"In my homeland, in Oaxaca, I felt very discriminated against for being partially Indigenous"

Many people identify with your music, and others also relate to your story, such as initially rejecting your roots.

Music allowed me to express my questions, my doubts about being discriminated against, about being marginalized by people who were just like me, but whose identities were shaped and affected by social perception. And through music, fortunately, which is miraculous and mysterious in how it heals us, I began composing songs about strong women, women who always felt on the margins, of which I am a part. So, I continue walking in that direction and composing songs, and now that we will be in Kingston, we will have the opportunity to sing some new songs as well.

Tell us about your repertoire for the Kingston concert.

We are presenting some of the previous album, which, due to the pandemic, we couldn’t perform, play, and enjoy. It’s an album dedicated to chili peppers. You know, in my country, we eat a lot of chili, and it’s also a metaphor for other things in life that are quite funny between women and men. Chili gives you the sensation of being on fire; it’s an interesting story that originates in Bolivia, but then spreads here in Mexico, in the Maya Peninsula, and of course, in the north. The original variety is called Chiltepín, which is a small chili, and we will be singing some songs from that album. We will also perform some more recent pieces and, of course, some socially committed songs, as I have done throughout my career as a musician, hoping to share this with the wonderful audience.

Why do you incorporate social themes into your songs?

I started because I studied at a university in the Triqui region, which borders my Mixtec region. In my state of Oaxaca, we have 16 Indigenous ethnic groups. I am from the Mixtec region, and the Triqui region is one of the most discriminated against. I was curious about this, and also, textiles have always fascinated me. I grew up in an environment where my mother placed Indigenous textiles on our walls, and we talked about them. Then, while working on my thesis, I heard a song called Gracias a la vida by Violeta Parra, later sung by Mercedes Sosa. After hearing it, I realized I could return to art, which I had abandoned for a few years. In college, I returned to art but from a different perspective, and I started constructing narratives about my social environment, touching on migration—this painful issue that affects us Latin Americans today.

Tell us more about that moment of searching for your roots, finding the pride of being Indigenous after spending your early years denying those roots.

My father was a university professor, so I spent one year with him in Minnesota and then one year in Tlaxiaco, my hometown in the Mixtec Highlands, alternating throughout kindergarten and all of elementary school. Then, for secondary school, I stayed in Mexico. In the United States, my experience was less discriminatory than in Mexico, especially back home. In my homeland, in Oaxaca, I felt very discriminated against for being partially Indigenous. They called me "the daughter of the Indian" and also because my father was a "Yankee." So, I wasn’t accepted on either side. Now, as an adult, I see the reality of discrimination against Mexican Americans, against all Latino mestizos who are first or second-generation in the United States. Many families work to preserve that heritage, but sometimes the next generation does not, or they reject it because they feel rejected themselves. That worries me a lot, and I think that’s why I have been part of the Chicano movement and the biennial movement of different communities in the United States that fight to resist and to show the richness and cultural pride we must always carry.

You have performed on the most prestigious stages in the world, such as Jazz at Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, Hollywood Bowl. You have sung at the White House, at the Academy Awards broadcasts, and the Latin Grammy Awards. Your music has also been featured in several films, and you have performed in duets and trios with many Latin singers and artists, including the great Mercedes Sosa. Tell us about that experience and your collaborations.

Collaborations make us grow tremendously, and it’s such a privilege to connect with great artists whom one admires and respects. The first time I went to hear Doña Mercedes in Mexico, in the Zócalo of Mexico City, I remember knowing a promoter who was close to her, and he introduced me. I took her hand and couldn’t say anything because I was so overwhelmed with emotion—I just cried. Years later, I met María, the person who assisted her, a few years before she passed away. María put me in touch with her, and I proposed, "Doña Mercedes, may I send you a song called Tierra de Luz? I composed it here in my land; we just went through a major political crisis. I was censored for six years in my hometown, and I’d like to see what you think." And she said, "Send it to me, Lila, I will listen to it." She listened to it, and then we recorded it together—I recorded my part in New York because I was living there at the time, and she recorded hers in Buenos Aires. It was a gift to me. One of the greatest gifts life has given me because she is someone to whom my heart is deeply tied.

Your songs have social content. How do you see music making a change in the world?

I believe it can do a lot because, through music, we change the course of our day, our sense of belonging, our experiences, and our ideals. Yes, a song has changed my life, just as so much art has.

What are your main sources of inspiration at this stage of your life?

I think being able to perform concerts is still the center of my life. It is very important for me to go out and sing new music. Sometimes, it’s music that is already known but reinterpreted in a different way, rooted in traditions, in grandmothers, in aunts, in that heritage that comes from visiting a small village here in Oaxaca, surrounded by even smaller settlements, with dirt floors and an open fire where hot tortillas are cooked. That simplicity, that poetry, inspires me—it continues to inspire me. I keep trying to compose that truth, to share it with the audience so that we all appreciate that moment in our human history. Because even though we may later become doctors, professionals, or have careers, it is always important to give credit to our origins—to our grandparents and to the historical place we come from. It’s very important to give thanks for that.

Listen to the full interview at this link: bit.ly/LilaDownsUPAC

Translated from Spanish by Nohan Meza