For Denise—the quiet light who walked beside me through Brooklyn’s streets—and for Josh, the son who now walks with the rhythm of our ancestors in his veins.
BY Brenda Johnson
Scrolling through TikTok one night, I heard a voice that froze me in place. A sharp beat. Words that cut like truth. A rhythm that was both protest and prayer. The rapper on my screen was fierce, magnetic, unforgettable—and something about him felt familiar.
Then it clicked.
This wasn’t just any artist. This was Joshua Jacob Cabrera. Josh Jacobs. The son of Denise, the girl who walked beside me every day on our way to school, from elementary through high school. I gasped. My heart skipped. This wasn’t just an artist I stumbled across online. This was family—the kind you find in childhood and never forget.
Brooklyn Roots
Denise and I walked the same streets, rode the same trains, shared the same laughs, and sometimes the same battles. One of my fondest memories is us riding the J train home from Franklin K. High. Two girls gave Denise a look, and me, being the wild one, snapped, “What are you looking at?” In an instant, words turned to fists and it exploded into a full-on brawl on the train. That was Brooklyn. That was us. Fierce, unfiltered, protective of one another. Denise was softer, calmer, and I was the fire. We balanced each other.
When she began dating Julio in high school, I only knew him from those years, not with the same long history I had with her. But I remember thinking they looked good together. I was sad when I later heard they split, because to me they felt like one of those couples you hope will last. But out of that love came Josh—the perfect blend of them both. His mother’s grace and depth. His father’s strength and edge.
The Artist Emerges
Josh Jacobs is not your typical rapper. On the island, we’d call him jabao—a mix of our Spanish roots and African blood, a reflection of the complicated beauty of who we are. His music carries that same fusion: the rhythm of drums, the ache of history, the fire of survival.
He calls himself a Latin alternative hip-hop artist, but even that doesn’t quite capture it. His sound is a collision of truth and rhythm, a conscious rap with an urban Latin twist. If Kendrick Lamar and Eminem had a child raised under the shadow of Bad Bunny’s influence, you’d get close to what Josh is creating.
Each of his albums has been a chapter of his life, a living diary set to beats. His most recent release, Mis “Ancestros Dijeron “(“My Ancestors Said”), is more than music—it’s a manifesto. It’s a cry to remember who we really are, to honor the bloodlines that colonialism tried to erase, to find strength in heritage and struggle.
A Voice of Heritage and Protest
At 35, Josh is using his voice not just to tell his story, but to carry the stories of our people. He raps about the injustices faced by people of color, the fight for independence, the dignity of Indigenous identity. He reminds us that our history is not just pain—it is resistance, it is beauty, it is survival.
What makes Josh different is his purpose. He isn’t just rapping to entertain. He’s rapping to educate, to awaken, to heal. His music is rooted in heritage, steeped in rhythm, and lit by the fire of truth. In his voice, you hear the drum of ancestors. In his lyrics, you hear the protest of generations demanding to be seen.
A Full Circle Moment
For me, finding him on TikTok wasn’t just about discovering a new artist. It was about a circle closing. I remember Denise as a teenager, walking to school with her books. I remember the sound of the train, the heat of that fight, the way we all dreamed of a bigger life.
Now here’s Josh, stepping into the light with words sharper than blades, carrying the very essence of who we are. He is his mother’s compassion and his father’s grit. He is Brooklyn toughness and Caribbean rhythm. He is history and future colliding in every verse.
When the pandemic ended, Denise and I reconnected after more than thirty years. We still haven’t met face to face, but the bond was immediate, like no time had passed. To now see her son rising with such purpose feels like the ancestors themselves orchestrated it.
And when I saw pictures of Josh with his fiancée, Melissa, my heart smiled. They look radiant together, grounded and strong. I can only hope that he has found with her the kind of love I once saw in his parents—that rare light you carry with you for life.
The Sound of Truth
Josh Jacobs is more than an artist. He is a griot, a storyteller, a keeper of ancestral memory. His beats hit hard, but his lyrics go deeper. They remind us of who we are, who we’ve been, and who we could still become if we refuse to forget.
In a world where so much music feels disposable, his work lingers. It asks you to think, to feel, to remember. And that’s why he matters—not just to me as someone who loves his parents and cherishes the memories of growing up with them, but to all of us searching for authenticity in a world that wants us to forget.
For me, hearing him rap was more than chance. It was destiny. It was a reminder that the seeds planted decades ago in Brooklyn continue to grow, continue to sing, continue to rise.
Josh Jacobs is the sound of our ancestors, remixed for the present. And once you hear him, you won’t forget.
His new album “Mis Ancestros Dijeron” is out now on all streaming platforms.
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By Brenda Johnson
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