Entertainment

The Queer Brazilian Filmmaker Taking on Jair Bolsonaro

TAKING A STAND

Fernando Grostein Andrade writes about his new documentary “Breaking Myths,” which challenges Bolsonaro’s anti-LGBTQ+ hate through Andrade’s own experiences with homophobia.

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Acclaimed Brazilian filmmaker and activist Fernando Grostein Andrade speaks truth and love to power in his newly released documentary Breaking Myths. Widely known for his acclaimed work on Breaking the Taboo, which centers on the war on drugs, Andrade is telling a deeply vulnerable story of queer existence within the broader context of a toxic political atmosphere under far-right ideologue President Jair Bolsonaro. The LGBTQ+ community has become a specific target for Bolsonaros hateful rhetoric. As a queer young man in Brazil, Fernando grew up amidst the crushing pressure of a society that saw no place for him. His political activism and advocacy for others like him put him at immense risk. Still, he persisted, unwavering in his mission to give the voiceless a voice and tell stories of resilience, love, and rebellion in the face of oppression. This is his story.

I’ve been killed several times. The first time, I was 10. My father, journalist Mário de Andrade, editor of Playboy magazine, died of a heart attack. I remember throwing a hibiscus flower in his grave, hoping that something would be reborn. Instead, I became a shy and introspective boy. I found my peace in the art of caring for orchids. I was fascinated by the cycle of life and death of the bulbs.

At the age of 12, a TV station aired my story. A boy who grew plants to escape the pain of grief. I was proud but started to be called “flower boy” at school. It’s an extremely cruel attack because, as a kid, we don’t have a clear notion of our sexuality. So, when people call us things, we don’t even know what it means. That triggers fear and rejection. Society pressured me to be heterosexual, to become “macho.” Friends pressured me to lose my virginity to a Playboy Bunny at 17. In short: Homophobia stole my entire adolescence.

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There are several ways to kill a queer person. First, you can kill a queer person by physically attacking them or taking away their dignity. Among the gay community, suicide is a problem that affects all ages. Last year, The Trevor Project surveyed 34,000 young people between the ages of 13 and 24, and 45 percent of them admitted they had “seriously considered” suicide. In the age group of 13 to 17 years, the number reaches 50 percent.

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A gay couple hugs near a sign that reads "Bolsonaro out" during the 26th Sao Paulo Gay Pride Parade on June 19, 2022, in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

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I have been the target of attacks and hate messages for many years, but the ever-increasing amount of threats peaked in 2018, months before the presidential election. That was when I received a message on Facebook that I should stop talking about politics; otherwise, my funeral would need to take place with a sealed coffin. I was terrified. It was not an isolated case.

It all started during the making of my documentary Quebrando o Tabu (Breaking the Taboo), released in 2011, in which I discuss whether drug users should be treated with medicine rather than punished and imprisoned. I remember one of the police chiefs I interviewed (later arrested) telling me that the drug issue had to do with families of “man with man.” The lightest accusations said I was a drug addict and a criminal supporter.

Together with the documentary, a Facebook page, also called Quebrando o Tabu, was created. The page became an important voice for human rights on the internet, reaching 21.1 million followers to date, including on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. With the page, the attacks increased. I received threatening messages from people who knew my address, the places I often went to, and even my turtle’s name. Finally, in September 2015, the page was hacked, and infiltrators posted a picture of a skull and a knife. A few days later, Facebook managed to reset the page for us.

The threats increased in 2017 when I posted a 15-minute video on YouTube called “Cê Já Se Sentiu um ET?” (Did you ever feel like an ET?), in which I talked about being gay. Among the violent messages I received, one supported the idea that I should be beaten so I could learn to be a man. But the escalation of hatred had just begun, and it would only get worse with the upcoming elections and an increasingly tense political atmosphere in the country.

When the threat of the closed coffin came in 2018, I called the former president Fernando Henrique Cardoso, one of the interviewees in Quebrando o Tabu and a great friend. I asked for advice. He introduced me to a lawyer, who said that segments of the police and the Judiciary branch agreed with the ideology of the people who were intimidating me. And thus, I would not be safe in Brazil unless I kept my mouth shut. I accepted the lawyer’s advice and told my family that I would leave Brazil and move to California. Then, I started to organize my departure, fully aware that I was privileged because there were more vulnerable people than me, with no one to turn to or nowhere to escape.

He introduced me to a lawyer, who said that segments of the police and the Judiciary branch agreed with the ideology of the people who were intimidating me. And thus, I would not be safe in Brazil unless I kept my mouth shut.

My guilt for leaving my country, friends, and family behind made me take action, resorting to making movies, which is what I know how to do. So, I decided to make a documentary about the life of Jair Bolsonaro. Together with journalist Carol Pires, who investigated Bolsonaro’s upbringing for a podcast about the president, we set up a team for the film. Interviews took place in Eldorado, in the interior of São Paulo, Bolsonaro’s hometown, and in Rio de Janeiro and Brasília. But unfortunately, it turned out that the result was deemed “not-watchable.”

Last December, when I pondered whether or not to change the film’s overall structure, I experienced a great deal of burnout. My husband, actor Fernando Siqueira, encouraged me to keep going and helped me get the film restructured and finished. Fernando taught me so much. He is proud to be queer and is moved by the joy of living. He is a gay man who is not ashamed about who he is. On that note, he proposed I add more of my story, considering we received the same notes from filmmakers we admire. With that, the film became about my life story, intertwined with Bolsonaro’s trajectory. The film is titled Quebrando Mitos (Breaking Myths) and premiered Sept. 16 on YouTube.

I left Brazil because of fear. This feeling, however, did not silence me. I will never stop calling attention to the most relevant issues, such as the very survival of the gay community. In the movie Breaking Myths, I decided to open my life and reveal my vulnerabilities as a way to trigger a meaningful discussion between gay men and their families. Homophobia silences, erases, and kills. Love and reception make us stronger to face any storm, which like this government, will pass.

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