Shakira's MTV Unplugged special taped in August 1999 in New York City, and was released as an album on Feb. Throughout the '90s, MTV's Unplugged series of stripped-down, intimate concerts had produced a handful of monumental live albums, with performances by Nirvana, Eric Clapton and Mariah Carey that fans would come to embrace as definitive. The success of Ladrones led her to her next big break. 1 on the Billboard Hot Latin Tracks chart for weeks and became an instant anthem for lovesick Latinxs everywhere. She released "Ciega, Sordomuda" as the first single, a ranchera-tinged pop track about a love so strong it's left her blind and stupefied. For her 1998 follow-up, she enlisted the help of producer and industry legend Emilio Estefan to create the career-defining Dónde Están los Ladrones? - an odyssey of romance and heartbreak, rage and self-awareness that launched her into the international spotlight. Following two early '90s albums that underperformed, the Colombian teenager splashed into the Latin rock scene with 1995's Pies Descalzos, gaining fans across Latin America. But "Ciega, Sordomuda" marks a turning point in her stardom. Shakira's pop prowess requires no explanation at this point: Her career spans over two decades, with enough Grammys, reinventions and A-list collaborations to earn her place onstage at this year's Super Bowl halftime show. It transcends generations of cultural touchpoints, putting middle-aged couples flawlessly dancing merengue alongside wide-eyed college kids just dipping their toes into their heritage.Įvery night, without fail, the DJ played Shakira's 90s bop " Ciega, Sordomuda." As soon as that first "ay, ay, ay" blared through the venue, Lizzie and I ran straight to the middle of the dance floor. La Choloteca is a revolutionary space of joy and community for Latinx folks in the South - it blends traditional salsa with psychedelic cumbia remixes, nostalgic Juan Luis Guerra tracks with Tomasa del Real. And we made our own versions of their rituals, learning every word to Ozuna's new singles and analyzing the political messaging in Bad Bunny's music videos.Īs often as we could, we went on sacred missions to La Choloteca, the best queer Latinx dance party in Atlanta. We blasted old Daddy Yankee albums in her car, reminiscing on childhoods spent falling asleep in a random bedroom at a party while our parents got down to " Lo Que Pasó, Pasó" with their friends in the living room. More than anything else, we talked about music. For the first time in our years of knowing each other, we talked openly about our parents' upbringings, our sibling dynamics, the family we both had in our respective home countries. I showed her my series of interviews with Latina creatives in the South. Lizzie told me about her internship advocating for Latinx reproductive rights at the State Capitol. Looking back, it makes sense that as preteens in a predominantly white school, being Latinx brought us together - but it was never something we felt comfortable talking about.īy the time we reconnected in our early 20s, we'd both grown into our identities on our own, and suddenly, all the common ground we'd never explored came into focus. I lived in Venezuela until I was 7, when my family moved to the U.S. Her parents are from Mexico, and took her and her sisters on frequent visits to their hometown in Jalisco. Lizzie and I both come from immigrant families. But in time, we discovered our friendship had changed in one important way, one we'd never had the language to describe before. In a lot of ways, it was just like we were 14 again: We watched scary movies, took her dog on long walks, spent hours and hours digging through sweaters at Value Village. While I finished my last semester as a journalism major, I became an unofficial roommate at the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, spending all my time outside of class on their couch. Sitting across from her, a giant plate of mac and cheese and chicken tenders between us, I told her my big news. She'd just moved downtown and didn't have many friends in the area, and my social calendar was suddenly wide open. We'd drifted apart shortly before college, but now we were both looking to reconnect. Lizzie and I grew up together in a suburb outside Atlanta: She lived down the street from my cousins and we went to the same middle and high school. For support, I asked an old friend to come along. On what would have been my first Valentine's Day alone in years, I decided to stop moping and take myself to the newly opened Hattie B's Hot Chicken, a Nashville chain whose business had spread to Georgia. A year ago, my first real relationship came to an end.
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