Back in September of 2021, during the Billboard Latin Music Awards in Miami, Paquita la del Barrio — all 4 feet, 11 inches of her — struggled to reach the too-high microphone set up for her to accept her Lifetime Achievement Award.
It was one of those totally impromptu TV moments, and for a few seconds, the stage and the audience froze, uncertain of what to do. Then, Bad Bunny bounded up from his front row seat, climbed onto the stage, lowered the microphone and held it up for Paquita as she delivered a teary thank you.
There was a one-foot height gap between Paquita at 4′ 11″ and Bunny at 5′ 11″, and a 47-year age gap between Bunny, 27 at the time, and Paquita, 74. But standing side by side — Bunny, in an elegant cream suit, and Paquita, resplendent in a pink evening gown adorned with sequins — they were both unicorns in their respective worlds.
By now, of course, the whole world beyond our Latin corners knows all about Bad Bunny, superstar. But they were just starting to wake up to the exploits of Paquita la del Barrio, the diminutive ranchera singer who died today (Feb. 17) at 77 years old.
Although she released more than 30 albums throughout her career, and performed thousands of shows, the life of the woman born Francisca Viveros Barradas in Veracruz, Mexico, was little-known outside the Latin realm until last year, when Netflix released a series memorializing a hard-scrabble, colorful life.
Born poor, and married young to a man 18 years her senior — who, as it turned out, had another family — and pummeled by life and hardship, Paquita rose against all odds, thanks to a powerful voice and an impervious stage presence.
That alone would have garnered fame. But Paquita became legendary because she loudly and publicly excoriated men with extraordinarily harsh songs whose titles, like “Rata de dos Patas” (Two-Legged Rat) and “Piérdeme el Respeto” (Lose My Respect), often said it all. Paquita knew what she sang. She’d given her heart to a two-timing scoundrel, after all, and in every song that voiced her anger and the deceit (“Horrible rat, crawling animal, scum of life, misshapen monster”), she voiced the anger and deceit experienced by legions of fans.
But she could also sing of love and lust: “Lose my respect,” she begged in “Piéerdeme el Respeto.” “Stop being coy and ask of me, I beg you, the most indecent proposals.” She was also sweet and emotional, often breaking down in tears during interviews.
In the realm of Latin music, where women so often have to fit into a glamorous, beautiful mold, Paquita defied convention. Her nickname was literally Paquita from the barrio, of the people. She was a portly, elegant matron who notched her biggest hits — including “Taco Placero” and “Rata de Dos patas” — when she was well in her 50s.
Many of those hits were written expressly for her by songwriter Manuel Toscano, who once told Billboard: “I write specifically for each artist. Particularly what I write for Paquita la del Barrio. Through her songs, women love me, but men hate me!”
Except, they didn’t. Paquita triumphed in the world of regional Mexican music, which continues to be a notoriously tough nut to crack for women. But Paquita didn’t care about tradition or niceties. She just let it all out, and men loved her for it. In the vastly male-dominated live concert circuit of Mexican music, she was often the headliner, and men flocked to her shows.
On the charts, however, Paquita struggled as an unconventional woman. She placed eight releases on Billboard’s Top Latin Albums charts, but none of them made the top 10. She never had a top 10 on the radio charts, either.
Paquita eventually found her love. Her second marriage lasted 30 years, until her husband’s death. And her power and influence was such that in 2021, Billboard honored her with its Lifetime Achievement Award.
That night, Bad Bunny couldn’t figure out how to lower the microphone stand for Paquita. “You’re useless,” she deadpanned, referencing the famous line in “Rata de dos patas,” in which she shouts, “Are you listening to me, useless one?”
Bunny shrugged, and valiantly held that mike. Coming from Paquita, he knew this was the ultimate compliment.
