Neena Roe: A Trip Through the Diasporas in ‘ROSAS’
The Iranian-American musician taps her trilingual side, singing in Persian and Spanish.
Photography by Jacob Consenstein
When you speak Persian, English, and Spanish, romantic experiences–whether it be heartbreak or finding your soulmate–are felt seamlessly, to the point that no translation is needed to understand the message she’s conveying. That’s the story of Neena Roe. Born and raised in Detroit, the Iranian-American trilingual musician is bridging gaps amongst language and diasporic barriers.
In her newest song, “ROSAS,” Roe confronts love lost that also feels etched into the soul. The song, sung in Persian, Spanish, and English, marries the concept of a romance language and a poetic language to express her lived experiences. Duality is key for the multifaceted musician, incorporating a softness and harshness in the dynamic of her sound–an unspoken reality that we as humans face more than we’d like to admit in many situations.
I sat down with Roe at the beloved Café Colmado, where her love for Spanish music and the culture was even more activated. Here, we talked about the foundation of “ROSAS,” how and why she learned Spanish, the ease and hardships she encounters while creating, and how she immerses herself into worldwide diasporas to inspire her work for an inclusive listening experience.
You speak three languages. How did your upbringing impact how you make music? How did you learn Spanish?
My first language is Persian. Growing up, my parents only spoke to me in Persian. They had a desire for me to know my native language, and it was their most comfortable language. I’ve always had a love for the Spanish language. When I was a kid, I took Spanish classes. I remember being 10 years old listening to Daddy Yankee, and I didn’t understand what they were saying, but I connected to it and loved it. I watched old YouTube videos of people dancing perreo when I was young. I always felt attracted to the music, the language–all of it.
When I was in high school, right before I graduated, I decided to take a year to engulf myself and learn more about community-building efforts in my religious community, but in another part of the world. My dad did not want me to do this because he said I wasn’t going to go to college. I said, ‘Yes, I am.’ The way I got him to agree to me doing this was by learning the language of wherever I go. I really wanted to become fluent in Spanish, so I decided to go somewhere in Latin America and looked into the different opportunities. There is a school in El Salvador, and they needed support. I was trained in the different types of programming they have at the school because that programming is consistent in Baha’i communities around the world.
I knew what I needed to do there, so I lived in El Salvador for a year. In the beginning, my Spanish was next to nothing. Eventually, I realized I had to learn, and in order to learn, I had to really try. You can live somewhere and never learn the language, so I had to deal with sounding silly and messing things up–there’s no other way to learn. Because I grew up with two languages, it was a bit easier for my brain to pick up a third one.
When I moved back, I minored in Chicano and Latino Studies in undergrad. When I started different jobs, I also had to speak Spanish. I did a fellowship that was grassroots community-building work in a predominantly Spanish-speaking community in the U.S. as well. In all of these experiences, not only did my linguistic abilities expand, but I also learned more about cultural context. It’s one thing to speak a language, but it’s another thing to really speak the humor, references, and slang.
Southwest Detroit is a predominantly Mexican neighborhood. Growing up near there on East Warren and Cadieux, did that have anything to do with learning Spanish?
Not so much growing up. Most of my community and friends were Black-American, so I didn’t have a ton of Latin American influence in my childhood in terms of the people around me. But when I moved back to Detroit, I did spend more time in Southwest. I’ve worked with a lot of Hispanic and Latino creatives. The Mexican community that I was most immersed in was in Santa Ana, California, and I maintained all of those relationships.
You’ve done a great job incorporating that knowledge of the Spanish language and cultures into your music. What is your creative process for making multi-lingual songs, and how do you keep it cohesive?
I’ve written music in Spanish in the past, but I never released any of it. For some reason, I felt more freedom to write in Spanish. I felt less pressure for perfection, and it opened up a lot of space for me to breathe and create. Writing in Spanish was a layer of protection for me. I don’t know where that comes from, but it was easier for me to write about my heartbreak in Spanish than it was in English. It’s a romance language that has the same kind of drama that Persian has. Our language is very poetic, and that’s the parallel between them.
I actually started writing the song in Spanish. I wrote it at my parents’ house. I was living at home at the time. My parents were always home and never went anywhere [laughs]. It was so annoying. One day, they finally went out, and I said, ‘Thank God.’ I sat in our dining room, and as I was writing it, I thought about how it would be cool if I put some Persian in it.
People would always tell me to integrate Persian into my music, but it was hard for me because I speak ‘house Persian.’ I don’t speak ‘poetic prose Persian,’ that’s super proper. A lot of Persian music is written very properly. I’ve always had this complex that my Persian is not good enough. I also intentionally picked certain words that I knew were also Arabic words, so that there was an inclusivity in the song. I picked certain words that meant the same in both languages because I want the broadest amount of people to feel seen through this song.
You can hear the oud being played in the song by my friend Sohail Bagheri. The oud is a Middle Eastern instrument, but he’s Persian and grew up in Abu Dhabi. I wanted to encompass all of these really beautiful and rich musical influences that are all interconnected.
Do you think speaking house Persian made the song more perfect in comparison to speaking proper Persian?
It made it more me. If the song were in formal Persian, it would not have been authentic to me. I don’t speak that way. People ask me if I would ever make an original song entirely in Persian, and I wouldn’t because I only want to sing things that feel like they’re from me. I write all of my own music, so I literally just could not write that.
The cover art has Persian airbrushed on your cheek. What does that represent?
The airbrush says, ‘gol-e sorkh,’ which is the word ‘rose’ in Persian. This incredible tattoo artist [Noore Yazigi] designed the calligraphy. It’s supposed to mimic a face tattoo, and tattoos are something that is so permanent. You can laser a tattoo off or cover it, but that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s etched into you. The song is about a love that’s etched into you. Even though it’s lost love–someone who you weren’t with in the end. This song is a very real experience.
Can you elaborate on the emotions you faced while writing “ROSAS?”
It took me over a year to finish writing it because I was in and out with the person I wrote it about. I have a hard time writing about things when I’m in them. I like to be a little removed from it because I like to be more present and reflect back on what happened and write about it with a clearer head. When I’m in the moment, I’m so enmeshed in the experience. I like to be able to look at a canvas and paint the picture, versus being inside of it. For that reason, it was hard to write it.
At one point, I had a line in there that wasn’t accurate to the situation. It was something that had to do with someone else. I changed it because it wasn’t fair to this person. I had to go back and change it to something that was more accurate. The beauty of the song is that there’s this duality within it. There’s this hardness and softness where you’re saying, ‘I lost myself because of you’ in a lot of ways. But at the same time, you’re saying, ‘I pray for you’ because you’re not a bad person. I love you, but it just didn’t work. A lot of times, music is so extreme. I either hate you or am obsessed with you, but a lot of things in the world exist in this space of duality, and that’s what this song is about.
Now that the song is finished, how are you feeling?
I’m so excited because I feel like this song opened up a world for me. I feel more excited about it than I felt about anything musically or otherwise. This is me showing this pocket of Iranianness that I exist in, which is under-explored, and that is so unique. I have all these ideas of how I want to interact with Persian music of the past–this concept of nostalgia is such a beautiful thing. It’s been one of the most rewarding parts of my musical journey this past year.
When you play with that intersection of the old and new, you help bridge generations. I’ve had people message me and tell me, ‘You sang this 1950s Iranian-Persian pop song, and my grandma and I sang your cover together.’ How cool is it that this song is now an opportunity for a grandmother and granddaughter to connect? I want an album that encompasses that.
The weaving in of the Spanish is something that is so true to me. 70% of the time, I’m listening to Spanish music. I listen to Bolero, Salsa, Bachata, Merengue, Spanish folk, Reggaeton, and Flamenco. I love that you can hear a lot of the Middle Eastern influences within the [Spanish-language music] too. I’m really excited to continue exploring this pocket. The fact that it’s resonated with so many people is the most validating thing ever.
You’ve recently been getting a lot of attention with a performance at Public Records and features in The Persian Magazine and Art and Bloom. How has that helped the evolution of your career so far?
It’s always really affirming and motivating when you have different publications, events, and organizations reach out to you to be a part of what they’re trying to build and create. I always welcome those things, and they make me really happy. I also like to be able to create my own spaces. I had a brunch and concert experience that I did last December. Seeing the way people responded to that–how hungry people are for those types of community spaces.
It’s so affirming and motivates me to create more and more. At the end of the day, I want my music to bridge gaps and bring people together to create a sense of connectedness in a world that’s feeling increasingly disconnected. At the end of the day, we all have more in common than we have different. We are more powerful when we’re unified. Everything is set up to divide us right now because it’s easier to control people that way. I just hope that my music can be something that can effectively bring people together. Music is one of the only things created by human beings, but it is spiritual in nature. It connects us to something bigger and higher than ourselves. Nothing else does that. It’s so special and so underappreciated.
We don’t do enough to protect artists and the people creating the culture. All we do is push them into the fringes, and then we act surprised when nothing is popping off. You have to keep your head down and keep going. If I were to cry or lose sleep over the things that I don’t have in my music career, I’d be crying and losing sleep 24/7.
There’s so much that I do have, and I’m so appreciative of it. It motivates me to go out there and get more. Sometimes, that’s a hard way to look at it, but the people who will notice you will notice you, and the people who won’t, won’t–but your career is not going to live or die by that. It has all to do with the authenticity with which you’re moving. You will attract the people who connect most with what you’re doing, and that’s what you want.
How do you want people to see your work, and what message do you want to convey to listeners of all cultures?
I want people to feel seen when they listen to my music. I want them to not only feel connected to others, but also to themselves. I want the music to be a comfort blanket to people in the healthiest way.
You released an EP in 2024. How is “ROSAS” preparing you for a bigger, different kind of body of work?
Forget everything you know about me. She’s brand new. She’s reborn. It’s a complete 180. What’s the same is that it’s honest, thoughtful, and intentional. But it’s bigger, braver, and encompasses the entirety of who I am in a way that nothing else I’ve done has.
Have you started working on the new album?
Yes. I’ve started producing and I’m finding the right people who understand the intersection in which I’m trying to work. That part’s been kind of tough, but little by little, I’m finding them.
Can we expect more trilingual music?
Oh, yes. A lot.
What are some of your goals as you continue to create and release more music?
My overarching goal is to be able to dedicate the most time possible to doing what I love most, which is making music. The beautiful plus of it would be that it would be able to reach as many people as possible. I want my music to help me take care of my family. If I could spend the next 20 years making music and it being the center of my life, then baby Neena would be ecstatic about that.
Is there anything you want to say to your new and old fans?
The way I’ve been embraced by the Iranian community has probably been one of the most humbling and beautiful parts of all of this–not only Iranians within the diaspora, but Iranians who are born and raised in Iran. I’ve never been to Iran, and that’s the caveat of it all. It’s a gift that’s been really special. Thank you so much, first and foremost. I hope that everything I can continue to release makes them proud to be a fan of mine.
