The son of Ocasio, a teacher, and Tito Martínez, a truck driver, Benito Antonio eschewed sports, preferring to play-wrestle with action figures his little brothers, Bernie and Bysael, hatched storylines for each toy. “God is everywhere, so why do I need to go to church?” His origin story carries a hint of the divine, though Martínez doesn’t attend Mass anymore. Even the seemingly offhand “ eys” that punctuate his songs are filled with pathos. Though he’s popularly known for spitting staccato beats, listen closely and his discography reveals an expansive, confident range. Church was hot and boring, but it affirmed his passion for music at a foundational age. “I learned that I was the best in the choir and I worked the hardest,” he says, laughing, though he’s not kidding. There are days where I feel like I can’t handle my own life, you know what I mean?”ī efore Bad Bunny was Bad Bunny, he was actually a very good bunny: choirboy in the Catholic church where his mother, Lysaurie Ocasio, served as a devout congregant. “There are days where I feel strong and powerful,” but from time to time, he says, “I feel vulnerable. “It is too much and your mental health can be impacted,” Martínez says when I ask about his well-being. His trademark septum piercing is conspicuously missing-he wanted to change it up, he said, to be more relaxed. The only stealth hints at his global superstardom-other than the fact that my cab driver just declared his fealty-are a few diamonds here and there, including on the face of what looks like a women’s Chanel watch on his wrist. He has piano fingers, a cropped circle beard, and pristine teeth. His thicket of curls is topped with a backward snapback. He’s been wearing the same outfit every day for days-a striped polo, moisture-wicking shorts, and squishy slides, all in buttery shades of beige. “I’ve eaten about 70 croquetas,” he tells me in Spanish as still more plates arrive. On this tropically humid Monday in July, however, it is still his so-called year of relaxation.
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