In engaging with the lyrics written by my male colleagues, an explicitly feminist lyric also emerges in my songs. Everything unfolded naturally; it wasn’t a prior decision to make “queer transfeminist reggaeton,” but rather my reggaeton is “queer and transfeminist” because that’s who I am, and it’s the part of me that often clashes with the system in which we live.

So, my art speaks about that—what I wish could be different in this world. Sometimes as a protest, sometimes as a proposal, and sometimes simply by capturing scenes that, while they exist, aren’t the most visible in mainstream media, or by inventing scenes, which is also a way to create possibilities.

Many times, protest or denunciation songs tend to have an angry or sad tone (even some of mine), but I firmly believe in exploring other ways to address these feelings. For me, art is not only an expression of our emotions and thoughts but also a tool to sublimate and transform those feelings. This allows us to align our entire system (physical, emotional, psychological, and social) to face the challenges and concerns we encounter.

It’s clear that the system we live in is designed to negatively affect us, inducing feelings of depression and anger (just open the newspapers or Instagram and it’s a bombardment of bad news and comments that infuriate us), making it difficult for us to act effectively.

Dancing is a practice that energizes, grounds, uplifts, tones, centers us, and connects us with others in a very pleasant harmony. It’s like saying, “This is important, let’s address it,” but in a way that strengthens and energizes us rather than depressing us.

I believe this perspective is deeply rooted in me because of my upbringing in Tucumán, where humor is an integral part of communication. In our culture, we often make jokes about serious topics, seeking lightness even in difficult situations.

For example, when you tell a friend something difficult, sometimes you do it with a well-intentioned joke, and instead of encountering resentment or discomfort as a response, you end up laughing in an atmosphere of joy and camaraderie.

It’s a kind of alchemy, a practice that seeks to transform discomfort into something of better quality, something nourishing. This dynamic is fundamental in my artistic approach.

I use humor and lightheartedness to address complex issues. I believe facing challenges with humor and dance makes them more manageable and less intimidating, transforming energy in a positive and constructive way.

On stage you perform with dancers and you make fun of the basic reggaeton macho singer attitude. Do you have any feedback from reggaeton ‘classical’ artists on 1/your music, and 2/on how you highjack the codes of this musical genre ?

There’s a part of what I do that involves satire. In this case, satire not only serves as mockery but also hacks into feelings and allows reflection on what bothers me about this and what I like. Depending on your system of beliefs and values, you’ll likely experience different reactions. Some find it normal and comfortable to see a cis-heterosexual man in that role, but feel uncomfortable seeing a queer lesbian, and vice versa. Some reject both situations, while others find all variables acceptable.

This leads us to other questions such as, for example, what is my relationship with eroticism and sexually explicit content? What imaginaries do I allow myself? What specifically about all of this do I like and what makes me uncomfortable?

I believe it’s a proposition that invites the viewer, first and foremost, to question themselves until finally, in the best-case scenario, some questions are answered by themselves and they can let themselves be carried away by the situation if they so feel.

Regarding feedback from other artists, generally, people dedicated to artistic expression in the reggaeton scene, even those who focus on more classical forms, tend to appreciate artistic proposals that have an element of innovation. So far, I haven’t encountered colleagues who are annoyed or upset; on the contrary, I perceive a fairly open and respectful mentality within the reggaeton scene, despite any prejudice that may exist from the outside.

In addition to the lyrics, you put forward trans and lesbian people in your music videos, for instance in Pornstar.

You are working for the visibility of this community while creating new narratives.

In my videos, I always highlight the communities that surround me, the actors, dancers, performers are my close friends. I find it crucial that queer people have a significant representation in culture, and in my case, it is natural because these people are the reflection of my daily environment.

In general, the protagonists of my videos are queer/trans people but not exclusively. For example, in “Ey Maricón” these beautiful ladies are my neighbors and everything was filmed in the neighborhood. The tango dancer is my father-in-law, and we filmed it at the bar “El Portuario”, a cultural place in the La Boca neighborhood where I lived for years.

“Ey Maricón” is about everyday homophobia, about how simple idiots from the neighborhood can insult you just for your sexuality or your gender identity. But the video counterbalances it.

A neighborhood bar that, with its traditional appearance, makes you believe it’s a conservative and hostile place, but that is actually full of warm humans with whom we can build a community. In real life, on every street corner you’ll come across idiots and affectionate people.

In France, you are mostly known by the lesbian and queer community. Are you known by a larger public in Argentina ? (meaning not only by the LGBTQI+ community?)

In Argentina, although I believe I am known beyond LGBTQI+ and feminist circles, my primary audience tends to come from these groups. Interestingly, I feel that I find more followers outside of these circles in Germany. It’s fascinating how reception can vary so much depending on the location. A few days ago, I was at a festival in Germany and found some cisgender men wearing Chocolate Remix T-shirts. The funny thing is, I hadn’t brought merchandise to that event, and additionally, some of them had T-shirts from previous years’ editions, which they must have acquired elsewhere, which I found quite endearing.

Historically, I’ve noticed that queer projects often receive support mainly from the queer community. Similarly, projects led by women tend to be more listened to by women, while male-led projects tend to have broader reach.

I’m glad to know that there are cisgender men who might, at some point, be in the shower singing, embodying a queer lesbian person. Just like how sometimes I sing in the shower and think I’m Gardel, haha.

 That it could be an option, a desirable and valuable experience. Just as it might be desirable for a female football player to emulate Messi scoring a goal, it’s important that queer people can also be visible and viable references and possibilities in society, rather than being seen, at best, as an acceptable deviation.

You already produced 3 albums : Satira, Pajuerana and Minga, in which you mixed reggaeton with other music genres like cumbia, electro, dembow.
You describe your music as antifascist latino rap.

Are these different influences something you will keep on using in a future album ?

I don’t know yet. I like to experiment, so it’s likely that I’ll try some eclectic mixes again, but I haven’t decided yet. I haven’t started working on my next album yet; I’ll tackle that once I return from the tour. For now, I’m mainly working on collaborations or standalone pieces. Anyway, as a working method, I usually choose the genre(s) as I create each song.

The selection of rhythms, melodies, harmonies, and lyrics is part of the concepts I’m working with and what I’m trying to convey, so this usually happens during the composition process

Occasionally, I set an intention, such as working with a specific style, and start from there to see where it takes me, but it’s never fully defined until each song is born.

Although I would love to see it, I feel we haven’t yet achieved a consolidated “reggaeton queer” scene. I’ve discovered LGBT+ artists making reggaeton in various parts of the world, but the lack of cohesion, meaning that we know each other and understand ourselves as a scene, remains a challenge. To me, a scene implies a community that includes musicians, fans, DJs, promoters, dancers, etc., who to some extent know each other and create a group synergy.

In Argentina, the underground reggaeton scene provides an inclusive space for queer expression, and I observe a growing participation of women in nightlife, especially as DJs, MCs, and go-go dancers.

Globally, artists like Villano Antillano, Ptazeta, Snow Tha Product, and Young Miko have gained recognition as LGBTIQ+. I wonder if these mainstream artists are familiar with more underground projects like Chocolate Remix. Additionally, it’s important to highlight the contribution of musicians who, while they may not identify them selves as reggaetoners or queers, they have made contributions to the genre.

 For example, Sara Hebe, who comes from rap with an anti-fascist stance, but has a reggaeton song called “Sal Fina,” which is obviously in my playlists, or Romea (Flor Linyera of Kumbia Queers), a lesbian producer and singer who comes from cumbia and punk but has released some romantic reggaeton songs in recent years.

I’ve created a playlist dedicated to women in reggaeton, including both underground and mainstream artists, also cis and queer, who have made an impact within the genre. Honestly, I owe myself a playlist exclusively dedicated to queer artists.