These Are The Women And Non-Binary Musicians Challenging Gender Stereotypes and Machismo in Argentina

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Styling by Adriana Popovic Nassiri; Hair and Makeup by Pablo Rivera

It may have been hailed as an historic and major progressive victory when Argentina legalized abortion in December, but in a country that is in some parts still grappling with gender-based violence, the work is far from over. Particularly in male-dominated music genres, many artists have taken it upon themselves to dismantle the misogyny that still pervades their culture. Nicki Nicole, Luanda and Cazzu are just a few voices pushing for change.

Styling by Adriana Popovic Nassiri; Hair and Makeup by Pablo Rivera
Styling by Adriana Popovic Nassiri; Hair and Makeup by Pablo Rivera
Styling by Adriana Popovic Nassiri; Hair and Makeup by Pablo Rivera

Nicki Nicole, 20, Rosario

Nicki Nicole’s face pops on screen during a Zoom call from Miami — she flew in for a few days from Argentina to attend the awards show Premio Lo Nuestro — and one of the most noticeable things about the 20-year-old singer is the word ‘bullshit’ stamped boldly across her neck. The tattoo is visible no matter the angle of the camera, a permanent and startling reminder of what she won’t put up with as a woman.

Though Nicki’s career is only a few years old, she’s already dealt with internet trolls trying to pummel her self-worth. She started out in Argentina’s trap scene, where she says she felt supported by women who paved the way before her — but as her profile grew, so did a barrage of online insults. “It wasn’t, ‘I think you can improve this.’ It was, ‘You’re shit,’” she says, laughing. Luckily, women in the industry made sure she never believed her detractors, including Nicki’s dream collaborator, reggaeton pioneer Ivy Queen, who once told her, “Nicki, you have your place — make it count.”

She’s done that by imbuing her music with a strong sense of self. “I’ve learned to really know who I am,” she says. Recently, she joined Dominican artist Rochy RD and Puerto Rican rapper Myke Towers on the remix of Ella No Es Tuya (She Isn’t Yours), in which the guys rap about a man who’s fallen for a woman who won’t commit to him. Nicki had a specific perspective she wanted to emphasize: “She doesn’t belong to anyone; women don’t belong to anyone,” she says.

In Argentina, violence against women is on the rise, with femicides reaching a 10-year high during lockdown. Nicki hopes to release an album this year, and she wants to keep empowering women while highlighting their realities. She notices the constant fear many women live under reflected everywhere. The other day, she saw an Instagram post asking what people would do if the opposite sex didn’t exist. “Men posted things like, ‘I’d walk around naked,’” she says. The answers from women were chilling. “They wrote, ‘I’d go out at 4am without being terrified,’” she adds. “The reality is hard, and it’s that they’re killing us simply for being ourselves. This has to change.”

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Cazzu, 27, Fraile Pintado

At the beginning of her career, Cazzu was one of the few women in Argentina’s trap scene and she says she had to be fearless — even intimidating — to create space for herself and others. “We had to scare them,” she says. “They don’t see you as a strong woman anyway, they see you as crazy… So you’re like, ‘OK, fine then, don’t mess with me because I really am crazy.’” The approach paid off: Cazzu is now one of the most recognizable faces in Latin trap, and it thrills her that more women have followed. “It’s a relief that I’m the crazy one and the burden didn’t fall on those who came after.”

There are battles left. Cazzu once got frustrated that awards shows gave prizes for “best female artist” while putting men in general categories. However, as some “best male artist” categories emerged to even things out, another problem surfaced. “We totally left out non-binary people who don’t see themselves in either sex,” Cazzu says. The fight to end misogyny also has to include the LGBTQ+ community, and Cazzu wants to make sure they feel included in her music. “Here, they’ll always have space.”

Progress has come slowly. Cazzu used to perform wearing a green handkerchief, a symbol of women’s rights across Latin America and the Caribbean. When abortion was legalized in Argentina, Cazzu celebrated the news on Instagram, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop denouncing patriarchal systems. “In hundreds of years, maybe we’ll achieve [equality], but until then, my music will always be charged with these issues — even if it bothers people.”

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Luanda, 26, Buenos Aires

In the song de ak-á, Luanda paints a portrait of the erasure and skepticism Black people face in Argentina through just a few quick, caustic verses. “They look and look, they want to touch my curls/I say no and they start to ask questions: ‘Where’s your dad from? Where’s your mom from?’” A wrenching line follows: “We vanished from history and it’s not a coincidence.”

The lyrics pack a punch, as do the African-diasporic rhythms embedded in the production. Luanda — who identifies as non-binary and uses the pronouns ‘they’ and ’them’ — grew up singing and playing bass, guitar, drums, piano, violin and flute. Now, they use music as a blunt weapon to dismantle anti-Blackness, which often goes unacknowledged in Argentina. “With the killing of George Floyd, it’s trendy to talk about racism, but a lot of times, it’s treated like a problem in the US [and] Brazil — just not here.” A lack of respect for Black culture, Luanda has noticed, filters into the country’s trap scene, where it’s not uncommon to see white artists appropriating sounds and aesthetics from Black communities and dropping the n-word. “I say this country can be really colonial, and trap can be super colonial, too.”

In the song paqui no, they rebuke gender norms and heteronormativity. “Obviously, the hip-hop space is full of machismo, it’s binary, and it perpetuates a lot of things. There are so many people who can’t even say my pronouns correctly. [To them], you’re not anything.” Still, Luanda refuses to let that get in the way of making music that challenges conventions. They’re working on a deeply personal album to be released on Goza Records later this year. “It can be a bit hard living in contradictions,” Luanda says. But their music represents them through and through.