music center

Beyond the Cuban diaspora, the genre known as reparto is overwhelmingly unknown. But on the streets of Havana and Hialeah, Miami, reparto is inescapable, pulsing from balconies and portable speakers on the beach.

Born in Cuba’s working-class neighborhoods — known colloquially as repartos — this hyperkinetic fusion of reggaetón, timba and Afro-Cuban rhythms has become the island’s score. In the mid-2000s, artists like Chocolate MC and Elvis Manuel built the genre’s sound on distorted synth stabs, shouted call-and-response hooks, and the distinct Cuban clave beat that makes your body move before your brain can even catch up.

It’s also become a platform for youth navigating scarcity, surveillance and dreams of escaping poverty. The lyrics, characteristically and unapologetically obscene, reflect the realities of life in marginalized communities. But alongside its rhythmic bravado, reparto’s explicit language often veers into the dehumanizing and misogynistic.

The music centers on women, but more often than not, as objects: the perra to conquer, the diabla to tame, the culo to catalog in explicit detail. And it’s no surprise: The genre’s blunt portrayal of women mirrors the machismo deeply embedded in everyday Cuban life.

It’s a refrain you’re bound to hear in any and every nightclub: “¿Donde están las mujeres?” But the next time 10 reparteros link up for a track, they probably won’t call a woman. Within a genre that revolves so heavily around their bodies, women’s voices still remain rare.

So, ¿dónde están las mujeres? Or, where are the women making reparto?

“Chocolate is the king, but who is the queen?” says Seidy Carrera, known artistically as Seidy La Niña. “There’s a space that needs to be filled with women. There’s no f—ing women!”

At the onset of reparto, early reparteras like Melissa and Claudia slipped brief female cameos into club anthems. More than a decade later, due to Cuba’s only recent, and still extremely limited, internet access, these artists and their collaborations have a seemingly untraceable digital footprint. Still, most playlists orbit male voices, and collaborations rarely invite women to the booth: “When reparteros come together on a track, they never call a woman,” she says.

Carrera, 32, was born in the reparto El Cotorro and raised in Miami since she was 6. The self-proclaimed queen of reparto, the paradox defines her career: She fights for space in a scene whose appeal lies in her raw neighborhood realism, but detractors question her authenticity as a gringa, or as they would call her, yuma.

“I feel resistance every day, every single day,” she says. In response, she reclaims the discriminatory language used against her; onstage, she chants “más perra que bonita,” flipping the curse-word from insult to empowerment.

“It’s empowering to say, I’m more perra than pretty. To me, being a perra is being a woman who’s exclusive, who makes her own money. In my case, … nobody opened the door for me, nobody gave me a hand.”

For Havana-based singer-composer Melanie Santiler, 24, the double standard hits her before she can even sing her first note: “I feel that I have to do twice as well. I have to put in double the thought, double the effort, double the talent, always having something more to say,” she says.

“It’s exhausting. It’s exhausting being a woman, having to get up and tell yourself, damn, I have to look pretty and put together. I spent my whole life in school with an onion bun because I didn’t want to do my hair,” Santiler says and laughs, messy bun flopping around her face.

Reaching almost 5 million YouTube views on her 2025 viral collab, “Todo se Supera” with Velito el Bufón, she’s broken into the reparto space as one of the genre’s most distinctive voices. Beside this rise, she’s faced a newfound pressure to dress a way she normally wouldn’t, a beauty standard her masculine counterparts don’t face.

Aliaisys Alvarez Hernández — better known as Ozunaje — says she doesn’t face the same criticism in the urban Cuban music scene, likely due to her sexuality and more masculine appearance. “Reparto is a genre for men, that’s how I see it,” she says. “I dress like a man, I practically live my life like a man, so what I write resembles what men are already saying. That also gave me an impulse, where I feel like more feminine artists, they have to work harder.”

A former rhythmic gymnast from La Habana, Hernández, 23, stumbled into music when friends recorded her singing a demo of “Cosas del Amor” in her living room. Someone uploaded the video, it went viral, and suddenly, she had a career. Since that start, Hernández refuses to only be compared with other reparteras.

Her goal has always been to be measured against men, since “that’s who people actually listen to.” Dressing in traditionally masculine clothing, paired with a deep, raspy delivery, helps her lyrics resonate with locals without the extra hurdle of hyper-sexualized expectations.

Hernández’s androgynous wardrobe and open queerness bring another layer of potential discrimination, but despite the rampant homophobia persistent in present-day Cuba, she doesn’t feel much resistance. “The worst word they throw at me is tortillera, but it doesn’t affect me,” she says, adding, “People like my style, they like that I dress like a guy. Everybody tells me, you have tremendo flow, I love your aguaje, so I haven’t faced any bullying. Never.”

Misogynistic currents in reparto mirror those in early reggaetón, reflecting the average street machismo. The genre’s marginal roots complicate blanket condemnations, since the same raunchy lyrics often encode critiques of class exclusion. Still, reaching bigger stages will require editing the most gratuitous slurs, if only to broaden the music’s export potential. At least, Ozunaje thinks so.

“Reparto came from people who were poor, who had nothing, who were desperate to get out. Nobody imagined it would get this big. Now it’s reaching the whole world, so the vocabulary has to evolve,” she says.

Santiler echoes this critique. “It’s become really repetitive. I think right now, everyone is talking about the same thing. It’s been really easy. Facilista,” she says, using the Spanish term for taking the easy way out. Santiler loves reparto’s swing, but calls most of it objectifying, pointing to Bad Bunny’s “Andrea” and “Neverita,” along with C. Tangana’s “El Madrileño,” as proof that urban music can expand beyond bedroom conquests.

“The street already says these things, and reparto just writes it. It’s an image of what’s happening. But I grew up with other types of music and other types of references, so I’d like to expand beyond that, to make something fresh.”

Santiler adds that the basis of reparto, both in her gratitude and her criticism, comes from pride.

“I love Cuba, I love my country. The current generation of Cuba doesn’t reject their identity — they’re doing the opposite. They want to create a new culture, to create a new movement, and they want the world to know Cuba again,” she says.

Glorya Kaufman, the philanthropist who transformed dance in Los Angeles through the establishment of an eponymous dance school at USC as well as a prominent dance series at the Music Center, among many other initiatives, has died. She was 95.

Kaufman’s death was confirmed by a representative for the Music Center, which was the recipient in 2009 of a $20 million gift from Kaufman that established Glorya Kaufman Presents Dance at the Music Center. The money, which represented the largest donation in L.A.’s dance history, went toward the ongoing staging of appearances by some of the world’s most well-known dancers, troupes and companies, including the Joffrey Ballet, American Ballet Theatre, the Royal Ballet, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and Ballet Hispánico.

“Her gift to the Music Center has made it possible for us to bring the joy and beauty of dance into the hearts, minds and souls of countless Angelenos and visitors from around the world,” Music Center President and Chief Executive Rachel Moore said in a statement. “As a result of Glorya’s significant visionary leadership and generosity, Glorya Kaufman Presents Dance at the Music Center today stands as a vital part of Los Angeles’ cultural fabric.”

Kaufman also donated an undisclosed sum to create and endow the USC Kaufman School of Dance, and to build its home, the Glorya Kaufman International Dance Center. When it launched in 2012, the program was the first new school to be established at the university in 40 years. It opened in 2015 with 33 students and has nurtured the talents of dancers who went on to work with internationally recognized companies and artists including Alonzo King LINES Ballet, Staatsballett Berlin and Ballet Jazz Montreal.

In a tribute published by USC staff on the university’s website, USC Interim President Beong-Soo Kim said, “Glorya’s love for dance was contagious, and she spread that love by creating opportunities for people everywhere to experience the transformative impact and joy of the arts.”

“We have so much [dance] talent here in L.A.,” Kaufman told The Times in 2012 when the gift to USC was first announced, “and there’s no place for them to go. We want to get the best students, the best teachers, and the kids, when they graduate, will be able to make a living right away.”

Later that year, The Times described Kaufman’s importance to the dance world:

“The new biggest name in dance is Glorya Kaufman, who shook up the arts world last month when she gave the University of Southern California a gift that despite its undisclosed amount, has been called one of the largest donations in dance history.”

USC was not the first L.A.-area institution of higher learning to benefit from Kaufman’s largess. In 1999 she gave $18 million to fund the restoration of the UCLA Women’s Gym — now called Glorya Kaufman Hall. The Times wrote that her donation was, “the largest individual gift the university has received outside of the health sciences area, and the largest arts donation ever in the University of California system.”

Kaufman also gave money to schools in New York City, including four lifetime endowments for undergraduates at Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. A 2,300-square-foot dance studio at the Juilliard School, which she funded, is also named after her.

Although dance was her primary focus, Kaufman’s influence was felt across L.A.’s cultural landscape. She was a founding member of the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art and also gave to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. In addition, she was a founding trustee of the Geffen Playhouse and donated money to build an outdoor reception area at the theater.

Kaufman believed that dance should be experienced by as many people as possible and was committed to helping less advantaged students gain access to programs in their communities. She created an endowment for a dedicated dance teacher at Inner-City Arts in East L.A. and provided funds for more than 17,000 kids to take free dance classes there each year.

The Glorya Kaufman Performing Arts Center — a 299-seat, multi-use performing arts space, including classrooms, rehearsal rooms and a theater — opened two years ago at Vista Del Mar Child and Family Services, a nonprofit that provides mental health services for neurodivergent children and those experiencing behavioral disorders. Kaufman’s gift came with the launch of three new community-focused programs: a USC Alumni Residency, an L.A. Independent Choreographer Residency and UniverSoul Hip Hop Outreach.

The Glorya Kaufman Performing Arts Center at Vista Del Mar was founded with the announcement of three new programs: a choreography residency, a USC alumni residency and a partnership with UniverSOUL Hip Hop.

(Nic Lehoux)

Glorya Kaufman was born in Detroit to Samuel and Eva Pinkis. Her father was the production manager of Automotive News and her mother was a homemaker who held leadership roles at various charities within the Jewish community. In interviews throughout her life, Kaufman recalled early memories of dancing while standing on her father’s toes. She also loved to go to Detroit’s many jazz clubs, which informed her lifelong love of music and dance.

Kaufman was diagnosed with strabismus as a child. The condition — which causes one eye to look in a different direction than the other — and her early experiences trying to correct the issue, along with her struggles with poor vision, contributed to her interest in helping those with disabilities.

In 1954 Kaufman married Donald Bruce Kaufman, a builder and entrepreneur who in 1957 partnered with businessman and prominent philanthropist Eli Broad to co-found a homebuilding company called Kaufman & Broad (now KB Home). In 1963 the Kaufman family moved to Huntington Harbour after the company expanded to California. Three years later, they again moved to Beverly Hills. In 1969 the Kaufmans relocated to a 48-acre Brentwood ranch they called Amber Hill.

In 1983, Donald died in a plane crash with the couple’s son-in-law Eyal Horwitz while piloting an experimental biplane. To deal with her loss, Glorya threw herself into philanthropy. She created the Glorya Kaufman Foundation and dedicated its first major project — the 10,000-square-foot Donald Bruce Kaufman Brentwood Branch Library — to her late husband, a prolific reader.

Kaufman is survived by her four children, Curtis, Gayl, Laura and Zuade; 10 grandchildren; and 13 great-grandchildren.

Los Angeles city officials on Thursday carved out a curfew exemption for ticket holders of indoor events and performing arts venues downtown including the Music Center, paving the way for evening performances of Center Theatre Group’s “Hamlet” and Los Angeles Opera’s “Rigoletto.”

The news comes as Mayor Karen Bass’ 8 p.m.-to-6 a.m. curfew for the civic center area approaches its third night and arts organizations, restaurants and other businesses across the area report a drop in patrons. On Wednesday, Center Theatre Group canceled a second night of director Robert O’Hara’s world-premiere adaptation of “Hamlet” at a cost of roughly $35,000 in ticket sales per night. That’s in addition to what the company is spending on production expenses.

“At this time, Center Theatre Group, the Music Center, and the surrounding streets have not been directly impacted by protest or law enforcement activity. Our staff and artists are already on site, and we look forward to seeing you,” CTG wrote in a statement Thursday.

Major protests are planned nationwide for Saturday, when Trump’s 79th birthday coincides with the massive 250th anniversary military parade he is throwing in Washington, D.C., at a reported cost of $45 million.

One of the so-called “No Kings” protests is scheduled to take place 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. in front of City Hall, prompting Center Theatre Group to cancel its Saturday matinee and evening performances of “Hamlet.” Other events scheduled for that day and night have been been postponed, including a show by the rock band Ozomatli that’s part of the Grand Performances series at California Plaza, and a Metro Art event called Bollywood Express at Union Station.

The Broad museum, adjacent to the Music Center, said it will close all weekend. “The safety and well-being of our visitors and staff continues to be our highest priority,” the museum said in a statement.

L.A. Opera, however, issued a mid-afternoon news release announcing the curfew exemption and noting that “Rigoletto,” scheduled to run from 7:30 p.m. to about 10:30 p.m. Thursday, would go on as planned. The company also is moving forward with its Saturday “Renée Fleming and Friends” concert, scheduled for 7:30 p.m.

“Attendees will need to leave the theater immediately afterward without lingering on the Music Center campus,” the release said, adding that guests may need to prove their attendance at the show if stopped by law enforcement. “All ticket holders should have their tickets with them while in the area, either printed, digital or as a screen shot of the ticket.”

The release also says that people should avoid driving through downtown from the south, where much of the military activity is centered.

A representative for L.A. Opera acknowledged that given the circumstances, ticket holders may choose not to show up. They will be allowed to exchange their tickets for one of the remaining performances June 15, 18 or 21; or they can request a refund from the box office.