COP16: Betty Garcés, Colombian soprano: “My task is to open the way for the generations to come”

Sadness transformed Betty Garcés Bedoya (Buenaventura, 41 years old). In a small room of her house in the port on the Pacific, surrounded by books and paintings, a little girl wanted to scream about a family tragedy, and ended up singing. Thus, without knowing it, he found in his voice the way to process the pain. Decades later, she is one of the most important sopranos in Latin America and will sing at the opening of the most important international event in recent years in the country: the United Nations Conference on Biodiversity in Cali. Before that concert, in a fleeting visit to his family, he spoke with EL PAÍS about how he has faced racism, migration and what he dreams for his region.

It was there, in the capital of Valle del Cauca, where he spent his adolescence and where he studied at the Antonio María Valencia Conservatory. Then, caught up in the charm of classical music, thanks to the support of her mentor, she sought to study at the Higher School of Music in Cologne, Germany, her gateway to the great stages of opera. It wasn’t easy, he says. He faced prejudice against Latinos, racism, fatphobia. Despite everything, the spirit of her homeland, where opportunities are scarce but people look for them daily, drives her to continue. After 15 years in Germany, she has sung on prestigious stages around the world, from Thailand to New York.

From time to time she returns to Colombia and visits her mother in Cali, a city where people recognize her on the streets. In the middle of this interview, a young woman who was watching her from afar approached, hugged her and burst into tears. “Thank you, thank you, teacher,” said that woman, from a small municipality in troubled Cauca who, taking her as an example, is now studying to be an opera singer. “It is necessary to survive violence to tell our story, and it is necessary to tell our story to survive violence,” Garcés answers.

Q. Your first approaches to music were atypical, they arose from a tragedy, what was that like?

R. There was a difficult period for my family. My father, a wonderful man, once had difficulties with alcohol. That hit my mother, who suffered greatly and tried to protect us, keeping quiet about what was happening. I took that silence not as protection, but as rejection, which made me grow up with a slightly hurt heart. I isolated myself quite a bit, I closed myself off. Just around that time, when I was 10 or 11 years old, my grandmother got sick and died. It was very difficult, because she was the one who openly showed me affection. Through her I experienced love. Without her, I had no chance to speak. It was like losing my home.

In order to process it I locked myself in the San Alejo room of the house. I built myself a shelter with my toys, and I spent most of my time there. In that process, being there alone, I started trying to get out the things that I felt like I couldn’t process. One day, melodies began to flow from my insides that helped me express that pain, that sadness, those strong emotions that I was dealing with and that I didn’t have the opportunity to express in words. Those were my beginnings with singing.

Q. What had your childhood been like? What was it like growing up in Buenaventura in the 80s?

R. I grew up in El Trapiche, a middle class neighborhood. My father, José Garcés, was a mathematics teacher and school coordinator. My mother was an artist and craftsman, she made many beautiful things with her hands and she was also a great example for me. The house was full of music, of the salsa that my dad loved, but also full of noise, laughter, crying, screaming, because we were a large and particular family. I grew up in that era when it was possible for children to go out and play in the street all day, run up and down, ride their bicycles. Everyone knew who was who, and the doors of the houses were always open.

Q. His father was very important in his career…

R. Yes a lot. At 16, when he returned from the Conservatory in Cali, I told him: “I think I want to make a living from this. That’s what I want to do,” and he responded: “My daughter, I understand, but what are you going to live on? “Artists in Colombia are not well paid.” I always answered him that I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but that I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It was a need of my heart. He understood it, and told me: “count on me, I will always be there.”

Q. In Colombia, not many people are dedicated to opera or prefer that genre. How did you end up in that field?

R. I arrived at the conservatory without knowing what lyrical singing was and without knowing what I was going to sing. I had only been to popular singing workshops. I read “singing” and I just thought, “how nice, let’s sing ballads and Colombian music,” but no. Everything was a surprise. Then, I got hooked on an American singer, Jessye Norman. I listened to it on a cassette from a teacher who, since I didn’t know the genre, took me to her house and showed me. Among them was a recording of Norman singing Wesendonck Lieder, German songs by Richard Wagner. I listened to them and everything was reconfigured for me, even though I understood absolutely nothing of what she was singing nor did I know that Norman was African-American.

Q. How was the change living in Germany?

R. I arrived in 2009, when I was 26 years old. I achieved it after waiting a period, because I left with a scholarship put together between companies in Cali, colleagues and friends. It was a beautiful adventure designed by my teacher Francisco Vergara. He was the reason I was able to go to Cologne, that I was able to start dreaming bigger. After six months he was already speaking German, with grammatical errors but he spoke it. There were many difficult and lonely moments and changes, and to this day some things hit me very hard. Also, in the entire school there were only two Afro people, my singing teacher and me. I didn’t think this was going to be so relevant, but it was, you could see the looks and the comments.

Q. Did you experience acts of racism?

R. Yes, indirectly and directly. For example, when it came to assigning roles, my voice could work for many things. But I was black, but also because I came from where I came from, because I was Latina and I was a plus-size woman, so it was not possible for me to sing certain genres, even though it was my right as a master’s student in opera. That continues to be a struggle, even though today there are stage directors who are more open to different concepts, less classic or traditional. But it was a shame that I had not had the opportunities I deserved, as a student and in the first period of my professional life.

Later I went through Berlin and my first experience there was a bit traumatic with racism. I got on a bus and sat next to someone, and that person immediately stood up and sat somewhere else. They were hateful experiences that are not worth highlighting.

Q. On the other hand, have you been surprised by the reception anywhere?

R. I really remember some concerts we had in Bangkok, in Thailand, with the philharmonic there. It was quite special because I had the opportunity to sing Latin American songs. There are a couple of photos that show me outside after the concert giving autographs. The entire theater was welcoming them, everyone wanted to take photos.

Q. Is there any other concert that generated a particular affection for you?

R. Yes, one that I gave in the Buenaventura cathedral. That day everyone went to mass, to get their seats for the concert. It was super nice to see the church full, with about a thousand people that could fit 400. I was worried that I was going to sing a classic repertoire from around the world, in Italian, in French, in German, and what would happen if people didn’t understand? But that didn’t matter, people were happy and attentive to see what it was that I had gone so far to learn. The music crossed language barriers, we closed with My Bonaventure, and the entire church stopped. They sang together, even those who had stayed outside. It was unforgettable.

Q. Perhaps this euphoria has to do with the fact that stories of achievements of this type are not very common in the port. What lessons has that success left you?

R. I have felt my story as the one that goes through the world opening a path that does not exist, with the machete in the hand opening to be able to pass. My task is to open the way for the generations to come and return as an observer, to see where I find those diamonds to tell them about this story. Let them know that just as they are, I was, and that they also have the opportunity to do something much greater than what the environment is offering them. Break chains of oppression, slavery and scarcity with the simple act of bringing a little light so that they themselves can see how great they are.

Q. Have you thought about returning to live in your country?

R. Yes, but not yet. For now, I have many projects for the Colombian Pacific. I hope that it can connect with the world, that cultural and musical exchanges can be generated with the purpose of knowing each of our cultures in depth.

Q. What does Buenaventura sound like? What does the Pacific sound like?

R. The Pacific sounds like home to me, I can’t even put it into words. It is a state of calm, of “everything is fine,” of “this is where I belong and where I want to be.”