Bad Bunny steps into a beachfront vacation rental in Puerto Rico — not as a guest, but as the housekeeper.

The space is trashed: dirty dishes in the sink, overturned furniture, beer cans scattered all over the place. In the official video for “Turista,” he plays the role of the working-class Boricua, quietly cleaning up after careless visitors who use the island as their playground before the next wave of tourists arrives.

“En mi vida fuiste turista/ Tú solo viste lo mejor de mí/ Y no lo que yo sufría,” he sings in Spanish.

“In my life, you were a tourist,” the translation goes. “You only saw the best of me and not how I was suffering.”

Bad Bunny’s residency takes on Puerto Rico’s bad tourists

It’s a pointed metaphor for an island curated for outsiders. Tourists see the beauty, never the burden. And yet, like the artist in the music video, Puerto Ricans keep sweeping, resetting and presenting it — proudly — to the world.

The island’s relationship with tourism has always been complex. Its tropical climate, stunning beaches and rich culture attracted over 6.6 million passengers at the Luis Muñoz Marín International Airport in 2024. While many locals acknowledge tourism’s role as an economic driver, others worry about displacement, gentrification, the loss of natural resources and the erosion of cultural authenticity.

Bad Bunny — Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, today’s biggest global superstar and Spotify’s most streamed Latin artist worldwide in 2024 — has placed himself at the heart of this debate with his latest album, “Debí Tirar Más Fotos,” and an unprecedented three-month residency in San Juan that kicks off July 11 with 30 sold-out shows. The ambitious plan to bring fans to Puerto Rico has reignited conversations about tourism on the island, with 600,000 expected to visit over three months.

In his new album, Bad Bunny lends his voice to a growing discontent with foreigners’ impact on local communities, particularly in “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii.” Throughout the song, he draws parallels between Puerto Rico and Hawaii, a U.S. state, unlike Puerto Rico’s limbo status as a territory. In each place, locals have been displaced because of mass tourism and rising real estate prices.

“They want to take away my river and also my beach; they want my neighborhood and for Grandma to leave,” the lyrics mean.

That message resonates with Alexandra Figueroa, a 32-year-old digital strategist who lives in Hato Rey, San Juan’s financial district and home to the famous El Coliseo, Puerto Rico’s largest entertainment venue, where the residency will take place. She says the number of wealthy investors who are buying up properties and pricing out locals is creating a housing crisis.

“There’s been a rise in short-term rentals and luxury developments, and it’s impacted three of my friends who were displaced by landlords either selling or doubling, tripling their rent,” she says. “I myself have experienced rent hikes; what started as $600 a month is now $950. It’s also impacted our ability to buy our own home.”

Over the past two decades, Puerto Rico has faced a near-constant population decline, losing nearly 500,000 residents between 2008 and 2019 — a crisis so severe it earned the nickname “la isla que se vacía,” or “the emptying island.” Although migration slowed for a few years, it surged again in 2023, when net emigration surpassed 19,700, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Today, more Puerto Ricans live in the mainland United States than on the island. This migration has had profound effects, leading to the closure of more than 600 public schools since 2007 and creating a cycle of brain drain, in which young professionals leave in search of better prospects elsewhere.

Beyond the loss of people, this threatens the island’s cultural identity. As Bad Bunny poignantly captures in his lyrics: “Aquí nadie quiso irse, y quien se fue, sueña con volver” (“Nobody wanted to leave [Puerto Rico], and whoever left dreams of returning”).

Concertgoers pack every inch of rooftop and pavement for Bad Bunny’s surprise free show at El Boricua in Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico, on Jan. 15.

Bad Bunny greets the crowd at El Boricua wearing a traditional pava hat alongside Julito Gastón, 21-year-old percussionist and musical director of Los Sobrinos.

Many locals camped out overnight — some for two to three nights — in January to purchase tickets to Bad Bunny’s Puerto Rico concert residency.

Hyperlocal music, for the world

Gabo Ramos, a local documentarian, felt a deep connection to the track’s melancholic tone, contrasting the postcard-perfect image of Puerto Rico with the struggles of its people.

“We all have neighbors who fight every day to stay on the island, myself included, to work, to protect what we have, despite economic, health and educational challenges. And then there are those who have had to leave just to be able to live instead of survive,” Ramos said.

Bad Bunny’s music has always been a reflection of his homeland, but his latest album serves as a history lesson on Puerto Rico for both locals and outsiders. From the six-minute salsa “Baile Inolvidable” and the plena “Café Con Ron” to the bomba-infused “La Mudanza” and música jíbara in “Pitorro de Coco,” he elevates musical styles once considered too hyperlocal or niche for global audiences, all while shattering Latin music records.

He’s a mainstream artist who challenges mainstream expectations — both in sound and in subject matter. Instead of following industry trends, he takes pride in making music that speaks directly to Puerto Ricans. As he has openly stated, he “does not care” about singing in English. For him, the priority is not accessibility to the masses but authenticity to his roots.

As Ramos put it, “Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii” “is not just a message for outsiders — it’s also a wake-up call for Puerto Ricans. Look at what’s happening; our land is being sold off. We still have a chance to stop this before it’s too late.”

Ramos is specifically referring to Proyecto Esencia, an urban development proposal in his native Cabo Rojo that would affect environmentally valuable land, including two nature reserves. This would impact the nesting of hawksbill turtles and birds as well as a bay considered a critical habitat for manatees. The plan aims to transform these areas into an exclusive luxury enclave, including three hotels and two golf courses.

His concern ties into the larger conversation about tourism’s economic impact on the island. According to Discover Puerto Rico, the island’s destination marketing organization, tourism’s contribution to the economy has been growing but still accounts for only about 6 to 7 percent of Puerto Rico’s gross domestic product.

Local beachgoers plunge into the surf from a pier at sunset at Crash Boat Beach in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico.

Traditional bomba y plena musicians perform during the Calle San Sebastian Festival at La Goyco Cultural and Community Center in San Juan.

A game of dominoes at a family gathering on the property of Casa Abuelo, a historic family estate where Bad Bunny’s “Pitorro de Coco” music video was filmed in Cidra, Puerto Rico.

Local children fly kites on the windswept lawn of El Morro, a Spanish fort built by King Charles I of Spain in 1539 in Viejo San Juan.

The push for sustainable tourism

While large-scale developments like Proyecto Esencia spark controversy, other tourism initiatives — such as Bad Bunny’s residency — are seen as cultural and economic wins.

Jorge Pérez, regional general manager for ASM Global, which manages El Coliseo de Puerto Rico, emphasized the financial boost the residency, rather than a world tour, will bring.

“Economists initially estimated the impact at $100 million, but I think that’s a conservative figure,” he said. “The residency was designed to help Puerto Rico — set during the low season for tourism — fill up hotels and restaurants when they would otherwise be struggling.”

From a logistical standpoint, the event is historic. “[They] sold 400,000 tickets, including 81,000 packages and 30,000 hotel rooms, in under four hours,” Pérez explained.

Omar Báez of Ticketera, the company that handled ticketing for the residency, highlighted another key aspect: Bad Bunny’s insistence that Puerto Ricans be prioritized, at a time when many feel under threat.

“For the first nine shows, tickets were sold exclusively to Puerto Ricans through in-person sales across the island,” Báez said.

This decision was an attempt to combat scalpers and ensure that locals could actually attend the concerts rather than being priced out by international buyers.

“Historical data tells us that most people who buy Bad Bunny tickets in Puerto Rico are from Puerto Rico, but there was a perception online that outsiders were taking up all the seats. He made sure that didn’t happen.”

Bad Bunny’s approach to the residency was as much about breaking records as it was about making a statement.

The island’s tourism leaders are aware of the delicate balance they must strike to ensure that locals — everyday workers and business owners alike — benefit from the residency. Discover Puerto Rico has adopted an educational approach on social media, highlighting areas beyond the metropolis, such as Cayey and Maricao, in hopes of attracting travelers who respect and contribute to the local economy rather than exploit it.

“We are dedicated to promoting people visiting us, not people moving,” said Davelyn Tardi, public relations director.

Their campaigns showcase authentic cultural experiences, such as bomba dance classes and locally owned Puerto Rican businesses and restaurants.

“We want responsible visitors, those who come to get to know the culture, to support the communities and, above all, leave the island better than they found it,” Tardi said.

The organization also emphasized it’s focused on making sure tourism’s benefits are spread across the island, not concentrated in San Juan.

Bad Bunny and Julito Gastón dance to bomba y plena performed by Los Pleneros de la Cresta and Lost Sobrinos in Río Piedras on Jan. 15.

Concertgoers await Bad Bunny’s entrance at a surprise free show at El Boricua in Río Piedras on Dec. 7.

Travel recommendations in rapid-fire lyrics

Bad Bunny’s album serves as a travel checklist for tourists visiting the island. Throughout his track list, he references numerous Puerto Rican towns outside the metropolitan area. In “Café Con Ron,” he name-checks Arecibo, Ponce, Fajardo and Rincón back to back.

Ramos argues that the residency isn’t just another string of shows but a real chance to model a more conscientious kind of tourism — one that uplifts local voices, protects cultural heritage and demonstrates how visitors can have a positive impact.

“Negative tourism is the tourism that is coupled with what the tourist is asking for and seeks to match the taste of the client, not what the reality of the country is,” Ramos said. “We are available to receive tourists, but we cannot change our essence to accommodate them.”

This push for cultural elevation, but also preservation, echoes through Bad Bunny’s new album. His work stirs nostalgia for a Puerto Rico that still exists (see the Monobloc chairs on the album cover) but — like the sapo concho, the endangered toad featured in the album’s visuals — is at risk of disappearing.

For much of Puerto Rico’s modern history, the term jíbaro, once used to describe the island’s rural, working-class farmers, was seen as a symbol of backwardness, a relic of the past that some sought to shed in favor of assimilation into U.S. culture. As a U.S. territory, Puerto Rico has long been shaped by policies that promote bilingualism, celebrate “The Star-Spangled Banner” in official ceremonies and encourage migration to the mainland for economic opportunity. English is taught and used daily in schools, government and businesses, reinforcing the idea that success is tied to Americanization.

But Bad Bunny has flipped that narrative. Through his music, style and global influence, he has reclaimed jíbaro identity, not as something to be erased but as something to be celebrated. He has transformed it from a symbol of shame into a cultural movement, making it fashionable to embrace Boricua heritage. Ser Boricua está de moda.

In “La Mudanza,” Bad Bunny makes his stance clear: “De aquí nadie me saca, de aquí yo no me muevo. Dile que esta es mi casa, donde nació mi abuelo.”

“No one is getting me out of here, I’m not moving from here. Tell them this is my house, where my grandfather was born.”

That sentiment is at the heart of his residency, “No Me Quiero Ir de Aquí” — a declaration of belonging, of resistance, of love for his homeland. Bad Bunny simply put into words what millions of Boricuas, without his megaphone, have long wanted to declare to the world:

Come visit, experience, appreciate our island — but Puerto Rico belongs to us.