Latest news with #Somos
Refinery29
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Refinery29
From Child Star to Pop It Girl, DANNA's Hot Next Chapter Begins
For years, DANNA has lived in the spotlight. As a child actor on beloved telenovelas and a star of Netflix's Élite, she was part of Latin pop culture long before she had the chance to define her own sound. But over time, and often behind the scenes, she was building a different kind of career — one rooted in music, creative control, and a clear desire for evolution. 'I'm in my just having fun era,' she tells Somos. 'I'm not taking shit too seriously. I'm just having fun with music, with life … and I'm loving it so much.' That sense of release pulses through her latest single, 'Khe Calor' — a sweaty, bass-heavy track that seems to announce a new chapter. Built around a sample from Conchi Cortés's 'Yo Tengo Un Novio (Toma Que Toma),' it nods to early-2000s Latin party hits while layering in synths, hard percussion, and a looped chorus that feels more like a spell than a lyric. DANNA calls it both a mantra and a gift, and she debuted it live for the first time on Jimmy Kimmel Live! this July. ' "I'm in my just having fun era." DANNA ' 'I think I manifested that moment,' she says. 'I prepared everything — the team, the dancers, the sound. It felt like the right time. I took a shot of Don Julio before going on stage, and then it was just magical. I'm still processing it.' The performance — her U.S. late-night debut — felt like a turning point. Dressed in a custom vaquera look by Mexican designers The Weird Market and surrounded by dancers in Y2K-ish fits, DANNA delivered a transition into that next phase. The track is flirty, confident, and steeped in movement. But underneath that heat is a kind of clarity: this is a reset. The 'Khe Calor' music video casts DANNA in a role she's written for herself, leaning fully into melodrama and reinvention. It opens like a scene from Como Agua Para Chocolate: she's accused of causing a 777-day drought, and only her tears can bring the rain. What starts as high drama quickly unravels into a surreal, heat-soaked fantasy. Her emotions become a kind of power, literal magic, transporting her into a world of cactus fields, sensual choreography, and rotating novios played by familiar faces like Michel Duval and El Malilla. The aesthetic is part high fashion, part satire, part dream sequence. It's raunchy, glamorous, and deeply self-aware, a reflection of DANNA's willingness to turn vulnerability into spectacle on her own terms. Though DANNA's catalog has long leaned pop, 'Khe Calor' shifts the focus from heartbreak to embodiment. The mood is looser. The lyrics, less filtered. She hints that more experimentation is on the way. 'I'm really into techno right now,' she says. 'For now, I'll just leave it at that.' She won't say what's coming next, only that it will sound different. And that's the point. ' "I care deeply about my work, but I'm learning to let go. To just put the music out, even if it's not perfect." DANNA ' Her career has never followed a single lane. After breaking out in Latin America as a child star, she pivoted to music, releasing projects like Sie7e+ and K.O., both of which blended radio-friendly hooks with sonic risk. She didn't follow a typical path into music. After years in front of the camera, shifting into full-time artistry required a new kind of discipline. 'I'm such a perfectionist,' she says. 'I care deeply about my work, but I'm learning to let go. To just put the music out, even if it's not perfect. The best advice I can give any new artist is just put your music out there.' That shift, from control to confidence, is what's fueling this latest chapter. Today, she's just as likely to talk about her creative direction as she is her spiritual routine. She travels with Palo Santo and quartz. She detoxes from her phone. She cries 'a lot' and laughs at how predictable that is: 'I'm a Cancer, of course.' And while this personal evolution is clear, so is her cultural grounding. Born and raised in Mexico City, DANNA has made it a priority to amplify her roots through language, fashion, and collaboration. Whether performing in Spanish on mainstream U.S. stages or working with local artisans and designers, she's intentional about what and who she brings with her. 'Music is art. Tequila is art. They go hand in hand,' she says of her recent collaboration with Don Julio. 'So it's important to me, collaborating with a brand that aligns with my art, my music, my culture.' Now 30, she doesn't claim to have it all figured out. But she does sound like someone who knows what she wants and doesn't need permission to get there. 'I feel so confident. … I feel like I'm in my best moment.'
Time Out
14-07-2025
- Time Out
Cevichocho at Cotoa
Cotoa embodies everything Miami's culinary scene needs more of right now: an ambitious chef preparing food that tastes like home, an intimate dining room with easygoing style, dishes whose size and quality actually match their prices, and hospitality that's warm and unrushed. After a brief stint inside Downtown's B100m food hall—and a swift recommendation from the Michelin Guide—Ecuadorian chef Alejandra Espinoza's Cotoa transplanted to North Miami this spring, settling into a cheerful corner space on the same block as local Basque favorite, Edan Bistro. The 24-seat restaurant is a follow-up to her Quito restaurant, Somos, a World's 50 Best award winner. After dining at Cotoa, it's obvious why Espinoza was named a United Nations Tourism Special Ambassador of Gastronomy, representing Ecuador's cultural heritage through a thoroughly modern yet unfussy lens. The vibe: Bright and playful, in a palette of orange, green, raffia and natural stone. The restaurant is filled with relaxed guests who seem like they've been coming here forever. Shoppable teas, coffees and handmade homewares line an etagere that divides the entryway from the dining room, adding to the hip and homey vibe. The food: Cotoa's all-day menu is similarly light and fun, brief but full of complex flavors and fresh takes on familiar-to-Miami ingredients. Put in an order of the Pan de Yuca right away—pillowy cheese bread rolls with the perfect amount of bite, served with mamey chutney and inspired by the start of every meal in Ecuador. Round things out with a ceviche and a main. We ordered the Mahi Mahi Manicero, served in an aromatic coconut-ginger base, paired with El Pincho, a smoky chimichurri hanger steak, accompanied by crunchy papa chaucha (gold potatoes) and Jerusalem artichoke chips. Everything was well-seasoned, beautifully plated and large enough to share. The drink: The selection of natural wines, sourced from Florida-based distributor Nada Wine, includes eight by-the-glass options and bottles starting at $60. The beer list includes an IPA and a blonde ale from two Miami breweries, plus a few kombuchas and a mix of local and Ecuadorian sparkling waters, coffees and teas. Time Out tip: For an out-of-the-ordinary date, consider going during lunch and ordering the Cacao Lime Tea, 'Pepa Dorada.' It's the same menu you'll find at dinner, with plenty of items that won't leave you feeling overly full. The refreshing iced tea made with cacao husks will put just the right amount of pep in your step.
Refinery29
02-07-2025
- Lifestyle
- Refinery29
For Latinas, Glam Isn't Vanity — It's Legacy, Armor & Self-Love
Whether it's hiring a makeup artist for a speaking engagement or doing a full face before running errands, many Latinas know the power of showing up polished. But this isn't just about vanity — it's cultural muscle memory. In many of our households, being "presentable" isn't optional; it's expected. It's a learned behavior passed from one generation to the next, but most of all, it's deeply tied to notions of pride, self-care, and even survival. '[Getting glammed] is a ritual of self-honoring,' Dr. Elena Montalván, a board certified dermatologist based in Puerto Rico, tells Refinery29 Somos. "It's not vanity, it's presence. Preparing myself, whether it's skincare or red lipstick, is a way of saying, 'I matter.' It's the energy I pour into myself before I give to the world." In our culture, glam is a practice that blends aesthetics, spirituality, and strategy. For many Latinas, especially immigrants or daughters of immigrants, beauty routines aren't just for looks — they're a kind of armor. An intentional presentation to claim space in a world that doesn't always make room for us. ' "In our culture, glam is a practice that blends aesthetics, spirituality, and strategy." victoria leandra ' Content creator and Miss Universe Cuba candidate Mia Dio remembers this as part of her upbringing: "My mom used to dress me like a little doll when I was a baby: matching bows and coordinated outfits. Looking back, I think that was her way of showing love. Presentation wasn't just for looks, it was pride.' The expectation to look "put together" was reinforced with both subtle and overt cues: grandmothers who slept in rolos and moms who wouldn't let us leave the house without lip gloss (because we never know who we might run into!). For Rebeca Torres, glam feels almost instinctual. 'My mom always made sure I had everything I needed to look put together, from well-fitted clothes and clean shoes to good hygiene and always smelling like heaven,' she tells Somos. Beauty became such an intrinsic part of her identity that she built a career around it, eventually becoming the Senior Communications Manager at L'Oréal Caribe. But glam can also be about respectability and perception. Dr. Montalván, who navigates the elite and often white-male-dominated field of medicine, understands this firsthand. "As a Latina in medicine, I've felt the weight of 'proving' I belonged. Looking polished was part of that unspoken expectation," she says. "Now, I show up presentable for me, not to fit into someone else's mold." ' "I've felt the weight of 'proving' I belonged. Looking polished was part of that unspoken expectation." Dr. Elena Montalván ' Still, the line between empowerment and pressure is often blurred. "It becomes a burden when looking put together becomes an intense requirement and not just a self-care ritual," Dio, who knows this all too well from her experience in beauty pageants, adds. "But even on my days off, I remind myself I don't owe anyone glam. I do it when it feels good. It just so happens that it feels good more often than not." Torres, on the other hand, says glam never feels like a burden for her. "Getting ready is a form of meditation. It's that moment in the day when I can set myself up for success,' she explains. "And no matter what happens, if I already had that moment for myself, I'm good." This duality is part of what makes the Latina relationship to glam so layered. It's a love language, a shield, and a cultural inheritance. But it's also a demand that can feel unrelenting, unsustainable, and tiring, which is why some have turned it into a ritual instead. From splashing cold water on the face for a spiritual reset to literally praying through skincare routines, the body becomes an altar. "To me, skincare is sacred, non-negotiable," Dr. Montalván said. "Fashion, on the other hand, is storytelling, and I write [my own script] every morning.' Dr. Montalván is known for posting her 'outfit of the day' on Instagram stories every morning. She's an example that you can be both: intelligent and emperifollá. 'My intelligence and my eyeliner are not mutually exclusive,' she says. ' "It becomes a burden when looking put together becomes an intense requirement and not just a self-care ritual." Mia Dio ' These rituals often begin early on in our homes. The matriarchs of our families didn't just pass down recipes, they passed down beauty regimens. My mom used to pour Medalla Light beer on my head at the beach to naturally lighten my hair under the sun, and she knew Agua Maravilla was an affordable toner long before clean beauty became a trend. For Dio, that looks like knowing how to do a blowout or add volume to her hair with rollers because her grandmother still does both, daily. "It's become a way for us to honor the women who came before us," she says. In a culture that can be hyper-visual and where Latina visibility is often filtered through stereotypes, choosing to show up glam is not just expression — it's reclamation. We are not just what's portrayed on Univision or the overly sexualized and 'spicy' movie characters. We are complex and intentional, and sometimes we use our bemba colorá or high heels to say so. Critics might call it vain, but glam in the Latina community rarely stems from ego. "I'd say that's a limited lens," Dr. Montalván says. 'Makeup isn't a mask, it's a choice. Being 'put together' is about alignment, how I look, feel, and carry myself because I learned early on that how you show up sets the tone for how you're treated.' ' "Glam is how we show love to ourselves. It's how we cope. It's how we protect our presence in a world that often overlooks us." Mia Dio ' Dio, also a comedian, echoes the sentiment with her usual wit: "[Whoever thinks that] clearly didn't grow up in a Latino household. Glam is how we show love to ourselves. It's how we cope. It's how we protect our presence in a world that often overlooks us." Torres takes it a step further. "Since when is being vain something negative? Makeup is activism, it's self-expression, it's self-love, it's protection. None of it is vain." What may seem like "just makeup" to some is, for many Latinas, a heritage practice. It's also a response to generational adversity. When society tried to erase, glam helped us assert. When life felt unstable, un buen blower and trimmed brows helped us feel anchored. To show up glammed is to say, "I am here, I am worthy, and I am not hiding." It's the opposite of invisibility.
Refinery29
03-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Refinery29
Empowerment or Erasure? Karol G's 'Latina Foreva' Sparks Debate Among Latinas
When Karol G dropped her newest single and music video ' Latina Foreva' on May 22, it became undoubtedly clear that the Colombian pop reggaeton artist sought to make an instant Latina pride anthem. The song's hook samples the 'king of reggaeton' Don Omar's 2003 smash hit 'Dile' and features a few seconds of a flamenco-style guitar and violin arrangement that evokes those heard in fellow Colombian artist Shakira's 'Beautiful Liar.' While many fans felt empowered and excited by Karol's lyrics and self-love, others pointed out the glaring lack of Black Latina representation in the visuals and shared mixed feelings about the message of the song. As Karol dances in nothing but a bikini and ski boots alongside a group of other women — all white, thin and curvy, with a similarly bronzed skin tone who also happen to be wearing nothing but bikinis at the snowy ski resort — she sings about a girls' night out with a Colombian, Puerto Rican, Venezuelan, and Dominican who all have 'spice' and curves that 'don't even exist in NASCAR.' With lyrics that are equally as focused on the women's appearances as the music video is, some listeners loved Karol's focus on 'tetas y nalgas' and embraced her comfort in her skin as an empowering display of self-acceptance. Following the May 8 release of Karol's 'Mañana Fue Bonito' documentary on Netflix earlier this year, where she vulnerably opened up about the highs and lows of her music career, 'Latina Foreva' marks a new confident and sensual era for the artist. But other Latine fans in diaspora communities and in Latin America were concerned Karol's words perpetuated stereotypes on what makes Latinas desirable, even going as far as saying that the song reinforces a dangerous myth about Latina hypersexuality. Somos spoke with five Latina women to explore how 'Latina Foreva' uplifts — or overlooks — the complexities of identity and representation. Jennifer Mota, Dominican, Philadelphia When I first saw the promotional clip and identified the lack of representation, my automatic response was "this is tiring." It didn't represent a shared celebration. I had no desire to listen to the song. Although it is framed as a dedication to "Latinas," the selected women — while all stunning — were an underwhelming choice as it feels exclusionary rather than celebratory. The visual is more of a reflection of what the media and society accepts as "Latina features." It mirrors industry standards. ' "Although it is framed as a dedication to 'Latinas,' the selected women — while all stunning — were an underwhelming choice as it feels exclusionary rather than celebratory." jennifer mota ' Simply put: Racism is a global issue. The perspective that it's only a U.S. issue overlooks how white supremacy manifests differently by region. Clearly, the privilege of whiteness and erasure of Black and Indigenous features are not exclusive to the United States when Latin media and music still follow a caste system that prioritizes people with a proximity to whiteness. It absolutely impacts the lived experiences of Black Latinas and their opportunities. Colorism and Eurocentric beauty standards are deeply rooted in colonial history and still influence media and music today. We can't let this kind of societal gaslighting take up space and control narratives; it erases populations, history, and lived experiences. If one of the most visible Latin artists and her team can't understand how her influence erases and perpetuates industry standards, then the intention of the song was never to create a love letter to Latinidad as a whole but rather to uplift the ways Latinas are only celebrated through the lens of a white male perspective. It's neither visually accurate or factual. From a marketing and branding perspective, it's not that hard. To not intentionally pick a mix of shades, body types, and features is a reminder that it isn't a thought at all and fails to honor the beauty and complexity of our cultures. Melissa Vargas Deñó, Dominican, New York When I saw the song title, I felt like "oh yes, give me an anthem." Who doesn't love an anthem celebrating who you are and your culture? And being Dominicana, when I heard 'una domi que lo mueva rico … mmm,' I was like, 'That's me!' As a relatively new mother, there are moments when you wonder if you'll ever feel sexy or like yourself again. Yes, there's a physical transformation, but there's also a deep internal one. Sometimes your sense of womanhood gets blurry amid the chaos of caretaking and the changes your body goes through postpartum. Songs like this let me access that version of myself again. And I think that's part of what modern motherhood really is — redefining who we are on our own terms. When someone like Karol G takes the spotlight and owns her sensuality, it sparks way more controversy than it would if a man did the exact same thing. But to me, she's not just being provocative, she's reclaiming the narrative. She's in control of how she's seen and how she expresses herself, and that's powerful. Especially in reggaeton, a genre that's historically been male-dominated, it's refreshing and exciting to see women like Karol carving out space and shifting the energy. This type of song specifically is more for the girls than the male gaze. As women, we deserve to express ourselves through music — whether it's about sensuality, sex, or anything else — just as freely as men do. And if it makes us feel empowered? Even better. ' "As a relatively new mother, there are moments when you wonder if you'll ever feel sexy or like yourself again. Yes, there's a physical transformation, but there's also a deep internal one. ... Songs like this let me access that version of myself again. And I think that's part of what modern motherhood really is — redefining who we are on our own terms." Melissa Vargas Deñó ' I absolutely acknowledge that there was a lack of diversity in the music video, which is a real bummer because I know that in other videos like "Provenza" there is both skin tone and body diversity, it's one of the reasons why that song is one of my favorites of Karol's. I don't know where the disconnect happened, if it was with the casting or timing, but I think she and the team behind it could have put more effort into showing more diverse women. This is meant to be a really fun song celebrating Latinas, our culture, and who we are, but it definitely missed that mark with that aspect in the music video. Nicole Froio, Colombian-Brazilian, Rio de Janeiro In 12 or so years writing about Latine culture as a Latina woman, I have seen the discussion on whether Latina artists are "too sexual" come and go. It's always a point of contention in the community and I totally understand why. I also have experiences with racialized sexual harassment. But over the years, I've started to question whether it's about how Latinas present themselves that defines us as "sexual" or if it's the racialized hatred of white Americans that transforms us into sexualized objects to be consumed. It bothers me that Latina women's sexuality has to be measured against whether white Americans or Europeans will think of us as sexually available. I think the idea we have to model ourselves so we aren't seen in a particular way borders on conservatism. I understand the controversy, but I need Latinas in our community to understand that Karol G's video isn't to blame for sexual harassment and assault against Latinas — the people who harass and assault are. Karol G skiing half-naked doesn't change half a century of imperialism, colonialism, and sexualized racism against Latinas. ' "Karol G's video isn't to blame for sexual harassment and assault against Latinas — the people who harass and assault are. Karol G skiing half-naked doesn't change half a century of imperialism, colonialism, and sexualized racism against Latinas." Nicole Froio ' No matter how much clothes we wear or don't wear, white Americans and Europeans have historically seen us as animals, as objects who are so sexual that we would never say no to them. Are we really saying that Latinas can't sing and dance about how we are seen sexually because it'll give white men the wrong impression? Amy Quichiz, Colombian-Peruvian, Los Angeles I believe this song can spark discussions about the problems we face with the concept of Latinidad, the internalized racism and prejudiceness, and patriarchal values that women, men, and people hold within our own community. However, it is also important to call out: some people just hate women and it shows. There is a difference between having valid points to a conversation with historical context of the values and traditions we have created and embedded in our community, and another thing is simply saying Karol G does not add any value to the reggaeton genre because of her lyrics. For so long, reggaeton has been a male-dominated genre. Men have always been able to rap about our bodies and how our curves are beneficial to them. Personally, I love hearing Karol G talk about her boobs because I can relate, and fuck yeah, I love them for myself. She admires her own body, which has often been sexualized by men in this industry. To me, this song is for the girls and nobody else. It's about loving yourself, being proud of where you come from, owning your curves for yourself and for no one else, and knowing that you're hot. ' "To me, this song is for the girls and nobody else. It's about loving yourself, being proud of where you come from, owning your curves for yourself and for no one else, and knowing that you're hot." Amy Quichiz ' In the beginning of her song she says, 'ahora todos quieren una colombiana, una…' This line addresses the othering people have always done with Latinas, and still continue to do. There were many moments where I grew up and started to not be proud of being Latina because I knew whiteness was the ideal beauty standards. I love being Colombian and Peruvian, and I romanticize it. Having that be my world, and get this song to my core, is something a non-Latine person will ever understand. Mariel Mejia, Dominican, New York I was genuinely looking forward to the song and video, especially after recently watching her Netflix documentary. I'm not a Karol G stan, but I respect her success and was curious to see what she would release next. But as soon as I saw the lack of diversity in the video, I felt turned off and skipped it before it even ended. I called out the erasure of Black Latina women because it was glaring and felt intentional. Claiming to celebrate Latinas as a whole while excluding dark-skinned, visibly Black Latinas on a global stage only reinforces the idea that we don't belong in the mainstream narrative of Latinidad. All artists are subject to criticism, and this isn't about Karol G being a woman or expressing her sexuality. Personally, her being provocative wasn't even on my radar. I listen to artists like Tokischa, who are just as, if not more, sexually explicit. What stood out to me was the lack of diversity in who was chosen to represent 'Latinas.' The video pushed the same dated narrative that Latinas are all sexy, spicy, bronze, and nothing else. That type of representation isn't just overdone, it contributes to real-world fetishization and harm. Pair that with the lack of racial and body diversity, and the whole thing felt like it was stuck in a 2005 media playbook. ' "The video pushed the same dated narrative that Latinas are all sexy, spicy, bronze, and nothing else. That type of representation isn't just overdone, it contributes to real-world fetishization and harm. Pair that with the lack of racial and body diversity, and the whole thing felt like it was stuck in a 2005 media playbook." Mariel Mejia ' Reggaeton was born from Black and Caribbean roots, yet the genre has long centered lighter-skinned artists as it entered the mainstream. This isn't just about Karol G; it's a systemic issue in an industry dominated by men who've rarely challenged the erasure of Black Latinas. Karol is one of the few successful women in reggaeton, and while that matters, it doesn't absolve her. She still benefits from a system that rewards proximity to whiteness and sidelines the very women whose culture this music comes from. She didn't create the problem, but she and other white Latinas certainly are not disrupting it either.
Yahoo
22-04-2025
- Business
- Yahoo
Millions in funding for housing projects approved by Albuquerque city council
ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. (KRQE) – Millions of dollars are now heading to two major housing developments in southeast Albuquerque following a vote from city council. The city says a total of more than $9 million in funding has been approved for two Sol Housing developments. Bill aims to bring more community events to downtown Albuquerque A million dollars in ARPA funding and more than $5.1 million in federal funds will be going to the Somos project, near Central and Louisiana. The mixed-use development will create 70 new housing units, with 59 of those reserved for low income residents. $3 million in ARPA funds will also be going to the Farolito Senior Community. The project is already under construction and will bring 82 affordable housing units for seniors to the East Gateway Neighborhood at Central and Eubank. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
