I realize my last post was really more of an unfinished thought, but I wanted to get some ideas down as a bookmark to return to later. For me, Cidade de Deus was a movie I needed to write about even though my ideas aren’t yet fully formed. I couldn’t move on to the next post without jotting down some thoughts. It feels like it ties in with all too relevant (to the US) themes of subtle racism and invisible privilege, but maybe that’s just because that’s been my recent academic focus and is on my mind. I would love to hear anyone else’s thoughts sometime!

For today though, I wanted to write about something much lighter. I want to talk about some really wonderful new friends I’ve made thanks to my tutor. Stela may be my Portuguese tutor, but where she really shines is in hostessing and connecting people. When she invited me out to Piazza Italia to watch Brazil’s first World Cup knockout round game with a few of her friends, I was nervous to go alone. Usually, as long as I’m actually invited, I am not too shy to walk into a group of people I don’t know, but this felt a little different. Even though Stela invited me, I really felt like I would be crashing a party. The people there, many of whom were family or had known each other for many years, would all be Brazilians bursting with national pride. I was just an American, with no real connection other than a tutor who had invited me to learn a little more Portuguese in real time.

When I arrived for the match, however, the scene was a little different than I expected. The whole restaurant was filled with yellow and green shirts and toy vuvuzelas. There were families with young children climbing from one adoring set of arms to another and young professionals dressed up in sparkly “Brazil” tank tops and miniskirts (well, maybe just the women). The minute I walked in, Stela screamed as if this was the most exciting moment of her life and gave me a huge hug, escorting me to her own table at the very center of the action. During the game, there were of course still circumstances that made me feel like an outsider—should I refer to the team, saying “we” or “you?” Am I allowed to speak critically about the Brazil side, or is that akin to criticizing someone else’s mother when only they are allowed that offence? But none of these concerns were at all brought on by my tablemates, who, between lively rounds of yelling at Neymar to chuta or vai, would ask me about myself or talk about their home state in Brazil and lie to Stela that we were only speaking Portuguese, whenever she returned from her last flutter around the room.

Continue reading Stela Connections →