Abusive+ in Brazil

In the recently published article Abusive Feminism, Rosalind Dixon problematizes the weaponization of “feminism” by actors as a means to erode, rather than promote, democratic ends, and provides a path for those who wish to resist it. Brazil offers powerful examples of the phenomenon identified by Dixon, confirming many of her conclusions – and, conversely, unearths aspects that could help us deepen our understanding of how abuse happens.

Damares Alves: the background conditions of abuse

Perhaps the most obvious example of abusive feminism as part of the authoritarian wave in Brazil is that of Damares Alves, the woman-pastor nominated by Bolsonaro to run the Ministry of Women, Family and Human Rights during his mandate (who is now in the Senate). Bolsonaro, elected in 2018, did not hide his authoritarian proclivities and fully endorsed an ultraconservative agenda. He was openly anti-feminist and misogynistic in his speech and practice. His oppressive remarks – which I will not reproduce here – ranged from the oversexualization and devaluation of women (women of color, in particular), to homages to military agents linked to sexual violence, to attacks on maternity leave, to discourse apologetic to sexual tourism and sex with underage girls. His antagonism to women (as well as other oppressed groups) also translated into actions. Most notably, the nomination of an ultraconservative woman to the ministry that would, supposedly, serve to promote gender equality.

Damares Alves’s nomination can be characterized, in itself, as an instance of abusive feminism, to the extent that the appointment of a woman by a misogynistic president was a case of descriptive representation devoid of substance. One does not have to go out of their way to see the discrepancy between Bolsonaro’s attitudes toward women and the nomination of Damares; to the contrary, the ex-president himself had stated: “I listen to all my ministers, even Damares”.

But the abuse of feminism goes way beyond the nomination. Damares was not only a token: she was a corrosive agent who constantly appropriated jargon associated with women’s liberation to hide, obscure, or even legitimate her anti-feminist actions. Nowhere are her active efforts to attack women more prominent than in the area of reproductive rights. Just to give an extreme example, Damares has vocally opposed the interruption of the pregnancy of a 10-year-old girl who had been abused and incited anti-abortion movements to intimidate the girl. Her justification: the risk abortion supposedly poses to “women’s health”.

In one of her interviews, Damares has checked many boxes of Dixon’s framework. She has adopted the language of women’s empowerment to describe herself. In her own words:

“Is there a more empowered woman in Brazil than me? A girl who comes from the bottom, who didn’t have shoes to go to school, who goes to school, suffers violence, is discriminated against and ends up becoming a minister? That is women’s empowerment. I use the word in this sense: giving women a voice and opportunities.”

Damares has also characterized opposition to her as disqualifying (“if a Congresswoman goes into the tribune to claim for rights, she is deemed hysterical”) and silencing (“it is very common for a woman to be in a debate, leading a discussion, and to be interrupted all the time. This is violence against women”), themes deeply linked to feminist criticism. Finally, Damares’s main “banner” is the fight against sexual violence against women and children. Damares is a woman and, hence, susceptible to disqualification and silencing. And, Damares’s anti-violence discourse is usually linked, by her, to the violence she suffered as a child. However, in the context of her actions, her discourse becomes empty.

Now, although Damares clearly fits the bill of someone who abuses feminism to promote the ultraconservative agenda that constitutes one of the main pillars of authoritarianism in Brazil, she presents contradictions that we, as feminists, must be aware and critical of. Damares’s discourse is deeply influenced by her status as a fundamentalist evangelical pastor, which, in the Brazilian context, is deeply related to racial, gender, and class marginalization. Damares grew up in poverty, and, although being poor does not have a necessary natural connection to conservative postures, in Brazil, evangelical churches are more and more attractive to historically marginalized groups, who, then, adopt their conservative agendas. Nowadays, Pentecostal evangelicals are the majority among the poor in Brazil and its members are mostly not formally educated, of color, and women. I bring this up not to say that Damares is excused because of her underprivileged background, but rather that her underprivileged background is associated with her anti-feminist posture due to contingencies of the current Brazilian reality. As such, if we want to promote real and substantive feminism, structural changes in how Brazilian society is shaped are needed.

Hélio Negão: Abusive +

Another insight from the Brazilian experience is that, even if Dixon’s work focuses on gender (from an intersectional perspective) – a monumental endeavor in itself – it also offers a powerful lens to identify and criticize the manipulation of other struggles as well. This is what I will call Abusive +.

During his campaigns and term, Bolsonaro has openly adopted racist discourse and practice targeting advancements on people of color’s rights and citizenship, through his open stance against affirmative action and anti-racism as a framework for the fight against subordination, and even through racist hate speech. However, he made sure to bring legitimacy and strength to his claims by surrounding himself with people of color who adhered to his positions. The most prominent example was Hélio Negão¹⁾ – later rebranded as Hélio Bolsonaro – a Black candidate who built his profile around the banner of “equality”. According to him, both himself and Bolsonaro intended to build a more “equal and united Brazil, without class differences between blacks and whites, “heteros” and “homos”²⁾, rich and poor, with more jobs, health and correct education, without gender ideology”. Although the discourse could arguably (even if extremely unconvincingly) fall under the umbrella of reasonable disagreement between what racism looks like (difference or subordination?) and what would take to end it (formal equal treatment or structural affirmative policies?) the context in which it is inserted – one of support to a president that engaged in acts of racial hate speech, for instance – points to abuse. The abusive character, then, takes away any possibility of qualifying Hélio Negão’s position as democracy-enhancing in any way.

Haliti-Paresi leaders: on abuse and agency

A third element that the Brazilian context brings to the forefront is the interplay between authoritarian leaders in need of descriptive representatives to further their agendas, and who these individuals are and what they gain. Abusive Feminism (as well as Abusive +) can happen through the tokenization/weaponization of individuals due to their identities – Damares is an example, as is Hélio Negão. However, tokenization is not a unilateral phenomenon. It is not necessarily something imposed from above, through mere coercion or manipulation. Rather, weaponized individuals are also agents, operating and making decisions within a broader set of power dynamics.³⁾

One example that illustrates this interplay is the one involving some indigenous groups’ support for Bolsonaro. Throughout his political career, Bolsonaro has openly adhered to an anti-indigenous discourse, and his government actively advanced policies specifically directed at undermining land demarcation and health and security policies established to protect these groups. Because of that, many indigenous groups became some of the most proactive agents in resisting his government. On the other hand, a few indigenous leaders steadfastly supported Bolsonaro’s candidacy and government.

One could paint that as “false consciousness” or manipulation. However, there was a reason for the support: the alignment of these leaders with agribusiness’s demands. This does not arise from specific moral flaws in these specific indigenous leaders, but rather from the fact that, like all of us, they must survive in a capitalist environment, which, in Brazil, is dominated by the sector. The agribusiness’s power in Brazil shapes the conditions in which indigenous communities make their choices. Sometimes, it creates incentives for pushbacks and resistance, and, at other times, it pushes for alignments.

Damares and Hélio offer equally insightful examples in this regard. Both are affected by the political barriers that arise from patriarchy and racism in Brazil. Attaching themselves to Bolsonaro was, for sure, a successful way to trespass the barriers into the political world, independently of what one might think about what he represents.

Understanding the power dynamics in which relationships are formed is essential for us to understand how members of marginalized groups become agents who participate in and are vectors of abusive behaviors.