By Kelsey Castañon
By Kelsey Castañon
It's a crisp October morning in New York City, and Amaya Espinal is running late. She texts sincere apologies; she was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic from Brooklyn. She hasn't had breakfast. Is there any food?
In the Vox Media studio, a photo shoot is underway. Production is setting up the camera equipment, shoes line the wall, and, yes, there are bagels. The team waits. "Everyone who meets her can't get enough of her," her stylist, Jason Rembert, prefaces for the group. This is no surprise to me, considering she captivated millions of people on "Love Island USA" every day but Wednesday for six weeks over the summer.
Minutes later Espinal bounces in, bubbling like seltzer, and it's easy to see why.
She's holding a coffee spiked with three, four, maybe five packets of sugar (the exact number is unclear, but it's enough for her to joke that she's "about to get the zoomies"). She flashes a big, pearly grin as she hugs each person in her line of sight. She doesn't say much beyond the pleasantries, but her presence — small in stature (she's 5'3"), big in everything else — adds an instant electricity to the room, like rubbing your socks on the carpet and then touching someone.
It's that unfiltered (or, as she says, "rawer than sushi") energy, that feel-good effect, that makes her reality TV gold. And TV gold it was: NBC reports that her season of "Love Island" saw a whopping 18.4 billion minutes streamed on Peacock, making it the most-watched series on the platform to date. On TikTok, the show accumulated 1.7 billion video views and impressions, up 127 percent from the previous season.
What no one could have anticipated was just how much goodness would radiate out, impacting culture beyond what you saw on screen.
Espinal is the first Afro-Latina to win the show, and the walking embodiment of wearing your heart on your sleeve. Virtually unknown, she became a sensation — effectively earning her the title of the "people's princess," per Hollywood Reporter — by championing softness, romanticizing imperfection, and bringing her Dominican pride to the masses.
More specifically, Espinal single-handedly injected the term "sensitive gangster" into our collective lexicon (the phrase, by the way, saw a 1,000 percent spike in Google searches after the episode aired), and her meme-fied "never said I was perfect" singing clip has been seared into the brains of every living person with a Peacock (or TikTok, or Instagram) account.
You'd be hard-pressed not to love her.
Still, despite hours of behind-the-scenes surveillance on "Love Island," streamed across 37 episodes, there's a lot more to Amaya Papaya that you didn't see. It’s her authenticity, a real depth to her positivity, that has staying power. Let us explain.
Espinal grew up in Brooklyn near Flatbush Avenue, surrounded by sounds of cars honking and ice cream trucks jingling and people chattering in different languages. The bustling streets were only the half of it: in her Dominican household, family filled every room; every day saw a rotating crew of cousins, uncles, and aunties. That chaos made her feel calm.
She was sensitive from the get-go, a self-proclaimed empath in every sense of the word. As the oldest of five siblings, Espinal learned how to care for others early on. "I do feel like I am the second mom," she says. "That protective and nurturing aspect of me has always been there." As her father, Alberto Espinal, describes it: "By Amayita growing up with a big family, she built up a strong bond and solidarity with her siblings . . . they look out for one another. "
This patience and empathy extended inward, especially as she worked through ESL classes and speech therapy to correct a lisp. "Ten years of s's baby, and classes are still being taken today," she says. "My whole life, I've had this speech impediment. People don't hear [the lisp] no more 'cause I know how to pronounce my s's, but that's why when other words come along I have an issue pronouncing them."
Technically speaking, Espinal has what speech pathologists call "metathesis," where sounds or syllables in a word are reversed or moved around. It's why, on "Love Island," you might have heard her say "gratatuily" for gratitude or "acopalyse" for apocalypse.
On the show, these mispronunciations — affectionately called "Amaya-isms" by fans — became a universally beloved trait, often clipped out or cut down into soundbites that spread like butter across social media. But learning to embrace those differences was a practice. "Little Amaya always had a voice of her own," she says. "She definitely always stood up for herself. But I did come across a little bullying; I didn't have the best self-confidence."
Then, in her teenage years, something switched. When Espinal didn't feel heard or understood, she turned to herself. "One day, I was having a really bad day and felt like no one was listening, so I decided to write down my feelings," she remembers. Journaling became her safe space, and she learned the power of self-affirmations. "Even though other people didn't hear me, I heard myself — and I know that God heard me."
What started as a private outlet became a lifelong coping mechanism. "The more you practice what you preach, the more you become it," Espinal says. "Fake it 'til you make it 100 percent, until it becomes reality. That's how I fell in love with manifestation."
Soon, she stopped apologizing for how she spoke, and that was the beginning of her learning to own every part of herself — lisp and all.
Naturally, Espinal brought that energy to Fiji. "Whenever I was alone on 'Love Island,' I would find moments to speak positivitly into the universe," she remembers. "Since I didn't have my journal, a book, or a pen with me to write down my feelings, I just spoke my feelings out loud. And even if I was having a bad day, I would just keep on trying to change that bad day into a good day and say, 'You know what? There's a rainbow after every rainstorm.'"
There's a reason Espinal's optimism feels grounded, not performative. First, it's been ingrained in her from the beginning. She credits her parents for that. "They taught me that who you are is defined by how you treat others, and that's where I just always just knew: I want other people to feel good and I love feeling good myself," she says.
It's also been tested.
While Espinal's default emotion is joy — her resting heart rate seems to be just below that of someone seconds after winning $100K on a reality TV competition — it congeals into a deep sadness when she explains that her outlook on life is an intentional choice she's made every day since an ex-boyfriend of hers died unexpectedly in 2024.
"This is the first time I am ever sharing this story publicly," she says carefully. "It happened out of nowhere, and that was the first time I have ever experienced such a tragic loss very suddenly. It showed me that tomorrow is never guaranteed, and that made me feel so unsure — not only about myself, but about life."
She's speaking slowly now, gulping in tears between words. "At the end of the day, it made me who I am now. I'm tired of acting like it didn't happen. That's really a major reason I am the positive light that I am. Because I understand and I appreciate the price of life; I know how it could be taken away suddenly."
It taught Espinal to find meaning in even the most painful moments — to "wake up and say it's going to be a beautiful day," because not everyone gets the chance to. It's also why she laughs easily and speaks about gratitude with such conviction. "Without those storms," she says, "there's no stories to tell and no strengths to gain."
Amaya Espinal
You may have noticed this philosophy playing out in real time on "Love Island," as Espinal poured every feel-good vibe into her connections on the show, friendships included. The women tended to gravitate to her for advice, which has been the case with her friends for as long as she can remember. She's the go-to shoulder to cry on, always. (Her mom, Meglis Grullon, can attest to that fact. "She has a big heart and is always aware of not hurting others' feelings.")
That energy is infectious and, again, intentional, showing up in all aspects of Espinal's life, including her career as a cardiac nurse. "I show up for people and support people the way I would wanna feel supported and appreciated," she says. "I love seeing the light in someone's darkness. I feel good when I make other people feel good. And that goes with sistership, and nursing, and just caring for people. That's the best part of my day."
Between wardrobe changes, Espinal heads to the hair and makeup room to lie down. "She's taking a beat," says Rembert, her stylist. "It will just be a minute."
You, too, would be tired. Espinal only just arrived in New York from Los Angeles a few days earlier, and from Santo Domingo a few days before that. Then there's this photo and video shoot, coming off of a busy New York Fashion Week, her very first.
In this new post-villa world, everybody wants a piece of Amaya Papaya, and she's being pulled in every direction, all unfamiliar. The sheer vastness of it all can feel overwhelming, she admits. Even the best intentions can't fight the body's chemistry.
"I suffer from anxiety a lot, actually — my nervous system just be acting up," Espinal says with a laugh. Then comes a reminder. "When I have those episodes, I try to tell myself that feelings are normal and emotions are like waves. They come and go. Even if this wave is intense right now, the tide is going to slow."
Amaya Espinal
This theme of self-talk stretches across every part of her routine. Thinking about skipping a workout? "It will help you stay grounded." Relationship not working? "They can go find less." Feeling self-conscious? "Baby girl, with these flaws and all, I'm still that girl." Having a bad day? "Just make sure you drink your matcha, your coffee, whatever you need, and keep on pushing. Just like Dory said, keep on swimming."
In the end, Espinal says, "You are responsible for bringing joy into your life. You just got to be your own best friend and be your own best advocate."
The day is coming to an end. The photo shoot has wrapped, and Espinal bounces from corner to corner on set, littering the room with hugs. The sun slinks behind the towering New York buildings, bathing the sky in swirls of pink, her favorite color.
This next chapter is a clean slate. Fresh off her breakup with Bryan Arenales, her co-winner on "Love Island," there's a string of new beginnings to look forward to: "finding a man who is patient," she says; moving out of her dad's home in Brooklyn and into her own spot in New Jersey, where she can wake up every morning and see New York across the water; maybe even more TV appearances ("Who knows?" she laughs).
The truth is, it doesn't matter what, exactly, Espinal does next. She'll just be glad to be there, finding the good in things along the way. "There's always something to celebrate but, man, this year compared to last year — I've come a long way," she says, snapping her thumb and middle fingers together. "Celebrations for myself."
