Um último bom dia, galera!
It has now been two weeks since I finished my work with Catalytic Communities and I have had time to reflect on how this experience has aligned with my initial goals and the objectives of Laidlaw. First, as I said in my very first post, I had aims that were more personal: wanting to learn more about my culture, my family, improve my Portuguese, and become more informed and dismantle ideas about favelas. I feel proud to say that I have accomplished this. While my language skills did become stronger and I now feel much more connected to my Brazilian heritage, my greatest joy came from changing my ideas about favelas.
I had come into this having already taken a class on the history of Rio with some nuance already in mind: that while these places may have started as squatter settlements, they evolved to be the realistic and one of the only options for affordable housing; that a primary reason for the marginalization residents of favelas experience is not just that they are “illegal”, it is that they are comprised largely of racial minorities and lower classes that are still fighting for equal rights. I knew this, and it made sense given what I knew about the United States; both states are fighting at an institutional level to maintain the social hierarchy that existed upon its creation. However, there comes a point when you realize that not everything can be directly connected back to American history. Brazilian history is rich, it is vibrant, it’s filled with struggle and triumph and it is uniquely Brazilian. While the U.S. was largely successful in imposing Christianity upon African American (and this in no way is discounting the existence of the many practitioners of African Indigenous Religions and other sectors of Black religion), Brazil still has a significant population of Black Brazilians practicing candomblé, with many powerful priestesses residing in favelas. Funk was brought to Brazil from the U.S., but is distinctively tied to the favelas and the stigmatization that they face: initially popular among people in the favelas, but after gang members began to fund these parties, the connection between the two became inseparable, once again conflating artistic expression with violence (as historically seen with capoeira, for example). Carnival was born in the favelas, with dance (samba, specifically) serving as a communal, carefree expression of joy, unity, and a shared identity. I could go on and on, but my point is that favelas are incredibly rich in history and culture, and as I was coming into this with a lens focused on their suffering, I almost overlooked the rest of what their lives and histories were. If there was anything I took away from the research segment of this program, it would be to make sure to not minimize a place to its struggles; I should always search for celebrations, because culture is larger than struggle.
As for the more Laidlaw-oriented part of this reflection, it of course focuses more on leadership. I will say that by the nature of this project, there was not much room for me to lead in a traditional sense. What I mean by this is that you cannot just hunt people down in a community, ask them if they have been evicted, and then if they say yes, ask them if they want to sit down for an interview to be published to the world. I could not completely lead the charge for these news articles. When you are entering into a community that has been so stigmatized and discriminated against throughout history, these conversations must be gentle. Theresa, who has long been involved in work with the favelas, kindly was the one to reach out to community members. A trusted person, we were able to interview one person formally, two others separately, who were evicted from their homes for the mega-events in the 2010s or just were open to explaining what life in a favela was like. The questions I created could not touch on what I knew of favelas, they had to be open to be answered in a way that did not push for an answer that I sought (for example, no: “Do you believe that racism is the reason they demolished your homes”, instead: “Why do you believe that the city wanted to evict your community”.). I thought this would be a quick project (find people, interview, transcribe, publish), but it was so slow. I often had to sit sifting through articles for hours a day to find potential people to interview, to find just the right questions to ask. The interview process was excruciating– it is one thing to read about these displaced removals, but to hear it from the people who experienced it? Leadership through this summer did not come from taking charge or looking to create some narrative that tied all of the world’s problems together through an individual’s unique story, it came in learning patience. I had to be gentle, I had to listen, I had to understand that I will not understand what happened entirely. I think when I thought of a leader, it was someone who was omniscient, someone who always meant and did well, someone with the charisma that would make anyone want to talk to them. Leadership has been re-defined for me now; It is the people who have suffered the last decade deciding that their story has the power to change the future, it is from the people who dedicate their lives to commit to communities who have long been neglected by their own city. It is curated by curiosity and strengthened by the ability to say “I don’t know”. Leadership is honesty– with yourself and others–, it is resilience, and it is patience.
I am pleased to say that this shift in my understanding of leadership has shown to me that I know how to be a better leader. These past two summers as a Laidlaw scholar have helped me not only improve skills like researching, teamwork, and writing, but have helped me learn more about myself along the way. I will forever be grateful for this experience and I hope to continue on this journey even after this summer.