For Arii Lopez, music has always been more than melody. It has been memory, resistance, language and a way to make sense of the many worlds she carries within her.
- My existence is inherently political, Lopez says. Being raised in the lands of men like José Martí and Marcus Garvey makes me very aware of being on the right side of history.
- I grew up next to the national house of music in Santiago, La Trova, she says. Storytelling through music is a skill that I learned listening to cultural Cuban music from 9 a.m. to 1 a.m.
- When Eliades Ochoa brought me up on stage when I was 3 years old, I knew right then I wanted to stay up there with him, she says.
- I learned wordplay and street poetry from the likes of Buju Banton and Vybz Kartel, she says. My writing is highly influenced by the honesty and genius of true Caribbean storytellers.
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- I don’t think I ever got caught between my cultural identities, she says. I think I got caught in the washing down of both.
- There’s an idea in Jamaica that being of lighter skin or speaking a certain way means you’ve struggled less or have had fewer tribulations than most, she says. While being of a certain skin tone and having pretty privilege can make things slightly easier, my struggles are closer to those of an everyday Jamaican than most.
- My Cuban side thinks because I live in a foreign country, my life is perfectly made, she says. My struggles aren’t the same as theirs. We all have struggles, but I think both sides undermine the humans involved in some way and take away from the universal fact that we aren’t what we look like.
- I have to take care of my career, but I have to take care of myself, she says. That balancing act has been hard for me.
- The girl behind the music is incredibly driven, brutally honest with those she loves, stubborn in a very Taurus way, trusts her intuition, believes in her voice and trusts the people around her, she says.
- This is my most honest and vulnerable chapter ever in music, so I won’t lie and say I don’t feel a little exposed, she says. I’ve usually always wanted to represent a powerful woman. Now I’m learning that vulnerability is powerful, too.
- I was so certain and so uncertain about everything, and living in so many undecided moments that somehow all of that ended up in my music, she says.
- I hope anyone that hears it can feel a little better in their uncertainty, Lopez says. For those three minutes, you do not have to decide.
- It has been a hard bar to reach sonically, she says. But I think with this music, more than ever before, you can hear it.
- Making your own path is the only perspective I can bring to anyone, Lopez says. No one road is the right road, and no one way is the end-all, be-all. Try things. Don’t believe in limits that others bestow upon you.
- Women are the most versatile creatures in existence, she says. We are creators and we are the end. We should never belittle ourselves to be just one thing. Fit into every box and fit into none at all. The world is yours.
Born in Cuba and raised in Jamaica, the emerging artist was shaped by two of the Caribbean’s most influential musical and political traditions. Her sound draws from the storytelling of Santiago de Cuba, the rhythmic pulse of Jamaican dancehall and reggae, and the emotional accessibility of pop and R&B. Yet Lopez is not interested in simply blending genres for effect. She is building a body of work rooted in truth.
My existence is inherently political, Lopez says. Being raised in the lands of men like José Martí and Marcus Garvey makes me very aware of being on the right side of history.
That awareness runs through her artistry. It can be heard in her lyricism, her willingness to confront uncertainty and her commitment to making music that reflects real human experiences rather than polished perfection. With her forthcoming chapter and new single, “Undecided,” Lopez is inviting listeners into her most vulnerable work yet.
Lopez’s earliest relationship with music began in Santiago de Cuba, where she grew up beside La Trova, the city’s National House of Music. The sounds were not occasional background noise. They were part of the rhythm of daily life.
I grew up next to the national house of music in Santiago, La Trova, she says. Storytelling through music is a skill that I learned listening to cultural Cuban music from 9 a.m. to 1 a.m.
The bongo drums drifting from next door became one of her first musical memories. She also remembers a defining childhood moment when Cuban musician Eliades Ochoa invited her onstage at just 3 years old.
When Eliades Ochoa brought me up on stage when I was 3 years old, I knew right then I wanted to stay up there with him, she says.
That early experience planted a seed that has continued to grow. In Cuba, Lopez absorbed the emotional depth and narrative tradition of the island’s music. In Jamaica, she found another education in language, rhythm and raw expression.
I learned wordplay and street poetry from the likes of Buju Banton and Vybz Kartel, she says. My writing is highly influenced by the honesty and genius of true Caribbean storytellers.
For Lopez, honesty is not simply a creative preference. It is a code. She credits Caribbean artists with teaching her that storytelling should be direct, emotionally resonant and unafraid of complexity. That same approach lives in “Undecided,” a song that confronts the messiness of young adulthood without trying to resolve it too neatly.
[Additional Read: She Carried Haiti to Spain and Built a Luxury Brand in Both Hands ]
Lopez’s Cuban and Jamaican identity has given her a rich cultural foundation, but it has also exposed her to assumptions that often come with appearance, class and migration.
I don’t think I ever got caught between my cultural identities, she says. I think I got caught in the washing down of both.
In Jamaica, she says, there can be assumptions linked to class, history, skin tone and the way a person speaks. She acknowledges the realities of colorism and pretty privilege, while pushing back against the idea that outward perception can accurately measure someone’s hardship.
There’s an idea in Jamaica that being of lighter skin or speaking a certain way means you’ve struggled less or have had fewer tribulations than most, she says. While being of a certain skin tone and having pretty privilege can make things slightly easier, my struggles are closer to those of an everyday Jamaican than most.
Her Cuban experience carries its own assumptions. Lopez says some people on the island view her life abroad as automatically easier or complete, even when that is far from the truth.
My Cuban side thinks because I live in a foreign country, my life is perfectly made, she says. My struggles aren’t the same as theirs. We all have struggles, but I think both sides undermine the humans involved in some way and take away from the universal fact that we aren’t what we look like.
It is a perspective that reflects the nuance often missing from conversations about diaspora identity. Lopez is not interested in reducing herself to one narrative, one country or one set of expectations. Instead, she is choosing to exist in the fullness of her experience.
As Lopez’s career grows, she is also learning that ambition requires boundaries. One of the most difficult lessons of the past year has been understanding how much she can take on at one time. A packed performance schedule pushed her to a breaking point, including losing her voice after taking on too many shows.
I have to take care of my career, but I have to take care of myself, she says. That balancing act has been hard for me.
For an artist whose drive is central to her identity, learning to say no has not come easily. Still, she recognizes that sustainability is part of success. Rest is not the opposite of progress. It is what makes progress possible.
Behind the artist onstage, Lopez describes herself as driven, intuitive and fiercely honest with the people she loves. She is also, in her words, “stubborn in a very Taurus way.”
The girl behind the music is incredibly driven, brutally honest with those she loves, stubborn in a very Taurus way, trusts her intuition, believes in her voice and trusts the people around her, she says.
Those traits have helped her build a life and creative practice that feel aligned with her lived experiences. They have also prepared her to enter a more exposed season of music.
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Lopez’s upcoming release marks a shift. She has often felt drawn to present the image of a powerful woman, but this new work asks a more intimate question: What if vulnerability is power, too?
This is my most honest and vulnerable chapter ever in music, so I won’t lie and say I don’t feel a little exposed, she says. I’ve usually always wanted to represent a powerful woman. Now I’m learning that vulnerability is powerful, too.
That realization sits at the center of “Undecided,” which Lopez calls “the cry of my 20s.” The single captures the tension of being certain and uncertain at once, of trying to make choices while still becoming the person who must live with them.
I was so certain and so uncertain about everything, and living in so many undecided moments that somehow all of that ended up in my music, she says.
The message is simple but deeply needed: uncertainty does not make someone weak, lost or behind. Sometimes, it is simply the most honest place to be.
I hope anyone that hears it can feel a little better in their uncertainty, Lopez says. For those three minutes, you do not have to decide.
Sonically, Lopez sees her Cuban and Jamaican influences coming together in both her production and songwriting. The result, she says, still feels rooted in radio-friendly pop and R&B, but with a distinctly Caribbean spirit beneath the surface.
It has been a hard bar to reach sonically, she says. But I think with this music, more than ever before, you can hear it.
Her artistic philosophy is equally clear. There is no single blueprint for success, especially for Caribbean women and Latina women whose identities, ambitions and creative visions may not fit within industry expectations.
Making your own path is the only perspective I can bring to anyone, Lopez says. No one road is the right road, and no one way is the end-all, be-all. Try things. Don’t believe in limits that others bestow upon you.
Her message to young Caribbean and Latina girls is a call to reject limitation in every form.
Women are the most versatile creatures in existence, she says. We are creators and we are the end. We should never belittle ourselves to be just one thing. Fit into every box and fit into none at all. The world is yours.
For Lopez, that freedom is not abstract. It is present in every lyric that tells the truth, every boundary that protects her voice and every decision to create without shrinking herself. In “Undecided,” she offers something more valuable than certainty: a reminder that becoming is allowed to be complicated.
To learn more about Arii Lopez and follow her musical journey, visit her Instagram.
