Why seeing Shakira’s concert at SoFi Stadium was life-changing but also disappointing
I must preface this personal blog by saying that Shakira was the first musical artist I ever fell in love with, and she will always be special to me for how she impacted my childhood and helped shape my views on female empowerment. However, this isn’t a fanatical look back at her concert at SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles on August 4, 2025, but rather an honest and critical reflection from a lifelong fan.
The formation of a childhood icon
I was raised in a mostly Caucasian, conservative-leaning town in California, so being a Mexican Armenian American came with its challenges. From a very early age, I grew up thinking I was different because I didn’t look like the white Disney princesses I saw on TV. I was an extremely sensitive child, so this deeply impacted my childhood. For example, my feelings were so intense that I gave up swimming regularly (a sport I loved) because I knew being in the sun too much was darkening my skin, making me feel even more removed from my mostly-white community. I didn’t look like the other girls, and that not only affected me as a child but also had lasting impacts that I’m still working through as an adult.
I’m sharing all of this because when I later discovered Shakira as a teenager in middle school, it was the first time I heard others commenting on the beauty of a Latina. For the first time, I thought, “Could I also be beautiful the way that I am?”
I quickly became a superfan. I don’t speak Spanish, but I learned every single lyric of every song she had ever produced, in both Spanish and English. I would listen to her music, memorize the lyrics, read translations, and learn their meanings. I watched her music videos and every performance she ever did, memorizing her dance moves and practicing in my room for hours. I clung to Shakira because she was the only reflection of strength and beauty that allowed me to believe in myself during that time.
The first time I saw her live in concert
Finally, when I was in college, I had the privilege of seeing Shakira live in concert during her Oral Fixation tour in 2006. On my way back to school for my sophomore year in Massachusetts, my dad took me to her show in Phoenix on August 11th at the U.S. Airways Center. I loved the show so much that I had to see it again, so I went on my first solo trip to Miami.
I had a single ticket to her December 9th show at the American Airlines Arena. I arrived early and waited for the doors to open. As the doors finally swung open, I noticed another fan wearing the same merch I had bought at the earlier show in Phoenix. As we got closer to the doors, I greeted her with a “Hi!” and quickly learned that her friend had bailed on her. She had an extra second-row ticket, and at that moment, she asked if I wanted to join her. I don’t need to tell you what my answer was, but I will say that when we got to the seats, I burst into tears, knowing I was moments away from seeing my childhood icon up close and personal.
Fun fact: they filmed the tour DVD that night—and I’m in it! Below is a picture of me during Shakira’s performance of “La Pared,” fully obsessed and fully crying.
This was the last time I saw Shakira live until the SoFi show this week, and there was a very good reason for that.
Cha-cha-changes
After the Oral Fixation tour, Shakira’s next album was She Wolf, and when that album dropped in 2009, I cried. This time, not out of love and admiration, but out of pity for someone I had loved for her down-to-earth, often funny, and definitely always creative and clever lyrics—who had now produced music I didn’t even recognize. This was the artist who had just written and produced the Fijación Oral Volumen 1 album, which included the song “La Tortura” with lyrics like, “No solo de pan vive el hombre, y no de excusas vivo yo,” which essentially means, “One can’t live on bread alone, just like I can’t live off your excuses,” and then turned around with She Wolf and wrote the song “Give It Up To Me,” singing, “So put me in a cage and lock me away, and I’ll play the games that you want me to play.” 🤢
One month after releasing She Wolf, Shakira told Rolling Stone magazine, “I know that this is my moment in America… This is my chance to consolidate a career and my dreams as an artist in the U.S., so that I can continue making music for a long time and traveling the world.” The reporter goes on to explain that what Shakira meant was that she believed this was her last chance to solidify herself as an icon in the United States before having children. But what I took it to mean was that she wrote She Wolf in a bid to capture fans, not because the music was true to her, but because it’s what she thought would sell and make her a star in the United States. 🤢🤢🤢
As a result, I fell out of love and watched from afar as she introduced backup dancers more regularly to her performances and traded bare feet for high heels.
Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran
Flash forward to 2024, and Shakira’s latest album Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran was written and produced in the aftermath of a massively public breakup. She split from Gerard Piqué, who had cheated on her after over ten years together and two children. This album was about empowerment, turning heartbreak into profits (“Las mujeres ya no lloran, las mujeres facturan,” which essentially means “Women don’t cry anymore, women make money”), and I was here for it. That year, Shakira was my top artist on my Spotify Wrapped, so when she announced the tour, I immediately bought first-row tickets—for me, my husband, and my sister-in-law. And even when Shakira canceled all U.S. tour dates two weeks before the tour was expected to start, I still bought tickets to the rescheduled show. And even when that got rescheduled again, I kept my tickets and solidified my plans to be there.
The show
My completely shameful toxic trait is that I have to be front row at a show, or at least pretty close to it. For Shakira’s show at SoFi this week, I sat in the third row from the catwalk on the floor. For me, the show was about her. Seeing her so close, I was in awe of her again. My husband, who, unlike me, is usually so even-keeled, was overjoyed and kept saying, “She’s such an amazing performer.” We were both enamored and loved every minute of the show.
That being said, it was just that—a show. It was a spectacle. Shakira came out in a Versace tracksuit. There was lots of choreography and she was flanked by backup dancers most of the night. Her outfits were flashy and sparkly. It was an electric show.
I cried during Antología, Si Te Vas, and Pies Descalzos, because of the nostalgia of seeing her perform these songs live in 2006 and because of the fear that this may be the last time I ever see her perform those songs—or any songs.
The reason why that 2006 show in Miami was so impactful for me was that it wasn’t a spectacle. It was down-to-earth, done barefoot, with minimal makeup, and with only backup dancers for the closing number: “Hips Don’t Lie.” It was her. Raw. Vulnerable. Real. In 2006, I saw Shakira. In 2025, I saw a show that Shakira was putting on.
Conclusion
I know I sound like every fan who sees their favorite artist from the beginning and over time becomes disillusioned by how they change, but for me, it’s deeper than that. As I mentioned earlier, Shakira was a source of empowerment for me as a teen, and while this latest tour may be a spectacle, just the mere fact that she turned tears over the failing of a long-term relationship into a sold-out stadium tour in the United States (breaking records globally as well, I might add) makes me proud to be a fan of hers. She’s not the same Shakira. I get that. I loved her then, and I can appreciate who she has become and what she has overcome to get here. Seeing her at SoFi was life changing because despite everything, she’s risen above it to truly make an impact on my life and so many others, but I will still hold on to the woman I saw in 2006 and the woman I know is underneath those clothes.