Debí Tirar Más Fotos: What Bad Bunny Taught Me About Leadership, Legacy, and Living Loudly
What Bad Bunny Taught Me About Leading Without Apology
I am part of the 1% of Hispanic female doctoral-educated higher education leaders in the United States. I’ve published academic books on critical thinking. I mentor first-generation students, support grieving families, and lead strategic partnerships at a Hispanic Serving Institution.
Also—yes—I cry in my car to Bad Bunny.
Here’s the thing: Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio isn’t just a reggaetonero. He’s a leadership case study. After years of being told I’m “too much”—too loud, too Puerto Rican, too ambitious, too emotional—I’ve realized why his music feels like home and his career feels like a blueprint.
Bad Bunny and I? We’re both first-gen kids who refused to shrink. We’re both leading in spaces that weren’t built for us. We both know that legacy isn’t about perfection, it’s about presence.
The Leadership Style of a Trap King
Let’s talk about what Bad Bunny actually does:
- He Leads Without Apology
- He performed at the Super Bowl in a skirt. He called out colonialism at the VMAs. He released an entire album (Un Verano Sin Ti) in Spanish and broke every record anyway. He doesn’t code-switch for comfort—he makes the world switch to his frequency.
As a bilingual Latina leader who’s been told to “tone it down” in boardrooms, this resonates deeply. Authenticity isn’t a liability. It’s your competitive advantage.
- He Redefines Success on His Terms
- He could’ve chased English-language crossover hits. Instead, he doubled down on Puerto Rican slang, salsa samples, and reggaeton roots—and became the most-streamed artist in the world.
I’ve turned down promotions that asked me to mute my accent or separate my “professional” self from my Zumba-instructor, bereavement-counselor, podcast-hosting self. Bad Bunny reminds me: you don’t climb ladders built by others. You build your own stage.
- He Uses Platform for Purpose
- When Puerto Rico was ignored after Hurricane María, he didn’t just donate—he protested. He organized. He showed up. He understands that influence without integrity is just noise.
In my work with first-gen students and military families, I’ve learned the same: leadership isn’t about titles. It’s about showing up when it matters.
“Debí Tirar Más Fotos”: The Lyric That Broke Me
Then there’s “Debí Tirar Más Fotos”, the song that stopped me mid-mopping the floor and made me sit on my living room floor, tears streaming.
“Debí tirar más fotos / De cuando estábamos juntos…”
(“I should’ve taken more photos / From when we were together…”))
On the surface, it’s about regret—missing moments, realizing too late what you had. But here’s what I hear:
It’s a love letter to presence.
As a military mom, I know this ache—asking Alexa the time in different zones where my son is stationed before I call. The late nights grading papers when my students needed me present, not just physically there. The family gatherings I rushed through because I was chasing the next milestone.
As a grieving daughter who now sits with grieving families, I’ve heard this regret endlessly: “I wish I had more pictures. More moments. More time.”
Bad Bunny isn’t just singing about romance. He’s singing about the cost of ambition without attention. The danger of chasing dreams so hard you forget to photograph the journey.
Where We Align: Ambition Anchored in Love
Here’s why I resonate with him, not just as a fan, but as a fellow leader:
- We’re both first-gen overachievers who carry our families’ hopes without losing our roots.
- We both lead from the margins—him in a genre dismissed as “just reggaeton,” me in spaces that tokenize Latina voices until they realize our value.
- We both know that success without soul is empty. He could’ve sold out. I could’ve shrunk. We didn’t.
- We both understand that legacy is relational. His music is full of abuelas, barrios, and Boricua pride. My work is full of students, children, and comunidades that raised me.
The Lesson for Women Who Lead
To every woman grinding toward her dream job, healing from heartbreak, or building something from nothing:
Take the photos.
Not just literal ones—though yes, document your wins, your outfits, your Sunday salsa sessions with your son. But also:
- Pause to feel the moment before you chase the next one
- Let yourself be seen—messy, emotional, unfiltered
- Honor where you came from even as you build where you’re going
- Know that leadership isn’t about being untouchable. It’s about being real
Bad Bunny didn’t become global by being perfect. He became global by being unapologetically Benito—with slang, sorrow, and all.
You don’t need to be polished to be powerful. You need to be present.
A Mantra for the Multi-Hyphenate Woman
When the haters say you’re too much, remember: Bad Bunny is too much—and the world can’t look away.
When you’re waiting for the dream job, remember: he built his own lane and made the world follow.
When you’re working hard in silence, remember: “Debí tirar más fotos” exists because he felt the regret and turned it into art that heals millions.
When you’re doubting yourself, remember: a kid from Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, is now the most-streamed artist on Earth without singing a word in English.
If he can do that, you can do this—and more.
