At minute 4:55 of his historic participation in the Super Bowl LX Halftime Show, Benito looked directly at the camera as he walked, holding a new version of “The Duke”—one that professes hemispheric unity and reclaims “América” as a plural project, not an individual, exclusive one—and said: “Tú también deberías creer en ti. Tú vales más de lo que piensas.”

And wow—did I need to hear that!

Last week, the violence that has been poisoning our many worlds spilled into one of my safe spaces. For a moment, I felt hopeless. I stopped believing in the transformative energy, love, and light I bring to everything I do daily. I felt vulnerable. And by saying this, I know I am not the exception these days, but what often feels like the rule.

Tonight, however, while watching Benito from my living room—feeling as if I were in his living room, patio, galería,  marquesina, barrio—love, admiration, and an immense sense of pride became my kryptonite.

Seeing Benito being held as he threw himself into a small crowd, only to get back on his feet and land in Nuevayol—where Toñita stood stronger than ever, a kid was getting a haircut in la Barbería, La Marqueta was open and thriving, and surrounded by el corillo de los fuertes, los que no se dan por vencidos, those whose communal and solidary fire is capable of melting hielo—ufff—that brought me back to life!

And just when I thought I had gathered all the strength I needed, there goes Benito again, reminding us that love is more powerful than anything else. He kneels in a gesture reminiscent of Kaepernick in 2016—an act of love, resistance, outcry, respect, and compassion—and hands one of his Grammy awards to a child who, while not Liam Conejo Ramos himself, evokes him and pays tribute to the innocent five-year-old hero who, in his short life, has endured trauma no child should ever experience.

Thank you, Benito, for your gesture to Liam and to many children who have been unjustly detained. 

Thank you, Benito, for sending a message of love and care on one of the biggest platforms in the world. 

Thank you, Benito, for being brave, for perrear con conciencia, for professing unity, for reminding us, en español, of our resilience.

Thank you, Benito, for reminding those who forgot that “El Apagón” literally shook Puerto Rico, but that, in spite of everything, Borinquén, pueblo de gigantes, brilló con luz natural. 

Thank you, Benito, for reminding those who forgot “Lo que le pasó a Hawaii.” 

Gracias, Benito, por recordarnos that memory is integral to the fabric of who we are, y que we must continue creating new memories for ourselves and for those who come behind us.

Benito, tonight, February 8, 2026, tengo el pecho hinchao y “el corazón dándome patá”. Tears run down my face as I write this because while I was watching you, two of my hermanas—a Dominicana and a Boricua—called and texted me. Though we are in three different geographies, the space you created tonight united us. I felt as if they were here, sitting beside me in the same living room you flooded with love, courage, joy, and pride to be Latina, Dominicana, Caribeña, and a woman who sometimes perrea sola and other times perrea with el corillo that your fiesta keeps bringing people together.

Gracias, Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, for giving me the courage to write a piece that is also a tribute to María Altagracia Marte Uribe, mi abuela, one of many anonymous women who were essential to the fabric of the U.S. economy, working for the garment industry in New York for over 20 years.

-Sharina