IN CONVERSATION WITH AWICH

interview by FIONA FROMMELT

After becoming the first Japanese rapper to perform at Coachella last year, Awich has become a central figure in the globalisation of Japanese rap music. She is an example of what it means to follow your destiny, if you believe in such a thing. The Okinawan powerhouse, also known as the queen of Japanese rap, is slowly taking over the world. Mixing English, Okinawan, and Japanese, she creates a unique sound that remains relatable worldwide. With lines that flow between intense, soft, sensual and serious, if this woman shows us anything, it is the possibility of living in between contrasts, as a mom, rapper and creative powerhouse. She embodies a specific type of fearlessness.

dress and trousers SIMKHAI
jacket THE FRANKIE SHOP
shoes SHUSHU/TONG
earrings MISHO
necklaces MISHO and Awich's own

Your rap flows between Japanese, Okinawan, and English. How do the different languages shape your voice?
Each language carries a distinct rhythm of thought and emotion. Japanese sharpens my contextual expressions, because in Japanese, much is conveyed through subtlety, silence, or a shared understanding. Okinawan connects me with my roots, while English helps me to be straightforward. I believe that my job is to find what's lost in translation and articulate it in every language so that people can understand each other.

In “Butcher Shop”, you rap, “now I am making Yens like I am real Japanese”, as an Okinawan. Is that a play on the colonisation history of Okinawa? How do you navigate the complexities of identity, belonging, national pride and history in your music?
That line reflects the complex yet evolving relationship I have with my identity. Being Okinawan and living in Japan, I often feel like I’m navigating overlapping yet distinct cultures. I use music to process that reality, sometimes with humour, sometimes with reflection. It's my way of making peace with where I come from and where I stand now.

What does it mean to you to be a woman? And how does that shape the way you create?
To be a woman is to carry contrast: softness and steel, creation and destruction. Having a woman's body and a woman's mind teaches me to embrace that duality. I tell myself it's okay to be strong, it’s okay to be weak, it's okay to be happy, and it's okay to be sad.

bralettes FLEUR DU MAL
skirt and jacket STAND STUDIOS
shoes TOM FORD
earrings GUZEMA
necklaces MISHO and Awich's own
sunglasses DISTRICT VISION

You’re the first globally known female hip-hop artist from Okinawa and the biggest name in Japanese hip-hop. Now that you’ve played Coachella - and in many ways, become an idol in Japan - how did you carve out a space that allows for both being a leader and an icon, combining your contrasts of sensuality and motherhood, softness and sharpness?
By refusing to choose. I let all sides of myself exist on stage. I lead with presence and compassion, not ego. Sensuality is not a weakness; motherhood is not a limitation. I carved my space by embodying wholeness. Being called a leader is no joke. It's a huge responsibility, and I was scared to take on that role for a long time. But now that it's a reality, I just have to understand that a leader can't rip herself in half trying to please everybody. She just has to do the best she can.

Hip-hop remains intensely male-dominated and often openly misogynistic. What has it meant for you to take up space in that scene as both a woman and a mother? What did that journey demand from you?

It demanded sword and soul. I had to fight twice as hard, but I also loved twice as deeply. I had to turn my pain into poise. Being a mother gave me purpose and perspective. Together, my history is what made me stand out.

Japan’s pop culture thrives on a kind of polished perfection and uniformity. How do you protect your voice and your difference from the system?
By staying unfinished. I protect my voice by letting it break, evolve, and bleed. I don’t aim for perfection; I always strive for truth. In a system obsessed with sameness, being fully myself is the most radical act of self-expression. Don't get me wrong, Japan's polished perfection and the "peer pressure" to conform can be good in many ways. So I only try to let go of certain forms or expectations that no longer carry meaning, yet they still exist to hurt my feelings.

top DOLCE & GABBANA vintage
trousers SIMKHAI
shoes SHUSHU/TONG
earring GUZEMA and Awich's own
necklaces MISHO and Awich's own
rings CALIFORNIA DIRT and Awich's own

Listening to your music, there’s this undeniable force, power, clarity, and fearlessness. How did you find that voice? Or maybe how did you let it find you?
My voice was hidden under silence and conformity, but all along it was there inside of me. I found it through all the nights I stayed up, writing diaries, poems, and lyrics, and talking to myself.

That reminds me of The Artist’s Way, which speaks to surrendering to the creative flow and energy all around us. Do you too feel like you’re channelling a certain energy when you create?
Yes. I’m a vessel. I carry the voices of my ancestors, the cries of my island, the dreams of every girl who was told she was too much. When I create, I’m not alone. Of course that’s the idealised version. To this day, it's not easy. I have to sift through all that noise—the noise of business, numbers, approval, comparison, and so on. That's why talking to myself, through things like a diary and meditation is key for my mental health and my output as an artist. 

Was there a moment when you surrendered and became so dedicated and undeniably fearless to follow that voice? And do you still feel that way today?
It was when I came out of the depression after losing my husband. That was the lowest place I’d ever been. But when I started to rise from it, I realised that I had nothing left to protect except the truth. Grief stripped away every illusion. Once I came out of the depression, I promised my daughter that I was going to be the best in Japan and make her proud. Since then, fear has never had the final say. I’m not fearless every day, but I never run away from challenges and try to face them head on.

So you write and perform to confront? Is this process of writing and performing somewhat cathartic for you? Or a way of turning the personal into something immortal?
Yes, I definitely write to confront. Performance, for me, is a ritual. The stage is where my pain becomes poetry, where my memories become a legend.

jacket PRADA vintage
culottes LEVI’S
shoes SIMON MILLER
earring MISHO
necklaces MISHO and Awich's own
rings CALIFORNIA DIRT and Awich's own
sunglasses DISTRICT VISION

How does performing make you feel?
I feel infinite. My form disappears, and only energy remains. Performing my music is allowing me to connect with everything.

People call you the Queen of Japanese Hip-Hop, not just because of your success but because of your depth, devotion, and energy. Queendom, motherhood, and being a musician all come with legacies. What does that mean to you? What do you want to be your legacy?
The title of a Queen is, to me, someone who does for the people. I strive to bring people together, working to solve problems and foster an understanding of one another. Where I finish will be the next generation's start line, and that will be my legacy.

Hip-hop was born as a form of resistance. It is a response to occupation, erasure, and colonisation. What does rebellion look like to you now?
Rebellion is staying authentic in a world full of distractions. It’s not always loud or aggressive; it can be quiet yet consistent.  For me, rebellion is about choosing honesty over performance, connection over competition, and embracing authenticity, thereby creating a space where others feel safe being fully themselves, too.

TEAM CREDITS:

talent AWICH
photography RETO STERCHI
styling REGINA DOLAND
makeup SHANNON PEZZETTA at A-Frame Agency
hair DEREK YUEN at A-Frame Agency
styling assistant MADDISON ROTHERY
production JESSE SIMON
studio OTHER PEOPLES CHILDREN
bikes KARL GLUSMAN, JESSE SIMON and SHOOT WITH X
editor TIMI LETONJA
editorial director JANA LETONJA
interview FIONA FROMMELT