Awards

Hanna Nicole and Ashley Grace are so in sync that they even finish each other’s sentences at times. 
Collectively known as Ha*Ash, the Louisiana-born sisters’ bond has powered the duo’s career over the past 20 years, and that built-in connectedness also contributes to their unbreakable status in Latin music. On April 24, the sisters will be honored at Billboard and Telemundo’s annual Latin Women in Music event with the Unbreakable Award, celebrating both their music and their career as a remarkable sibling duo that is perhaps more relevant than ever today.  

“When I hear the word unbreakable, the first thing that comes to my mind is that, although this career has been like a roller coaster, here we are doing what we love to do the most,” says Hanna, who is a year and a half older than Ashley. “It’s an honor to not only be recognized for our work after 23 years of career but to continue to live from our stories and songs. It’s a blessing.”  

Speaking in perfect English and Spanish, a reflection of their bicultural upbringing — living half of the year in Mexico and the other half in the U.S. as kids — Hanna and Ashley are in the midst of their biggest tour ever, with a South American trek that included stops at Chile’s Viña del Mar Festival, in the wake of their 2024 album, Haashville. 

Trending on Billboard

It’s the latest high point in a career that fueled Latin pop’s domination in the early 2000s with their country-tinged “Odio Amarte,” the first single from their self-titled debut album, and “Estés Donde Estés,” which became Ha*Ash’s first top 10 hit on Billboard‘s Latin Pop Airplay chart.  

“ ’Estés’ became the theme song of a Mexican telenovela, so it got such a big push from that,” Ashley explains. “Back then, if one of your songs was picked up by a telenovela, it was like wow you made it. We never imagined this would be our breakthrough song, but it opened doors. We started performing small gigs, and after that, we kind of took off.”  

But it was “Odio Amarte” that showcased Ha*Ash’s signature sound: Latin pop with a country twist. It was a style that came naturally to the Mexican-American sisters who grew up in the South listening to the likes of Reba McEntire, Dolly Parton and Garth Brooks. Hanna and Ashley — professionally trained musicians and singers — would translate those artists’ songs to Spanish so their friends in Mexico could understand what they were singing about.  

“That’s who we are, a mixture of two cultures, different musical genres, that’s the consequence of where we lived and who we are,” says Hanna. But their vision of fusing pop with country was met with resistance from some label execs who argued country wasn’t popular in the Latin world. “We would get yeses from labels we were visiting but they wanted us to just do pop, and we didn’t want to record just to record, we wanted to do what felt natural to us. We said no to those labels because we weren’t in a hurry to release anything, and we wanted to be loyal to our sound.”

Ha*Ash

Sony Music

Eventually, their demo ended up in the right hands at Sony Music México, with whom they signed and released their debut LP, Ha*Ash, in 2003. It was also around that time that the then teenagers signed with Ocesa Seitrack for management.  

“Staying genuine to their music has been extremely relevant [to their success],” says manager Octavio Padilla of Ocesa Seitrack. “That is what has generated a true connection between Ha*Ash and their fans and that has maintained this bond for so long. If today you go to a Ha*Ash show in Chile, Argentina or anywhere in Latin America, you will be able to see that connection where all their fans feel identified and close to Hanna and Ashley.”  

All told, Ha*Ash has released a total of eight albums and, over the years, the duo has accumulated a total of 16 entries on Latin Pop Airplay, four of which reached the top 10, including “El Cielo Te Mandó Para Mí” from their latest studio album, Haashville (2024), which reached a No. 7 high on Latin Pop Airplay.

Besides recording music, touring has been key to Ha*Ash’s success. “Thank God that’s been where we’ve overachieved,” says Hanna. “I wouldn’t say that we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for live shows, but our careers would be different. Today, we are very fortunate to be on tour and sell the number of tickets that we have sold but tomorrow is not guaranteed so we value the good moments.”  

That grateful mentality was instilled in them as little kids. Hanna and Ashley grew up in a strict household where they were taught the value of hard work at a young age. They started performing when they were around 12 years old at state fairs, rodeos and even a stint at the Louisiana State Penitentiary, as tourism ambassadors — handpicked by the Secretary of State in Louisiana who heard them sing at church. “On the weekends, we would fly from Mexico to Louisiana to sing at all these events and we’d take our guitars, which were way bigger than us, and we’d perform and then fly back to Mexico on Sundays,” Hanna recalls of their extraordinary childhood.  

Ashley chimes in, “We were home-schooled and when we weren’t touring, my dad would ask, ‘What’s your schedule? Because you’re not just going to sleep around or watch television.’ So, it was either piano or guitar class, singing class, going to the gym, doing something productive. ‘If you have an hour that I don’t see on your schedule, you’re wasting your time,’ he would tell us.”  

And they wouldn’t have it any other way either. “When we signed with Sony, we were underage so my dad would go into every single meeting. He was always like, ‘One day I won’t be here, so you guys need to sit in and listen because I know I have done my job when I’m not here and you’re able to continue with your career.’ We are very grateful to my dad for that, for teaching us to work and to value.”  

Reflecting on their 20 plus years in music, Hanna and Ashley are most grateful to be able to do this together.  

“I just feel that we were brought up to do everything together and once we were working and traveling, although we’re surrounded by so many people, at the end of the day, it’s just us,” Hanna says. “We’ve always had each other’s backs, and we speak so openly about what works and what doesn’t because we have a bond that is like no other. We’re sisters first and then we’re partners. Sisterhood always comes first.”  

The third annual Billboard Latin Women in Music special will air live at 9 p.m. ET / 8 p.m. CT on Thursday, April 24 exclusively on Telemundo, Universo, Peacock and the Telemundo app and throughout Latin America and the Caribbean on Telemundo Internacional.

Read Billboard’s Latin Women In Music 2025 executive list here.

Born one hundred years ago in Havana, Cuba, on October 21, 1925, Celia Cruz sang almost before she could talk. The second oldest of 14 children, she could carry a tune at 10 months old, according to her mother, and as a toddler, sang her youngest siblings to sleep. Those bedside moments were the first stage for the woman who would become the single best-known and most influential female figure in the history of Afro Cuban music.  
By the time she died in 2003 at age 77, Cruz had over 70 albums to her name and had transfixed generations of fans with her mesmerizing stage presence and a signature, rich, expressive contralto that could turn a single word into a masterpiece of a song.  

Trending on Billboard

Cruz was recognized worldwide as much for her extravagant flamboyant outfits, tireless work ethic and colorful wigs as for her trademark cry of “Azúcar!.” But Cruz possessed, above everything, an extraordinary voice. 

“Forget about getting her behind a mic,” Marc Anthony once told Billboard. “She’ll turn anybody out.”

Indeed, Cruz adamantly refused to lip-sync, even on live TV shows. “I can’t go out there and pretend,” she told Billboard in 2000. “In Cuba, I worked with a man named Rodrigo Neira, who was the choreographer of the Tropicana. He wanted a singer to sing and a dancer to dance.”

Although Cruz’s dancing abilities weren’t negligible, her voice was incomparable.

Cruz’s recorded legacy is a veritable history of Latin music, from her days with Cuba’s legendary La Sonora Matancera to her highly experimental and avant garde later fare, which even mixed urban music with her salsa beats.

Cruz charted until the day she died, and beyond. More than 20 years after her death, she generated 64 million on-demand official streams in the United States in 2024, according to Luminate. Last year, the U.S. Mint released a commemorative Cruz quarter, the only coin that bears the stamp of a Latin artist. The item joins a list of Cruz memorabilia that includes a stamp, a doll, multiple exhibits, merchandise lines and both a TV series and film in the works, among other projects.

As a child, Cruz began singing in amateur contests. Her big break came in 1950, when she was called in to replace the lead singer of the legendary La Sonora Matancera, arguably the best salsa band of all time. Cruz gained international acclaim with La Sonora, with whom she remained for 15 years, eventually marrying lead trumpet player Pedro Knight.

Following the Cuban revolution, she settled in New York in 1962 and was never allowed to return to her home country. Cruz’s career also flourished stateside, first through her association with Tito Puente’s Ticco Records and later with Fania Records.

Although Cruz remained a popular and venerated figure — she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1987 — she gained a new legion of followers in 2000 after signing with Sony Music Latin, a label that gave her a star treatment until the day she died. With Sony Latin, Cruz won three consecutive Latin Grammy Awards in 2000, 2001 and 2002.

The secret to her perennial success, she told Billboard, was very basic: “First of all, I take good care of myself. I rest. Second, I plan my shows well. I always try to shape my repertoire around a particular audience. And finally, I’m always changing my outfits, my look onstage.” But at the core of it was her tireless work ethic, and that voice.

After being diagnosed with cancer in 2002, Cruz made a final trip to the recording studio in February 2003. She recorded for two months and died in July.

This year, Billboard’s Latin Women in Music honors Cruz and her extraordinary life not on the anniversary of her death but in the centennial year of her birth. Cruz will posthumously receive the Legend Award at the gala, which will air April 24 at 9 p.m. ET on Telemundo, and be honored with a musical tribute with performances by Ivy Queen, La India and Olga Tañon.

Billboard spoke to four people who had personal ties to Cruz. Here are their recollections, in their own words.

Emilio Estefan

Celia Cruz, Gloria Estefan and Emilio Estefan pose as Gloria receives her Walk of Fame Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame on Feb. 3, 1993 in Los Angeles.

Vinnie Zuffante/Getty Images

Celia was someone who was able to bring our music to this country at a time when women weren’t really welcomed in the music industry.

When she joined forces with Fania and Johnny Pacheco, she showed the world what true talent was. And she never changed her musical essence or who she was. She was such an example of humility, perseverance, talent — my God. She became family to us. I was just starting out as a producer, and my dream was always to work with her. But I didn’t offer because we were just getting started. We had met, but we hadn’t really talked much yet.

One night, we were playing at the Dupont Plaza, and she asked us to sit at her table. It was like talking to a queen. I remember one time we were performing at the Ovni, and we always played “Quimbara.” She was in the audience, and she came onstage to sing. Our hearts almost burst out of our chests.

I had the honor of producing several albums for her. One day she called me and said, “I don’t have a record label anymore.” And I told her, “I’m going to send you to Sony.” Thank God I called Tommy [Mottola, who] said, “Don’t even worry about it. We’ve got to sign her.” She went into Sony with so much respect. They were going to give her the boost she needed. She passed away with six No. 1 hits. At the time, there was resistance because most of the artists selling records were men. She was one of the women who proved to the world that women could make everyone dance. She was such an inspiration for Gloria [Estefan]. I think we can all learn something from her.

She and Pedro [Knight] were such humble, kind people who taught us so much. When we were recording, she was so professional. She could almost sing live; she practiced her parts, showed up with humility and was always so proud of her Cuban roots. And the love between her and Pedro… It’s rare to work with a couple and see them love each other so much for so many years, being such simple, good people with so much talent.

She was my great teacher. She always remembered to send birthday cards to everyone. Those little thoughtful gestures. She was like a sister to Gloria. She’d come over to eat at our house and was so funny. She’d wash Pedro’s shirts and iron them when they were on tour. I’ll never forget when I produced the Latin Grammys [for CBS on 2000] — she had terrible knee pain but got up to sing “Quimbara” with Ricky [Martin] anyway. No one could tell what she was going through.

One day she came to us and said, “I got the big C.” I had no idea what she meant. She called me to help arrange her burial. She told me, “I want every fan I have to be able to say goodbye to me.” She wasn’t just loved by Cubans — she was loved by the whole world. She left me one of her dresses, shoes and wig as a thank you, along with a beautiful note for me and Gloria. In a way, I feel at peace knowing I was able to help a woman like her, that I could get her signed to Sony. In these times we’re living in, when one person shines, we all shine. And she made all of us shine.

La India

La India & Celia Cruz

Courtesy La India

I met Celia in 1988 through important people in her life. Her nephew was a big fan of mine and he would go see me at the Palladium. He told me he was Celia Cruz’s nephew and we didn’t believe him. Celia was already a legend. We listened to her music and all the Afro Yoruba-ness around her was really interesting. And of course we all loved La Sonora Matancera.

One day, she sent a message through him, saying, “Muchas benidiciones en tu show.” (“Many blessings on your show.”) Then in 1990, a year before I decided to cross over from dance to salsa tropical, I was already collaborating with Tito Puente and Tito arranged for us to meet.

We all went to dinner. When I met her, it felt as if we were already family. We spoke about her music, about her. She said she always felt she had a natural ability to sing music with a lot of rhythm. She said, “One thing I notice about you is you study a lot of jazz, but you have a lot of soul. I’d like you to cross over from dance music and do a salsa album.” We sang with prerecorded TV tracks then, and she said, “You need to be up there singing with a live band.”

She set up a meeting with Ralph Mercado [founder and president of RMM Records, to which Cruz was signed at the time] and said, “Hey, I want you to sign her.”

We were very close. We talked a lot about music, about the hard labor of a woman. We talked about believing in ourselves, being professional and giving 100% to the music. I found it to be very empowering.

She used to say, “Yo soy tu madrina musical [“I’m your music godmother],” and she wanted to officially be my godmother. I hadn’t had my first communion, and I needed to be baptized.

She baptized me on Feb. 14, which is the day of friendship and love, and it brought a lot of light into my life, which I needed. I came from a very dysfunctional family, but a very praying family. God was always in our lives. I think that’s why it meant so much to me to be baptized with Celia and [husband] Pedro Knight [by my side], and because it meant she would always be in my life. And she was. She was really cute and she wrote telegrams. She had an AT&T calling card and boy, did she use it to the fullest. She called from the airport, when she landed, when she was in her room. Because she was so spiritual, she felt she needed to pray with her goddaughter; that was me. She always prayed before her show. We would hold hands and then we’d go up onstage with her.

We toured together. Everywhere she traveled she was the goddess of the goddesses. She would walk in first, everybody was waiting for her, and we were like little ducks. All of us, me, Marc [Anthony], Cheo [Feliciano], Oscar [D’León], we were all behind her going to all these beautiful places in Europe. She really believed in us. She thought we were coming with talent to bring light to salsa tropical.

Celia was always an icon, a living legend. She had a lot of vocal control and a beautiful vibrato. Pedro helped her a lot. He quit the trumpet to make sure she was ready to get on that stage and sing her heart out. He was a great partner. She was very lucky to have him.

In the studio she was a master of great ideas. I gave her a lot of energy, and it was great to have her there with me.

She always told me that one of the things she liked about me was that she saw my talent and that I didn’t have to wear little outfits. We’re here as women, as talented women. She would say, “Sabes porqué he tenido exito? Porque yo vendo talento, no vendo sexo.” (“You know why I’ve been successful? Because I sell talent, not sex.”)

Now, I see what she meant. It’s a male-dominated world, and she wanted respect. She liked being on the road. She liked to take her music to different markets, and she loved shopping. Shopping and music, forget about it. Y su cafecito con su azucar.

She always tried to encourage the new generation by being positive and working hard. She spoke about the perseverance of hard work, professionalism. Always record, arrive early and have a great orchestra behind you. And all that you get, you give back.

Randy Malcom

The Gente De Zona member on the group recording “Celia,” which blends two Cruz hits using her original vocals.

Alexander Delgado and Randy Malcom Martínez of Gente de Zona.

Courtesy Gente de Zona

I knew Celia’s work because I studied music in Cuba, but I never got the chance to meet her in person. Since Celia was banned in Cuba, you couldn’t hear her on the radio or see her on TV.

Celia, Willy Chirino, all those artists were prohibited. She was always a defender of freedom.

After recording “La Gonzadera,” we were trying to figure out how we could use her vocals from “La Negra Tiene Tumbao” in a song. Her digital session recordings from her last recordings were nowhere to be found, but after 10 years of searching with Omer [Perdillo, her manager], we finally found them.

What we did was mix two songs together, closing it out with “La Negra Tiene Tumbao.”

But for us, using her voice — can you imagine? As a kid, I’d hear some of her stuff with my dad through videos that had been leaked. Cuba only had two TV channels, and there was a concert she did, I think in Africa, that somehow got through. People had recorded it and we’d watch it. For us, it was such a point of pride. A Cuban woman who was outside of Cuba, yet so huge in the music world — it seemed impossible to reach that level. When I was little, people told me she was a singer who wasn’t allowed in Cuba.

When my dad heard the song, he was blown away. He was like, “How did you pull this off?” And I told him, “Dad, they gave me permission.” This whole story is so nostalgic for every Cuban, given the political situation. Everything feels so deep. In our country, there’s so much music, so much art, but it dies there. It’s heartbreaking to see so many artists who don’t get the chance to share their work. I’m left with this sense of longing because I wasn’t able to fully experience her work. And she has incredible songs. Celia was always ahead of the game when it came to music. She was someone who never let herself fall behind.

Goyo

Goyo

Johana Garcia

I met Celia because my dad and an uncle promoted shows in Colombia and they brought José Alberto “El Canario” and Celia together to Buenaventura, Quibdó, and a show in Tuluá that didn’t end up happening. But I traveled with her on the same bus from Buenaventura to Tuluá, and I got the chance to talk with her. She said something to my mom about me, and my mom made me sing. I was about 13 or 14 years old.

I’d seen her on TV, but my dad collected albums and my mom was a huge fan of Celia. I’ve always been really close to my mom, and in many moments of her life, Celia’s music was her soundtrack. “Ritmo, Tambor y Flores” was my first real connection to Celia. One of my aunts made me learn the song, and I sang it the first time I performed in a parade in Condoto. I was about 9 years old, and at my fifth-grade graduation, “Ritmo, Tambor y Flores” was already part of my repertoire. That’s the song I sang to her on the bus.

I went to see her in Buenaventura first. She was wearing white leggings, a shiny top and a short, white wig and she looked amazing. Like, wow — it wasn’t often you saw women who could pull off a look like that. I saw music as something totally normal because my mom sang, my uncle brought artists and I’d go to the studios of Grupo Niche. I felt like I was part of the scene.

So when they said, “Now we’re heading to Tuluá on the bus with Celia and “El Canario,” it felt normal. She was traveling with her husband and it was a big, comfy bus. And she said, “What a beautiful little girl. She has something special.”

My mom told me to sing “Ritmo, Tambor y Flores.” She started singing the chorus, and I sang the second part because I was feeling a little shy. She said, “Keep going, keep going.” And we all started singing together. Imagine that — my skin still tingles thinking about it. It feels like such a normal story, but honestly, it’s not that normal. Especially because kids are usually pretty sheltered at that age. Later, when I was 15, I saw her again, and by then, she looked older, and I was so impressed by the respect people had for her and how she kept thriving as an artist, even as someone who was already so established. She was always in the big leagues. What’s happening now isn’t possible without talking about her. Her story needs to be told.

Illustration by Selman Hoşgör

The third annual Billboard Latin Women in Music special will air live at 9 p.m. ET / 8 p.m. CT on Thursday, April 24 exclusively on Telemundo, Universo, Peacock and the Telemundo app and throughout Latin America and the Caribbean on Telemundo Internacional.

Read Billboard’s Latin Women In Music 2025 executive list here.