I got this message from a woman last night and I didn't want to expose her name. There isn't a single day when we can walk in public spaces without suffering attempts at humiliation and embarrassment simply for being black. We have recently seen what happened to Maria Julia, to Milleni, to Gabi Monteiro and so many others that I could spend the rest of my life listing names. These spaces are everywhere: work, school, college, the street. Every day, we have to slay three lions every corner we turn. How many times have I had to move away because there were cameras pointing in my direction? When do we not face violent situations on the street because we're black? But, as people say, "There is no racism in Brazil. This is a mixed race; everyone lives in peace together; everyone respects one another. Black people like to play the victims, and the 'black movement' group is really annoying -- everything is racism for them. You can't even joke; they get offended. Black or white, it's all the same. We're all equal; we're the human race. Black people are the most racist people -- they segregate themselves."
Text above: Good evening! I don't know you personally but I have seen you around twice at Madureira station. I think you're very authentic and I remember your face. I was very upset when a guy near me started to record video of you, making fun of your style. I went home regretting not having said anything at the time! And today, by coincidence, my cousin liked one of your posts and I decided to talk to you to apologize!
I would like to believe that we're all the same, if it weren't for Amnesty international telling us that of the 30,000 youths murdered every year in Brazil, 77 percent are black. These numbers are people. Not to mention, in terms of representation, that we could bring out data from UFRJ (Federal University of Rio de Janeiro) showing that, even though we are more than 50 percent of the population, we have a low representation level in the movie industry and on television.
What about Angela Davis arriving in Brazil and saying, "I always watch TV in Brazil to see how the country represents itself, and Brazilian TV has never allowed people to think that the population is, in its majority, black." I would like to believe that we are all equal, if at work I wasn't the only person who identifies herself as black among a relatively large team. I would like to believe that we are all equal, if I didn't know that all black people have had their culture taken away from them, and it is still the same today. And after centuries of annihilation, massacres, forced whitening, self-negation, we are rebuilding our identities, searching for our culture, enjoying being who we are, discovering our history, occupying the spaces we have built that were stolen from us.
Recently, at PUC-Rio, I chaired a roundtable on the topic of black people in Brazilian television, journalism and movies. The guests were Milton Gonçalves, Flávia Oliveira and Fabrício Boliveira. Milton said: "Every time someone is racist towards you, you have to read three books."
Can you imagine the reading list I have now?
I spent 18 years of my life not recognizing myself, not knowing who I was, and denying myself to fit the standards imposed on us. But for me, this is how it goes, standards be damned. You can try to destroy us, humiliate us, and embarrass us. None of this will work here. Can you fight us? We're becoming the next storytellers of this country. We are the ones who take the bus, the train, the subway. We are the ones who spend more than five hours commuting so we can work and study. We are the ones who study on a shaking bus at 11 p.m., the ones you have never expected anything from. We are the ones who fight for a less unequal place, not only in theory, but also in practice -- while you keep your arms crossed, saying we are radicals, politically correct, the greatest racists; while you, who says these things, discriminate against us at the first opportunity.
For those of you who continue to perpetuate the racist system, whichever mechanism you are using, the most important contribution we can give you is making you see that the abyss belongs to you, and to you only.
You have destruction; we have reconstruction. You have separated us; we are uniting. You have stones and weapons; we have books, words, pride and the will to change. You have bitterness; we have pride. You have hatred; we have love. And because we choose love, we are already winners. Because never before, in the history of the world, has love failed to win.
This post first appeared on HuffPost Brazil and was translated into English.