When i first moved to Los Ángeles. I knew Noone. Just the people I knew I would eventually hope to find. The only person here was my grandfather, but he passed right before I moved here.

I was renting a little studio back house in North Hollywood for $1k a month. Where all the caribeños seem to first land. A steal. An amazing salt pool to share with my Iranian Landlords, but no kitchen. Just my mini fridge & trader Joe’s snacks and a crock pot. I was craving warm food. Homecooked meals.

Family. A taste of home.

One of The first parties i attended was at Hotel Ziggy, in 2023. A spot in West Hollywood where this fine ass DJ was playing. Her energy was contagious. She was humble and non pretentious. Her name was Giselle Peppers. I saved her number in my phone with 2 pepper Emojis so I wouldn’t forget her. I quickly realized i shouldn’t hit on her, like i do

With anyone attractive - but that i should form

Something more long lasting, a friendship. She would post invites to this new event on her Instagram, and her warmth and charm would encite me to actually go. The best part, was that it was free. I would have just enough for a meal at least. Some pastelitos, or sancocho.

Driving up to “Friend Bar” in Silverlake reminded me of Santo Domingo in 2006.

Like when we would go to la “Churchi” to drink or stand near a truck in the heights to get a Chimi right before jumping on

The cross

Bronx expressway.

The neon lights and line forming outside.

These people looked and sounded like me.

Black and Brown beautiful bodies.

Air force ones. Yankee fitteds.

Some

“Popi” some “wawawa” some

“Popiwa”

But all sense of classism or ageism was absent.

It didn’t matter if you were a Producer at Disney, or an Uber driver,

You were caribbean.

You could have on Gucci or Ross,

And you felt accepted and seen.

The patio, at abuelas.

That same

Smile , and “mi amor” you get from

Every dominican patrón at a Restaurant.

Skirting the street for parking.

It was small and sweaty, inside, with the walls painted in tropical tones I remembered from la isla. The back alley would smell like ganja and Giselle would play her Classic intro

Of Dominican Palo, followed by “Lloraras” by Oscar De León. She would wave and throw up a heart sign like we were cousins from the block.

Outside was Chef Vic, under a tent, in the rain, with a big pot of sancocho and a humming generator. But if he had a second, he would Peer out behind the curtain and thank you for coming and smile like he hoped to see you again.

If you got lucky after the 5th time seeing you, he would

Give you one of those big bear hugs to last you a week.

In fact, everyone from

Capicua, seemed to be on

The same

Wave.

Love and

Community.

A meal with a friend.

A meal you would send

To your grandma in DR on

Whatsapp like

“don’t worry abuela. I’m eating well. It ain’t your food but it’s close!”

Some Months, I would

Come, other months I would miss

Out, but i was sure to find the same

People if I wanted to

Find them.

If you enter in your GPS

“Dominicans”

It’s wherever Capicua is.

Consistent faces

The same faces. One day you get their name, the next time, their zodiac sign,

The next, you’re sharing a drink.

Months can pass, and you will

Find an old

Friend there.

But beyond just partying or having a good time- Capicua is a mycellium.

It’s a network of people who share knowledge, without it being transactional.

Capicua has given jobs.

It’s paid someone’s phone bill.

It’s given a New DJ a platform.

It’s a co - creative space of people who don’t wanna take the light

But wish to share it.

Someone knows someone who knows someone who might need a dominican or boricua for something cool

One day.

Eventually you knew you were stepping into something special.

Over the years, Capicua has proved that it isn’t a place or an event at a specific bar,

it’s a movement and a culture.

They have moved from

Silverlake, to

Hightide in Downtown,

To La Casita in Hollywood

Or a warehouse on Santa Fe.

And we all might even go to

Alaska if they asked.

It’s a vortex of cariño.

And we all just want to see one another again.

And again.

Los Ángeles doesn’t feel

So

Lonely.

Despite the gig life, and ever present hustle of trying to “make it”

When we etch in our schedule

That one time a month or so

To Connect,

We always leave there

Remembering

Who we are

And that we aren’t alone in this city.

That the angels, dance dembow.

In some way, you can be certain of something.

Anthony Santos will be sonando

At least once a month

Whether it’s Kspin

Or Argenis

Or Súpernova

We all stay united

With your favorite people.

There’s no heirarchy.

Just harmony.

And they will

Remember your face, and you will remember theirs.

Capicua isn’t a one person dream, it’s a collective dream. It’s a new system. It’s a community. Where collaboration is gold, and every one’s talent is implemented.

Rooted in family, and the Fernandez tradition of sharing

We all get to

Experience what a life would be like

If we allowed joy to be our president

And community to be our goal.

And we can’t

Forget Massiel,

The Oracle at the front door, quietly

Orchestrating the house you didn’t know you needed.

It’s proof

That It really isn’t the place,

It’s the people.