Bad Bunny Off Cycle

Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio turned 27 this year. It’s been a time for introspection.

- By Laia Garcia-Furtado

Estamos activa’os!” Bad Bunny tells me when I meet him and his three-person crew at a Michelin-starred restaurant in the East Village on one of the first cold nights in November. He’s buried in a big black puffy coat, scrolling through his phone; a single curl is braided and looped through a little plastic bead that hangs over his left eye. The only noticeable remnant of Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio’s larger-than-life alter ego is his nails, which are decked out in an immaculate green manicure. ¶ There’s a brief silence and some stifled laughter around the table. It’s painfully obvious that the energy levels at the moment are extremely low—decidedly not activa’o. Martínez Ocasio looks like a bored, tired kid dragged to a family function. “Well, we’ll get there,” he assures me, taking a sip of white wine.

In person, Martínez Ocasio exudes a humbleness that belies his star power. Perhaps it’s how frequently he mentions his mother, both in conversation and in songs. “When she listened to ‘Safaera,’” he says— referring to the song off YHLQMDLG that pays homage to early reggaeton (back then, we called it “underground”) in its sexually explicit lyrics—“she sort of scolded me.” He puts on a gentle but concerned voice and begins imitating his mother. “Benito,