Elín Ey on music, anger, and speaking up for the Trans Community.
“It disappoints and saddens me deeply how quiet the Icelandic music scene remains when it comes to showing support for the trans community. So many of my fellow musicians here have large platforms, strong voices, and audiences who listen, and yet so few have chosen to use that power to show even the simplest act of solidarity.”
When musician and songwriter Elín Eyþórsdóttir (Elín Ey) posted these words on her Facebook page, they quickly struck a nerve. Known both as a solo artist and as one of the three sisters behind the band Sisters (Systur), Elín has long been part of Iceland’s musical landscape. Her post, however, wasn’t about music, it was a call for empathy, courage, and truth at a time when silence feels complicit.
“The way the world is turning right now, with all the mistreatment, violence, and hate, I feel we’ve reached a point where the silence is deafening,” she says. “At some point, it becomes dishonest to make music about love, empathy, and truth while ignoring what’s happening right in front of us.”
Elín didn’t write out of calm reflection but out of emotion, frustration, confusion, and pain.
“It was just one of those days when you wake up thinking, ‘What on earth is happening to the world, and why the fuck is no one saying anything?” she recalls.
“It’s that strange feeling of being gaslit by reality itself, to the point where you wonder, ‘Wait, am I the crazy one?’ Honestly, the first emotion that moved me to write was anger, and underneath that anger, there’s sadness.”
It disappoints and saddens me deeply how quiet the Icelandic music scene remains when it comes to showing support for the trans community. So many of my fellow musicians here have large platforms and yet so few have chosen to use that power to show even the simplest act of solidarity.
For Elín, music is inseparable from honesty.
“I believe music has enormous power, something almost divine,” she says. “You can’t fully explain how it moves hearts or provokes emotion, but it does. The more listeners or followers you have, the more power you hold. What you say and do has an effect, whether you like it or not.”
She references Nina Simone, Bob Dylan, and John Lennon, artists who understood the power of their voice.
“Of course, things have changed with social media. There are so many more voices and messages. But if artists make a conscious effort to ensure that their message is rooted in kindness, maybe we all have a shot at a better world.”
That belief in compassion doesn’t come without critique.
“Mostly fear holds people back, fear of losing audiences, of backlash, of stepping outside the ‘neutral’ comfort zone,” she says about Iceland’s current music scene.
“There’s also a cultural habit here of not wanting to be too political or confrontational. But neutrality often protects oppression. When people’s lives are at stake, silence isn’t neutrality, it’s a choice.”
Elín pauses before adding: “There is some support, I mean, it’s mostly good people but very little visible solidarity. People are kind in private but hesitant in public. That’s not enough. Visibility matters. Think of it this way: if you’re raising a child, you teach them not to bully or hurt others, and to speak up if they see someone being bullied. This is no different. See something, say something and we all see what’s happening.”
People are kind in private but hesitant in public. That’s not enough. Visibility matters.
The conversation turns to how the industry itself has changed.
“There’s a difference between generations,” Elín says. “Social media changed everything. Music has shifted from being an inward form of artistry made from within and shared outward to something created for the outside world. There’s more focus on ‘Will this be liked?’ or ‘Will this be played?’ instead of ‘I really like this song.’ It’s now more of a ‘Me’ industry than ‘Us.’”
Her reflections extend beyond the borders of Iceland.
“We need to redefine what it means to be an artist within a community. Art doesn’t exist in isolation, it reflects the society around it,” she insists. “Without diversity, freedom, love, respect, and compassion, there’s no foundation for art. They might come for some first, but who’s next? If we don’t stand together, all freedom will eventually be taken.”
She leans forward as if to drive the point home.
“You might think it’s far away, that it won’t touch you, but everyone thinks that until it does. During your final moments, however they come to be, your follower count won’t matter. I’m not saying it has no value, it’s great to have a platform, but if that becomes more important than standing up for others when they’re being bullied, killed, tortured, or raped, then you’ve lost your compass. It’s time to rethink.”
For Elín, solidarity with the trans community means something universal.
“To me, it means solidarity with humankind itself, wanting the best for everyone and trusting people to live their own lives without control or restriction. The act of wanting to control another adult is violence.”
It’s great to have a platform, but if that becomes more important than standing up for others when they’re being bullied, killed, tortured, or raped, then you’ve lost your compass. It’s time to rethink.
She doesn’t mince words.
“Solidarity can be as simple as being kind, being a fucking decent person. And if you can’t do that, at least know your place and leave other people alone,” she says. “What it means to me personally is what it means globally: solidarity with the trans community, the queer community, the Black community, the people of Palestine, with every individual on this planet who’s being mistreated simply for existing. No person should ever want power over another’s right to be. That, to me, is the real sickness, the obsession with control and dominance, especially by power-hungry white men.”
Music, for Elín, remains a sanctuary.
“Yes, constantly,” she says. “Music has always been my place of truth. My anchor. It’s what gets me to a place of belonging. And I don’t know if there is anything more powerful than that.”
Her message to fellow musicians is simple.
“People often say, ‘I just don’t want to mix my art with politics.’ But art is the social form of politics, especially now, with social media. So that argument doesn’t hold.
It can be as simple as sharing a post, or saying, ‘It breaks my heart to see this mistreatment. I stand with you.’ Encourage younger generations to be loving toward one another. Because saying nothing, just going about your day and making your music, is like standing on stage while, in the crowd, people are in cages, being beaten, killed, or losing hope… and you just keep playing, pretending not to see.
No one’s asking you to have the solution,” she adds. “But compassion and solidarity go a long way.”