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BUENOS AIRES, Argentina. Vivir Quintana loved teaching, but she was more passionate about singing. So one day she quit teaching Spanish in schools in her town in Coahuila , Mexico, and took to the stage to share a little of everything she learned as a child from her parents: singing songs that leave a message. She did well. Since she dedicated herself to music, she opened for Silvio Rodríguez at a concert in Mexico City's Zócalo in front of thousands of people. Her song "Canción sin miedo" is an anthem of transfeminist struggles, and in April, her second album, Cosas que sorpresan a la audiencia , was released by Universal.

In March, Vivir Quintana visited Argentina, where she organized a recital at La Tangente (Buenos Aires). Her guest appearance included the Mujeres y Disidencias collective from La Plata . “At this time, it's necessary to talk about a lot of love, a lot of unity, and a lot of community,” the Mexican singer-songwriter told Presentes . “Singing, resistance, and culture are a great salvation that we sometimes don't see.”

Vivir Quintana's visit from Buenos Aires was to preview her second album, Cosas que sorpresan a la audiencia (Things that surprise the audience) , which contains ten songs narrated in the first person: ten stories of women who were deprived of their physical freedom for defending themselves against their aggressors.

“I set myself the task of sowing love within music.”

In her song “ La casa de la esquina,” which opens her debut album ( Te mereces un amor ), Vivir talks about her parents' house, where her musical journey began. “My parents played music for me all the time when I was a kid. I had a really old vinyl record player and I would play it in the backyard. Lola Beltrán and Los Tigres del Norte played a lot of music there, but also Violeta Parra and Mercedes Sosa. They were my greatest role models, and I understood that words are an arduous, effective, and voracious means of communication. I discovered it within that music, within those words, within those songs. My parents taught me to love the world around me in all its nuances. So, since I love the world around me, I also care about it,” she explains.

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– These are difficult times. What is it like to create, perform, and compose right now? 

It's important to put the talents that life gives you at the service of causes. And I believe that talent isn't just musical, but also the connection you achieve with the land, with the people, with nature. I take on a responsibility that no one gave me. Rather, it's a responsibility I feel as a woman and as a citizen. But as an inhabitant of this land and in such painful times for the world, I also take on the task of sowing love within music. Musical genres, especially in Mexico, are plagued by violence and misogyny today. I seek to create narratives that are also within Mexican folklore but with love as the central axis. A free love, a beautiful love, a healthy love. It's incredibly healing for the listener and for me. 

-Your songs have a feminist theme. How do you navigate the music industry with that theme? 

-It's difficult. I'm fortunate to have a super loving and super nice team who say, "We need your message to get across." Working in that field is sometimes super tiring because you want to leave messages in a time when the industry is so fast-paced. You have to move with a lot of love, but also with a lot of strength and determination, deeply respecting my voice, what I want to do, and where I want to go. I think that's one of the key aspects of this world. 

-Both your band and your team are made up of women. Was that a decision or did it just happen?

-It was a decision. Not out of separatism, but rather out of an opportunity that I believe is necessary. And a matter of community, which I believe is super important: trying to have more women in this industry and close this gender gap that has existed for a very long time. As long as there's an opportunity to hire women, then do it. There are female colleagues who can't work with male colleagues, and that's understandable because they've suffered various forms of violence. I have no problem working with male colleagues; I work with incredible colleagues, but we also have to give ourselves this opportunity to close this gap.

Count the women

The corrido is a traditional Mexican genre that recounts tragic events, usually crimes committed by men. "Rosita Alvirez" is one of them. Set in Coahuila, it recounts the tragic murder of a young woman who refused to dance with a man at a party. Vivir Quintana listened to that song throughout her childhood, but as an adult, she wondered, "What would have happened if Rosita or any other woman had defended herself against her attacker?" From this came " Cosas que sorpresan a la audiencia, " an album of corridos composed by Vivir Quintana, which tell the stories of women who suffered gender-based violence and ended up in prison.

" It's an album that's been in the making for ten years because I wanted it to be stories told in the best possible way. I didn't want there to be any re-victimization or morbidity in the lyrics, but rather to help these stories become known," the singer-songwriter tells Presentes .

“It's a difficult album, but also a necessary one. It took ten years of searching for these stories, of understanding that not all women have the same stories, but that we can tell each other's. Everyone's voice is important, including those of these women who are deprived of their physical freedom. It's been painful work because it means talking about violence all the time. That makes you violent or makes you more loving, and I wanted to become more loving. It was a hard personal and internal effort to understand all these stories that also pass through you. I hope this album resonates, resonates in the hearts and consciences of the people, in the collective." 

-How did you weave these themes, which are so difficult to address, into your compositions?

-I do it from a place where honesty speaks. I always say I don't want to steal anyone's struggle. I believe all struggles in this world are valid and have their reason to be. But when I sit down to write a song, I understand that what I want may not be the same as what other people want, but I'm going to do it in the most honest way so that it connects with the people who listen to me. Honesty is a fundamental part of my project.

And consistency, which is incredibly difficult, but I try to be consistent both in my music and in my private and public life. I can't release songs of resistance, love, and peace if, for example, I treat my team poorly, or my friends, or my family poorly; or I'm cut off from my parents. Speaking honestly is one of the things that moves me most.

–What is your relationship with sexual diversity, which has also been part of feminist demands? 

-Diversity is what truly enriches us. In this world, which is often so unequal for some and for others, it's necessary to understand that diversity exists, and that we are not the same at all. And that each of us has, or should rather have, the freedom to decide where we move, where we are, who we are with, who we want, and who we love. Talking about love in these difficult times also makes us more diverse, and I really like that. 

-How are women and sexual diversity represented in Mexican popular music? 

There's more and more representation. I'm meeting more and more female colleagues who are doing incredible things. I see more spaces where this conversation about diversity for all is opening up, and I think there's still a long way to go. We need to continue addressing important topics within music, within the social and cultural narratives of our countries, because it truly connects us. We're connected by a struggle for equal rights for all. Diversity also plays into this. And in Mexico, the diverse representation within regional music is growing, and I'm the first to celebrate that. 

A song that travels the world

Five years ago, her friend, singer Mont Laferte, asked her if she had a song about femicides to sing at a concert at the Zócalo. Vivir didn't have one, but she composed it, and it premiered on March 7, 2020. Thus, "Canción sin miedo" (Song Without Fear) was born. 

“I never imagined it would be so big. Unfortunately, this sad situation of femicides is everywhere, and the pain connects with many of our colleagues across Latin America,” says Vivir Quintana. “We are connected by the strength and desire for things to change, for people to know about them, and for these things to be made visible. 'Canción sin miedo' is a song that has taken its own path and has become so big, but it's the women fighting all over the world who have made it so big. I feel very honored, that's the word. But I hope it won't be sung next year.” 

-You heard and sang "Canción sin miedo" at the March 8th march in Spain. What was that experience like?

“It was incredibly powerful. I always said I wouldn’t spend any March 8th outside of Mexico, but I ended up working in Madrid. I connected with the collective of migrant women, Las Tres M (Women, Monarch Butterflies, Migrants) , comrades from Argentina, Chile, Brazil, Colombia, Peru, Panama, and Mexicans. Marching alongside them was also incredibly powerful. At the end, we sang “Canción sin miedo,” and I ended with an emotion that lasted all day. I even felt exhausted from feeling so much because I also cried a lot.”

-How do you see yourself in ten years? 

I imagine myself with more songs in my voice, and I hope that voice gives me many more years. I imagine myself sharing a lot with more people, but I also imagine myself, trying to sow now (and see it in ten years) those seeds where people's consciousness is transformed a little through music. Being one of those singers who remains in the books, I hope it can be, because music will always be music, with or without industry. I see music existing and transcending by word of mouth. I hope so. And with two more cats, in ten years, a house with a garden to have two more cats, one of each color.