Brazil: A Life-changing Experience

This was written by Chris Ivory, an undergraduate student at OSU.

Like the rest of the International Affairs (IA) Scholars, I was very excited to be spending my spring break in Brazil. While I assumed I would love the country, I never fathomed before hand that I would take on the Brazilian culture itself. While touring was always fun and insightful, my trip quickly developed into a learning experience, one in which has changed my life forever.

What made the trip a little different for me was that I was the only Black male IA Scholar. Whenever IA traveled as a group, I felt somewhat isolated because of the cultural differences between the others and myself. Most obvious was my style of dress; baggy jeans/shorts/jogging pants, long t-shirts, fitted caps, and tennis shoes opposed to flip-flops and sandals. While I enjoyed IA’s company throughout Brazil, it sill was awkward being one of a kind all of the time.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only the only one who took notice to my differences. I received attention from the moment our plane touched in Sao Paulo. The Brazilians never hesitated to stare me down, point, or sometimes walk up to me and attempt to converse wherever the group and I went. None of the others in the group received as much attention as I did, except the girls who were always approached by the aggressive Brazilian men. The attention I received was rarely uncomforting, but rather flattering. I could see on the faces of the Brazilians whose eyes were on me that they were fascinated by me (especially my clothes) and wanted to know more about me like I did them. It was almost like an even exchange; I came to tour their country and marvel at their way of life, and they returned the favor by expressing interest in me.

However, it was not until the group went to Pelorinho (March 17) that I realized who exactly I was receiving attention from. Specifically, it was usually the darker skinned/Afro-Brazilians, and although I have light skin, this didn’t seem to matter to them. To them I was just an atypical American. The first day in Pelorinho, I went into a clothing store where two Black guys were working. I described what happened in my journal as follows, “The man with long dreads smiled to me and said ‘hip-hop!…You hippie-hoppie!’”. I laughed and smiled back. While I know it isn’t so great that the Black American’s world image is defined by hip-hop, it was good to have something recognizable to him (and the world for that matter) to spark conversation between us. This was the beginning of me finding “my people”. That was definitely one of the more memorable events that occurred, mostly because it was my first step towards understanding the beauty of their culture. Black people in America are so divided, and even more separated from the rest of the world when considering most Black American’s have no knowledge of their true ancestry. Yet, because of cultural differences, the Brazilians and I had more reason to getting to know each other and our cultures, which probably can be said from the rest of IA and not just me.

Immediately after that, while touring Pelorinho I was stopped by another vendor. Again referring to my journal, I said “I told the man I didn’t have any money, but he still wanted to talk. He pointed to my backwards fitted hat and said ‘Your hat is like mine! Is it for me?!’ We both laughed but then interestingly enough, he called me brother and gave me a capo-eira necklace. I told him I didn’t have any money but he said ‘keep it. We are brothers. My name is Yvonne’”. Surely this was flattering, as I cannot remember ever having received such words from the Black people in America whom share the same culture and similar background as me. Yvonne was the first of many to give me such treatment. That same day, our last stop was in the lower city market. I’m not too big on shopping, so I elected to get my hair braided by some girls who had a sign displaying the different hair styles. I was so overwhelmed by the compliments about my hair I couldn’t say no. And although I couldn’t understand them, I knew that they were talking about me as they did my hair. Those girls, all of which were Black, were significant in my understanding of people worldwide. Although from different parts of the world, they braided, acted, and communicated to each other (judging by their tone, facial expressions, and body language) exactly like the Black girls at home that do my hair. While I was at first happy to know that Black people worldwide share such similarities, the bigger picture is that most people do as well. Cultural differences aren’t too different from each other.

All people of Earth are humans and it is a shame that prejudices about color and nationality have and will forever prevent the world from coexisting peacefully together. From that point on, I was no longer a tourist. Whenever IA traveled as a group one would always hear “gringas” in more than one direction. Yet, it never failed that when I was spotted, stares, points, and facial expressions that expressed curiosity followed. For the rest of the trip I was almost always in the very front or very back of the pack when IA traveled as a group, but very rarely in the middle. I took great pride in having been received slightly differently by the Brazilians than the rest of IA. I liked standing out from the group. One reason was of course to more easily see the beautiful Brazilian females, but mainly because I didn’t want the Brazilians to just see “gringas”, which usually describes white people. I am Black, but equally an American as well. I wanted the Brazilians who saw me to know that Americans are not just the “gringas” they usually see tour their home, but the “hippie-hoppies” as well. I also would often smile, talk to, or at least make direct eye contact with the people of Brazil as we toured. While I don’t know if it worked or not, I wanted them to know that I cared about them and am somewhat connected to them, regardless of us not being able to verbally communicate with one another. Tourism, especially in third world countries, often mocks impoverished citizens. Everyone wants to see how they live but very few are willing to help. I did my best not to be just a tourist and will go back to keep my word.

On March 21, IA went to an Afro Brazilian dance show. For mostly everyone, it was the highlight of the trip, as dancers graced the stage with tradition dances, exciting acrobatics, and African music. The men were all muscular and had perfect definition from head to toe (which the ladies of IA couldn’t stop talking about). I was proud that the men looked like that too, as it showed the true beauty of Black people, Brazilians, and people in general when the body is taken care of properly. After the show I got separated from the group while I talked with a man from the New York Urban League. While lost, I ran into four of the dancers from the show, “I tried to talk to them but none of them spoke English. I told them that it was very good and they all seemed so proud. They asked how do I like Bahia and I told them it was great. They were really nice guys” (from my journal). After eating with the group, I went back out and saw another dance and a drummer. About this, I said, “The drummer spoke decent English so he translated for us. He too asked how I liked Bahia and I told him it was beautiful. I also told him that in America we don’t have a strong African culture, that the Black people are very different. He said in Bahia they really value their Black culture, as I then said I wish we had more knowledge of our ancestry at home. We swapped e-mails and then went our separate ways”.

At this point in the trip, my heart was filled with both joy and jealousy. Even more now being back home, I’m envious that Black Americans will never have the pride and strong culture as that in Bahia. Each dancer I talked to that night really cared about how I liked their home. It was great knowing that although many of the Black people in Bahia were impoverished, they still took great pride in their home and were not angry. Judging from the dancers’ eyes alone, I could see them anticipating my saying that I love Bahia so they could smile even more. Yet, it saddens me that Black Americans have never and will never have such pride in America. I was also saddened that most of us will never know our true history. I don’t know how connected the Afro-Brazilians are with their ancestry, but from the looks of it, it appears to be much stronger in comparison to that of Black Americans. However, I too experienced a sense of pride. I realized that Black Americans are perhaps the only race of people on earth whose history is a mere 350 years old, but probably a lot less than that. We are the only race of people who have created a culture from nothing (not so much in the literal sense, as our culture is an assimilation of that of all the races of people in America), with very little ancestral influence. As I mentioned earlier, hip-hop is indeed a Black American culture. Although it is definitely not the most positive or best image for a lot of Black people, it is something we created nonetheless. Hearing Black American music in the streets, Brazilian night clubs, and on television fueled my pride in being part of a culture that is imitated worldwide, despite its exploitation of negativity.

While I hate doing so, it’s not possible to talk about my experience and not talk about the poor. Referring to the poor my first day in Bahia, I stated “Just like in America, they were mostly Black. It saddens me too that Black Americans and Afro-Brazilians share the same/similar struggle. I guess it just goes to show that Black people worldwide will never be completely equal to our non-Black counterparts”. For that reason alone I had a different compassion for the poor than the rest of IA because almost all of the poor people we saw were Black. Most of the group would just ignore or even tell the beggars to go away, I felt like I was looking at one of “my people”. Needless to say, but there were too many poor people to give all or sometimes one of them anything, and we all understood why we were encouraged not to do so. Even so, I felt the need to apologize to all of the beggars who approached me for not giving them anything. It was my goal for them to understand that I wanted to help but I couldn’t. Of course since I was the only Black male in IA, I was approached most frequently by beggars, which made turning all of them away even more difficult. Once in Rio, a man purposely spilled something on my shoe so that he could clean it up for 1 real. I told him “no thank you” and he still followed me about 150 yards, dropping to his knees at every stop so he could clean my shoe. I told some people in IA about it and most of them agreed that I should have been upset because the man was rude. How could I? Though rude, my heart goes out to a man that has to follow people on his knees to clean off their shoes for 50 cents (American). The way I look at it, he had put no more dirt on my shoes than the world had put on him. At least he was willing to clean it off.

While my experience is much deeper than words can express, the only phrase to help summarize it would be “life-changing”. I learned not only about Brazil and the Brazilian culture, but even more about myself and my culture. Of all the places we went, Salvador has most affected me and I will never be satisfied until I return for at least a full quarter. Each aspect of my life has been influenced by Brazil for the better. My only regret is that more people of any race, nationality, or culture don’t get the experience equivalent to mine. Nonetheless, Brazil has proven to be the most beautiful place on earth in my book and I cannot wait until the day I return.

Chris Ivory