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Kathleen
Bond, MM Lay During the elections of 1997, Margarida Pereira da Silva was the leading candidate for mayor in Pombal in the interior of the state of Paraiba, Northeastern Brazil. Margarida, beloved for her community work with youth, decided to stand for office to offer an alternative to the corrupt, special interest politics that dominate the Northeastern region. With little money, she ran the campaign from her home. One week before Election Day, two strangers offered her a R$100,000($75,000) donation for her youth programme. There was just one condition — Margarida had to drop out of the race. She politely but firmly refused, "I’m running for my people not for money". Within days of the refused bribe, all of her posters were painted over with the words "Nega Feia", Ugly Black Woman. Unable to discredit her honesty or merits, her opponents orchestrated a smear that focused solely on race. Long-time friends and even some relatives, most likely paid off, suddenly were working against her. Margarida lost by a landslide. When Margarida’s nephew caught his girlfriend tearing down Margarida’s posters, she responded, " I’m not going to waste my vote on that ugly, black thing". Margarida’s story of racial discrimination is not isolated to the rural areas of the Northeast. Every day millions of Afro-Brazilians experience racism. From the family living room, where darker skinned children are often discriminated against, to Church pews, barbershops, classrooms, and the Halls of Congress, racism gnaws at the fabric of Brazilian society. The South American giant is often considered by foreigners and Brazilians as a "racial democracy" because of the high number of interracial marriages and seemingly easy banter between the races in everyday life. Racial Democracy, coined by the Brazilian Sociologist Gilberto Freyre in early 20th century, is the theory that a history of extended miscegenation has created a cultural melange in which all races are equally valued. Nothing is farther from the truth in contemporary Brazil. Race in Brazil is complex and distinct. Most Brazilians claim a mixed African, European, and indigenous ancestry. In practice, however, the weight of racism causes people continually to "whiten" themselves. For example, many "morenos" straighen their hair, people search for lighter-skinned marriage partners, and people identify themselves and each other with nicknames indicating a lighter skin tone, such as moreninho (browny), café (coffee), mulato, bronzeado (tanned), and escurinho (darky) to name a few. Rarely will someone assume an identity such as Negro (black). Even those who call themselves black often have a hard time convincing other Brazilians not to identify them as "moreno"or "mulatto". Calling someone black, for many, is still an insult. Skin color profoundly influences life chances. According to a 1992 study by Carlos Hasenbalg and Nelson do Valle Silva, Brazilian non-whites are three times more likely than whites to be illiterate. The numbers deteriorate in the high echelons of academic study. Whites are FIVE times more likely than people of mixed ancestry and NINE times more likely than Blacks to obtain university degrees. This pattern repeats itself in the work force where according to government statistics whites have access to the highest-paying jobs, earning up to 75 per cent more than blacks and 50 per cent more than people of mixed ancestry. (Blessed Anastácia Burdick, John Routledge, 1998). Brazil’s prisons and youth detention centers are bursting at the seams. The vast majority of detainees and victims of police brutality are non-white Brazilians. Not surprisingly, health statistics paint a similar picture. For example, non-white Brazilian infants are almost twice as likely to die as their white counterparts. Not all of the consequences of racism can be neatly packaged into statistics and charts. Effects on self-esteem are not easily measured. At a recent reflection group of Afro-Brazilian Women in João Pessoa, Paraíba, Cida painfully recounted the termination of her relationship. For several years, she dated Chico, a lighter-skinned black, and their colour difference never created difficulties. When they got engaged, Chico’s family exploded with his mother leading the attack, "This little blackie is going to pollute our blood. Go and find someone who will purify our blood". Chico caved in and broke the engagement off within days. Two years later Cida painfully asked the group, "How can you tell me not to feel inferior because of my colour?" Brazil’s black movement struggles to address this question by introducing a positive black identity and fighting racism at all levels of society. According to anthropologist John Burdick, the movement exploded in the 1970s, when a whole generation of non-white students was caught in the contradiction between the promise of upward mobility and the reality of labour and educational barriers. Blacks on the world scene, including revolutionaries in the former Portuguese colonies of Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau, and Angola and militants in the North American black power movement offered encouraging symbols of power and self-confidence for the fledgling Afro-Brazilian movement. Over the past 25 years, the Black movement in Brazil has developed various facets. Some groups exclusively dedicate their energy to judicial and legislative arenas, such as the enforcement of the 1989 Caó law that makes racism a crime. Other organizations focus on cultural programmes. The most famous example is the internationally acclaimed percussion band, Olodum. Various research institutes, primarily in Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, focus on black identity and tend to cater to the middle class. Segments of the Catholic Church, most notably the Agentes de Pastoral Negro (Black Pastoral Church Workers), offer educational courses for the economically disadvantaged. The Black Movement here in the state of Paraíba is one example of this diversity. Participating organizations include: Caiana dos Crioulos, a black community of descendants of runaway slaves; Banda Ylê Odara and other musical, martial arts and dance groups; Afro-Brazilian religious groups, including Candomblé and Umbanda centres; women’s reflection groups; coalition and organizing entities including the Agentes de Pastoral Negro; and education groups that focus on literacy programmes, training and school curriculum development. During the annual, state-wide Black Movement Conference in September 1999, more than 100 activists from these groups gathered for three days in the capital. With Brazil approaching in April, 2000 the anniversary of the Portuguese colonization, this year’s theme was "500 Years of Black Resistance". In addition to gaining new insights on cultural, religious, and political resistance, coming together in solidarity is an important aspect of the annual conference. In the rural regions, Blacks are often isolated. They suffer intense discrimination, especially in the school system. Paulo Cesar, a 26-year-old community activist in Sousa, shared a story that echoed the childhood experiences of many of the participants. In his junior high school there were only three or four black students in the class. When he was called "negão besta" (big, stupid black), his teacher refused to intervene. His mother, lacking formal education and self-confidence, also failed to react when he came home from school crying. "That experience left a profound mark", stated Cesar. "My involvement with the Black Movement reinforces in me that being a black is not horrible, it’s being a human being like any other person". Cesar directs cultural groups, including capoeira (a combination of martial arts and dance that slaves practiced, training for escape). He also gives workshops about racism in local schools. "I come to these gatherings to learn", commented Cesar," but perhaps more importantly I carry back with me a renewed pride and self-confidence in being Afro-Brazilian". Other Black activists also work to the interior regions in the state. Tanzanian Maryknoll Sister Efu Nyaki and her Brazilian colleagues travel extensively throughout the drought-stricken, poor countryside to offer two-day formation courses focusing on identity, self-esteem, and empowerment. During the visits, Nyaki discovered an abysmally low educational level among most blacks in the interior. "We’ve been to all-black rural communities where only one or two people are literate, which has led us to seek funding to begin small literacy programmes", commented Nyaki. Lagoa Raça is one of those communities. Five years ago, when Nyaki’s team first visited the community 10 hours from state capital, there was no school within walking distance and only one of the 200 residents could read and write. With help from outside, that man, Chagas, was trained to offer adult literacy courses. Over time, a school was built to serve the community. "There are Lagoa Raças all over the Northeast", lamented Nyaki. "The Government has simply abandoned these people". Educational work is also occurring in the urban areas. Activists are giving workshops on racism and Afro-Brazilian identity in schools. Very few school children admit being black when the question is posed at the beginning of the sessions. For most Brazilians, regardless of colour, being black is not a positive thing. In the schools, the complete lack of educational material about Afro-Brazilian history and culture reinforces negative images. Nyaki’s team is working with black university professors to develop a primary school curriculum that includes the history and achievements of black Brazilians. Black Religious are coming together for reflection in various groups nationwide. GRENI (Group of Black and Indigenous Religious) in Paraíba is one such group. One of the goals of these small clusters of Catholic priests and sisters is to begin the process of reclaiming their identity as Blacks and Indigenous. Many participants find strength from the groups to face the racism in their own religious communities. Catholics are not just talking to each other about race issues. Over the last decade some Catholics have attempted to dialogue with Afro-Brazilian religious members who have suffered intense discrimination, often condoned by the Catholic Church over the years. Until the 1950s, acts of destruction against Candomblé houses of worship by either the police or common citizens were never punished by law. Even after the practice of Afro-Brazilian religion was legalized in the early ’70s, participants were required to request permission from local authorities on the day of worship until the end of the decade. Persecution continues even today when Afro-Brazilian religious symbols such as drums and colourful vestments are considered by some as "coisas do diabo" (things of the devil). One of the first Catholics involved in this inter-religious effort was the late Comboni Fr Hector Frissoti, who began his ministry by simply attending the terreiros (the sacred Afro-Brazilian place of worship). After educating himself, Frissoti began to write and publish his reflections. He carried these experiences first to his own Comboni community in Brazil and later to the larger Brazilian Catholic Church. The issue reached the agenda of the Nineth Annual Inter-Ecclesial Base Community leaders meeting, a gathering of 8,000 people, including 67 Bishops, in 1997 in São Luiz, Maranhão. Frissoti and others involved in the effort have met resistance on both sides. The inclusion of Afro-Brazilian religions on the agenda caused conflict among the Bishops, who feared that including the Afro-Brazilian religions would tarnish the image of the Catholic Church. Others argued that inter-religious dialogue and celebrations would be more inclusive of the many Catholics who participate in terreiros. There is resistance from the practitioners of Afro-Brazilian religions as well. After suffering a century of persecution from the Catholic Church, many Afro-Brazilian religious leaders are cautious. Ana Rita Santiago, a Candomblé priestess from Salvador Bahia, expressed a common concern, "I am wary of a process that is limited to taking some of our symbols and simply incorporating them into the Catholic mass" But Fr Frissoti’s spirit of reconciliation continues to touch many in Brazil, including some in high places. The National Conference of Brazilian Bishops (CNBB) announced recently that it plans to ask publicly for forgiveness from Indigenous and Black peoples for not speaking of injustices committed against them as Brazil approaches 500 years of European presence. For Sr Nyaki, who has accompanied the emerging dialogue for the last six years, this is only the beginning. "Public statements from Church leaders is a step but, we also ask that Brazilian Catholics open their hearts and minds".
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