Meet the Franco-Malian pop star sparking debate over who should sing at the Olympics

Aya Nakamura performs live on stage during the Vieilles Charrues Festival, in Carhaix, France, July 14, 2023.

Julien Reynaud/APS-Medias/ABACAPRESS.COM/Reuters/File

April 25, 2024

One of the most important roles at the opening ceremony at the Paris Olympic Games this summer is likely to be performing the songs of Édith Piaf. So when President Emmanuel Macron was asked who might be tapped for such a duty, it was perhaps natural that he would suggest the most listened-to French singer on the planet: Aya Nakamura.

But the thought of Ms. Nakamura, a pop and rap artist known for salting her lyrics with slang influenced by her native Mali and of her own invention, performing the work of the beloved Ms. Piaf did not sit well with everyone. Far-right leaders called Mr. Macron’s endorsement a “provocation,” complaining that she didn’t sing in French nor represent France.

But while Ms. Nakamura may not embody the beret-wearing, baguette-carrying France of the past, many say she is the face of the country today.

Why We Wrote This

Who represents France? It’s a question that has set off a political brouhaha, as far-right leaders complain about the idea that an internationally popular Black artist might sing an Édith Piaf song at the Olympics.

France is one of the most ethnically diverse countries in Europe, and Ms. Nakamura represents several facets of the “new” France. As a Black single mother who grew up in the social housing projects of Aulnay-sous-Bois outside Paris, and is now idolized by fans around the world, she reflects a different sort of French experience – one that is growing more familiar to and common among the French citizenry.

“Aya Nakamura’s music symbolizes femininity, youth, what it means to be Black and working class,” says Gabriel Segré, a socio-anthropology professor at Paris Nanterre University who studies music and fan culture. “Her ability to ‘rise up from the bottom’ reverses the traditional codes of success and legitimacy in society. The French elite are having a fit about it.”

Aya Nakamura grew up in the Rose des Vents social housing project in Aulnay-sous-Bois. She is now the most listened-to French singer in the world.
Colette Davidson

A different sort of French star

Born Aya Danioko in Bamako, Mali, Ms. Nakamura moved with her large family to France as a child, settling into La Rose des Vents, a huge public housing project built in the 1960s in Aulnay-sous-Bois. In 2014, at age 19, she quit high school to begin her singing career, adopting the stage name “Nakamura” from a character in the U.S. TV show “Heroes.”

In 2018, she released “Djadja,” which featured her now trademark invented, African-influenced slang – including the title, a word she said means “liar.” The song became an instant hit and catapulted her to nationwide success.

Since then, Ms. Nakamura has accumulated five No. 1 songs and a double-platinum album, “Aya,” in France. In July 2021, her album “Nakamura” surpassed 1 billion streams on Spotify. She is now the most listened-to French-speaking artist in the world. 

Her style has vibrant, diverse roots.

“Nakamura gets her inspiration from various sources, from zouk to R&B,” says Marie Sonnette-Manouguian, a hip-hop expert at the University of Angers. “She uses rich and everyday language, playing with onomatopoeia and rhythm, to create an original lexicon that is easily picked up by her fans. It’s one of the factors in her success.”

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But her linguistic choices have spurred critique from the far right. The National Rally party’s Marine Le Pen said on French radio that not only did the artist dress and act in a vulgar fashion, but she didn’t sing in French. “She doesn’t sing in a foreign language and it’s not a blended language either,” said Ms. Le Pen. “It’s nonsense.”

But it is precisely Ms. Nakamura’s use of language that enables her to relate to her fans, especially the young people with whom she is particularly popular.

“Aya uses slang and expressions ... and I sing along with her,” says Roxane Sebbagh, a Franco-Algerian resident of Aulnay-sous-Bois. “All this talk about grammar and the French language is an excuse for what is more of a political problem: the idea that a Black woman from the suburbs could possibly represent France.”

Aya Nakamura performs during the Etam Live Show at Roland Garros Stadium during Paris Fashion Week, in Paris, Sept. 24, 2019.
Benoit Tessier/Reuters/File

“Édith Piaf of her time”

But Ms. Nakamura does represent France, albeit a different sort of France from the one typically in the limelight.

Though the French authorities prohibit the collection of data about citizens’ race or ethnicity, studies put the Black population at around 4%. Ms. Nakamura, having spent most of her life in France, is also part of the immigrant community, which numbered about 7 million people, or around 10% of the population, in 2022 according to official figures.

Her status as a single mother is also representative of a significant portion of the public: 25% of families are single-parent and the vast majority of those parents are women. And the economic conditions in which she grew up in La Rose des Vents – deemed by the local government to be a “priority zone” suffering from inequality, economic, and social difficulties – are shared by 5 million French people today.

While some of her critics may take umbrage at a person from such a background taking on the task of honoring Édith Piaf at the Olympics, Piaf herself came from a similar background, as the child of immigrants who spent most of her youth in poverty. In a way, says Dr. Sonnette-Manouguian, that makes Ms. Nakamura a natural to sing Piaf’s songs.

“Aya Nakamura’s audience is a varied audience,” she says. “It is also a large audience.” Ms. Nakamura would be a “rational choice” to sing at the Olympics opening, she argues, because she is “not only the first woman to appear in the ‘top artist’ 2023 list but she is also the French woman most listened to abroad, the Edith Piaf of her time.”

Ms. Nakamura is not universally beloved in France’s minority communities. “Aya doesn’t represent France or me, she represents vulgarity,” says Vanessa O, who grew up in the Paris suburb of Gif-sur-Yvette in a first-generation West African family. “What kind of example is she setting for our young people? That you can not finish school, not speak correctly and still get ahead?”

But for many of Ms. Nakamura’s fans, it is the way she overcame challenges that makes her a role model. A recent study by a group of Black organizations found that nine out of 10 Black people in France experienced racial discrimination “often.”

“What I appreciate about Aya Nakamura is her determination and capacity to succeed despite the obstacles she had to face in her life,” says Sergio Ciccano, a diversity and inclusion consultant. “I think she’s an excellent representation of France for an international audience because she incarnates the diversity and dynamism of our country.”

With the Olympic Games three months away, nothing has yet been decided about who will open or close the event. A handful of artists are in the running and Mr. Macron has said he will leave the final decision to the ceremonies’ artistic director.

But for those who love Ms. Nakamura, the choice is obvious.

“When Aya’s music is playing, everyone gets up to dance,” says Ms. Sebbagh. “That’s what we need at the Olympics: someone who can get people on their feet, having fun and coming together.”