Cuban queens of perreo?

Historically, the urban scene is a space where men are the majority, since they have had in "the cast" a place from which to reflect —with its musical, dance and gestural language and expression— the same power and privileges they have in society with respect to women. From the neighborhood to the stage, that power is evident in money, possession of objects and even women. To break with these stereotypes and pave the way, the reggaeton artist has —and will have, perhaps for a long time— the challenge of articulating their feelings and expression in urban music, with the extra burden of fighting for their spaces and opportunities. 

Unfortunately, the game is far from even. The urban feminine discourse in Cuba seems to be the proud bearer of a machismo already rooted in its melodic veins. They say, dress and sing for men, as if sexual domination were a symbol of gender equality and that equalized the game for them.  

On the other hand, although some reggaeton players have stylized their language, reducing aggressiveness and violence, and have adapted it to international markets, with different registers, others —the majority— they maintain a violent language as a form of expression and an element of gender identity. Nothing indicates on the level of reality that a great change is going to take place in that sense, but I don't think a future urban scene in Cuba that produces reggaeton without misogyny and in which there is also respect for women towards their peers is impossible.

The reggaeton women have in their hands two tools that they waste: sensuality and the attention of an entire continent that already has champions in the urban sphere.

At the beginning of the 2000s, Ivy Queen was “la Caballota” and claimed her role within an urban movement in which women, in addition to being few, did not really have their own voice and style. Today, in urban Latin America, it can be seen that being a woman is more than sex and a night of lust.

On the Island this path has taken a little longer. Cuban women have echoed over and over again, ad nauseam, a heteronormative discourse where men and women carry out the same actions. 

Few names make up the list of urban girls in the country, to which is added its little media and discursive impact on the scene. As long as this is the case, there will be hardly any variety in the proposal or the possibility of expanding the range of styles. What is needed is a “powerful woman” who deals a resounding blow to that static, who constitutes a turning point for the monotonous path that the female presence in reggaeton is traveling in Cuba.

Since in 2018 Ms. Dayana participated in the spectacular concert of the Premios Juventud in Miami —when he defended the cubatón along with another dozen artists from the island— no other great urban event has been signed by a Cuban woman. On the other hand, in recent years there have been many hits that have had the collaboration of voices like Patry White or La Diosa, warriors who hopefully still have a lot to contribute to the genre.

When she is not the protagonist, the reggaeton artist is part of a male group and her voice is used for moans, expressions of sexuality or a brief intervention by a woman who owns her sex. I think of examples like little rich thing, with the participation of A-wing, and several years ago the fragment of Patry White in the production of DJ Unic: Ricky. But there are many more. 

On platforms such as YouTube, it can be seen that reggaeton artists have a greater number of views on featurings with famous singers of the genre than by themselves. Although it is not about popularity or audience on the networks, it is noted that, in effect, it is a small niche compared to that of men. On the other hand, the proposal of the reggaeton women could well be a discourse of empowerment based on respect for sexuality and with an inclusive position. 

Every two times three, a young male promise emerges in search of the distribution throne. But it doesn't happen that way with reggaeton girls, why? The female presence faces other social conditions, roles and stereotypes around her. In the course of the history of reggaeton in Cuba there have been few women who, for one quality or another, have stood out in the genre. In fact, I only think of three names, already mentioned here, that seem fundamental to me: The Goddess, Miss Dayana and Patry White. With fluctuating popularity ratings, each at its time, they have been on the charts and have provided songs like Neither stick nor stick, Disguised as Maluma and Diabolic doll, respectively, that are part of that musical history and have legitimized them before their followers.

When appreciating the work they have developed in three decades, some attributes stand out: sexually they are powerful; economically, successful, and the appearance is sexy; undoubtedly ingredients of a cocktail that seduces many and many. The female audience could admire, enjoy and praise the position they have acquired. By having them as references, they perhaps consider that imitating their actions is the only way to success for a reggaeton woman in Cuba. But they also need a feminist representation that really advocates for gender equity.

Without counting the three reggaeton women mentioned above, in so many years almost no other woman has embarked on a career in reggaeton following the premises of equity. This phenomenon could be understood as the result of an obvious fact: the aforementioned attributes do not position Cuban and urban women in the place they deserve. The autonomy of women in society, the assertion of their rights, must not be built on the basis of generating more violence or reproducing it, this time against men. It has to be an intelligent process, in which the cultural values of reggaeton come to the fore and take advantage of the media coverage they have to position what everyone says, equally, in the international music industry.

Diabolic doll, by Patrick White the dictator, is a song that came out in 2012 and had a video clip directed by Joel Guilian. From the title, the objectification of the female body becomes evident, as if women could be bought in catalogs, like toys. Patry says: “Go by the toy store to see which one you want / here there are many types but there are those that suit you”. However, I can't help but say: how the dictator there are not two! I think she is the flow same as reggaeton made by women in Cuba, although their music is going out of style.

On the other hand, the Goddess —that a year after the departure of Diabolic doll, released the single For me— reached the peak of his career in 2019 with the song Neither stick nor stick. Something similar also happens to me with this diva. Are her songs a vindication of feminine power? I don't think so, this ode to her genitalia shows a man's sexual dependence on her as a powerful woman.

Saying: "It's my total that dominates you / It's my total that hurts you" does not claim any female role in society. On the contrary, it confuses and distorts the path to what should be a permanent social conquest, gender equity. In this issue, as in many others, the story is reversed and it is told how a woman did not respect the sexual rights of men either.

The hopeful note is put by Ms. Dayana, who for two consecutive years launched two songs to the freedom and independence of women: "What hurts you / That there is someone in my bed taking away the cold / It hurts, it hurts , what hurts you, how easy it was for me to forget you”. Reggaeton language? Definitely. But, saving the distances with other musical genres, at least here I feel that there is something to be proud of. Maybe I could put it another way, but at least it doesn't hurt or offend. In 2018 it was a super success what hurts you, and a year later Alone, as always with Adriano DJ, and with 4.6k of likes in Youtube. In her video clip she showed an independent woman, free from any male control or yoke and at the same time without sexual allusions.

There is still a long way to go to talk about a diverse and dialectical panorama in the female scene of reggaeton made in Cuba. You can always wish for much more, taking into account the vocal quality and style of all the artists of our country, so that their music and their flow are in line with the path outlined and the one that still needs to be walked on the Island in pursuit of equity. I think that this is how the feeling and living, if not of all, of many women, will one day be represented in many Cuban reggaetons. 

In addition to these three reggaeton women with a relevant career, we have examples of other artists such as Lady Laura and Diana Fuentes, who have ventured into the genre in a timely manner or with very little experience. The first one hasn't made much noise in the cast, except for a few collaborations, especially one with El Micha, in Lie to Me. In the case of Diana Fuentes, after some interesting foundations in pop, she has recently taken up reggaeton as a new field of exploration and a possible route to a dream success; but it has not achieved much, beyond some semi-popular songs and a renewed image with waist movements in video clips. As for her speech, there is very little that can favor women's liberation. 

In any case, the story begins to be told in a different way. Although today none of these queens have the crown, it cannot be said that the board belongs only to the kings. There is still a long way to go on the path of equity, but they now share the space with the very few women who have opted for their artistic achievement in reggaeton.