By Amanda Rosa, Miami Herald
MIAMI (AP) – A loud reggaeton beat exploded through speakers on the streets of Little Havana’s Black Ochoa as crowds danced around two local reggaetonaras. It was a standard night of Gay8, the annual LGBTQ celebration.
The Reggaeton duo were performing their new song, “Dame Leche,” an old-school charming bob, when two big men in diapers did the same. They poured themselves a jug of milk and danced after Liz Ferrari and Maripussi sang the suggested chorus, “Dam Dam Dam Leche, Tango Tango Tango Humber.”
The crowd ate. “I still need it!” They shouted.
This is Nina, a Miami-based, queer, femme reggaeton couple with a childlike interest in aesthetics. They perform on tutus, glitter eyebrows and butterfly hair clips.
They are not your average reggaetoneras. They do not want to be.
“What do you think, girls!” Maripussi yelled at Mike.
Nina is the brainchild of visual and performing artists Liz Ferrer and Bo Tie, otherwise known as Liz Ferrari Och and Maripussi, respectively. Often criticized as mesogynistic in the male-dominated genre, Nina creates reggaeton songs from a feminine, bizarre perspective.
The story behind Nina is as unique as Liz and Boko’s costume. Niña Liz and Bow are just one of many art projects they’ve collaborated with, and the band’s ethos has caught the attention of Miami art institutions, such as Oolite Arts. Although the two artists may look different from their male counterparts, their own approach takes them back to the underground, low-budget roots of reggaeton.
Since releasing their first solo and music video “Dame Leche” in March, the band has been focusing on the rest of their upcoming visual album. This month, they’re releasing “Zap”, a Dembo-inspired bop to get rid of your problems. “These are all really fun and good things about reggaeton,” Bole said. “We just want to do it without a sense of machismo.” “It needs to be opened a little bit,” Liz added.
Liz and Bo met in 2015 at a party in Chicago. Liz, who studied theater in college, was in town after an art residency and Bo was hired to perform at a party – in the form of a human lamp.
“I was like, oh!” Liz said. “Who is that light?”
At the time, Liz was curating a performing arts festival. She approached Boko and told them to come to Miami. However, it was a one-sided conversation. Sagittarius, still acting like a lamp, said nothing. But they were down.
A mutual friend formally introduced them, and the two filled out a spreadsheet with ideas for cooperation. In addition to their personal art practices, Liz and Bole have devoted much of their time to checking that list.
Liz and Bow share a subtle relationship with gender identity, a theme they explore in their projects.
Liz, who was born a woman, said she knew the girl but did not believe in gender. “That’s not part of me, and part of me is that girl,” Liz said. Bo, who is a transboundary, also identifies as femme, or an eccentric person who represents a woman. When it comes to pronouns,
Bole said he doesn’t spend a lot of energy correcting random people who refer to him as a man. “I deal with the world in different situations, in different genders,” Bole said.
“Normally, I think of myself as a girl or a woman, but most other people don’t see me that way.”
They both laughed when they did not answer directly about their gender. “It’s complicated,” Bole said.
Liz and Bolai also know how to enter a Nicaraguan restaurant. They walked to Yambo, a popular spot in Little Havana, in pink and blue, and lined up to order.
Sagittarius 32, beard, tall and soft speaking. Their hair was tied in pigtails with pink bows and they wore unicorn sleeping masks as headbands. They had suspenders on their tutu, their sneakers were bright and they had old Christmas ornaments hanging from their necklaces.
Liz 37, Cuban-American, is shorter and bigger than Bo. Her black hair was tied up in a tall ponytail, her sleeves were puffy and her baby blue frilly socks matched her baby blue sneakers. Inside her gold hoop earrings was her stage name: Liz Ferrari.
A little boy looked up and smiled. His mother looked at his shoulder. An old wolf on a motorcycle whistled. But Liz and Bole didn’t really care. Yambo is a cool place, they said. At the plate of Queso Frito and Tostons, the two reminisced about the last few years of their friendship and cooperation.
They had an art residency in Colombia working with the children as a family-friendly couple, Lijen’Bo. They run an “experimental spa” on a previously abandoned mall. They also made a telenovela starring Liz’s Abuela Olga Ferrer, a natural artist who is not ashamed of her cross to her friend Otto.
But as of 2018, they still haven’t checked one line on their list: the girl band. Then came a call from Chicago.
While driving around Miami, Reggaeton loves Liz and Boko. Liz was an avid classical music listener, but her favorite station switched to religious music. Instead, she started playing reggaeton.
The two have been one since then. They would ride in Liz’s car with Daddy Yankee, Ozuna, Anita, Wisin and Yandel and their favorite, bad Bunny.
At the same time, in the fall of 2018, some friends in Chicago called with a request. They were planning a bizarre art festival and were looking for submissions. Eventually the push they needed to start their girl band and finish the catchy chorus they took was: “Dame Dame Dame Leche.”
“Dame Leche” should never have been a real song, Liz said. It started as a joke, but then they had a month to finish three songs and plan a performance. Nina was born.
“Whatever we do, it can start as a joke,” Bole said with a laugh. “There’s a ridiculous, humorous element, but then we’re like, ‘No, we have to take it seriously.’
Instead of uploading her songs to recording and streaming services, Nina focused on live performances, a practice often sought by emerging artists to achieve the following. The shows they book are “very diverse,” Liz said, especially before the epidemic.
They have performed on Gay8 for the LGBTQ community. They have performed at the Design District’s Contemporary Art Institute and local film festivals for artistic audiences. They’ve reached out to bars like Gramps in Winwood and Blackbird Ordinary, a young, upright crowded Brickell place. When they traveled to Puerto Rico, they gave the show to a mixed group.
Liz remembers a particularly unique gig when Nina was booked to perform at a bar with folk and indie musicians. Liz asked the event organizer, “Why do you book us, brother?” He replied, “Because I love Nina, man!”
Regardless of the venue or audience, Liz and Bole said they are well received wherever they go. The two also planned a trip to the Caribbean, which was canceled due to the epidemic.
“The kids have seen us, the old people have seen us,” Liz said. “We want it to be diverse.”
In one performance, called Ninalandia, the couple threw a full-blown Queensenara party. Everyone was free to dress, sing, dance and eat birthday cake in a poppy gown. Although Nina’s performances are fun and youthful, the group also aims to break the patriarchal traditions surrounding feminism; Anyone can have queens regardless of gender.
“Femininity doesn’t just look the same and it doesn’t come from a single source,” Liz said.
Nina continues to break expectations with her songs. Naysayers can expect a feminist band to get rid of obscene songs, but “Dame Leche” doesn’t stay away from sexual insults.
“Dame Leche” is not entirely about milk, just as Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” is not an ode to fossil fuels. The song is accompanied by old memories, and the music video is a campy, over-the-top, highly saturated visual feast. In the video, edited by Bo, Liz Ferrari and Maripussi are trying to buy milk at a corner store to find the refrigerators empty.
Miami’s milk supply was stolen, and it’s up to them to find it. Listen to music
Due to the prevalence of homophobia and transphobia in Latin America, artists such as reggaeton superstar Bad Bunny, known for their use of feminine clothing and acrylic nails, have gained acceptance for large audiences. In a 2020 performance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, Bad Bunny wore a black skirt and T-shirt to a murder of a transgender woman in Puerto Rico.
Some queer reggaeton artists, such as the transgender Puerto Rican rapper and Villano Antillano, who performed at Winwood Pride 2021, have been able to move forward.
In Miami, Nina is one of a kind, said Esther Park, vice president of programming at the local nonprofit Olite Arts.
In 2019, Liz was awarded ol 12,000 from The Ellies, Oolite’s annual award for local artists for creating a video album for Nina. Park said it’s unusual for visual artists to create reggaeton bands as a project, but “it’s very leased.” Nina is part of a broader conversation about sexuality, gender and culture that the younger generation is eager to achieve, Park said.
“The project that Liz is doing with Bose is an indicator of time,” Park said. “If she had done this project 10 years ago, it might not have been well-received, but now, I don’t know, she might get the Billboard Top 100 hits.”
Despite sexism, the tides are changing. Reggaeton was not criticized as a genre, he said, but rather added to the culture.
“It’s a good moment to do this,” Bole said. “People are willing to accept that machismo is not a big deal in itself.”
Nina is proof of Regaton’s ubiquity. Genre is for everyone, not just straight men. Liz and Bow’s girly songs and visuals are a reminder not to take life too seriously, even when you’re all grown up.
With the power of glamor and friendship, Liz and Bo do more than challenge gender norms. Entertain.
“We want it to be for everyone,” Liz said. “It’s a celebration of reggaeton as a whole, and it’s opening the door to other possibilities for who in that world might be.”
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