Fall in Love With the Process: FEEFA on Music, Mindset, and Salvadoran Representation
Salvadoran rapper FEEFA talks about nearly a decade of making music, staying hungry, trusting the process, and building a stronger Salvadoran creative community.
There’s something powerful about watching an artist grow over time—not just seeing the finished music videos or stage performances, but witnessing the work that happens in between.
Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to photograph Salvadoran rapper FEEFA, document his performances at different Salvadoran community events, shoot Polaroids with him, and watch his creative evolution happen in real time. Now he’s putting out music videos featuring lowriders, bigger concepts, strong visuals, and his own distinct style.
So getting to finally share a stage with him at Noche de Herencia Salvadoreña felt like a full-circle moment.
But when we talked, the conversation went beyond music. It was really about what it takes to keep building.
Nearly a Decade in the Game
FEEFA has been making music for years, but he doesn’t talk like someone who feels like he has “arrived.” If anything, he still approaches his career like he’s getting started.
“I’m still learning,” he told me. “Kind of like I’m still starting.”
That mindset is a big part of what keeps him moving. When something good happens, he doesn’t sit back and get comfortable.
“Something good happens, I’m like, all right, now what’s next? What’s the next move?”
That hunger comes through when he talks about the work behind his music. He’s putting in hours behind Pro Tools, working on videos, writing, developing creative ideas, and constantly looking for new ways to be authentic.
Fall in Love With the Process
During our conversation, we got into an idea that applies to pretty much anyone trying to create something of their own: don’t fall in love with the end goal; fall in love with the process.
FEEFA immediately connected with the idea.
“The process is gonna teach you,” he said. “The process is where you learn the most.”
We spend so much time thinking about the finished song, the finished film, the sold-out show, the recognition, or the award that it’s easy to forget where the actual growth happens.
The process is where you make mistakes, figure out what doesn’t work, find your voice, and get better. And when you finally reach the goal you’ve been chasing, you may realize that the journey changed you more than the outcome ever could. As FEEFA put it, once you get there, you’ll look back and realize that the process was the real challenge—and the real reward.
That hit me because whether you’re making music, shooting film, photographing people, building a business, or creating something for your community, there isn’t some magical finish line where suddenly you’ve “made it.”
You make the music, shoot the film, play the show, tell the story, fail sometimes, learn, and then wake up and do it again.
You have to fall in love with the process.
“I’m Not Doing This Shit Alone No More”
That idea took on another meaning when we talked about Salvadoran representation.
FEEFA has been putting the Salvadoran flag into his content for years, representing his culture through his music and visuals while building his career independently. But standing on a stage surrounded by other Salvadoran artists gave him a different feeling.
“I’m like, all right, I’m not doing this shit alone no more.”
That line stuck with me because culture doesn’t grow through one person. It grows when more people start creating—musicians, filmmakers, photographers, designers, chefs, and storytellers who are willing to put their Salvadoran identity into whatever they do.
FEEFA described it in terms of an algorithm. The more people who put Salvadoran culture into the world, the more people start seeing it. One person posts about pupusas, another artist shows up in the next post, then another musician, filmmaker, chef, or photographer. It all starts adding up.
That’s why spaces like Noche de Herencia Salvadoreña matter. We don’t have to wait for somebody else to decide our artists deserve to be seen. We can create the stages, create the events, document the work, celebrate our artists, and build our own spaces.
“Some Motherfuckers Got Grammys…”
Then came one of my favorite moments of the conversation.
Talking about performing that night and seeing so many Salvadoran artists in one place, FEEFA said:
“Some motherfuckers got Grammys. I got a Curtido TV award. Hell yeah.”
It’s funny, but there’s something real underneath that joke. Recognition from your own community matters. A Curtido TV award might not have the same name recognition as a Grammy, but it represents people who saw the work and wanted to celebrate it.
You don’t always need someone from the outside to tell you that what you’re doing matters. Sometimes your own people seeing you is enough.
That shit means something.
Recognizing Each Other’s Work
The conversation went both ways. I asked FEEFA what he thought about Salvi Food Tour, the documentary project I’ve been working on around Salvadoran food and the people behind it.
He told me it took him a moment to realize that I was the one who shot it. Then he started breaking down the filmmaking—the angles, the visuals, the story, the comedy, and the emotions. He said it made him mad, happy, sad, and hungry, then laughed about it.
But underneath the jokes, what I appreciated was that he was recognizing the craft. He told me to keep trusting it, and that meant something coming from someone who understands what it feels like to keep putting creative work into the world before everyone else catches up.
That’s what I think we’re starting to see more of within our community: artists recognizing artists, musicians recognizing filmmakers, filmmakers recognizing chefs, and photographers documenting musicians. People who understand the work because they’re doing the work themselves. That’s how a creative ecosystem starts to form.
Keeping God First and Staying Balanced
One thing FEEFA talked about that stood out to me was his faith. For him, staying in the game isn’t only about ambition. He talked about keeping God first and making sure he’s good with himself before stepping out into the world.
“Before you even step out the house, you got to make sure you’re good with yourself,” he said.
There’s something important in that balance. You can want more without constantly feeling like what you have isn’t enough. You can stay hungry without losing yourself. You can chase something bigger while still being grateful that you get to do what you love.
This Is the Beginning
At the end of the night, FEEFA talked about what it felt like performing alongside so much Salvadoran talent. He described it as a proud moment and said he hadn’t felt that kind of energy with music in a while.
Then he said something simple:
“Guys, this is the beginning.”
I think that’s exactly what nights like this are about. Not arriving or proving that we’ve made it, but recognizing that something is happening. FEEFA is still creating, I’m still creating, the artists around us are still creating, and the Salvadoran creative community is continuing to grow.
There will always be another song, another show, another video, another story to tell, and another idea to chase. Maybe the goal isn’t to spend our lives waiting for the moment when we finally “make it.” Maybe it’s to appreciate that we’re already doing the thing we said we wanted to do.
Keep creating. Keep showing up. Fall in love with the process.
Because the process isn’t just how you get there.
The process is the life. 🇸🇻
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