1 Bertolt Brecht once said, “Art is not a mirror held up to reality, but a hammer with which to shape it.” If there’s anyone who has been wielding that hammer with precision, it’s Ana Tijoux. Born into exile in France during Chile’s dictatorship, she returned to her parents’ homeland as a teenager, carrying with her an insatiable love for hip-hop and a deep-rooted understanding of resistance. Over the decades, she’s navigated a music career that defies industry norms, moving seamlessly between rap, alternative, and socially conscious music while remaining fiercely independent.Now, at 47, she’s still writing, still evolving, and still refusing to be boxed in. When we spoke, she had just arrived in Barcelona, fresh off a tour in Chile. She was finalizing a new EP, ‘Serpiente Madera,’ a project that, in her words, brings her back to the raw energy of her early years. “My pencil, my paper, my friend making beats on an MPC, and us laughing our asses off—like we’re 20 again,” she said, describing the essence of the album.
2 Her love for hip-hop started early. “I fell for hip-hop at eight years old,” she said. “Like every kid who listens to this genre, I tried everything—dancing, graffiti. I dabbled in all of it. But I fell in love with writing and rhyming at 17 or 18.”That love would turn into an obsession. “I was rapping all the time,” she admitted. “I think my mom found me unbearable because I wouldn’t stop.”At the time, hip-hop was going through its golden era. She idolized acts like A Tribe Called Quest, Helter Skelter, and Wu-Tang Clan. But she also paid close attention to women in the scene. “Bahamadia from Philly, MC Lyte, and of course, Lauryn Hill—she shook everything up,” she said.By the late ’90s, she had co-founded Makiza, the Chilean rap collective that cemented her as one of Latin America’s sharpest MCs. The group’s second album, Aerolíneas Makiza, put Chilean hip-hop on the map, earning praise for its introspective, socially aware lyrics. But the industry’s pressures quickly became suffocating. She walked away, moving back to France to escape the weight of fame.
3 Her self-imposed exile didn’t last long. She returned to Chile and re-entered the scene, slowly carving out a solo career that blended hip-hop’s grit with poetic introspection. Then came ‘Eres Para Mí,’ her collaboration with Julieta Venegas in 2006, which exploded across Latin America. Suddenly, Ana Tijoux was a mainstream name. But she wasn’t interested in chasing pop stardom. With 1977, her second solo album, she returned to rap with full force. The title track became an anthem, catching the attention of none other than Thom Yorke of Radiohead, who added it to his personal playlist. The song later appeared in Breaking Badand FIFA 11, solidifying its cult status. However, for Tijoux, an album is like a house. “They weren’t loose songs,” she explained. “I always say that records are like a house–you have the kitchen, the living room… Right? It’s like telling a story, and there were many stories to tell.”
Entering the music industry was one thing. Doing it as a woman in Latin American hip-hop was another. “I think about this a lot,” she said. “Being a woman in any male-dominated field—whether you’re a rapper, a surgeon, or a pilot—it’s always a fight. Hip-hop is no exception.” Still, she doesn’t think the genre is uniquely machista. “It’s not just hip-hop. The world is machista,” she said plainly. “But I was lucky. I had male colleagues who were incredibly supportive and pushed me to keep going. That’s not always the case.” Her presence in the scene helped pave the way for future generations of Latin American female MCs, even if she doesn’t dwell on that fact. “I don’t think about it like, ‘Oh, I’m opening doors.’ I just do my thing,” she said. “But if it inspires someone else, that’s beautiful.”
4 Motherhood changed her, though not in the way people might expect. “For me, being a mother and being an artist are totally complementary,” she said. “Creating a child and creating music—they both feel like magic.” Her 2014 album Vengo marked a shift. She recorded it while pregnant, an experience that profoundly shaped the music. “I didn’t realize how much it affected me until later,” she admitted. “Maybe my hormones were going wild, but I felt everything more intensely.” Now, with two kids, her creative process looks different. “Before, I could create 24/7. Now, I have to make time for it,” she said. “I’ll start writing a song and suddenly remember I have laundry in the washing machine.” She laughs, but there’s a sense of peace in her voice. “I don’t live in nostalgia for the past. This phase is different, but it’s just as beautiful.”
5 Her upcoming EP, Serpiente Madera, marks another reinvention. “I’m in a place of deep gratitude,” she reflected. “For a long time, I was stressed—worried about hitting certain milestones. But now, I just appreciate everything.” That clarity has shaped her latest music. She describes it as a return to the joy of making music for music’s sake. Despite the expectations from her audience, she knows she’s in a moment where she can “turn the noise off and do what makes you happy. If not, you become a publicist of other people’s expectations.” The only perspective she likes to listen to is her kids’. “My son is 20, and he listens to rap just like I did,” she said. “Now, I show him my music and ask, ‘What do you think?’ Same with my daughter, who’s about to turn 12. It’s surreal.” Even after decades in the game, Ana Tijoux is still learning, still evolving. “I used to be really hard on myself. Now, I make sure to celebrate my wins. Even the small ones,” she said. “It took me years to learn that.”
At this point in her career, Ana Tijoux isn’t chasing validation. She’s seen the industry’s highs and lows. She’s had her music recognized by global icons. She’s lived through the weight of expectations and found her way back to herself. “You have to learn that, sometimes, the best lessons in life are defeats,” she reflected. And through it all, she’s never stopped speaking her truth. “I think about what my therapist told me,” she said, grinning. “There are two ways to grow old: you either become a bitter old lady or a wise old lady. I’d rather be wise.” For Ana Tijoux, wisdom comes with time. But the fire? That’s always been there.
