Growing up as a first-generation Mexican-Guatemalan in the vibrant and culturally diverse neighborhoods of Huntington Park and South Central in Los Angeles, CA, Cynthia Fuentes’ world was shaped by the cultural fusion of Black and Brown communities. From a young age, she latched onto music and recognized it as more than just a passion — it was an obsession. As a grunge-loving teenager, she found solace in the raw, angsty energy of bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Rage Against the Machine, and refuge within the pages of HIT, Rolling Stone, and SPIN Magazines. Concerts became her sanctuary, with her mother secretly taking her to renowned venues like the Roxy and the Wiltern, defying traditional expectations that young girls didn’t belong in those spaces. This early exposure to live music and the stories behind the artists planted the seed for what would become a dynamic career in the industry.
Despite her deep love for music, Fuentes initially pursued business management and marketing communications, lacking mentorship or industry connections to help navigate a music career. Viewing advertising as a creative outlet, she remained determined to find a way into the music world. That stepping stone opportunity arose when she became an assistant to a Latina radio station owner in San Diego, where mentor Martha Diaz introduced her to industry operations via radio, including first-hand experience with management, programming, and cross-national partnerships. After graduating, Fuentes was offered a role in classical music at XLNC1, a surprising shift from her Latine music expectations, where she spent five years advancing from assistant to manager.
This unexpected detour became a gateway to her career at the LA Phil, one of the most prestigious cultural institutions in Los Angeles. Joining in conjunction with Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel’s revolutionary era within classical music, Fuentes found herself at the center of an exciting transformation that reassured her respective belonging in the fine arts space. Over the past 14 years, she has evolved from Marketing Assistant to the Vice President of Community and Governmental Engagement — a promotion received shortly after this interview was conducted when she sat in her previous role as The Ford Theater’s most recent Director – attesting to her proven track record and continued commitment to deepening community, innovation, and cultural equity.
As a bi-cultural Latina in a field historically lacking diversity, Fuentes quickly recognized the gaps in representation. She became a champion for change, advocating for broader cultural inclusion and ensuring that voices reflective of the community they were serving were being heard. “At the end of the day,” she shares, “I’m just the kid who wanted to go to concerts for free. I’m still that 14-year-old girl trying to sneak into a show for free. Somehow, I managed to make that my life. That is such a wild thought to have.”
As a Major Mujer, we spoke to Fuentes about inspiring a new generation of women to be open to unconventional opportunities, normalizing their rightful place at the table, and redefining what powerful leadership in the music industry looks like.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
When was that one moment or turning point in which you felt you were in the right space or that reassured you were headed in the right direction?
One of my first early projects at the LA Phil was to think about ways that we can promote or talk about classical music in ways that are more accessible. As somebody who didn’t grow up with classical music, I think it brought in the opportunity for me to think differently. They were doing a piece called The Planets at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. I had just read an article about these sidewalk astronomers, so I mentioned the idea to my boss. “What if we invited them to come put their telescopes outside the concert hall and invite people to see the planets after they hear The Planets?” At the time, I was thinking of creative ways to integrate activation in music and in a genre that I am not an expert in. But my boss at the time was like, “Go for it.” She thought it was a fun idea. So I brought these five telescopes in front of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, and I was standing outside like, “Nobody’s going to come to this thing.” There’s always that fear when you do something. As soon as the concert was over, people came up. They started making these lines to watch the telescopes as someone explained what they were seeing. I was this junior person on the marketing staff, and I had this idea. That was when I thought, “I can do this. I have good ideas, and if I’m given the opportunity to execute them, why not take that opportunity?”
So often, we see people advancing in their careers or making “big moves” on social media, but it’s rare to hear or see those introspective moments in which a person considers quitting or transitioning. Did you ever have a moment like that?
We all have those moments. It is so easy to look at someone and think they’ve got it all figured out or have it so well put together. [Or], “I’ve put all this effort into something, and it’s not going to work out.” I feel like that voice inside our heads doesn’t go away; those moments still continue to exist. The work is the reminder that even if it goes bad, there is something that I’m going to learn from this… There’s times I’ve left the office, that I’ve cried in my car, or I’ve had to go explain to my boss that I made a really big mistake. The best thing you can do, and I did, was admit to it and own it. I’ve said what I learned from it, because trust is so important. I am also saying I am not perfect, and that’s okay. I want to make sure that this person understands that even if I failed, that it wasn’t in vain and that failure actually taught me something really important and I can learn how to approach things differently. Taking those losses gracefully is important. Painting a perfect picture online is tough but also unrealistic… That piece has allowed me to be able to grow in my career when I make a mistake.
Were there any mentors or other women that inspired or helped you get to where you are now?
Martha Diaz, the owner of the radio stations in San Diego, was really instrumental. She was Mexican from Guadalajara, and she owned four different radio stations at the time. A Latin station, a jazz station, a country station, and a classical music station. I feel like this woman was so instrumental in changing who I thought could be a boss. When she hired me, she told me something that became so important to me. “Sometimes opportunities come to you in different ways. It’s what you end up doing with them.” She challenged me because she believed if you really want it, then you have to work hard. It’s not how I saw it, and that’s okay. No opportunity is perfect. Just the fact that she was this older Mexican woman running this radio station queendom was just such a wonderful thing to see as a young Latina going into the music industry. She was the boss. She owned the stations. It was her call. Being able to see her sit in that power and make hard decisions, in a way that was always tough but always fair, was so instrumental to me.
Lorena Giddens was also someone I worked really closely with at the radio. She taught me a lot about being creative and never giving that up. She instilled in my mind that we may not be artists, but that doesn’t mean we’re not creatives. That mentality is really important in how we approach our work, how we create space, and how we dream what’s possible when we see a blueprint — that’s creative. At the LA Phil, Diane Burby from the Aspire Group is someone I’ve worked with for the last five years who is a truth teller and who has a soft strength about her that I admire so much. That’s the way you move, with grace.
What’s one of the biggest hardships you’ve faced as a woman — or even as a Latina — in the music industry?
Having no blueprint. There are so many more Latina women that I know in the music industry now, and we’re standing on the hands, heads, and shoulders of other folks who were doing this work before us. And at least from my personal experience, while they made room for us, there’s no one blueprint. There was also no dad with a network. No tío who is a lawyer and knows so-and-so with an internship. I had to form those things myself. Even the idea of a possibility of a job. If you would’ve told my younger self that I would be working in the music industry, at the LA Phil, currently running a venue, and working with artists in this capacity, I would’ve laughed. But it’s that piece of breaking the door open, sliding your foot in, and slowly pushing it enough to slide in while trying to hold it open for others. That piece is so important because it is hard to get these jobs when you don’t actually know where to start. Getting in was the hardest part, and the second would be learning to trust myself. There was so much doubt, which makes the network piece so important because I was able to lean on others to really come into the ability of trusting myself, my ideas. It took a lot of time.
What is one of your favorite parts of where you are now in your journey?
One of the most beautiful moments I ever had was at the Hollywood Bowl for Cumbia night a couple years ago in 2017. It was our first, and it included Los Angeles Azules. I remember my parents were there. I remember the ushers dancing in the hall and the audience dancing in between the rows and in the aisles. I felt so proud. I felt like all those little steps that led to something like this make it all worth it… I think about the first show I ever went to at Walt Disney Concert Hall, to see Bajo Fondo with Gustavo Dudamel as part of his Americas and the Americans festival close to 14 years ago. After that, the concert hall saw things like a tribute to Chavela Vargas, then a tribute to Violeta Parra. Then you saw Residente with the orchestra, and then came Natalia Lafourcade with the orchestra, and then Juan Luis Guerra. As you see some of the seeds that you somehow helped water begin to flourish and then being able to sit at those shows, it gets me emotional. I was responsible for getting people at the LA Phil to recognize there was an audience to serve here, and not to give up and continue to invest in those communities.
What do you feel can be done to make the music industry feel more inclusive, safe, and collective for women?
Just uplifting our voices and making sure that we are not overlooked and that we are not marginalized in the decision-making. Oftentimes, we’re walking into a place that wasn’t always made for us. And because you are already starting from a place of trying to find your footing, I think it can feel like such a new experience. But if we were to normalize women in these decision-making spaces, if we normalized women in power, then this can just become who we are. Why are we not in all these spaces where we can and should be taking up space? That normalizing piece is so important, and for me, it is such a matter of fact that this is the way it should be. It’s not a special thing. You’re not making a special place for me. I am taking a seat at the table because I’ve earned it as much as anyone else. I’ve worked as hard, if not harder, to get here, so it’s not about doing me any favors. Making that experience normalized for any and all women is possible. And that’s the importance of mentorship.
Women can also often affect each other’s journey or success. There is a tendency of when a woman gets ahead, other women may try to pull them right back down, based on the fact that society has often pitted us against each other or made us feel like there can “only be one.” Can you explain why a crabs-in-a-barrel mentality is harmful to women?
When I think about the direction we need to go in this industry, in whatever field or capacity, there is always something to do if you have the willingness and you’re ready to roll your sleeves up and get your hands dirty. And you should be hiring or working with people that are way smarter than you. And why be fearful of that? If you’re willing to put in the work and you deliver, if you’re going to show up in the tough moments and in the good moments, then there is room for you here. That’s the way folks should look at it. Why people have this crab barrel thing mentality, I don’t know. I’ve seen it happen, and it doesn’t have to be that way. Honestly, I want somebody to be training to take my job because this is not the end; I will do something else. If I were to hold onto this thing so tightly, it’s a disservice to myself because that means that I think that I can only do this one thing forever. It’s also a disservice to everyone else because it is not creating space for others to shine. And that is so important.
What do you hope to personally change about the music industry, especially for the next generation of women in this space? Talk to us about your legacy and the importance of making space for others while on your journey.
There’s a lot of opportunities for change, and I feel fortunate that I’ve had wonderful colleagues inside the organization also join me in this journey of wanting to be a part of building these networks. One of the things we do at The Ford is run a lot of programs for young people, especially around jobs that happen off the stage. Letting folks peek behind the curtain is so important because it allows people to see that people like them do those jobs and that it’s actually not farfetched to see yourself doing that job too. So, developing these partnerships allow us to open the doors so that we make it easier for the next generation to be able to gain experience and fill these jobs down the line. And I really spend a lot of time thinking about the next generation, but I’m not unique in that. But that’s the place I feel is the little granito that I am putting into the world in the music and art industry. Showing people that these can be realities and making way for others to really embrace that.
So what I can do in my role is – I really think about how we are demystifying this industry so that it doesn’t become for the few who have access and relationships, and it becomes something that is open to as many people as possible who are interested in wanting to make a living from this. It can be hard for our community sometimes, who carry expectations of what their kids would or should be. For me, there was a lot of fear from my parents thinking of their daughter working in the arts. Now, it’s been a full circle moment for them to see their daughter has made a living out of something she was very passionate about. And that shouldn’t be a rare story or an exception – that should just be the way it can be.
