This experience undoubtedly contrasts the idealized image of the US he received through the media.
"Chile is very Americanized in certain ways, and we look up [to] the US," Copano says. "The culture shock was when I figured out that we are ahead of the US in so many ways because we have already lived through many of the traumas that the US is just now confronting."
When Copano realized America is "just as messy," it allowed him to view Americans from a more humanistic lens. "The system isn't as perfect as it pretends to be. I now use this idea in my stand-up, that we're ahead of the US - we are from the future," Copano says.
Indeed, Copano uses comedy to explore the disillusionment that sets in when the romanticized American dream confronts America's often harsh realities. Copano weaves jokes about America's obsession with individualism clashing with the collectivist values instilled in him during his Chilean upbringing.
Unlike many US-born Latine comics who mine humor from the shared experience of navigating American life as a minority, Copano offers a fresh perspective. He injects Chilean history, culture, and political sensibilities into his routines, creating a richer and more nuanced portrayal of the Latine experience.
"A comedian can touch a nerve of [what's going on in] society. Through laughter, you can open yourself a little bit more to think or view things in a certain way that the comedian is proposing. You can take advantage of the chaos," he says. "That's why I like putting little nuggets of my point of view. I think we Latinos are the future. We're everywhere, but at the same time, we're always [portrayed as] the victim in a very narrow way that is not the reality."Copano's achievement as the first South American comedian to land a Netflix special is a testament to his talent and perseverance. But paving this path wasn't easy. He faced challenges, including limited spaces for comedic exposure or the pressure to conform to stereotypical expectations of Latino humor. However, his success has paved the way for future Latin American comedians, demonstrating the global appeal of their unique perspectives.
When Netflix approached him for his special "Solo pienso en mi," which was released in 2017, he wanted his comedy to resonate with viewers no matter where they were from.
"I have to make comedy travel," Copano says. "Then doing comedy in English was another layer of a challenge - how do you connect with people who have nothing to do with you and figure out things that are universal or so personal that you bring them to your world and they can connect through their own lens?"
Copano's US touring stand-up show "Baby Coup" tackles the concerning resurgence of fascism worldwide. He recognizes the power of humor to disarm audiences and makes complex political issues more accessible. Laughter can create a sense of connection, allowing him to plant critical seeds while keeping the audience engaged. He uses satire to expose the manipulative tactics of fascist leaders and employs dark humor to highlight the dangers of complacency in the face of rising authoritarianism.
"Funny things are universal - misery is everywhere, so you can find the funny things in misery," Copano says. "Through trauma and experience, you can still see the scars, but if you can find a funny way to talk about these topics and bring it back, you kind of refresh people's memories and reflect on how absurd it is."Copano looks forward to taping his first-ever hour-long special in English this summer.
"It's kind of about my first years in the US, the cultural clash, the disappointments, but also all of the things that were great," Copano explains.
Copano's comedy reminds us that humor can be a powerful tool for sparking dialogue and challenging the status quo. Particularly in Latine communities, humor tends to play a vital role when it comes to survival. It serves as a coping mechanism for dealing with difficult circumstances, a way to bond over shared experiences, and a tool for challenging authority.
Copano's unique point of view not only offers valuable lessons but also shows us how to confront darkness with laughter, find strength in shared experiences, and perhaps even inspire change, one joke at a time.
"I just try to give this perspective that while many Latinos are victims of wrongdoings from our own governments, we are also humans," he says. "We have our own thoughts, we are super smart, driven, we know what we want, and we know what the US needs now and can be very useful when democracy is in danger."
Kimmy Dole is a contributor for PS Juntos known for her sharp insights and compelling storytelling. An entertainment enthusiast, Kimmy immerses herself in the glitz of the industry, delivering a captivating blend of celebrity interviews, insights from industry experts, and the latest pop culture trends. Her work offers readers a genuine and relatable perspective, especially when exploring the complexities of relationships.
Gina Brillon: The Loss of My Grandmother Pushed Me to Pursue Comedy
For Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latine comedians and creators we admire how comedy has supported them in overcoming trauma and confronting life's most significant challenges. Read the pieces here.
We don't talk enough about the healing powers of humor. The old saying, "laughter is the best medicine," as clichA(c) as it may be, actually has a lot of truth to it. I learned about the power of laughter at a relatively young age. In Latino families, we often use humor to heal from traumas and hardships. It helps us get through so much. At home, we made jokes about everything from the government, cheese we ate, to the broke, kid games we played. I greatly touched on this in my Amazon Prime special, "The Floor is Lava."
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My childhood was good but came with its fair share of struggles. Money troubles were real, and I remember us being on food stamps at one point. We had our challenging times, but we somehow always managed to find opportunities to laugh about it. It was one of those, "if you don't laugh, you'll cry" type situations. But it wasn't until I lost my grandmother that I realized the momentary relief a good laugh can bring, even in the face of loss and grief.
I say this all the time, but my grandmother is the entire reason why I decided to pursue a career as a stand-up comedian. I was probably around the age of 8 or 9 when I realized I had a gift for making people laugh. It was also around that age that it really hit me how healing laughter could be. Once I realized I could make someone laugh, it became a mission to make those around me laugh because I loved the joy I got out of it. My grandmother was the first grown-up in the family who noticed I was funny. She would tell my mom things like, "Your daughter is talented. She's going to be on TV one day," and I slowly started to believe her.
For a while, I kept the jokes for the family. I was this crazy, funny kid at home, but I was much more reserved whenever I was in public. As a kid, I was self-conscious because I was the chubby, funny girl. So, if I didn't know you like that, I wouldn't attempt to make you laugh because I was already too insecure. In fact, peers and schoolmates who knew me growing up were surprised when I became a stand-up comedian. They always thought I was funny, but they also thought I was shy because I was growing up. I was never the class clown. But I was the kid who was always quick with a joke. If I saw a joke somewhere, I would say it quickly before anyone else could say it first.
My grandma was probably one of the toughest women I've ever met - to this day. This was my grandma on my maternal side. She lived with us and passed away when I was 16, but a large chunk of my childhood was spent around this woman whom I absolutely adored. She came to New York from Puerto Rico and never really learned English like that, but the English she managed to learn was from watching "I Love Lucy." That's when I started understanding how much my grandma appreciated comedic relief. Once I learned that, I made it a point always to crack her up.
My grandmother wasn't an easy woman to make laugh. She was tough, and she was serious. She also hated pranks. But she loved silliness. Something about silliness allowed her to soften and fully bring down her guard - regardless of what she was going through at the time. I started to study her sense of humor and provided her with the silliness I knew she enjoyed. When my grandmother laughed, she laughed with her entire being. She exuded absolute joy - it brought out another side of her that I appreciated at a young age. That became our biggest way of connecting - making her laugh.
But when I was around 11, my grandmother's health began to decline. She would get cuts and bruises randomly. She started experiencing body aches more often. I knew she wasn't the same when I started noticing my mom had to shower her daily. That was hard for me because I grew up seeing this strong woman who never wanted to be a burden finding herself in such a vulnerable place. I almost didn't know how to connect with her anymore. My siblings were quick to help in taking care of her physically, but I was never comfortable doing that. It was hard for me to witness her at her weakest.
During that time, I realized that the best medicine I had to offer her was laughter. On her hardest days, I made sure to make her laugh, and she constantly encouraged me to make a career out of it one day. My grandma was my first comedy audience and the first person who really believed in me, so when she passed, I told God that I would pursue a career in comedy.
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I knew it was coming because I never heard the fear in this woman's voice like that before. I remember thinking to myself, this is it. My mom told me to go to bed, but I couldn't. I asked if I could go to the bathroom, and as soon as I walked in there, I opened the window, fell to my knees, and started to pray. I remember the first words out of my mouth were, "God, I know tonight you're taking my grandma." I told God that from that moment on, any time I make somebody laugh, it would be in honor of my grandmother. And if I ever do anything in comedy, it will always be for her. The next morning, she was gone.
It was a hard season for my family - particularly my mom. It took a while before it felt appropriate, but I slowly started to use humor to help myself and the rest of the family get through it. Even at the funeral, as difficult as it was, there were little moments where the family would joke and roast each other, and it was healing. We allowed ourselves to grieve and to cry. But we also found opportunities to laugh and smile in memory of my grandmother.
To this day, every single time I step on stage, I think of my grandmother. I literally feel her energy with me every time. I can feel her in the room watching me. I'm always like, "Did you see that, grandma? Did you see what I just did? Did you like it?"
Every milestone has been dedicated to her, from my first 20-minute special for HBO's "Entre Nos" to when I did my first one-hour special "Pacifically Speaking," my Amazon Prime special "The Floor Is Lava," to even when I was on "America's Got Talent." My sister, who is really big into the spiritual side of things, always tells me that my grandma is always with me. I believe that we all have a counsel of people who are meant to look after us in this life, and I believe we choose them. I chose my grandmother, and I chose George Carlin - my favorite comedian growing up. I really believe he's part of the souls watching over me to the point where every time I walk into Gotham Comedy Club, I give a salute to his photo.
Not only has comedy gotten me through every difficult circumstance I've experienced in this life, from heartache to loss, but it has also helped me find myself. It transformed a young, insecure girl into the most confident she has ever been. It gave me the ability to connect with people, the first one being my grandmother. Comedy has allowed me to help others heal because of the way it has helped me heal in my own ways. It is my longest relationship in this life and my most cherished one.
- As told to Johanna Ferreira
Johanna Ferreira is the content director for POPSUGAR Juntos. With more than 10 years of experience, Johanna focuses on how intersectional identities are a central part of Latine culture. Previously, she spent close to three years as the deputy editor at HipLatina, and she has freelanced for numerous outlets including Refinery29, O Magazine, Allure, InStyle, and Well+Good. She has also moderated and spoken on numerous panels on Latine identity.
Sasha Merci: How Comedy Has Helped Me Navigate Depression
One of the things I love about comedy is how it fuses my personality with my purpose. I was diagnosed with depression when I was 14 years old, a time when I began comparing my life to that of my high school peers and quickly noticed the differences. At the time, most of my peers had never experienced significant loss like I had. While they were preoccupied with clothes, gossip, and pop culture, I was grappling with thoughts of death. This numbness to ordinary concerns led me into a deep existential crisis.
My struggle with depression was triggered early on by the loss of several family members, including my mother and my grandmother. Processing these losses took years of therapy. Working as a comedian has allowed me to piece together memories like a puzzle to grasp my life's bigger picture. Every time I unravel the layers of my experiences, I discover the humor embedded within them.
As a young girl, I didn't know that my biological mother had passed away; I was told to call my grandmother Mama. Although there was a photograph of another woman on the mantle who resembled me, my grandmother would deflect the question whenever I inquired about her. She was a master at making me feel valued and special and was always ready to listen to me chatter, calling me her little Cotorra.
I'm not sure if I had a natural sense of humor, but my grandmother certainly saw a big personality in me and nurtured it. I would gauge her reactions and laughter to adjust my storytelling. Whenever we had visitors, she would prompt me with, "Sasha, ven acA!, dile lo que me dijiste!" signaling it was showtime. I remember lighting up the room for the first time, mimicking characters and celebrities from television, thinking all of America was the glamorous Hollywood, unlike my birthplace in the Bronx, NY.
My grandmother passed away from colon cancer shortly after we relocated from DR's capital, Santo Domingo, to New York. It was around this time that I finally learned about my late biological mother. Transitioning from being a light in the room to feeling like the elephant in the room, I moved in with my father, his wife, and their children. I was starkly reminded that I was the product of an affair. In that household, I learned to wield my humor for survival, to defuse tensions, and often made myself the butt of jokes during one of the most emotionally isolating periods of my life.
In high school, I struggled to fit in because of the amount of loss I experienced at a young age. I felt envious of not having a nuclear family. It was a constant reminder to me of what I was missing. At a young age, I deeply felt my mortality, knowing that no matter how much I prayed, my loved ones would never come back. Not many of my peers at the time could relate to it. As a result, I began to disassociate from my reality and used humor as a way to entertain others to distract myself from my pain. This only worked until I realized I was the only one not laughing. I started to find my true comedic voice after discovering comedy on YouTube. It became a coping mechanism and was a turning point for me. At 15, I immersed myself in all forms of comedy - movies, stand-ups, and sitcoms. Stand-up comedy, in particular, taught me that pain had a rightful place in the world.
Now, I view my family dynamics as a sitcom, typical of many immigrant American families with strong hierarchies. We use humor as a form of microaggression, being indirectly direct about contentious topics like gender and politics. Our disagreements are not reasons to disconnect but opportunities to engage with the chaos and find the humor in all of it.
Comedy became a therapeutic tool when I started using it to express myself through hyperbole, sarcasm, and similes, building a community that helped me combat depression during tough times. Comedy allows for relatability. Feeling like someone understands your origin can often aid in healing. In 2015, I used Instagram to share my stories and perspectives while offering comedic relief to my followers. After being on the platform for a short period of time, my content started to go viral and helped launch my career as a comedian and actress.
Comedy is an essential space for Latines, especially immigrants and their descendants. It allows us to narrate our stories, celebrate our dual identities, and confront the challenges of navigating two worlds. It reflects our resilience, capacity to find joy amid adversity, and relentless pursuit of visibility and understanding in a society that often sidelines our voices.
Today, I see the good and bad moments in life as material, which inspires me to write down thoughts and ideas. Managing my mental health involves a delicate balance of honoring my cultural and familial roots alongside my personal aspirations. Protecting your peace is vital, but not when you isolate yourself in a bubble. Humor lives in my everyday life; it is found in the mundane, pain, and unexpected. I encourage others to lean into it; it might inspire your next piece of material. A good comedian is disarming, relatable, and provocative, and I am committed to being all these things.
Comedy has taught me to cherish my life and eschew comparisons, for comparison is the thief of joy, and it's hard to feel depressed when one lives in gratitude.
Ian Lara: Comedy Gave Me the Strength to Overcome My Mother's Death
For Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latine comedians and creators we admire how comedy has supported them in overcoming trauma and confronting life's most significant challenges. Read the pieces here.
"El que anda corriendo llega cansado."
That's a famous Dominican saying my mother always used to say, which translates to, "He who runs arrives tired." These six simple words have guided my life and career as a stand-up comedian in many ways. This phrase alone taught me the importance of discipline, dedication, and doing things right - however long and hard the road is.
It's not lost on me how much of an influence my mom had on my career. For starters, she was probably one of the funniest individuals I knew. I had a relatively happy and healthy upbringing. I grew up in South Ozone Park, Queens, as the youngest of five, and I don't recall a day that wasn't filled with jokes and laughter. From my parents to my older siblings, someone always said something witty that had us all rolling. But often, it was my mom that provoked the big belly laughs. In many ways, my mom was the one who helped me appreciate the importance of comedic relief and how it can help us cope with some of the grim realities of life.
I didn't know it then, but growing up in a funny Dominican family prepared me for the life ahead of me. When you're growing up, you just assume that's the norm for everyone - until you go out into the world and see that it's different for different people. But in my family, humor was everything. Everyone was funny. My uncles were funny. My aunts were funny, and my mom was always very funny.
In fact, it wasn't until I started pursuing a career in comedy that I realized there was this narrative within mainstream American comedy that women comics "weren't funny." I never heard anything like that growing up. I didn't even know that was a thing because in my culture and in my family, everyone was funny - especially the women.
Being the youngest, I didn't even realize I was funny until I was in junior high school, and my friends and peers would point it out to me. As I got older, I became a fan of stand-up and realized maybe it was a thing I wanted to do. At first, I thought I would just do this as a hobby and pursue a career as a lawyer. But one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was booking spots at comedy clubs throughout the week. There was something about providing comedic relief for individuals regardless of what they might be going through in their daily lives that really appealed to me. As clichA(c) as it may sound, laughter really is the best medicine, and what I'd soon learn is that it's not just medicine for those receiving it but also for the individual - in my case, as the comedian - making the jokes.
Everything I grew up learning from my mom, from the importance of not taking shortcuts in life to the balance levity can bring, all prepared me for one of the hardest and darkest moments I would experience - losing her to cancer. My mom's battle with cancer felt in many ways like an emotional rollercoaster of sorts. I first learned of her breast cancer diagnosis in May 2021, literally the day after Mother's Day.
I remember when she called me two weeks prior to tell me she had gone to the doctor, and they ran some tests. She did a mammogram, and the doctor saw something in her breasts, so he sent it out to the lab to see if it was cancer. On Mother's Day, my mom was in Pennsylvania with my sister, and I drove out there to spend the day with her. The following day, she called to tell me that the doctor said the breast tissue came back cancerous. But initially, I wasn't worried. My mom used to get mammograms pretty frequently. In fact, the only year she missed was 2020, when we were all on lockdown because of COVID. So, I was pretty sure that the cancer was likely in the early stages and still treatable.
Anytime you hear about a cancer diagnosis, it's never a good thing, but I did my research, and she was still only in stage one. Plus, I had an aunt who had previously been diagnosed with breast cancer, and they caught it and treated it during stage three. So, I stayed hopeful.
Things took a turn for the worse when we learned in July that my mom also had stage four colon cancer that was spreading to her liver. When you learn that your mom is now struggling with a stage four cancer diagnosis that can result in death, it can be overwhelming, to say the least. But I'm a very even-keeled and practical person. I'm not quick to panic, even under hard circumstances. I quickly looked for solutions by diving into research. I read, watched videos, and asked doctors questions. I soon learned that even with stage four colon cancer, there is a window where it can be one of the few cancers at that stage that can still be curable. Once again, I remained hopeful.
At this point, I had already been working as a professional stand-up comedian for about 10 years and had been offered to film a Comedy Central half-hour special in July 2021 while my mom was battling cancer. I was also preparing to film my HBO comedy special, "Romantic Comedy," which was initially scheduled to be filmed in November 2021 but got pushed back to July 2022, eventually releasing on HBO in November 2022. My schedule during the daytime was just consumed with caring for my mom at the hospital, whose health was deteriorating week by week. It was just getting worse and worse, and the possibility of losing her to this disease was becoming more of a reality for me.
My mom and I had a very playful relationship where we always joked together. She was one of the first individuals in my life to make me laugh, so I found a lot of joy in making her laugh, but as the cancer started to take over, she slowly started to lose her essence and, with it, her sense of humor. I held tight to the lessons she taught me over the years and allowed my stand-up and my ability to make others laugh serve as my medicine throughout those dark times.
I'm very fortunate that what I do for a living provides me with so much happiness and satisfaction. Sometimes I'll speak with friends or people I meet for the first time, and they'll ask me what I do for fun, and I'm like, my career is my fun. I don't go to the nightclubs. I don't go out drinking. I don't really go out on dates. I just really enjoy writing jokes and performing them for people. It gives me an extreme high that can probably only be compared to a drug high, with so many endorphins released.
Watching someone you love so much get sick and ultimately pass away is literally the hardest thing I've ever had to experience in my life. The only thing that got me going and helped me get up from bed every morning during those dark days was my comedy. I relied on my stand-up at nighttime and preparing for those specials to bring me back up from those extreme lows. Even at the hospital, while my mom was sleeping, I would work on writing jokes and material.
It's impossible to laugh and make others laugh and still be sad. You just can't feel both of those things simultaneously - they don't go together. I believe that you can be in a pang of deep sadness or depression, and at least those few seconds or minutes that you're laughing, you're not sad for that time. I've always held comedy as the safest drug you can take. No one is ever going to tell you that you're laughing too much.
Before my mom got sick, my life seemed relatively easy. Growing up, I had a great childhood and a great family dynamic. So much so, I was reserved about the idea that maybe my life would always be great. Reality came knocking hard on my door when my mom got sick. It helped me realize that no one is immune to the trials and tribulations that come with life. Hardships are unavoidable. Comedy got me through that and carried me after her passing in October 2021. Even at her funeral, I experienced comedic relief. There were plenty of tears but also a lot of laughter. Humor just has a way of creeping in. You can't keep it out. You can try as hard as you can - but sometimes, fighting off the laughs is impossible.
Everyone has their shit that's coming. That's just part of being human. Nothing is as bad as you think it is - time heals everything. And nothing is as good as you think, either. Even now, having an HBO special, constantly on the road doing shows, and currently working on my new hour show, I still have my down days where I don't feel particularly proud of where I'm at as a stand-up comedian. Maybe it's just part of what comes with being an artist.
But the second I hit the stage and hear the audience's laughter, I'm automatically rejuvenated. Comedy keeps me grounded and pushes me forward in this life, regardless of the curve balls thrown my way. I don't know how I'd be doing if I didn't have this comedic outlet.
- As told to Johanna Ferreira
Johanna Ferreira is the content director for POPSUGAR Juntos. With more than 10 years of experience, Johanna focuses on how intersectional identities are a central part of Latine culture. Previously, she spent close to three years as the deputy editor at HipLatina, and she has freelanced for numerous outlets including Refinery29, O Magazine, Allure, InStyle, and Well+Good. She has also moderated and spoken on numerous panels on Latine identity.
Willow Smith Used Meditation and Workouts to Fuel the Creativity on "Empathogen"
"Hopefully not the last - definitely not the last," she qualifies. "But this one is pretty awesome."
The entire record - the 24-year-old's sixth solo studio album - represents a sonic departure. Ahead of its release on May 3, Smith was a little nervous about putting it out into the world. But mostly, she was energized.
"I'm a risk-taker, what can I say?"
"This whole album is different from anything I've done, and I'm just so excited for people to hear it," she says. "You always take a little bit of a risk, but I'm a risk-taker, what can I say?"
Indeed, Smith has made a name for herself throughout her career for criss-crossing genres and stretching the bounds of her art. And she's never shied away from being open and honest about how she chooses to live her life outside of music, too. That ethos is very much reflected in this latest album, she says.
"I think I'm in a place right now in my life where I'm realizing that there's no destination, there's only choices every day that we make that bring us through our lives. I want to make the decision every day to be more compassionate, to be more honest, to practice my instrument with deep presence and treat it as a spiritual experience," Smith adds. "This album is an expression of me coming to that understanding."
Even the album art embodies that approach - on the cover, Smith is shown smiling emphatically, her Afro and grillz standing out against an earth-colored backdrop. In another shot, she's literally stripped down. It all connotes that honesty, that coming into herself. Smith says it was important to be present in her own body throughout making the album. Even if it wasn't traditional, eyes-closed meditation, she'd just "tune in every once in a while."
"Like, can I feel my feet, can I feel my fingers, am I tapped in how my heart is feeling right now, am I tapped into my emotional state right now, instead of just being on autopilot," she explains.
It'd be difficult for Smith to be on autopilot right now, given everything that's going on in her life. Just days after her album comes out, she's releasing her debut novel, "Black Shield Maiden," which she co-wrote with Jess Hendel. She's also a global ambassador for LG and their Life's Good campaign, a partnership she says was "super on the nose" given her and the brand's commitment to high-quality audio.
Amid all the moving parts, physical presence and mindfulness don't just fuel her creative process; they also help her relax.
"Pilates also kicks my ass."
"Weirdly enough, if I work out, it kind of counterbalances the mental and emotional fatigue. It gives me energy. I know people say that, I know that there are studies on that. But the last thing you want to do after you've been working all day is work out," she says.
Her favorite workouts right now are hot yoga and "pilates also kicks my ass," she laughs. She loves running, too, and often listens to podcasts while doing it. Right now, she's into "The Ancients" (she recently listened to an episode about ancient Polynesian sailing techniques) and the science podcast "Ologies with Alie Ward."
It's very clear that Smith loves to learn. She's almost done reading "The Dawn of Everything" by David Graeber and David Wengrow, a nonfiction book that looks at how society came to be. "I honestly can't even really explain it that well because it's deeply complex and I'm still trying to figure it out, but that's been really cooking my noodle," she quips.
Getting inspired by these other forms of media brings us back to her process. It's all about getting inspired by the possibilities within other realms. Smith says she loves walking around museums alone, for example, just taking in "all the cool shit." And in releasing this album back out into the world, she's keeping that inspiration loop going round and round.
"I'm just interested to see what people get from this art I've been creating, and I hope that it's a cathartic experience," she says. That comes back to "b i g f e e l i n g s," too: "I just want to keep helping people be inspired and feeling like they're less alone."
Lena Felton is the senior director of features and special content at POPSUGAR, where she oversees feature stories, special projects, and our identity content. Previously, she was an editor at The Washington Post, where she led a team covering issues of gender and identity.
Nicki Nicole Says Rap Music Helped Her Get Out of Her Shell
The 23-year-old budding singer, rapper, and songwriter has cemented a name for herself in her native country of Argentina. Nicole Cucco prides herself on never sticking to just one genre when creating music; it helped define her place as a multidimensional creative keen on bridging the gap between singing and rapping.
With the announcement of the US leg of her tour comes new music that does just that. Her first single of the year, "Ojos Verdes," is a cumbia ballad inspired by personal situations she's gone through, quite possibly alluding to her recent public breakup with Peso Pluma. The lyrics translate to: "But I brought out the best in you / And you realized it the day I left."
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"Since I was a young girl, I've listened to cumbia and know so much about it. The only other time I've worked on a cumbia song before was with the [band] Angeles Azules," she says. "Now I feel comfortable and prepared to make my own song, so this is me doing it on my own."
Nicole has come a far way in a short amount of time. Her 2019 debut album "Recuedros," filled with sprinkles of pop, soulful R&B, and urbano tones, includes her standout single, "Wapo Traketero," which she performed a couple of years later on "The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon" - making her the first Argentine artist to ever perform on the late-night show.
Meanwhile, her 2021 sophomore studio album, "Parte de MA," plays around with reggaeton, hip-hop, and upbeat pop sounds, along with heavy collaborations from acts like Rauw Alejandro, Mora, and Mon Lafarte, just to name a few. "ALMA," a self-exploration album that ties reggaeton, Latin R&B, and dark ballads all together, was nominated for "Best Urban Album" at the 2023 Latin Grammys.
"The truth is, every album and every song I put out has really helped me to evolve my sound," she says. "If you listen to my first and third albums, you can see the growth not only vocally but down to the overall concepts, even the way I express myself. I love when people can notice that evolution in my music."
Her fourth studio album is still a work in progress, but Nicole notes that the project's overall concept is finished. "I don't want to limit myself or rush the album. I'm always learning something new. Just being here in New York for a week, I made some incredible songs," she says. "For this next project, when it comes to structure and melodies, there will be a lot of hip-hop, R&B, and rap - that will be the focus. Musically, though, aside from my next project, there will be many surprises that will come about this year."
Growing up, Nicole's musical influences varied. She grew up listening to tango, cumbia, rock, and various genres. "Amy Winehouse, Christina Aguilera, Kendrick Lamar are some of the artists who have influenced my music. I've never worked on rock music as a solo artist, but that's something I plan to explore as well," she says.
Nicole's love for hip-hop began when she was 15, around the time she started attending freestyle battle competitions. She remembers being intrigued by "The Get Down," the Netflix series that centers on the birth and rise of hip-hop in New York City, and wanting to learn more about the genre's origins.
"Before watching [the series], I knew somewhat of the history of hip-hop, but as I continued watching I wanted to learn more about this world, it really caught my attention," Nicole says. "I started to listen to more rap music; I fell in love with it all. I was sad that there was only one season of the show."
At 17, a younger Nicki Nicole was joining in on freestyle competitions, which helped shape her wordplay today. Her favorite past and present rappers include Nuyorican rapper Hurricane G, Lauryn Hill, Ivy Queen, Nathy Peluso, and her sister, SofAa Gabanna. The rise of hip-hop culture in Argentina isn't new; it's been a movement for some time now. Nicole is grateful for El Quinto EscalA3n, dubbed Argentina's most prominent rap competition, which was held from 2012 to 2017 in Buenos Aires. Duki, Paolo Londra, Milo J, and many others - each with their own style and essence - have all participated in the competition and are key players in the Argentine hip-hop scene today.
As a white Argentine woman, Nicole understands that she occupies a space created and originated by Black folks - hip-hop is Black history. It was never hers to begin with, so as an outsider, it's imperative for her to navigate it thoughtfully and avoid any appropriation of the culture.
"This didn't start out as my fight, and it's easy for anyone to co-opt a space that they didn't begin in, but I'll never take ownership of a space I'm a guest in," she says. "To know the origins of hip-hop is important, bringing visibility to things that went on in the culture in the past, and so many incredible rappers that make up these spaces, appropriating the space is something I don't ever plan to do."
She says she also owes hip-hop and rap culture for helping her get out of her shell and shaping her ability to freestyle.
"I feel like hip-hop, but mostly rap, taught me how to express myself when freestyling. Not just musically, but also it taught me how to get out of my shell because I used to be really shy," she shares. "Everything I didn't have the [courage] to say in person, I would say it in a freestyle, in a studio, in a battle, and I learned to express myself this way. And through freestyling, I learned how to socialize, and it also served me in my personal life in how to speak to people."
With so much music and talent coming out of Argentina - Cazzu, Emilia, Tiago PZK, Duki, Maria Becerra, and so many more - Nicki Nicole is proud of the greatness coming from her country.
"I know that every single Argentine artist that is putting in the work right now really deserves all of the recognition," she says. "I know a lot of them personally, so it makes me happy because I know all of the work and effort that goes behind it all, and I know that they do all of this because they dreamt it. It's an honor to know them."
As Nicki Nicole prepares for her tour and plans her world domination, she is unphased by any outside noise - anything that comes between her work. Nothing can stop her, unless it's an opportunity to get in the studio with the legendary Tego Calderon or electropop band Miranda, which she hopes will happen one day. What's keeping her grounded is her family and friends, and enjoying what she does.
"I'm really achieving everything I ever dreamed of, and that's what keeps me going," she says. "To be able to support my parents, to be able to spend time with the people I love, that's the most important thing to me in this world of music."
Brenda Barrientos is a Peruvian American journalist and social strategist with more than seven years of experience. In addition to her work in social media, Brenda writes about music and culture, with a particular focus on Latine creators. In addition to PS, her writing has been published by Billboard, Byrdie, People en EspaA+-ol, Refinery29, Rolling Stone, and more.
Revisiting Jennifer Lopezas 2011 Album aLove?a and What It Signifies Today
Released on April 29, 2011, "Love?" came at a time when Lopez was already a multifaceted force in entertainment. Music, film, and fashion-she'd conquered them all. Yet, "Love?" transcended mere career markers. It delved into love, a theme central to Lopez's personal narrative.
This wasn't just an album; it was a declaration. Through "Love?" Lopez explored her own quest for love and fulfillment. The title track, "(What Is) LOVE?" beautifully captures this yearning. Lopez laid bare her vulnerabilities through her music, creating an emotional connection with her audience. Take the poignant question - "Is this just a dream / Is this what it seems?" - which echoes a longing for validation, her desire to be someone's girlfriend, and the fulfillment of romantic love.
Fast forward to 2024. Lopez's recent projects, including her latest album and musical film by the same name, "This Is Me... Now," and the documentary "The Greatest Love Story Never Told," were released on Amazon in March and offer a deeper look into her relationship with self-worth, love, and her ex-fiance turned husband, Ben Affleck.
The documentary sheds light on the last two decades of Lopez's personal life, including her struggles with self-love and the pressures of fame. Although the documentary has been arguably overshadowed by a viral clip where she references being from the Bronx, Lopez is still very raw about her emotions throughout the doc. She shares why she had been constantly searching for love and highlights her self-love journey. She also admits that her back-to-back marriages and relationships resulted from not being in a good place with herself.
Similarly, her musical film underscores her journey toward self-acceptance and empowerment. In these works, Lopez confronts the need for validation head-on, emphasizing the importance of self-love and resilience.
While "Love?" may not be Lopez's biggest commercial success, its strength lies in its raw honesty. The album humanizes her, connecting listeners with her experiences and emotions. Debuting at number five on the US Billboard 200 chart, it holds immense significance in J Lo's journey of love, self-love, and healing for a few key reasons. Produced while she was pregnant with her twins Emme and Max, "Love?" marked a period of introspection for Lopez and served as a platform for her to shed her usual glamorous image and expose her vulnerabilities.
"Love?" explored Lopez's own needs and desires but marked a crucial step in her journey towards self-love and understanding. She seemed to prioritize honesty over mainstream appeal, baring her insecurities and desires for love. The themes Lopez explored in "Love?" laid the groundwork for her recent documentary and self-love music video/album, echoing the messages of self-acceptance and resilience first seeded in this album.
In many ways, the album served as a turning point for Lopez, allowing her to explore her inner world and pave the way for her continued growth and self-discovery. Despite all of Lopez's accolades throughout her career, some still question her talents, as she openly shared in her 2022 documentary "Halftime." Lopez's achievements speak volumes. Her multifaceted success includes her influence on the Latine community, her role as a businesswoman, and her contributions to pop culture through film, music, fashion, and beauty.
Ultimately, "Love?" is a testament to Lopez's authenticity and resilience as an artist. It reminds us that even the most celebrated figures crave love and acceptance. As we celebrate the album's anniversary, let's appreciate its honesty, acknowledge its impact, and recognize J Lo's continued significance as an artist and cultural icon.
Kimmy Dole is a contributor for PS Juntos known for her sharp insights and compelling storytelling. An entertainment enthusiast, Kimmy immerses herself in the glitz of the industry, delivering a captivating blend of celebrity interviews, insights from industry experts, and the latest pop culture trends. Her work offers readers a genuine and relatable perspective, especially when exploring the complexities of relationships.
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