Moffa Shares How Being Adopted Has Influenced His Music

In our Q&A /feature series Tell Me Más, we ask some of our favorite Latine celebs to share some inside info about their lives and some of the ways they are prioritizing their mental health. This month, we spoke with reggaetón artist Moffa on how being adopted by his Puerto Rican parents impacted his music, identity and the way he navigates the world.

It’s impossible to talk about rising acts of reggaetón in 2024 without mentioning Moffa. The 22-year-old Puerto Rican artist has seen his star power grow at lightspeed over the last two years. In 2022, he was one of the lucky three young acts — along with Alejo and Jotaerre — who teamed up with megastar Karol G on the hit song “Un Viaje,” where he was personally flown out to Colombia to work on the track. Since then, he’s been dropping music nonstop with bangers like “Bentley Remix,” “Sussy,” “DAMMN,” and “0 Millas,” all surpassing millions in combined streams. His versatile flow and catchy lyricism have made other artists flock to him as well, from established stars like Manuel Turizo and paopao to O.G.s like Ñengo Flow.

On July 18th, Moffa’s debut album finally made its debut. Titled “Playground,” the project reflects his unbridled enthusiasm and curiosity. As he puts it: “Even as an adult, I still feel like a child in lots of ways,” which in part inspired the LP’s name. Not only are the feelings and experiences he explores over its tracks his own personal playground of emotions, but as an artist, so is the variety of sounds he experiments with. The recording studio, and life itself are both his playground.

For a long time, Moffa has been a person who keeps his cards close to his chest, never delving too much into his personal life. While he’s hinted in the past at his roots, he’s never spoken out about his backstory in great detail.

Though born and raised in Puerto Rico, he is, in fact, adopted. Moffa is the Afro-Latino son of a Brazilian mother and Dominican father. His mother tragically passed away when he was still an infant, and he and his twin sister were taken in by his Puerto Rican godparents, whom he now considers his parents in full.

In an exclusive chat with PS, Moffa talks about what it felt like to learn he was adopted, the struggle to reconcile with family members from his biological parent’s side, if he’s ever questioned his identity, how he taps into his roots, and more.

The following quotes have been translated, edited, and condensed for clarity.

PS: Where were you born and raised?

Moffa: I was born in Puerto Rico, in Bayamón. I was raised in the metro area, but I traveled a lot to Isabela and Aguada because my family was from there, from the west side [of the island.] We’d go every weekend or every other weekend, so that’s why I feel I was raised on both sides.

PS: When did you find out you and your sister were adopted?

Moffa: I’ve known since I was little. My biological mother passed away when I was nine months old, from cancer, and I never met my biological father. And so, once she passed, [my godparents] adopted us and became my parents.They were friends with my mom since they were kids. They were all friends together. It wasn’t something that was hidden from us, thank God. They let us know that, yeah, we’re adopted. And people would’ve asked us anyway once they saw my mom and dad because we’re not the same color at all [laughs]. It would be very hard to convince anyone they’re my biological parents.

PS: You said you became aware you were adopted from an early age. How would you describe the way you and your sister were raised by your parents; did they make sure this knowledge never weighed on you or affected you?

Moffa: I think they were always transparent and never hid anything from us, at all. They were always straightforward about our background and history — our roots. And if we ever wanted to travel to those places and get to know them, they would support us and in fact encourage us to explore all the corners and spaces of our family that we didn’t know.

PS: I know children can be cruel; were you ever bullied as a child because you looked different from your parents? How did you manage that, if so?

Moffa: I wasn’t bullied, actually. Here in Puerto Rico, I feel like that kind of discrimination exists, but it’s not as strong these days. I think we should all be aware we’re all the same. I’m not and never will be different just because I’m adopted or have a different family.

PS: Do you know anything about your biological parent’s family now? Have you had any contact or interaction with them? If so, how does it make you feel?

Moffa: To this day, my family from Brazil has always kept an eye on me. They write to me over DMs sometimes, but it’s hard to communicate because I don’t speak [Portuguese,] so I’m using [translator apps] to write them back.

I haven’t mentioned this publicly before, but a few days ago, my biological father actually ‘liked’ one of my social media posts. And it was, like, “Oh shit” because I’ve never met him. […] I’ve heard I might have seven siblings on my father’s side. It’s a difficult situation. You don’t want to look down on that person because you [exist] because of them. But since there’s no relationship there — no affection, no love — then you don’t know how to react or what to do. [They say] “We’re here if you need anything,” but the feeling isn’t there. It’s strange.

PS: Do you have any curiosity about meeting them or any of your extended family members from that side?

Moffa: Ehhh… for me, you’re really focused on your own things, y’know? You discover all this stuff, which thankfully was revealed to me when I was much younger. But I haven’t had that curiosity because you sort of feel like you’re cheating on your present family — people who dedicated their lives to me, who gave me a roof over my head. I don’t have a problem meeting [them,] that would be actually cool, but my family also deserves some respect.

PS: When it comes to your identity, what kind of conversations have you had with other people or with yourself, for that matter? Now that you’re older, is that something you’ve grappled with?

Moffa: Unfortunately, I don’t know a lot about Brazilian culture. I do know a bit about the history, but I’ve never visited to get to know the country fully. Neither the Dominican Republic nor Brazil. But to me, I am Puerto Rican, just with Brazilian and Dominican blood. I have a ton of family in Brazil, but I’m clear about my identity.

PS: The last few years have heated up the conversation around cultural appropriation, even amongst Hispanics and Latinos, and whether they can make songs in genres that are historically and culturally associated with specific countries. You’re in a unique spot where you kind of have a hall pass for multiple genres. Have you ever considered doing a Brazilian funk or Dominican dembow?

Moffa: Last year, I came out with my first Brazilian funk, produced by Young Martino and Hokage. It’s called “TOKO,” and I remember thinking exactly that. Like, “Can I really do this? Am I allowed?” I never felt like, “Oh, this is my birthright, and I must do it,” y’know? I wanted to experiment with it, and I love that sound. I can’t wait to go to one of their carnivals. I think that’s one of my biggest goals, to be able to go to a carnival in Brazil. It’s not just one of Brazil’s most popular events, but it’s famous worldwide, too.

PS: Since your parents knew your mother for so long, I’m sure they’ve talked to you about her. Is there anything about her personality you think you have? Have you thought about how your life might have been different if she’d raised you?

Moffa: From what I’ve been told, if she were still here, I probably wouldn’t [have the success] I have now in music. Both because of resources available [to her,] but also her character. I probably wouldn’t be in music. I probably would have been raised to be more studious and work in something more “proper” like a doctor or engineer. I’m sure I could’ve followed my dreams, but I think it would’ve been more difficult.
And also, she looked way more like my sister, [laughs]

PS: There still seems to be a stigma or shock when people find out a person is adopted, in part because of this dated societal idea that “ideal” families conceive their children. I don’t agree with that; in my own case, my dad wasn’t my biological father, but he was my dad all the same. What would you tell people who find out they’re adopted — or anyone who, for any reason, feels like an “other” in their group?

Moffa: Don’t pity yourself or feel different. You’re a normal person just like all the other people who achieved their dreams, and you can do the same thing. Sometimes, these things will come up in life, in your personal life, at work, or in conversation with people close to you, but you just have to engage with it head-on. Don’t feel bad about it. Be yourself, follow your dreams, and live your life as it’s happening. Don’t pretend it’s not real, of course, because it’s a part of you. But don’t hide it. Be proud of it, even. Don’t run from it.

I’m happy and proud of where I came from. I don’t think being adopted puts me in a fence or anything. I’m a normal person, just like any other guy… I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it.

PS: What have you learned about mental health that you apply today — not necessarily in regards to your identity, but even within your career? How do you manage anxiety and things of that nature? What advice have you received?

Moffa: In this fast-moving industry, you have to stay grounded above all and be aware of your station in life. You [have to] be patient about what’s happening around you and not rush yourself. At times, I find myself asking thousands of questions in my head, but then I have to stop and center myself and my thoughts, and ease up. Sometimes, you simply have to shed tears to release all that anger or anxiety that we feel when faced with adversity in this world where there are many ups and downs. It helps to get it all out and not let emotions get the best of you.

Juan J. Arroyo is a Puerto Rican freelance music journalist. Since 2018, he’s written for PS, Remezcla, Rolling Stone, and Pitchfork. His focus is on expanding the canvas of Latin stories and making Latin culture — especially Caribbean Latin culture — more visible in the mainstream.