J Balvin’s Afro-Latino Award Sparks Backlash and Exposes Anti-Blackness in Latin Music Industry

When J Balvin—a white Colombian reggaeton star—accepted the Afro-Latino Artist of the Year award at the 2021 African Entertainment Awards USA, many across the Afro-Latinx and Black communities were not just disappointed—they were incensed. Rightfully so. In a music industry where Afro-Latinxs are systemically marginalized, under-promoted, and erased, giving an award designed to uplift Afro-Latino contributions to a white artist is not only irresponsible—it’s insulting. It speaks to a larger pattern of cultural charlatanism: a phenomenon where institutions, often removed from the communities they claim to represent, make tone-deaf decisions for the sake of clout or convenience.

To be clear: J Balvin is not Afro-Latino. He has never claimed to be. He is a white-passing, white-identifying Colombian artist who has built his career primarily on the backs of Black-originated music—reggaetón, dancehall, dembow, and hip-hop. These are genres deeply rooted in the Black Caribbean diaspora, especially Afro-Puerto Rican and Afro-Panamanian contributions. The genre that made him a superstar would not exist without Blackness. And yet, time and time again, the industry positions white or light-skinned Latinos as the face of this cultural movement, while those whose ancestors created the music are sidelined.

What makes this award so jarring is that there are countless Afro-Latinx artists who deserve the honor. From Tokischa, Sech, and Aloe Blacc, to cultural icons like Amara La Negra or Ivy Queen, there is no shortage of talent deserving of the spotlight. But rather than use this moment to uplift and affirm Black Latinx artistry, the awarding body chose the safe route—the marketable pop star with global name recognition. The result? A deeply symbolic blunder that reflects the superficial allyship and cultural cluelessness that plagues the Latin music industry.

Worse still, J Balvin accepted the award. That moment became a breaking point for many fans and cultural critics who had long given him grace. He wasn’t just handed the award—he held it, smiled, posted it, and said thank you. For a man so careful about his branding, it’s hard to believe he didn’t know what this would represent. Balvin has made a career off embracing Black sounds and Black collaborators—from collabs with Zion and Sech to his early work mirroring the rhythms of the streets of San Juan—but when it came time to draw a boundary and acknowledge he is a guest in this culture, he stayed silent.

This controversy must be seen in the broader context of Latin America’s relationship to race. Mestizaje, the ideology of racial mixing, has long been used as a tool to erase Black and Indigenous identities. Across Latin America, whiteness is still equated with desirability, success, and legitimacy. In music, that means lighter-skinned artists are more likely to get signed, supported, and pushed into the global market. Afro-Latinxs—who are foundational to Latin music—are often expected to stay underground unless their features are softened, their hair straightened, and their identity diluted. This is not just an oversight. It’s a legacy.

J Balvin’s acceptance of the Afro-Latino award wasn’t just a misstep—it was a manifestation of that legacy. It exposed the arrogance and lack of accountability that permeates the industry. For years, Black Latinx artists have been shouting into the void about the need for inclusion, equity, and proper attribution. And yet, when a white Colombian man receives an award intended to honor them, their protests are met with shrugs—or worse, silence.

This wasn’t Balvin’s first controversy either. In 2021, he faced backlash for the video to his song “Perra,” which featured Black women portrayed as literal dogs. The imagery was widely condemned for its misogynoir and dehumanization. Despite removing the video, his apology was weak and belated. There’s a pattern here—a recurring theme of exploitation without accountability.

It’s important to name that J Balvin is a leader in Latin music. He has elevated reggaetón on the global stage and has championed mental health in ways that are commendable. That’s what made this moment so disappointing. Leadership comes with responsibility, especially when you benefit from cultures not your own. True leadership would’ve looked like declining the award, acknowledging the harm, and pointing to Afro-Latinx artists who deserve it more.

Instead, we got a moment that felt tone-deaf at best, complicit at worst. And for an industry already wrestling with deep-rooted anti-Blackness, this did not help. It widened the rift, and reminded us that until power shifts behind the scenes—until Black Latinx voices are centered in decision-making—we’ll keep seeing these missteps dressed as celebrations.

As the Latin music world grows more global, it must also grow more responsible. Cultural influence is not a shield from critique. And if we are to move forward, we must reckon with the systems that allow whiteness to be rewarded for what Blackness created. Representation is not about optics—it’s about truth. And the truth is, that award should have never had Balvin’s name on it.