blacks in brazil.
from 1991.
Blacks in Brazil: the myth and the reality
Charles Whitaker
MENTION Brazil and the minds of travel magazine junkies conjure up images of ample-bottomed, amber-colored mulattas strolling Ipanema Beach in thong bikinis, or a parade of elaborately costumed revelers carelessly dancing the lambada into the night during carnival, the bacchanalian festival that lures thousands of tourists to Rio de Janeiro each year.
That's the glimpse of Brazil offered through the filtered lenses of guarded tour guides. It is a travelogue view that shows off the breathtaking topography of the Amazon and the seductive rhythms of the samba.
Conspicuously absent from this view, however, is a true sense of the cultural diversity and racial complexity that are part and parcel of this, the country with the largest population of African descendants (60 million) in the Western Hemisphere. In fact, Brazil's Black population is second in size only to that of Nigeria (pop. 115 million).
Yet, according to the rehearsed blather of many of the country's official mouthpieces, Brazil is the world's one true melting pot--a tropical paradise where the cultures and complexions of the land's Portuguese invaders (who did not officially abolish slavery until 1888), their African captives and the Indian natives from a melange of 140 million people who are uniquely and unitedly Brazilian.
"There is nothing here like the racism you have in the United States," says Adriana Lopez, as she escorts a visitor from Rio de Janeiro International Airport to the lush hotels that line the rich and touristy Copacabana area of the city. "Racism like you know it is illegal here. Black, White, Brown, Yellow, here we are all just Brazilians."
That is the party line: promotion of the myth that a Brazilian national character supersedes any and all racial distinctions. Speak with Brazilians of color, however, and one learns that the country's melting pot is more like a boiling cauldron wherein the suppressed cultural, religious and political identity of Black and Brown Brazilians is now bubbling to the surface.
Race in Brazil, where amalgamation has colored the population, is not the cut-and-dried proposition that it is in America. In a 1983 census from example, when Brazilians were asked to state their racial identification, many respondents labeled themselves not according to "race" but along a color continuum that included such descriptions as "yellow-brown" or "light tan." Census takers recorded more than 100 such categories.
Demographers estimate that of the nearly 80 million Brazilians who classify themselves as White, as many as 15 percent have enough of a trace of African ancestry to be considered Black by American standards. Internationally acclaimed actress Sonia Braga (a frequent guest on television's The Cosby Show and co-star of the movie The Kiss of the Spider Woman) is among the dark, abundantly hipped "White" beauties about whom Black Brazilians whisper: "She has more than a touch of the mother country in her."
Also compelling is the lack of uplifting Black images on display to inspire Afro-Brazilians. Only during the five days of carnival, when competing "samba schools" march hundreds of lavishly costumed Black singers, dancers and musicians down the specially designed parade route, do Afro-Brazilians take center stage in the national consciousness.
Though retired soccer star Pele, who in his playing days led Brazil to three World Cup championships, is still a revered national hero, and artists like musician Gilberto Gil and novelist Jorge Amado have considerable international stature, Afro-Brazilians have a relatively low national profile.
Black politicians are few and far between. The federal congress has but one Black senator and three deputies in the lower chamber. Pele has buoyed Afro-Brazilian political hopes by announcing that he will run for the presidency in 1994.
For all the talk of a national character, nearly 40 percent of the nation's Blacks live in favelas, the contaminated hillside slums composed of thousands of ramshackle houses. Blacks still have a higher illiteracy rate than Whites (33 percent versus 15 percent); and almost 40 percent of the Black population toils in menial jobs where they earn less than the minimum wage of $50 per month.
But in spite of the bleak outlook, or perhaps because of it, a new day is dawning for Afro-Brazilians. After decades in which military dictators preached that complete amalgamation was the cure-all for festering racial tensions, Brazilians of African descent, taking their cues from Black Americans, are in the throes of a consciousness-raising movement designed to help gain political power in the civilian government and to highlight African contributions to the country.
Not only are Afro-Brazilian music and dance, which have always been among the country's great drawing cards, enjoying heightened international popularity, but other forms of Afro-Brazilian art and African-influenced religious beliefs are also gaining acceptance and respect.
Even in the fractious political arena, which for years has been controlled exclusively by either White military leaders or, in the nearly 10 years of civilian rule, White businessmen, Afro-Brazilians are making small inroads, not the least of which is Pele's dramatic announcement last October of his presidential aspirations.
At last, a time has arrived in Brazil when many Afro-Brazilians are loudly and proudly celebrating their heritage. And there is much to celebrate.
"Almost everything that tourists associate with Brazil has its origins in Africa," says Haroldo Costa, a well-known nightclub performer and one of the few Afro-Brazilians to appear on one of the country's popular soap operas.
Costa cites both the samba and the lambada, the sensual Brazilian music and dance crazes that are among the country's chief cultural exports, as examples of Africa's influence on Brazil. "The words 'samba' and 'lambada' come from the Bantu word siemba, meaning navel," he says, wriggling in his seat at a Rio restaurant to demonstrate the sexually suggestive movements that are typical of both dances. "These are ways of expressing yourself musically and through movement that come directly from Africa. All these things--samba, bossa nova, even carnival--these things that are so much a part of Brazil and that make people want to come here, all go back to Africa."
And back to Africa is exactly where the sensibilities of many Afro-Brazilians are traveling. Examples of the rise in Afro-Brazilian consciousness have slowly emerged throughout the country in the last decade, but are most pronounced in Bahia, the Brazilian state boasting the largest and most unadulterated concentration of Afro-Brazilians. Approximately 75 per cent of Bahia's population of 2.5 million is of African descent. It is not surprising then that Bahia is the center of the Afro-Brazilian renaissance, and is attracting Black tourists from around the world with its distinctly African (Yoruba, to be precise) character.
"Because there are so many Afro-Brazilians living there, Bahia has taken the lead in Black culture and, some say, political activism," says internationally famous musician Gilberto Gil, who in 1988 was elected to the City Council of Salvador, the capital of Bahia. "Bahia is like a spiritual home to Black Brazilians. It is probably where the African connection is strongest."
Bahia is also where Candomble (pronounced can-dome-blay), the Yoruba faith that once was banned in Brazil, flourishes most. Africans, kidnapped and brought to Brazil during the slave trade, brought Candomble with them and practiced it underground for generations while also professing and allegiance to Catholicism.
With its multiple deities, each of whom is believed to control the elements as well as exert influence over mankind, the practice of Candomble would seem incongruous in this over-whelmingly Catholic country. But a sure sign of the growing strength of the Afro-Brazilian movement is the acceptance of Candomble.
Candomble festivals hold virtually the same significance as the national observance of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. And Salvador's Afro-Brazilian Museum (the founding and funding of which is another coup for Black Brazilians) is virtually a monument to the history, the growth and development of Brazilian Candomble.
"You have all these things like Candomble that are African and that were underground until maybe 10 or 15 years ago," says Paula Santos, a free lance writer and journalist. "People did not admit to being involved in it. Now, you have people saying proudly that they are part of Candomble. They are proud of their African heritage, but it has taken a long time to get to this point."
Indeed, the development of an Afro-Brazilian consciousness has not been easy. Swept up in the national rhetoric about amalgamation and holding firm to the belief that the country's "anti-racism" laws had truly brought about "racial democracy," many Afro-Brazilians have been loath to align themselves with the Black consciousness movement, a factor that has contributed to the dearth of Black politicians.
Even in Salvador de Bahia, with a population of 1.8 million, 75 percent of them Black, voters have never elected a Black mayor. "It will take a long time to bring some Black Brazilians to the point of realizing electing Black politicians is the only way to end our social and economic subordination," says Abdias do Nascimento, the 75-year-old artist, writer and Black movement leader who was one of the first Afro-Brazilians elected to the country's federal congress.
In entertainment, a few Black musicians and nightclub performers are making breakthroughs. But no Black performer has captured the nation's fancy like Xuxa, the young, blond, blue-eyed woman who stars on Brazil's most popular telelvision show.
Xuxa (pronounced shoo-shuh) is one of the current cultural orinies rankling members of the Afro-Brazilian nationalist movement. The singer, who is a descendant of Italian, German and Polish immigrants, is a national icon, worshipped and emulated by hundreds of thousands of Black and Brown Brazilian children.
"The fascination with Xuxa is very negative for Black children," says Nascimento. "It makes our children despise themselves because they don't fit the beauty standard of blond hair and blue eyes."
What fuels the Black nationalist movement, however, is the increasing disenchantment that Afro-Brazilians have begun to feel with their place in society. The realization that people of color remain disproportionately poor and disenfranchised despite government claims that racism was outlawed has helped the Black-nationalist movement grow. It has led Afro-Brazilians to reach out to other Blacks, particularly Black Americans, for guidance as they attempt to gain control of their own destinies.
What will come of this new consciousness is difficult to say. But clearly, there will not be a return to the old order. "The Afro-Brazilian community is in the middle of a great period of self-discovery and awakening," says Jose Venerando Da Silveira, a Sao Paulo attorney and director of the Organization of Afro-Brazilian Attorneys. "Black Americans went through this same period and brought great changes to society there. It is possible for the same thing to happen here."
COPYRIGHT 1991 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1077/is_n4_v46/ai_9329550/print
Blacks in Brazil: the myth and the reality
Charles Whitaker
MENTION Brazil and the minds of travel magazine junkies conjure up images of ample-bottomed, amber-colored mulattas strolling Ipanema Beach in thong bikinis, or a parade of elaborately costumed revelers carelessly dancing the lambada into the night during carnival, the bacchanalian festival that lures thousands of tourists to Rio de Janeiro each year.
That's the glimpse of Brazil offered through the filtered lenses of guarded tour guides. It is a travelogue view that shows off the breathtaking topography of the Amazon and the seductive rhythms of the samba.
Conspicuously absent from this view, however, is a true sense of the cultural diversity and racial complexity that are part and parcel of this, the country with the largest population of African descendants (60 million) in the Western Hemisphere. In fact, Brazil's Black population is second in size only to that of Nigeria (pop. 115 million).
Yet, according to the rehearsed blather of many of the country's official mouthpieces, Brazil is the world's one true melting pot--a tropical paradise where the cultures and complexions of the land's Portuguese invaders (who did not officially abolish slavery until 1888), their African captives and the Indian natives from a melange of 140 million people who are uniquely and unitedly Brazilian.
"There is nothing here like the racism you have in the United States," says Adriana Lopez, as she escorts a visitor from Rio de Janeiro International Airport to the lush hotels that line the rich and touristy Copacabana area of the city. "Racism like you know it is illegal here. Black, White, Brown, Yellow, here we are all just Brazilians."
That is the party line: promotion of the myth that a Brazilian national character supersedes any and all racial distinctions. Speak with Brazilians of color, however, and one learns that the country's melting pot is more like a boiling cauldron wherein the suppressed cultural, religious and political identity of Black and Brown Brazilians is now bubbling to the surface.
Race in Brazil, where amalgamation has colored the population, is not the cut-and-dried proposition that it is in America. In a 1983 census from example, when Brazilians were asked to state their racial identification, many respondents labeled themselves not according to "race" but along a color continuum that included such descriptions as "yellow-brown" or "light tan." Census takers recorded more than 100 such categories.
Demographers estimate that of the nearly 80 million Brazilians who classify themselves as White, as many as 15 percent have enough of a trace of African ancestry to be considered Black by American standards. Internationally acclaimed actress Sonia Braga (a frequent guest on television's The Cosby Show and co-star of the movie The Kiss of the Spider Woman) is among the dark, abundantly hipped "White" beauties about whom Black Brazilians whisper: "She has more than a touch of the mother country in her."
Also compelling is the lack of uplifting Black images on display to inspire Afro-Brazilians. Only during the five days of carnival, when competing "samba schools" march hundreds of lavishly costumed Black singers, dancers and musicians down the specially designed parade route, do Afro-Brazilians take center stage in the national consciousness.
Though retired soccer star Pele, who in his playing days led Brazil to three World Cup championships, is still a revered national hero, and artists like musician Gilberto Gil and novelist Jorge Amado have considerable international stature, Afro-Brazilians have a relatively low national profile.
Black politicians are few and far between. The federal congress has but one Black senator and three deputies in the lower chamber. Pele has buoyed Afro-Brazilian political hopes by announcing that he will run for the presidency in 1994.
For all the talk of a national character, nearly 40 percent of the nation's Blacks live in favelas, the contaminated hillside slums composed of thousands of ramshackle houses. Blacks still have a higher illiteracy rate than Whites (33 percent versus 15 percent); and almost 40 percent of the Black population toils in menial jobs where they earn less than the minimum wage of $50 per month.
But in spite of the bleak outlook, or perhaps because of it, a new day is dawning for Afro-Brazilians. After decades in which military dictators preached that complete amalgamation was the cure-all for festering racial tensions, Brazilians of African descent, taking their cues from Black Americans, are in the throes of a consciousness-raising movement designed to help gain political power in the civilian government and to highlight African contributions to the country.
Not only are Afro-Brazilian music and dance, which have always been among the country's great drawing cards, enjoying heightened international popularity, but other forms of Afro-Brazilian art and African-influenced religious beliefs are also gaining acceptance and respect.
Even in the fractious political arena, which for years has been controlled exclusively by either White military leaders or, in the nearly 10 years of civilian rule, White businessmen, Afro-Brazilians are making small inroads, not the least of which is Pele's dramatic announcement last October of his presidential aspirations.
At last, a time has arrived in Brazil when many Afro-Brazilians are loudly and proudly celebrating their heritage. And there is much to celebrate.
"Almost everything that tourists associate with Brazil has its origins in Africa," says Haroldo Costa, a well-known nightclub performer and one of the few Afro-Brazilians to appear on one of the country's popular soap operas.
Costa cites both the samba and the lambada, the sensual Brazilian music and dance crazes that are among the country's chief cultural exports, as examples of Africa's influence on Brazil. "The words 'samba' and 'lambada' come from the Bantu word siemba, meaning navel," he says, wriggling in his seat at a Rio restaurant to demonstrate the sexually suggestive movements that are typical of both dances. "These are ways of expressing yourself musically and through movement that come directly from Africa. All these things--samba, bossa nova, even carnival--these things that are so much a part of Brazil and that make people want to come here, all go back to Africa."
And back to Africa is exactly where the sensibilities of many Afro-Brazilians are traveling. Examples of the rise in Afro-Brazilian consciousness have slowly emerged throughout the country in the last decade, but are most pronounced in Bahia, the Brazilian state boasting the largest and most unadulterated concentration of Afro-Brazilians. Approximately 75 per cent of Bahia's population of 2.5 million is of African descent. It is not surprising then that Bahia is the center of the Afro-Brazilian renaissance, and is attracting Black tourists from around the world with its distinctly African (Yoruba, to be precise) character.
"Because there are so many Afro-Brazilians living there, Bahia has taken the lead in Black culture and, some say, political activism," says internationally famous musician Gilberto Gil, who in 1988 was elected to the City Council of Salvador, the capital of Bahia. "Bahia is like a spiritual home to Black Brazilians. It is probably where the African connection is strongest."
Bahia is also where Candomble (pronounced can-dome-blay), the Yoruba faith that once was banned in Brazil, flourishes most. Africans, kidnapped and brought to Brazil during the slave trade, brought Candomble with them and practiced it underground for generations while also professing and allegiance to Catholicism.
With its multiple deities, each of whom is believed to control the elements as well as exert influence over mankind, the practice of Candomble would seem incongruous in this over-whelmingly Catholic country. But a sure sign of the growing strength of the Afro-Brazilian movement is the acceptance of Candomble.
Candomble festivals hold virtually the same significance as the national observance of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. And Salvador's Afro-Brazilian Museum (the founding and funding of which is another coup for Black Brazilians) is virtually a monument to the history, the growth and development of Brazilian Candomble.
"You have all these things like Candomble that are African and that were underground until maybe 10 or 15 years ago," says Paula Santos, a free lance writer and journalist. "People did not admit to being involved in it. Now, you have people saying proudly that they are part of Candomble. They are proud of their African heritage, but it has taken a long time to get to this point."
Indeed, the development of an Afro-Brazilian consciousness has not been easy. Swept up in the national rhetoric about amalgamation and holding firm to the belief that the country's "anti-racism" laws had truly brought about "racial democracy," many Afro-Brazilians have been loath to align themselves with the Black consciousness movement, a factor that has contributed to the dearth of Black politicians.
Even in Salvador de Bahia, with a population of 1.8 million, 75 percent of them Black, voters have never elected a Black mayor. "It will take a long time to bring some Black Brazilians to the point of realizing electing Black politicians is the only way to end our social and economic subordination," says Abdias do Nascimento, the 75-year-old artist, writer and Black movement leader who was one of the first Afro-Brazilians elected to the country's federal congress.
In entertainment, a few Black musicians and nightclub performers are making breakthroughs. But no Black performer has captured the nation's fancy like Xuxa, the young, blond, blue-eyed woman who stars on Brazil's most popular telelvision show.
Xuxa (pronounced shoo-shuh) is one of the current cultural orinies rankling members of the Afro-Brazilian nationalist movement. The singer, who is a descendant of Italian, German and Polish immigrants, is a national icon, worshipped and emulated by hundreds of thousands of Black and Brown Brazilian children.
"The fascination with Xuxa is very negative for Black children," says Nascimento. "It makes our children despise themselves because they don't fit the beauty standard of blond hair and blue eyes."
What fuels the Black nationalist movement, however, is the increasing disenchantment that Afro-Brazilians have begun to feel with their place in society. The realization that people of color remain disproportionately poor and disenfranchised despite government claims that racism was outlawed has helped the Black-nationalist movement grow. It has led Afro-Brazilians to reach out to other Blacks, particularly Black Americans, for guidance as they attempt to gain control of their own destinies.
What will come of this new consciousness is difficult to say. But clearly, there will not be a return to the old order. "The Afro-Brazilian community is in the middle of a great period of self-discovery and awakening," says Jose Venerando Da Silveira, a Sao Paulo attorney and director of the Organization of Afro-Brazilian Attorneys. "Black Americans went through this same period and brought great changes to society there. It is possible for the same thing to happen here."
COPYRIGHT 1991 Johnson Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1077/is_n4_v46/ai_9329550/print