DJ Nene H is finding freedom in herself

When Nene H joins our Zoom, she’s a couple of weeks removed from performing at a rooftop celebration hosted by Chippy Nonstop in New York.

Before being known as Chippy the DJ and producer, she had a rapping career in the Bay Area, and Nene H—who has met the other woman a few times and calls her “lovely”—had no idea that her acquaintance was making hyper-twerk music out of Oakland. “I didn’t know this. She would actually mend (DJing and rapping) together,” Nene H says. (After our interview, I emailed her a link to Chippy’s Kreayshawn-directed video for “Kicked Out Da Club,” to which she replied, “crazyy.”)

As Nene H smokes a cigarette on her balcony, I compliment her on her Substack, a space where she offers tutorials on playing the piano, music theory lessons, tips for live DJ sets, and thoughts on creativity. She’s been teaching for more than 15 years; one post that resonates is titled, “New Skin.” For her birthday this year, she told the Nene Hive that she’s trying to break old belief systems and build a new foundation. Each reminder and daily practice is a sign of increasing self-awareness. Publishing words about burnout and protecting creative freedom are universal reflections we can all use to help us.

“Life came to me quite late,” Nene H says. “It was like hustling all my 20s. I’m now 39. I feel safe enough to explore actually who I am. This year, I learned a lot about trying to calm my nervous system and just exploring in freedom without being scared, because all my decisions up until now were all scared based. It’s like, ‘Oh, if I don’t do this, it’s going to be really bad for me.’ Now I’m trying to find this place of love and loving myself when I’m doing every step.”

Nene H’s self-work is an ongoing journey of healing from past losses and building internal stability. Her previous albums—Ali from 2021 and Second Skin, which dropped in March—were created during transitional periods in her life. Her first album was after dealing with the profound grief of her father’s death. Her second was created while working through the aftereffects of a long-term relationship, reaching a point where she lost herself and had to find who she is again. 

 

The Turkish Azerbaijani DJ and producer is rooted in Berlin’s techno and queer underground, where her presence in championing Southwest Asian and North African (SWANA), Muslim, and femme perspectives has earned her notable acclaim as a leader who brings together the most diverse crowds at her sets. To end Pride Month in June, Gray Area hosted Chippy Nonstop’s Pep Rally in New York, a Toronto-based underground party for queer, Black, and brown communities who wanted somewhere to feel free. Nene H was one of the names on the lineup, excited that Chippy Nonstop added her, Bobby Beethoven, Karim Olen Ash, DJ Miss Parker, and Sterling Juan Diaz to perform at the Superior Ingredients rooftop. “It was really nice; the view was sick,” Nene H recalls, amazed by the unobstructed view of the Manhattan skyline. “I was just watching it, dreaming about moving to New York, at least for maybe six months or something. That city makes me so happy.”

She is still calling Berlin home, though, having lived there for 14 years. Born in Istanbul, Turkey, Nene H was surrounded by a musical family. “All of us had some kind of instrument in our hands,” she remembers. “Every time families would meet, it's just music, people would sing and play. It was very culturally embedded in my childhood.” She trained as a classical pianist for more than 25 years before moving to Berlin in her 20s, following her first experience on the club circuit. Berlin helped broaden Nene H’s musical tastes, as she club-hopped every weekend and discovered new artists. She became a raver at heart and never looked back. “I’m happy that I didn’t come too early because I think I would be dead,” she says with a laugh. “Zero boundaries, zero nothing, like, let’s go, you know? I did good there.”

Nene H feels connected to club music because it challenges norms, invites progressive thinking, and helps her decolonize her mind. She wouldn’t be the person she is today without the clubs, which helped her find like-minded “weirdos” to party with in a safe, inclusive environment. Her focus is on giving back to the communities that raised her, reminding her of the days when she was hustling as a new artist, when it was just her and no one to help her. She wants to be a support system and a resource for aspiring artists, where people can come to her for advice, and she can lift their voices. Her other passion, after all, is teaching.

The work Nene H has done for herself is a step toward a liberated identity and a more authentic path. The release of Second Skin came during an artistic era in which everything had changed compared to five years ago, as she dealt with the emotional turmoil of her father's death and channeled that sadness into her electronic compositions. “Where to start?” she says. “How I see life has changed. I grew so much. I was always a nice person, but I think the niceness was towards others; now the niceness is towards me.”

She’s kinder to herself, moving with intentionality. The process of creating Second Skin came from a place of feeding her inner child, making music for joy and not feeling the pressures of capitalism in the music industry. “Last year, I’ve been in communication with my child self, in communication with my teenager self, early adult self,” she says. “All these things I never faced. I had to sit and be with those uncomfortable memories.”

For Nene H, the tides are finally turning. Her 30s have been the freest she’s ever been. She is back in the studio working on an EP set for October. Her nonprofit imprint, UMAY, is shifting towards pressing vinyl and releasing her own music after serving as a platform for SWANA and queer and trans BIPOC artists since 2023. She hopes to expand beyond SWANA artists in the future. When she’s not traveling the world for her gigs (you can catch her live at the Draaimolen Festival on Friday in the Netherlands), she’s working toward a more balanced lifestyle. She’s happy, but she doesn’t want to be too happy.

“It’s not even about happiness anymore,” she says. “I’m not looking for happiness. I'm more looking for contentment and thankfulness, things that are gonna soften my soul and soften my day. Because running after happiness turns so materialistic: you want this, it’s going to make you happy. Of course, I’m not talking about depression, but a little bit of this Buddhist concept of too happy means too sad. Just a little bit in the middle, just being content. That’s what I’m trying to be and do.”