Luna Jay Yvelisse Verified listing

This piece is a visual response to La Operación—the 1982 documentary that uncovers the forced sterilization of Puerto Rican women under U.S. colonial rule. Centering a pregnant Boricua woman in front of the Puerto Rican flag, this image reclaims what was stolen: autonomy, motherhood, land, and body sovereignty. Adorned with Arawak symbols, a hibiscus flower, and cowrie shell, she stands in divine defiance—fertile, powerful, and unashamed. This work honors the resistance of Boricua women who were reduced to numbers and procedures, yet birthed generations of freedom fighters.

“Soy Negra” is an homage to the Black women of Puerto Rico—mi mami, mi wela, mi bisabuela—who carried this island in their hips, their hands, and their heartbeat. This piece celebrates their strength, softness, and sacredness. Her hair is crowned with the flor de maga, Puerto Rico’s national flower—a symbol of feminine pride and rooted beauty—alongside cowrie shells, long used in West African cultures as symbols of protection, wealth, and spiritual power. Her earrings are tostones, golden and familiar, a playful tribute to Afro-Caribbean kitchens, care, and cultural survival. On her shoulder, the tattoo of Atabey, Arawak Goddess of fertility and water, marks her body as divine land—an altar of resistance and rebirth. Black women in Puerto Rico have long held the soul of the island—from enslaved African ancestors to the healers, laborers, and freedom fighters whose names we inherit but whose stories are too often erased. Their Blackness has been silenced, fetishized, and hidden behind whitened versions of Puerto Rican identity. This piece refuses that erasure. She is flor y fuego, storm and sugarcane, sea and bone. “Soy Negra” is not a whisper. It’s a declaration. A love letter. A resurrection.

“Yvelisse” is a portrait of the Nuyorican Girl experience. She is grounded and shaped by two places: Borikén and Brooklyn. Her gold hoop earrings, lavender butterfly crop top, and denim jean mini skirt echo the fashion, the freedom, and the flavor of us city girls who grew up here balancing—softness and survival. She wears two gold necklaces, a name plate with her name Yvelisse, and the other is the ankh—an ancient Kemetic symbol of eternal life, divine balance, and spiritual power, worn across the African diaspora. Around her orbit, pieces of her story come into view: the L train, cutting through Brooklyn where generations of Puerto Rican families laid roots; the Statue of Liberty to the taxi yellow cab, and Arawak petroglyphs. The flor de maga and conch shell evoke ancestral island memory, and the Black and White Puerto Rican Resistance flag. Rhythm and rebellion, softness and street, language and liberation. She is Nuyorican. She belongs everywhere she stands.

“Amaia” is the late ’90s early 2000s Nuyorican It Girl. Her look defined a generation and her presence was known. From Dominican beauty salons, in the clubs, the Puerto Rican Day, West Indian Parades, Summer block parties, to Summer Jams. Rocking gold hoop earrings, stacked bangles, and rings on every finger. Her makeup is the staple of every Nuyorican and Black city girl in NYC—before it was co-opted and rebranded. Surrounded by symbols of home and heritage, Amaia holds it all. She is a blueprint. This isn’t costume—it’s culture. She is Amaia. And she’s always been that girl.