We Die Twice
Those who know me know how big I am on giving credit where credit is due, never forgetting to give those flowers. To happily celebrate others when they should be celebrated, and to never forget who lifted you and helped bring you into your being. Celebrate yourself too, but that’s another conversation for another time.
I think I’ve always felt like we had enough, if not too much, competitive, scarcity-driven (not to mention bitter) mindsets in the world. And when you add in the history and lived experiences of our Black+Brown community, that becomes a whole other topic on its own. What I did know is that there wasn’t enough of the opposite going around, and I wanted to be part of the change.
Speaking of that, I went to a Victor Manuelle concert (with India opening *insert scream here* because she’s the main reason I went) a couple weekends ago, and it reminded me just how deeply I care about this. It inspired me to keep doing it and spreading that message, which is why I’m here, talking about it now.
And also, those who know me know I’m a concert junkie (28 concerts and counting). It’s such a beautiful, immersive, heartfelt, deeply attached experience for me that chances are I’m going to shed real tears when the artist comes out, and definitely when my favorite songs are performed. Which I did here. But I didn’t know I was about to shed tears for reasons beyond that.
The performances were already great, and I was just happy to be in the same space with artists who were introduced to me as a kid, who I’ve listened to ever since, and now, as an adult, I finally had the privilege of seeing these two legends live. But the second half of the show was the cherry on top.
Victor started talking about how he always dreamed of performing with Frankie Ruiz, but never got the chance. God rest his soul. So he did the next best thing. He brought out archived footage of one of Frankie’s performances and played it on the big screen, edited so that Victor’s live filming and vocals were right beside it. And that’s where the tears started surfacing for me. Then he had his background singers, one by one, do the same with “their” artist. After that, pretty much for the rest of the show, he sang all the iconic PRican songs by iconic artists – which, shout out to that voice of his, one of those rare voices that can sing anything and it sounds beautiful. Everyone was on their feet, singing and dancing the entire time.
I couldn’t help but be moved by this tribute, honestly this love letter, from a legendary artist himself. It was like it wasn’t even his concert. It was everyone’s concert. He made it a point to highlight history and pay homage to the pioneers who paved the way for him and everyone he toured with. He even handed the mic to an older singer he knew who was sitting in the front row and let him improv a song. It was one of those concepts/moments that spoke straight to my soul, and the energy in that arena proved I wasn’t alone. The pride and joy were palpable: the smiles, the scream-singing, the salsa dancing, the sea of PRican flags and boricua clothing (I know, no surprise there lol).
So aside from sharing that experience, I want to end this by sharing something I read years ago that I hope empowers you to never stop showing up and pulling out those flowers for the people who’ve made an impact. Not just on a grand scale, even telling someone directly makes a difference. And I’m not just talking about artists whose art we love, even if we only know them from afar, but friends, family, acquaintances, colleagues, shit, even strangers if the moment calls for it. But here it is:
We die twice.
The first time is when our physical body gives out.
The second time is when someone says our name for the last time.
With love,
Desiree