São Paulo part 2
Mayara Cavallini challenges the stereotypes of what it means to be Brazilian.
In São Paulo, favelas also exist. They’re not exclusive to Rio de Janeiro, and it’s not uncommon to see the small, precarious houses built almost one on top of another, side by side with big apartment complexes. This contrast serves as a clear representation of Brazil's social inequality.
I live quite a distance from downtown. I don't reside in a favela, but I'm certainly not in proximity to the mansions of the millionaires. Like many Paulistanos, I belong to the middle class. My house is not big, but is comfortable, and if I ever wish to see in the luminous lights and the imposing glass buildings for which my city is renowned, I need to embark on a 40-minute train journey.
But for us, especially for me, that’s normal. Back when I was in college, I used to travel across the city regularly and became well-acquainted with São Paulo's subway lines. Our subway system is actually really good and incredibly helpful. Whenever I need to go somewhere, my brain automatically thinks about which subway station is closest to my destination. And it's not just something common among the lower classes, because with the insane traffic we have in our city, taking the subway often turns out to be the most convenient option. I've had more than one person compare the subways of Los Angeles or Paris to ours and admit that São Paulo's is better. Honestly, I feel proud about that. I'm not sure if I should, but I do all the same.
Living in São Paulo makes me feel small, but in a good way. Surrounded by all the noise, I feel tiny, but it doesn't scare me. There are so many possibilities, so many people crossing my path. Each person has their own life, their own problems, their own dreams. They are all writing their own stories.
That is probably what makes the eyes of many young Brazilians light up when they think about São Paulo. There are all kinds of people here, so many that it's almost impossible not to find your crew. It's ironic, people come to a big city because they want to be seen and be part of something, but at the same time, everyone is fighting for their place in the spotlight. You feel surrounded by people, yet sometimes lonely. There are certain things that make a city "big," and it's not just about the population size.
Here in my city, there's fun for everyone who enjoys a good party. After all, we're Brazilians, right? And if there's one stereotype that holds true about us, it's our love for parties. São Paulo's Carnaval is one of the biggest in the country. For almost a whole week, the city comes alive with music, drinks, dancing, and nonstop fun. It's the perfect time for those who love being part of a lively crowd to wear funky costumes, sip on overpriced drinks, move to Brazilian beats, and maybe even share a kiss or two with a stranger. It's a celebration we eagerly await all year.
But you don't have to wait for Carnaval to enjoy Brazilian music and share kisses with strangers in São Paulo. Any weekend, no matter what you're into, you'll find a nightclub that suits your taste. Are you a fan of rock music? We have rock bars. Samba? We have plenty of those too. Perhaps you want to dance to the famous Brazilian funk? We've got that covered as well. All of these options can be found on the same street, all mixed up just like our diverse culture itself.
You can imagine how much fun it is to be a young adult in São Paulo, with all the vibrant nightlife and the diverse array of people. I'm 22 years old, so I can confidently say that being young here offers many advantages, not just for the fun, but also for job and college opportunities. But growing up here and being a Brazilian child is an experience that can be described as "funny." And by "funny," I mean it in a way that brings a smile to your face.
When I think about my childhood, I remember how incredibly creative we were. We would come up with different stories to act out, playing outside with other kids from the neighborhood. I'm not sure how common this is in other countries, as my knowledge mostly comes from what I saw in American TV shows, but here it was a very common thing to play with the neighborhood children. Especially in the suburbs, neighbors tend to be close, and families often live in the same neighborhood for years.
My grandmother, for instance, has lived in the same house for almost 40 years, and she has seen every neighbor have their own kids and those kids grow up to have their own kids. The neighbors also watched me grow up. I remember being a kid, and random people would come up to me, telling me they held me when I was a baby and how surprised they were to see me all grown up now.
This was a core experience of being a little girl growing up in early 2000s Brazil, especially in the suburbs or smaller cities: playing in the neighborhood, waking up early to watch the same episodes of cartoons on a TV show called "TV Globinho," and watching "Rebeldes".
These days, being a kid is quite different compared to when I was young, as technology and the internet have become an essential part of the world. I don't blame the kids or their parents, as screens have become almost unavoidable in today's society. However, I believe that this has somewhat changed the traditional childhood experience. Nowadays, most children have access to content from all around the world, and there's no longer a fixed routine that is 100% part of the daily life of Brazilian kids. However, one thing that remains a significant part of most kids' childhoods in Brazil is soccer.
When you think of Brazil, an absurd number of people associate it with soccer, and I can't deny that it is definitely something big for us. It's an obsession that goes beyond boundaries and generations — but still not genders. And it's a huge part of our national identity. Boys have been playing with soccer balls since they learned how to walk. Little girls are still presented with doll houses and baby dolls.
Regardless of where you are in Brazil, if you spot a group of boys, they're probably playing soccer. It doesn't matter if it's in a favela, by a luxury apartment complex, or a tribe in the Amazon Rainforest. At some point, you'll see a bunch of boys playing soccer. We take it very seriously, and besides our love for parties, this stereotype about us is undeniably true.
Personally, I am not an obsessive soccer fan. I enjoy it and find it fun, but I must admit that I don't even fully understand the basic rules. I only watch it when it's an important game, like the World Cup or any other significant event for the Brazilian national soccer team. However, my 7-year-old brother is a complete soccer enthusiast. From the moment he wakes up until he goes to sleep, he breathes soccer. He's either playing it on video games, watching YouTube, or playing with his friends. He even has a picture of Neymar as his lock screen. This kind of passion for soccer is common, and it's a main part of the Brazilian little boy aesthetic.
Last year, 2022, was a World Cup year, and the excitement in Brazil was huge. Every four years, we hope to win and add more trophies, keeping us the country with the most World Cup victories. It's been like this since our last win in 2002. Even though I was only one year old then and can't remember it, I always hope to see us triumph again.
On the match day, I was with my friends at a bar watching the game. It was a scorching hot day, and we enjoyed cold beers while standing with a lively crowd in the street, where many bars had people cheering. Our TV was a bit slow, so when Brazil scored, everyone around us celebrated, but we had to wait a minute to see the goal. Unfortunately, we lost to Croatia unexpectedly, as we thought we'd face our arch-rival, Argentina, in the next round.
Our defeat came in the penalty shootout, and it stung even more when Argentina went on to win the cup. It was a rollercoaster of emotions for us Brazilians, but I still hold on to hope for future World Cup glory.
Look out for part 3 on December 5th, 2023