The Female Trailblazers in Chilean Street Art
Written by Abigail Imas
Published on February 26th, 2026
“The boys never used to hang out with girls. They used to hang out with girls just to go out with… Because for boys, they were like girls shouldn’t rap, girls shouldn’t write graffiti, girls are for hanging out at parties. I [have] got to change this image,” said Andrea, widely regarded as the first female, Chilean graffiti artist, in a YouTube documentary on her life and work.
Andrea was around thirteen years old when she started graffiti. From sketches in her diary, she caught the attention of the crew, DDC. Andrea had not yet made the connection between her sketching skills and graffiti. It was once DDC saw her talent for lettering, that she was gifted her first spray cans. Part of the all-male crew, DDC, she would hide a pillow in her bed tricking her parents, and escape through the window to graffiti through the night. Circling around Andrea was shock and surprise at how she could be so talented. Maybe a natural shock to a girl acting far outside the social norms of Chilean women in the ‘90s.*
Let’s take a step backwards. Since 1973, Chile had been led by the military dictator, Augusto Pinochet. A period where art, and particularly graffiti, had become a form of protest to express dissent – where the art was typically met with erasure and destruction.
Let’s take a step backwards. Since 1973, Chile had been led by the military dictator, Augusto Pinochet. A period where art, and particularly graffiti, had become a form of protest to express dissent – where the art was typically met with erasure and destruction. Despite the risks, the art endured in a cycle of painting, cover-up, re-painting and then cover-up. Until, on March 11, 1990, Chile returned to democracy. Chilean exiles returned bringing new ideas and culture from abroad, and the ‘90s began with a boom in the hip-hop scene.
The ‘90s in Chile appeared to be a moment for radical change, greater personal freedom, greater openness, and rebellion against social norms. Yet, for women, what endured was a resistance to their stepping outside the role of a mother or wife. Pinochet had implemented policies positioning the sole purpose of women being to reproduce and care for the family; women had restricted access to work, reproductive freedom and faced systematic sexual violence. In the 90s: women continued to face high rates of domestic violence; only in 2006 was abortion legalised, under limited circumstances; and 30% of women were in the workforce. ‘90s society prevailed with ingrained gender roles.
Now, let’s return to our image of a ‘90s graffiti artist. The combination of hip-hop, danger and creative freedom was far from the image of a Chilean woman. So, it was Chilean men, such as Cekis and the Valparaíso B-boys who led and dominated the graffiti scene, pre and post dictatorship.
However, in 1994, this changed. In Santa Inés, Viña del Mar, Andrea Cecilia Bernal challenged the expectation of who could be a graffiti artist.
The work and life of Chile’s first female graffiti artist: Andrea
Andrea bombed, tagged and threw up on the walls of Viña del Mar between 1994 and 2000. For two years, Andrea painted with another female artist, Lisette, tagging ACB Lisette. Lisette married and left graffiti, and Andrea returned to her solitary female status in Viña del Mar. In 2000, Andrea moved to Santiago to study Astronomy and continued graffiti. In 2001, she won a project for Dirección de Asuntos Culturales, part of The Chilean Ministry of Foreign Affairs.. Whilst in the USA, she painted with artists such as Lady Pink and the Tats Cru. After several years in the USA, she developed colon cancer, and on diagnosis, returned to Viña del Mar. Returning to her home, she continued to paint until her passing in 2006.
Andrea bombed, tagged and threw up on the walls of Viña del Mar between 1994 and 2000. For two years, Andrea painted with another female artist, Lisette, tagging ACB Lisette.
With a gifted lettering ability, Andrea’s style was characterised by bright colours, and the letters ACB – her initials. Horacio Silva Duarte (a close friend and member of DDC) says, “Andrea was painting more for aesthetics, with her graffiti and letters being an expression to show her… In her early graffiti, she complemented her wall style with SpongeBob, animals, and a lot of green and nature landscapes… She rarely referred to her identity as a woman… Only once, I remember, Andrea painted, or sketched, an ovule, with her tag ACB in the centre and around this ovule was sperm swimming towards it, as if they wanted to fertilise it. I asked Andrea why she had drawn this. She said, ‘I love that all the men are behind me’.”
However, the macho culture of graffiti seeped into Andrea’s experiences; her graffiti was erased because of her gender, a censorship reminiscent of the dictatorship. Horacio Silva Duarte says, “Andrea painted graffiti in Avenida España, of a man, a medieval warrior, on a horse. It said ACB, with the horse… A person from Santiago came and erased it; he chose to paint over Andrea’s work when there were many clean walls nearby… Andrea said to me, he did that to me because I am a woman, and he knows I can’t hit him, so he erased me… We were all so angry, but Andrea said we could not hit him.”
Just as the military dictatorship had suppressed ideas that contradicted its ideology without consequence, a male artist capitalised on the powerlessness of Andrea’s reaction. He, too, wanted to remove a women’s freedom, her ability to be a ‘graffiti artist’.
The final mural by Andrea, which had lasted from 1996 to 2020, was also erased. And so, the silencing of historic female art persisted. Andrea was almost a phantom presence in the ‘90s, as she carved out a path alone as a woman. Other women heard of a female who was painting at the same level or above the men of Viña del Mar. And so, in Andrea’s footsteps, a new phenomenon began to take shape: the all-female crews.
Andrea was almost a phantom presence in the ‘90s, as she carved out a path alone as a woman. Other women heard of a female who was painting at the same level or above the men of Viña del Mar. And so, in Andrea’s footsteps, a new phenomenon began to take shape: the all-female crews.
Life in the first female crews: Bisy
Looking back, Bisy says, “I feel as though we paved the way. As one of the first all-female crews, we were pioneers at the time.”
In 1996, Mujeres Collectivas, including Bisy, was formed by a group of women asked to paint a design of girls and witches in Santiago. Bisy joined saying, “I wanted to rebel against the structures that were imposed on me, like being a lady, a quiet woman, and behaving well. Graffiti allowed me to open that path of rebellion and occupy the street.”
The first all-female crew blew up, racing around Santiago for 1 year. “The graffiti had its magic. But, personally, I also felt a lot of pressure in the scene, since I was Cekis’ sister. Everyone expected me to paint just like my brother… I felt a lot of pressure in a very masculine environment where expectations were raised, and I wasn’t ready to take it on,” says Bisy. After a year, mujeres collectivas broke down, but more female crews emerged.
Bisy re-entered graffiti, while studying at university, with the Crasis crew. She was encouraged not to care about her brother’s style and to find her own place on the streets. Although this crew also separated, Bisy, reminisces on the Crasis crew saying, “We’re each doing our own thing, with kids, different cities, but they’re still my family, my roots.”
Whether in an all-female crew, or like Andrea as the only female, women shared in the experience of discrimination against female graffiti artists. Bisy tells me how, “Women experienced violence, people don’t like it. There are people who get upset when they see women painting in the street; they yell, they shout… In Mexico, I was painting on the street, and someone shouted Bitch. I thought, well, what am I going to do in response? That’s Mexico, but here in Chile, there are also people who think negatively.”
Remembering the ’90s artists
Bisy says that to be a female graffiti artist in the ‘90s was like “being a feminist without knowing it.”
Bisy says that to be a female graffiti artist in the ‘90s was like “being a feminist without knowing it.” Bisy says that to be a female graffiti artist in the ‘90s was like “being a feminist without knowing it.” Unspoken in the ‘90s was a recognition of these women as feminine role models. Andrea, Lisette, mujeres collectivas, and more female artists: Anis, Juana Pérez, Gigi, had arrived at graffiti in a context dominated by men. Andrea paved a path for women who may not have considered painting. Mujeres collectivas and all-female crews, found and united women to paint with each other, not solely surrounded by male crews.
Their past shaped the possibilities and style for future artists. Today, in Valparaíso, the Hip Hop festival in Valparaíso included a memorial space for Andrea. Their past shaped the possibilities and style for future artists. Today, in Valparaíso, the up-coming festival hiphop al Puerto in Valparaíso includes a memorial space for Andrea.
Their past shaped the possibilities and style for future artists. Today, in Valparaíso, the Hip Hop festival in Valparaíso included a memorial space for Andrea.
Bisy explicitly focuses on the rights of women; she founded the collective graffiti todas in 2019 and promotes all-female graffiti competitions. For Bisy, the movement in female graffiti vocalises the violence against women and can empower women to reclaim their space in society and on the street.
Today, women are graffiti artists, but still in the graffiti scene there is a resistance to make space for female talent. Bisy leaves me to reflect on females’ upcoming fight: “In the ‘90s, the fight was for women to be seen… The new fight is to find a pathway for equality in work, and recognition that guides the second generation of female graffiti artists.”
Abigail Imas, currently based in Chile, is working as an English assistant. Alongside teaching, she has written articles for OneTrackMind, Fernwayer, and prior to living in Chile, KentLive.