By skyforbes 
To feed my inquiring mind: I’ve started a blog series called “Thoughts Unknown: A Journey Through Curiosity,” where I will dive into intriguing subjects that interest me. This is the fourth post in the series.
Summary:
A TikTok about Puerto Rico’s iconic coquí frogs led me down an unexpected path — one that intersected with a Zoë Kravitz film, gendered violence, and the politics of who gets to make noise. This piece explores how silencing sound is never just about quiet — it’s about control.
Full Opinion Piece:
A few days ago, I came across a TikTok where someone explained how tourists in Puerto Rico are contributing to the decline of coquí frogs. The video said that because tourists find the frogs’ nighttime calls annoying, efforts have been made to quiet or even kill them to make the island more appealing. As I listened, I had a strange but strong feeling — not exactly emotional, but deep in my gut — that this situation connected to the movie Blink Twice by Zoë Kravitz. I didn’t know why these two things felt related, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized they are.
Coquí frogs are native to Puerto Rico and especially common in El Yunque National Forest. At night, the male frogs make loud, distinctive calls to attract females. But these sounds are more than just part of the ecosystem — they’re a part of Puerto Rican culture and identity, dating back to the Taíno people. When tourists complain about the noise and locals feel pressured to quiet the frogs, it becomes a form of cultural erasure. Tourists want a curated, peaceful version of Puerto Rico that doesn’t include what they see as “noise.”
This led me to learn more about the concept of eco-colonialism — when outsiders impose their preferences on a place, deciding what should stay and what should go. I found an article called Sound, Music and Violence by Luis Velasco-Pufleau that helped me understand the deeper connection between sound, memory, and power. The article explains how sound is tied to how we experience and remember things, especially during times of violence or trauma. One example it gave was of soldiers in World War I who remembered the sound of birds in the trenches more vividly than the violence around them. Sound stays with us.
The article also points out that certain sounds get labeled as “uncivilized” or “disruptive,” especially in Western cultures. Things like street music or neighborhood noise are often policed in the name of peace, but it’s really about control — who gets to be heard and who doesn’t. This kind of silencing is part of how power works, especially in racial, class, and colonial dynamics.
But sound isn’t just something that can be used to harm. It can also be a way to resist, remember, and heal. People use music and sound to hold onto their culture, process trauma, and push back against being erased. That’s why the coquí frogs matter. Their calls are part of what makes Puerto Rico feel like Puerto Rico. Silencing them is like silencing the people themselves.
That brings me back to Blink Twice. In the movie, a tech billionaire brings a group of women to a private island. What seems like a luxury escape is actually a trap. The women are drugged with a perfume that erases their memories, so they don’t realize they’re being abused. The men aren’t drugged at all. They control what the women remember, hear, and feel. The women start to sense that something is off, but they can’t quite explain why.
That’s what clicked for me. In both the movie and the frog situation, those in power are shaping reality to protect their own comfort. In the film, the men erase the women’s agency. In Puerto Rico, tourists erase the frogs’ calls — and with it, a piece of culture. In both cases, what’s heard and remembered is being manipulated.
There’s another similarity too. In Blink Twice, the guests indulge in beauty, luxury, and distraction while hiding from the reality of what’s really happening. Tourists in Puerto Rico do the same. They want a perfect vacation, even if it means erasing the true sounds and stories of the place they’re visiting.
Whether it’s the women in Blink Twice or the coquí frogs in Puerto Rico, silencing sound is a way to silence truth. When we decide which sounds are welcome and which ones aren’t, we’re deciding whose experiences and voices matter. And that’s the deeper connection I was feeling. Sound holds memory, identity, and resistance. Silencing it isn’t just about quieting a space — it’s about control.