Updated August 19, 2024 at 08:00 AM ET
On a Williamsburg block lined with trendy bars, cafes and boutiques, there's a small, nondescript building so unassuming it's easy to miss. And yet Madonna has been here. So have Nicky Jam and J Balvin. Two years ago, it's where Bad Bunny celebrated the release of his career-altering album, Un Verano Sin Ti.
They were paying homage to one of the seminal watering holes for Latinos in New York: Caribbean Social Club, better known as Toñita's, after the nickname of its owner, Maria Antonia Cay.
"It is a place, whether you're from Colombia, Venezuela, Ecuador, it doesn't matter," said Djali Brown-Cepeda of the digital archival project NuevaYorkinos. "Everyone finds a home in Toñita's."
Inside, the social club is a small but colorful gathering space, with a pool table, a makeshift dance floor and walls covered in photos of Puerto Rican artists and athletes. There are no real employees — just Cay, who lives upstairs, and the friends, family and community members that hang out and help keep the place running. There's often free food, always cheap beer and of course, lots of Latin music. "It's almost like a pilgrimage," Brown-Cepeda said. "It's a step to becoming an Ecuadorian New Yorker or a Colombian New Yorker."
Recently, Toñita's shut down the entire block with a bustling party — complete with live bands, a domino tournament and trays and trays of Puerto Rican food — to celebrate its 50th anniversary. Toñita's is part of a tradition dating back to the 19th century, when social clubs helped newly-arrived immigrants adapt to life in America. Often, said City Lore folklorist Elena Martinez, the small-but-beloved spaces functioned as mutual aid networks.
Many of those first social clubs were organized by people who had the same occupation, like Afro-Cuban tobacco workers, or by folks from the same hometowns. In Los Angeles, Mexican immigrants founded the Club Social Guadalupe Victoria. There were scores of Italian clubs in Hartford, Connecticut. The Maltese-American Social Club of San Francisco has been open for nearly a hundred years. And in New York, Puerto Rican social clubs gained traction as thousands of islanders migrated to the U.S. after World War II.
"Back then, you probably didn't know the language. You might have had some family that you could hopefully stay with," said Martinez. "But if you didn't, where do I go to find an apartment? Where do I go to find a job, right?"
So social clubs became spaces for building community in the diaspora. It's where people came together to celebrate holidays, share news about back home, and raise money when someone's family had an emergency.
The needs of a new generation
Yet Martinez said that many social clubs closed their doors as younger generations assimilated into American culture. "Civic life is different now in the United States," she said. "What are the needs for the community right now, or the generation right now?"
One of the organizations addressing this question for migrants arriving from Latin America today is Mixteca, a Brooklyn nonprofit. It offers health, education and legal resources through programs like language classes, healing workshops and parenting groups. During the pandemic, organizers started hosting a free food market on Saturdays.
"From COVID to now, people know each other, so they are best friends now," said Mixteca executive director Lorena Kourousias. "They became a social club even though they are not calling it a social club. But they bring chairs, and they sit around and they talk. And they share resources."
Cultural connection for immigrants - and their kids
Although traditional social clubs are less common today, they're not just a relic of the past. Social club owner Pepe Flores said they still provide a connection to their neighborhood's history and culture, and open a window into its future. That's why he and arts organizer Lyn Pentecost opened La Sala de Pepe in Manhattan a few years ago.
"I open the door, I put on some music and people gravitate here," he said on a recent afternoon, sitting on a couch inside the social club's main area.
At La Sala de Pepe y Foto Espacio, there's no need to buy anything or pay an entrance fee – something that's no longer common in a rapidly gentrifying city, Flores said. The club hosts photography shows and community panels. Recently, they opened their doors to the Nuyorican Poets Café's Slam Team as a rehearsal space.
Claudia Alvarez-Plaud, who helps coordinate the logistics for the slam team, said that without Pepe's they might have ended up rehearsing on the street. "I think these types of spaces are imperative," she said.
Back at Toñita's 50th anniversary party, young people chanted along to the chorus of Bad Bunny's "El Apagón." The older members of the community – some of whom have lived in the neighborhood as long as Toñita's has been open – sat watching, laughing, sometimes joining in with a dance move or two.
"We already know the elders carry a lot of our histories," said Ricardo Castañeda of NuevaYorkinos. "But a lot of time there's a disconnect of, like, how do you pass that history down to the younger generation? How do you keep it going?"
Social clubs, he said, are a crucial part of that exchange. Eli Alvarez, 27, agreed. He's been going to Toñita's since he turned 18, and said he plans to keep supporting it as long as the social club stays open.
"We're not called Nuyoricans for nothing, you know what I'm saying?" he said. "Like, it's important we keep this culture alive because it's what made New York, too."
Copyright 2024 NPR
