Cultural Re-existence

The “Cultural Re-existence” column will provide insights into how our ancestral practices, habits, customs, and traditions remain alive today because Venezuelans preserve them through the human spirit they embody and amplify. These are expressions of women and men grounded in reality, history, and a consciousness of their subjective revolutionary role, as well as their responsibility and commitment to defending life.

March, in addition to being the month honoring women, is a month of celebration centered on Venezuela’s most widespread traditional rhythm: joropo. (1) And although this is a community tradition with unique variations throughout Venezuela, on March 19 the town of Elorza in Apure state hosts a ten-day festival that draws thousands of people from all over Venezuela and other countries, to participate and enjoy concerts until dawn, joropo llanero singing and dancing contests, sports and recreational activities linked to the Llano culture, as well as culinary and artisan fairs. Another iconic date this month is March 15, since in 2014 the Bolivarian government declared “Traditional Venezuelan Joropo in All its Diversity” to be part of the nation’s cultural heritage. From that moment, this date has been commemorated as National Joropo Day.

As a community-based festival, the Venezuelan joropo in its various forms—in the eastern, north-central coastal, llanos, western, and Andean regions—has seen Venezuelan women become committed cultural creators who are conscious of their community’s identity, the very identity that has allowed them to endure since colonial times, keeping alive the feelings, thoughts, and actions that extend beyond their own lives, into the lives of their children and grandchildren. 

Venezuelan women, as practitioners of the various joropos, have had to fight—as women and as joropo creators—against the Inquisition, the nation-state, and the cultural industry for their right to exist. It is well known that these institutions demonized them for “disturbing devotion,” and even today they compel them to adopt a masculinized representation of their own identity or impose the sexualization of their aesthetic expression. There is a historical debt to acknowledge the heroic insurgency that the practice, creation, and celebration of the various Venezuelan joropos have meant for the Venezuelan people, and this debt is owed primarily to the joroperas [female joropo practitioners] for their unrelenting commitment to our identities, even during the most complex moments of our history as an insurgent people.

For these reasons, we wanted to inaugurate our column with the perspective that Venezuelan women have on this popular community festival. Through Fabiola José, we were invited to the 3rd “Mujer Joropo” (Joropo Women) Gathering, held in honor of singer Cecilia Todd and dancer María Ruíz. This was our cue to attend the “Joropazo” organized at the San Carlos Barracks in Caracas on March 15, and to participate as singers and spectators in this gathering of women, an artistic-cultural initiative that brought together singers, dancers, and musicians of all ages, with repertoires integrating both the traditional music and dances of our communities and more contemporary musical and choreographic expressions that speak to multigenerational dialogue and the enduring relevance of this popular art form.

Honoring women’s role in joropo

Carolina Veracierta is the organizer of Mujer Joropo. A dancer, writer, designer, and singer, she explained to us that the project “focuses on women not just in a supporting role but as a protagonist, a creator, and carrier of ancestral knowledge.”

“For me, the joropo isn’t just a musical genre or a dance; it’s the language through which my body and my voice express my very essence. It’s the echo of my childhood in Monagas state and the strength that has sustained me on stages far away,” she explained. “When I dance the joropo, I don’t just move my feet; I shake off my sorrows, celebrate my victories, and honor the women who, before me, kept the rhythm in their skirts and in their songs to accompany the milking of cows.”

Asked about the importance of an event featuring women exclusively, Veracierta argued that joropo has historically had “a very masculine narrative” but that women have always been present, “sustaining the rhythm and in tandem with the man’s foot-stomping.”

“Celebrating it among women is an act of sorority and empowerment,” she concluded. “Joropo has the soul of a woman.”

Amaranta Pérez, another artist featured in the event, told us that joropo brings her an immediate jolt of happiness. “It takes me back to my family’s roots between Parmana and Valle de la Pascua [Guárico state], it is a sort of therapy,” she said. “I especially cherish the lyrics that express the love for our people, landscapes, history, and the folk tales from our wonderful authors that are turned into songs.”

Amaranta defended the importance of events like Mujer Joropo to help correct women’s “unequal” participation in the artistic sphere.

For her part, singer, professor, and bassoonist Luisana Pérez affirmed that “joropo for me is synonymous with Venezuela, from its history to the yellow, blue, red and eight stars that make up the national flag.”

Concerning Mujer Joropo, Luisana explained that “it was unusual to see women playing the mandolin, the harp, or the cuatro” and that these kinds of events “are a beautiful way to reclaim the role played by women in joropo.”

More than 20 artists participated in this third edition of Mujer Joropo, demonstrating the commitment of contemporary Venezuelan women to their own history, to the artistic legacy of their ancestors, and to the responsibility of preserving and promoting the heritage they now hold.

From underground communal festivity to national identity manufactured by the music industry

On April 10, 1749, the governor and captain general of Venezuela, Don Luis Francisco de Castellanos, published what may be the first documented reference to the joropo. He did so in the form of a decree banning the Xoropo Escobillado, “…due to its extreme movements, insolence, heel-stomping, and other indecencies, it has been frowned upon by some people of sound mind…”. The official decided to consult the Royal Audience on this matter, likely due to widespread controversy, and in the meantime, warned that those who violated the ban would face public scrutiny plus two years of imprisonment, and women would be “…confined to hospitals for an equal period…”.

Although this is the first formal ban to explicitly name joropo, we cannot overlook the fact that, as early as 1532, the Catholic Church’s published constitutions regulated and prohibited popular festivals in general, especially those where the music and dances of Mulatto, Black, and Indigenous women “…disturb devotion…,” or where both sexes mingle in dance, or those where the veneration of saints was a pretext for throwing a party. 

If we consider that there is evidence that the first vihuelas [medieval Spanish string instrument] arrived in 1529 in the territory we now call Venezuela, and if we acknowledge the express order of the Catholic Monarchs to ship instruments and musicians starting with Columbus’s second voyage (1493), we could infer that between these dates and Governor Castellanos’s ban, there were some 220–250 years of incubation for what would eventually become an irreversible trend in popular culture, which the colonial order had no choice but to accept.

Although the term xoropo has been interpreted as coming from Arabic as jarabe ( شراب , sharab), for the Andalusian researcher, poet, and musician Antonio Manuel Rodríguez Ramos, the root is undoubtedly that of drinking ( شرب , shurib), and he explains that initially, this is how the festival of drinking, singing, dancing, and eating might have been called. And the fact is that drinking –alcohol– was the best way for converts to avoid suspicion from the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition, which was formally operational in our country between 1610 and 1821.

Related to other rhythms including fandangos, jácaras, folías, jarabes, and sones, Venezuelan joropos were documented in the independence struggle that led Bolívar’s armies as far as Peru during the nineteenth century. In the mid-twentieth century, one of these joropos, the llanero, was established as the national music style and dance, though it was a version that had certainly lost its communal and rustic character. By then, the music industry, aware of the deep roots these sounds had in Venezuelans, marketed a series of commercial products featuring music, lyrics, and singers stylized to fit institutional, urban, and bourgeois tastes.

As we noted above, on March 15, 2014, the Venezuelan government declared “Traditional Venezuelan Joropo in All its Diversity” as part of the nation’s cultural heritage, recognizing it as an element of identity and unity –not only in many of our festivities and collective expressions throughout the country, but also as a collective process of community organization. The declaration of the diversity of joropos as cultural heritage was the result of a series of debates that took place both within the community of cultural workers and among research specialists.

With the same strategy of asserting the joropo not only as a dance but as a complex cultural system that integrates music, song, dance, poetry, and oral traditions passed down through generations, Venezuela proposed to the UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage that the Venezuelan joropo be included on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The committee approved the proposal on December 9, 2025.

Venezuelan joropos thus allow people to come together and reclaim their humanity through the recognition of their own dignity. Through parrandas, festivals for singing, dancing, eating, and drinking, joropo expresses a communal setting where agriculture, cattle rearing, and fishing were the means of sustaining life. Persecuted by the colonial order, homogenized by the nation-state, and commercialized by the music industry through jingle-franchise schemes, Venezuelan joropos also survived the journey from the rural countryside to the oil-driven urban environments.

This continuous history of persecution, denial, whitewashing, and normalization has actually pushed joropo women and men to sneak away, resonate, hold firm, reinvent themselves, and stand out in a permanent process of self-consciousness, recognition, and realization. It is not merely a connection to the land, to love, to our mothers, but to the dream of living in a free land, and the will to produce a cultural liberation project.

Note

(1) With a myriad of local expressions, joropo is the most widespread traditional rhythm in Venezuela. Its execution typically features at least one singer, maracas as percussion, the Venezuelan cuatro [four-stringed instrument], and other string instruments such as the harp or the mandolin. The most well-known variations are the joropo llanero, from the plains region, joropo oriental from the eastern coastal areas and Margarita island, and joropo central from Miranda and Aragua states in the center of the country. Listen to the songs above for examples.

Fabiola José is a Venezuelan singer. She has performed in countries across South America, Africa, Europe, and Asia. Her singles and albums are available on all digital platforms. She hosted and produced “Cantante y Sonante” for Radio Nacional de Venezuela. In 2018–2019, she created a series of videos for social media, published on her YouTube channel #HechoEnCasa. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Music from IUDEM, Caracas (2005); specialized under Maestro Tom Krause in Spain (2007); and an M.A. in Arts and Cultures of the South from UNEARTE, Venezuela (2020).

Fidel Barbarito is a Venezuelan musician and researcher, with a bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music and history, respectively. He teaches in the undergraduate and graduate programs at the National Experimental University of the Arts (UNEARTE). Together with Fabiola José, he promotes several musical projects aimed at disseminating traditional folk repertoires, integrating them with contemporary compositions inspired by these sounds. Joropo llanero. Parranda de reexistencia is one of his published essays.

The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect those of the Venezuelanalysis editorial staff.