Porto Alegre, 26th of january 2003
By Dieuwertje Huijg

Today is Sunday, the third day of the World Social Forum in Porto Alegre, Brazil. This was a great day. It started with the second workshop, which Júlia, from the SOF, together with the feminist artist Biba from São Paulo, organized in the Youth Camp (or City of Cities), this time on sexist advertisement. You do not have to go far to find that, I brought some nice sexist (actually, racist as well as heterosexist) ones from Holland with me. But the association of beer with blond, big breasted women, seducing the beer (or something/one else, us??), shouting some non-related nonsense on the beer's brand is so constant and absurd, there was enough material found in Brazil. It definitely was inspirating food for some creative feminist action in the morning. Because that was what we were going to do. A group of young women (feminist or not), and also some young men (trying to become feminist, I hope), were ready to get paint and get over with the sexist advertisement we are confronted with every single day.

The goal of this workshop was to actively participate in the change of anti-women's advertisement, to do something against it. The World Social Forum is 100.000 activists and/or thinkers together, talk, talk, talk, demonstrate, and sometimes assist an anti-neoliberal movie or theatre act, or otherwise participate to change our planet into another better world. But it is hard to feel it in your toes, to get this feeling in your fingers, with which you really can construct another world. I sometimes have this feeling coming up, you know up from your back. That you need to get some good purple paint, walk a bit back, and just start running to that sexist (or otherwise discriminating) billboard, and transform this piece of **** into a nice colourfull street decoration.

The nights were (are) waiting for us, and lots of felt like it, but we did not come to this kind of civil protest. Though, you do not need a billboard to change your frustration into creativity. So paint (black, white and red) we had, everything else useful to paint with, and painting was what we did.

Before this, we sat in the grass, talking about what these advertisements mean, what they tell us (and others). But, even more important, what their effect is on us. It was really good that some young guys also found it important to take a look, and get themselves to think on sexist advertisements. Though, it was strange that this did not result in any kind of auto-reflection. Instead they occupied a lot of non-physical space, talking too much.

Some of the women told that last year two women were raped in the youth camp. I did not know this, and was a bit shocked. Somewhere I always hope to find some enlightened sort of human species, like an anti-neoliberal globalization movement, who inherently already expulsed these kind of things. But real life is different, and also this year women were sexually and/or violently harrassed. Even worse was that the "offenders" were said to be the "punks". I would not dare to say here that there are no punks who harrass women or others. But for me, it seemed an easy piece of non-reflection, and put the non-ideal actions ("we" are not violent) on "the others."

It does not matter so much who did what, or not. What matters is that the youth camp appeared to be again a non-safe place, where it should have been a fruitful (peaceful) environment of non- and anti-discrimination. The women (me included) were totally pissed of, and ready for action. That is why we come together in the first place. You cannot march with 10.000s against a war or for peace, and not protect the ones who are marching with you.

Marching is a good way to express your anger, your preoccupation. Thus was decided to use the transformed ads, which now actually were critics on our sexist society, to pick up some drums (and get those guys off the drums!), get the women on the drums, and start singing, dancing and demonstrating through the youth camp.

Violência contra a mulher (Violence against women)
Não é o mundo que a gente quer (This is not the world we want)

The women on the drums told later that some men were suspicious looking at them, wondering if it were really the women who were doing the drums, and they were!! Demonstrating is fun. The PCdoB (Communist Party of Brazil) apparently was really excited by so much action, and were quickly present with their big red flags. It made me wonder why they left almost more rapidly (and unvisibly) than how they joined us. Are feminist so scary (yes we are!!!)? The youth came out of their tents, looking where the tumult came from. The crowd was clapping, and laughing and we could use a microphone to promote our action and address the problem. But still, we were demonstrating with some 40 women (and some men), and all the others supporting us did not join us? Is violence not their problem? Does this only happen to the (mostly female) neighbour?

I left with a really good feeling. It always makes me so happy and gives me so much energy to participate in actions like this. I do not think a day can start better than combining this artistic, or at least creative element, which is hidden in all of us, with the pleasure of transforming the world. It is even better to do this with others, who all with their own experiences want to contribute, and join forces for a positive change.

So, enthusiastic I got in the bus, to the PUC (the catholic university/campus where most workshops take place). This is a fascinating trip, since you welcomely or unwelcomely have to explain where you are from (in my case, my name and country, Holland, always need some explanation, mostly on drugs). That I have a feminist mission (well, something like that) extracts interesting reactions. But I found out that a women's movements goal is easier to understand. Still I had to get rid of a frustrated man.

It might be an unrealistic goal, but I wanted to meet a friend from São Paulo (from an organization that helps people with anemia falcifôrme) at the Quilombo Forum. Quilombos were places, mainly in the period slavery was still the legal system in Brazil, where Afrobrazilian slaves ran away to, where also so indigenous people lived, and some Eurobrazilians. They were independent communities, with an own army, often living (hiding) in the woods. Defending the community and its inhabitants were questions of life and death. Palmares is the most famous, with its king Zumbi.

I did not find her, of course, but I did find some other friends from ACMUN (Cultural Articulation of Black Women, from the State Rio Grande do Sul (RS)). They had already picked out a workshop, which was totally full. But the Quilombo Forum (a parallel forum, on the official PUC terrain) was also busy scheduled. So we easily found another workshop.

NUTRAFO (Thematic Working Group of Afrodescendents) gave a workshop on racism in general, and especifically on Afrobrazilians in Rio Grande (another city in RS) during slavery. When we entered the place, we had to put on bracelets with a certain colour: red, black, white or yellow. I had/was red. We had to sit together with the others with the same colour. Characteristics, in relation to labour, of your colour were mentioned. We as reds, thus, were lazy and not so good (productive) working-people. Blacks, though, appeared to be physically the opposite, where yellows had a good working spirit. And whites were made to be in the possession of the production process, and financial resources. Also, the `good appearences' were necessary to find a job, and give you the capability to do this job well.

After that, announcements were shown from different journals from RS from 1870-71. I do not know if it is good to be shocked every time you are confronted with these cruel things. But I was. Persons (slaves) were 'offered' for sale, for rent. As well as their children. After eight years old they could be sold, or otherwise turned automatically into the `possession' of the `owner', with all its consequences. Slaves who ran away were looked for, an announcement mentioning that the person (the slave) was paralyzed by birth, in the next sentence saying that he missed some fingers (not by birth). Apparently cut off by the 'owner.'

The group, now as a whole, could comment how they experienced it that characteristiscs were related to a colour, to you as a member of a colour group. That it is strange that you get a certain label, what actually has no relation with you. And of course that this label means a more or less privileged position, and gives you (or not) access to a job.

One of the NUTRAFO member said that she had to recognize that she was black, that she had to study what it meant to be Afrobrazilian. That if your skin colour is not black, you are called brown ('morrena'), and thus you are not identified as a 'negra' [Afrobrazilian, DH]. Because white people are still the political subjects, where black people are supposed not to be. She mentioned that it is an act of auto-affirmation to be/identify oneself as 'negra' (instead of identify, or to be identified as 'morrena').

Others talked about the fetishism, the commercialization of the black body, as a commodity, a fashion product. That when, for example, dreadlocks are 'in', everyone can have them. But these fashions pass, and aspects of the Afrobrazilian culture are not valued in itself. They are only objects of anthropological research, and not part of Brazilian culture [the workshop was on Brazil, DH].

After the workshop I tried to find my friends downstairs. Instead of succeeding in this, I could enjoy a group of kids, in the age of 6-16, dancing. Music from Rappa, a famous Brazilian political, critical rap band, was used for classical ballet. And other Brazilian dances were mixed with not so logic musics. This was a day of action, of entertainment, and of the good combination of political critique with creative expression.