How Karol G Returned to Her Roots and Raised the Bar

D
espite the many peaks in Karol G’s career since she broke out of the music scene in Medellín (where she began performing as a teenager and playing the quinceañera circuit with fellow locals like J Balvin), the 34-year-old singer still exudes a near-breathless incredulity when describing a few of the milestones she hit this year. “I’ve done legendary stages that never in my life I imagined I’d perform in, like the Vatican or Crazy Horse or at Victoria’s Secret,” she says, every word vibrating with glee.

Those moments — Karol duetting with Andrea Bocelli in St. Peter’s Square or taking over the legendary Parisian cabaret — were all in some way or another the result of Tropicoqueta, the gamble of an album she released in June. It wasn’t typical of Karol’s albums, which have toggled between happy-go-lucky party queen and tough-talking bad bitch while launching reggaeton hit after reggaeton hit. Tropicoqueta was a deeper excavation of her roots in Colombia. She tried out traditional rhythms like folksy vallenato and ballads about profound heartbreak with Eighties legends like Mexican singer Marco Antonio Solís. “Songs like ‘Coleccionando Heridas’ and ‘Ese Hombre Es Malo’ remind me of the music that I used to listen to when I was in school,” she says. “I wanted this album to get to those feelings and that nostalgia.”

Some people didn’t get it — and still don’t. Tropicoqueta was easily her most polarizing project, one that didn’t fit into the commercial objectives that preceded it. She remembers just how intense the early reactions were: “‘I love the album, it’s crazy.’ ‘I hate the album.’ ‘It’s so special.’ ‘The album is just garbage,’” she recounts. 

But once she started focusing on her original intentions — how she wanted to celebrate the novelty dances at family parties called La Hora Loca, and to shout out her tias who used to dance in the kitchen — she saw how emotionally the project landed for so many people. On TikTok, girls posted videos singing the songs with their grandmothers; others proudly did choreography to the anthem “Papasito.” She wasn’t just representing where she comes from, but also inspiring pride and encouraging fans to embrace their Latinidad. “I went back to my memories of being on tour,“ she says, “people bringing their flags in every single concert, flags from Mexico, Argentina, Colombia, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, and me feeling that I was bringing a piece of home to every place I went.” 

That sense of joy and self-identity felt even more necessary in 2025, when immigration crackdowns and anti-Latino rhetoric pervaded the culture. Karol has been outspoken about what she’s seen in the political arena, issuing a statement on her Instagram amid the ICE protests that swept the U.S. over the summer. How did it feel to shine a light on a community that was engulfed in so much ugliness? She pauses for a second. “Oh, that question made me a little emotional,” she confesses. “This year, I knew a lot of people that started feeling ashamed or shy to show that they were Latinos, and that was super hard to watch.… It felt so hard on my heart.”

In a lot of ways, Karol has always understood the responsibility of being seen as a beacon for fans. Sure, she’s known for her bubbly disposition, but there’s a grit to her that’s come from clawing her way through an unforgiving, male-dominated industry. It’s part of the reason she wanted to dive into nonprofit work with her foundation, Con Cora, which supports women and girls in Latin America who have come from vulnerable or abusive backgrounds. Karol rebuilt her childhood school in Medellín in 2024, with the idea of creating a safe space. She understands that need intimately: Earlier this year, she released a Netflix documentary in which she tearfully recounted being harassed at just 16 by a former, much-older manager. “I can do 105 documentaries and a thousand interviews, and nobody is going to understand how hard it was to be a woman in a room with a lot of people with so much power that can make you feel really small,” she explains.

So much of this year taught her to believe in herself, and it’s ended on a high: Last week, Karol took home the award for Song of the Year at the 2025 Latin Grammys, winning for her chart-topping hit “Si Antes Te Hubiera Conocido.” She used the opportunity to encourage anyone else who might be too afraid of criticism to chase his or her dreams. “There are so many people at home who think they’re not good enough or professional enough to do what they want,” she said onstage, holding the trophy. ”Forget the world, forget the noise… Love and passion over talent, and passion and obsession for what you do.”

And there’s more left to do. Currently, Karol is developing a visual album version of Tropicoqueta, which she expects to come out in December. “I’ve been working on it since March, recording in different places around the world where it’s kind of a movie,” she says. Then, in 2026, she’ll become the first Latina to headline Coachella, another spotlight that will give thousands of people a chance to be seen. Karol admits that at first, she had some trepidation about accepting the offer. “When I got the call, I was like, ‘Am I ready?’” she remembers. “And then I was like, ‘Yeah. I really need to do this.’” She’s been rehearsing the show since the beginning of the year, working on choreography done by Parris Goebel, who also had a hand in Lady Gaga’s Coachella set.

It’s not lost on her what this next stage of her career means. “Feeling the responsibility of representing my community, it’s heavy,” she admits. “But I feel like I’m ready.”