In Mexico City, just two days prior to the unveiling of her new album, renowned musician Vivir Quintana found herself at a women’s prison. This visit was not an unfamiliar one, for she had been dedicating a decade to visiting women who had ended up behind bars after defending themselves against their abusers, actions that tragically led to the death of those abusers. Their gripping narratives have been woven into her latest album, “Cosas que Sorprenden a la Audiencia” (Things that Surprise the Audience), which was released this past Thursday.
The album breaks new ground as it recounts the stories of ten such women through “corridos,” a genre historically dominated by men in Mexico that has recently come into the spotlight. Quintana was driven to create this album by her wish to dissect and address the intricate issues surrounding gender-based violence. She expressed, “This album has a different heart,” sporting her notable gray streak and vibrant red boots. At 40, she declared with conviction, “This album wasn’t made to sell, it’s to change minds.”
The songs aim to shed light on the rising violence against women in Latin America, especially in Mexico, where, according to human rights groups, about 10 women are killed daily. The judicial system faces criticism for seemingly safeguarding perpetrators while silencing the victims. Women like those highlighted in Quintana’s corridos often confront charges of “excessive legitimate self-defense,” enraging many across Mexico. Strumming her guitar, Quintana powerfully voiced, “So many times I feared for my life. So many times I didn’t defend myself.” These lyrics capture a poignant juxtaposition of freedom and captivity, as heard echoing in her record label’s hall.
Quintana’s career has been marked by amplifying women’s voices, catapulting her into stardom not just in Mexico but internationally. Her 2020 track, “Canción Sin Miedo” (Song Without Fear), became symbolic for the Women’s Day march in Mexico and resonated with the feminist movement across Latin America. In 2022, she collaborated on a poignant song about healing and liberation for the Black Panther sequel’s album, and the Latin Grammys recognized her as one of the four Leading Ladies of Entertainment last year.
This new work takes her music further. Corridos, specifically, have experienced a resurgence and faced backlash amid criticisms that “narco corridos”—a variant focusing on cartel warfare and misogynistic themes—have come to dominate. With tensions rising, members from a band even lost their U.S. visas after showcasing a drug cartel leader during a concert. While several Mexican states have moved to outlaw such corridos, Claudia Sheinbaum, Mexico’s first female president, suggested a paradigm shift. She proposed the creation of corridos that do not glamorize drugs, aggression, or objectify women, saying, “We’re not banning a musical genre; that would be absurd.” Instead, she stressed the importance of lyrics promoting themes other than violence and discrimination.
Quintana’s corridos reframe this narrative, saluting not the violent and the criminal but women prosecuted for self-defense. The standout track, “Era Él o Era Yo (It Was Either Him or Me), recounts Roxana Ruiz’s harrowing ordeal. Sentenced to six years for defending herself against a rapist in 2021, Ruiz vocalized her plight, “This isn’t justice.” Following an uproar across the country, prosecutors eventually dismissed her case.
A 14-year-old girl from Tabasco, who killed her father while he assaulted her mother, and the distressing story of Yakiri Rubio, kidnapped, raped, and imprisoned for killing a perpetrator, are poignantly captured in Quintana’s album. In her approach, Quintana committed to gathering local news accounts, speaking with the women detained and their families, striving to portray their stories beyond their violent and life-altering incidents.
By drawing from her childhood memories of classic corridos, and the personal tragedy of losing a friend to femicide, Quintana aspires to redefine the genre with her album, addressing the brutalities faced by Mexican women and critically examining “machismo” within society. She advocates for the empowerment of those who have endured gender violence, asserting that all women, even those incarcerated, possess the irrefutable right to joy, self-expression, and beauty. Emphasizing the therapeutic power of art and dance, she stated, “Because people have to understand that they have the right to music, right to art, and more than anything, right to beauty.”