On June 12, 2025, the world premiere of Rebbeca lit up the Tribeca Film Festival with a deeply moving, no-holds-barred look into the life of global pop star Becky G. Directed by Jennifer Tiexiera and Gabriela Cavanaugh, the documentary strips away the glitz and fame to reveal the beating heart of a Mexican-American woman carrying the weight of dreams, culture, and legacy—while navigating real pain behind the spotlight.
Hosted at the iconic United Palace in Upper Manhattan, a spiritual haven for the Latino community. The event was a full-circle moment. It’s where Becky began the two-year journey of this film, and where her story came home. In a rare and refreshing move, phones were locked away in Yondr pouches, ensuring that every guest remained fully present. There were no distractions, just energy, emotion, and truth.
The theater was a vibrant mosaic of cultures: Mexicans, Dominicans, Colombians, Puerto Ricans, African Americans, and White Americans alike, united by a shared admiration for authenticity. This wasn’t just a screening, it was a celebration of what America looks like when we’re all seen.
Becky G rose to fame with hits like Becky from the Block and Shower, but Rebecca rewinds the tape. Through intimate home footage, we see a girl with big eyes and bigger dreams. Dancing in her living room, singing into a make-believe microphone without a care in the world. However, behind her rise was a heavy load. From a young age, she became a pillar for her family. She is one of four siblings while navigating the instability of her father’s addiction. Her mother, grandmother (“Ita”), and grandfather (“Abuelo”) formed the village that held her together.
When Becky spoke of losing her Abuelo, it hit like a gut punch for anyone who has experienced that grief. You don’t just mourn a person—you mourn the safety they represented.
Mental health, a central theme in the film, is tackled with a rawness that feels both brave and necessary. Becky’s openness about battling panic attacks is delivered with poise, not pity. As someone who has shared her healing journey publicly, I saw myself in her, and I know millions more will, too.
The documentary doesn’t shy away from anything: family tension, a broken engagement, the toxicity of fame, cultural erasure, and the venom that sometimes spills from social media. It’s unflinching but never exploitative. The sensitivity with which these moments were handled speaks to the integrity of the storytelling and Becky’s courage to own her truth.
Then came the surprise: a stripped-down performance by Becky G. No flashy lights, no autotune, just her voice, a guitarist, and songs you felt in your bones. These weren’t her chart-toppers. These were hers. Honest, soulful, and delivered with reverence. And yes, she’s got pipes.
The night ended with a thunderous standing ovation. But I don’t think the applause was only for the film or the artistry, it was for Little Becky. The girl who once carried so much but is finally standing in her full power. After surrendering to the process, she reclaimed her story and, in doing so, permitted others to do the same.
Thank you, Becky G., for showing us what it means to be seen, not just as an artist, but as a whole, healing human. We felt you. And we’re better for it.
*Photography provided by LIVE NATION PRODUCTIONS
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