In just over 48 hours, I’ll board a flight to the Caribbean—a part of the world I’m deeply connected to.

This won’t be my first time visiting Bohío, the island Haitians and Dominicans call home today.

In 1993, I traveled there as a volunteer observer for the national elections—an international effort to end military junta control and restore President Aristide’s legitimate government. I also went to accompany my then-partner on his first (and likely last) return to the country he left as an adolescent.

This will be my first time on the Dominican side of the island. If you know anything about my journey to reclaim my connection to Borikén and my heritage, it’s fitting that this trip centers around Bad Bunny’s world tour kickoff after his historic residency in Puerto Rico.

More than a vacation, this is a return to the site of first contact and a celebration of Puerto Rican pride and protest on a global stage of his (and my) choosing.

Bad Bunny isn’t just a global superstar—he’s a cultural disruptor. His music and presence challenge colonial expectations of success, masculinity, and belonging. He leads by being unapologetically himself: Puerto Rican, outspoken, deeply rooted in his identity.

In a world that rewards conformity, Bad Bunny reminds us that authenticity is liberation. His leadership invites us to expand our definition of influence—to see visibility as resistance and joy as justice.

As I reflect on my own decades-long journey of reconnecting with my Puerto Rican heritage, I see how his example mirrors a larger truth: liberation begins when we stop performing who we think we should be and start becoming who we already are.

Too many of us have been taught that leadership means leaving parts of ourselves at the door. That success requires smoothing our edges, code-switching, assimilating, distancing ourselves from the cultures and communities that raised us—in all their complexity, rawness, and beauty.

We learn to perform a version of leadership that looks “professional” but feels hollow.

This is the opposite of authentic leadership. Real leadership doesn’t ask us to be less—it asks us to be whole. It’s not about control or perfection, but the courage to lead from our full humanity.

As I prepare to swim in the waters my ancestors canoed, visit the site of the first genocide of my peoples, climb the highest peak in the Caribbean, and be part of unabashed Boricua joy and resistance, I’m more certain than ever: our identities aren’t obstacles to effective and visionary leadership. They’re the foundation of it.

The leaders who change the world aren’t the ones who learned to fit in. They’re the ones who had the backing and support to show up as themselves.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll share reflections from this journey—stories about heritage, leadership, and what it means to lead from our authentic selves. If this speaks to you, I invite you to follow along through my newsletter and socials.