Brazil: How Favelas Went Chic

More than a century after Rio's first favela came into being in
1897, the very meaning of the word is changing. Across the
world the term 'favela' is cropping up in unexpected places; a
tropical prefix used to spice up western places and products.
Favela has become an international cultural phenomenon.

Tom Phillips

 

Rio's Santa Marta favela has always had a high profile. As far back as the 1970s the Botafogo community was included on the 'must-see' lists of American guidebooks. In 1995, Michael Jackson chose to shoot his They Don't Care About Us video in the area, with special permission from local traficante Juliano VP.

And only last month the community's star-status was confirmed on the front page of Jornal do Brasil. Viewed from a certain angle at night, the paper pointed out, Santa Marta's twisting roads formed a five-pointed star. "The star goes up the morro," exclaimed the festive headline, alongside a large photo of the glimmering favela.

Santa Marta isn't alone in its image overhaul. More than a century after Rio's first favela came into being in 1897, the very meaning of the word is changing. Across the world the word 'favela' is cropping up in the most unexpected of places; a tropical prefix used to spice up western places and products. Take Favela Chic, the Parisian bar and arts group, positioned snugly in the city's 11^th arrondissement. "Dress to impress," advises one city guide of the fashionable nightspot.

Or the Tokyo restaurant Favela, complete with 800 Yen (US$ 7.4) bottles of Brahma beer, a state of the art cinema screen and the not-so traditional prato novo brasileiro (new Brazilian cuisine).

Then we have Havaianas—the trademark footwear of any Brazilian favela. Sold across the country for a fairly uniform R$ 10 (US$ 3.5), the flip-flops have found a new market, in Europe and the United States. A recent BBC report found the sandals on sale for as much as 100 pounds (170 dollars) in central London fashion boutiques.

Best of all there's Italy's Favela chair, a piece of plywood designer furniture, created by the Brazilian brothers Umberto and Fernando Campana. Umberto is a trained lawyer; Fernando an architect by trade. Both appear wordsmiths of the most lyrical kind.

"This chair was conceived as a 'throne' for the poor," they declare, "and a wake up call to the wealthy." Certainly, priced at a cool US$ 4.500, the men are right in their conclusion that their seat will shock even the most well off.

The recent success of Fernando Meirelles' Cidade de Deus has added to this revised view of favela-life. "Disconcertingly MTV-cool," wrote a CNN correspondent about the film, "…[with] an unnerving whiff of sexy grooviness." Accordingly, American rapper Snoop Doggy Dog chose to set his new video—Beautiful—in Rio's ghetto.

Even within Brazil, this concept of 'favela couture' is spreading. In July, Globo News reported on how the notion had taken to the catwalk. "How does one mix luxury and poverty in a summer collection?" questioned journalist Giovana Hallack. Her answer? Fashion designers Marco Maía and Luciano Canale, whose latest wardrobe draws on both 'glamour' and 'trash' to create what else but "favela chique".

Rosane Mazzer, a member of the Franco-Brazilian arts group Favela Chic, sees the process as inevitable. "Definitely the culture of the periferia'is taking up a prestigious role in our lives," she says.

"Around here favela means roots and reality; in a systemized and ultra-industrialized world it has its glamour."

The Paris-based Brazilian plays down any contradiction in this transformation, comparing it to the rise of hip-hop culture in the USA.

"The contradiction is part of life, and of the post-modern and chaotic Brazil of which we are part. What is hip-hop, in its original form, but the voice of the people?" The same is true of Rio de Janeiro's 'funk' music, she argues.

"Many of the artists from favelas with whom we work love the idea of 'Favela Chic', simply because it is a re-evaluation of their image, without any greater pretensions. It's an opening, to discuss and to understand a worldwide process—that of favelização (favelization)."

Fashionable Slum

Favela's sudden appeal is hardly new. As far back as 1884, thirteen years before the first record of a Brazilian favela, the Oxford English Dictionary defined the verb 'to slum' as the tendency to "visit slums for charitable or philanthropic purposes or out of curiosity," "Especially," it went on tellingly, "as a fashionable pursuit."

Over a century later, little has changed: more and more people from across the world are now making the pilgrimage to Brazil's shantytowns, to take part in so-called "exotic tours". Favela tours have actually existed for more than 20 years, but only recently have they started to attract such large flocks of 'alternative' tourists.

One of the largest companies, Favela Tours, now guides some 4,500 tourists around Rio's slums each year, 65 per cent of whom come from Europe. "Beneficial to the community, informative and surprising, not vouyeuristic at all [sic]," proclaims the Favela Tours publicity.

But a 'fashionable pursuit'? Not so, says Rejane Reis of Exotic Tours, a company that runs such excursions in the Rocinha comunidade. "The overseas visitor wants to visit a favela because of its culture," she says unambiguously. "We have families visiting who bring their children so that they can see another side of the world, the reality of life," continues Reis. "We don't go to favelas to show people poverty, I don't agree with this."

Others are choosing not just to visit favelas, but to set up home there. American student Doug Fischer, is one such person. The 38-year-old has lived in the favela-bairro of Rocinha, in Rio de Janeiro for much of the last 2 years.

"There is a tremendous sense of community that just doesn't exist in somewhere like Copacabana. Young people are moving in because they can live here fairly inexpensively," says Fischer, who knows British and Italian people also residing in the area.

Fischer, from the University of New Mexico, says many foreigners have the wrong idea about favelas. "When things are violent they are violent. But is it really that dangerous? I feel safe at any time of day or night," explains the American.

"I even have to pick up my dog's poop," he says. "There's a great deal of community pressure."

Others seem less sure of this new focus on favelas. Whilst the number of tourists visiting the areas has grown, there are still many who are uncomfortable with the idea.

"It is as if they were in a zoo," says Ludovic Houdenay, a French citizen who lives in Rio. "It's not something I agree with, especially when you see the tourists taking photos as they go past in their big jeeps."

Perhaps more important is how the favela itself feels. Is this new interest welcome, or do moradores view it as cynical exploitation?

For the community's young favela tourism is a possible source of employment. "If our children can support themselves through being guides then that is great," says one community leader in Rocinha. "Without English you are totally lost these days and some of the children get the chance to learn because of this."

At Rocinha's Cultural Center (Casa Cultural de Rocinha) graffiti artists give children art lessons and some of the work is then sold to visitors. "It's not about turning every child into an artist, but it is something they enjoy and if they can go on to sell their pictures all the better," says Maurício Fagundes, one of the project's coordinators.

Exploration & Voyeurism

Others see their foreign visitors more light-heartedly. "It's pretty funny actually seeing the gringo's coming up the hill in their camouflage gear," chuckles another resident, who was brought up in the area and works as a maid in nearby Leblon.

Unsurprisingly the increasing profile of Brazil's favelas is a sensitive area. Many believe the arrival of 'wealthy' foreigners is exploitative and voyeuristic. But tour guides, like Reis and Marcelo Armstrong of the company Favela Tour, argue they are contributing to the community; bringing income to the local economy and giving the younger generations an opportunity to work as tourist guides.

"There are some people who are just involved in this to make money," says Alexandre Miranda, another of Rio's 2,000 registered tour guides. "But some people like Rejane are really putting something back into the community and that has to be good."

Others like Doug Fischer who have chosen to take up full-time residence say they are also contributing to the community.

"Rocinha always was a community of immigrants. The great majority of people originally came here from Brazil's Northeast," he says. Fischer argues that the new members of Rocinha's community are a natural part of this traditional influx.

One common idea that comes out of these many differing viewpoints is that of representation. Ignored and marginalized for so many years, a voz da favela (the voice of the favela) is now starting—for better or worse—to be heard.

This is the view of American filmmaker Fab Five Freddy, who visited Brazil with hip-hop group Public Enemy last month. "This is a voice that needs to be heard," he said "Thanks to the hip-hop acts like MV Bill and Racionais MCs people get to see the reality… the real deal about what is going on."

The debate is complicated by money. Whether making records, shooting films or running tours, one criticism has always been that people are benefiting from the misfortune of others.

"When you are involved in making money it is always ambiguous," admits Favela Chic's Rosane Mazzer.

"But is it better to have the kids make their money making a movie or selling drugs? It all depends on the intention and the way you do things," she says. "What we must not do is forget the millions of people who live like this in Brazil and across the world, locked into this universe, without an exit."

Whatever the rights and wrongs, favela is fast becoming an international cultural phenomenon. As an illustration of this, a quick internet search turns up no less than 96,800 matches for the word. Several favelas, such as Rocinha, even have their own websites. In their 1998 book, commemorating "um século de favela" (a century of favela), academics Alba Zaluar and Marcos Alvito, bemoaned the continuing exclusion of Brazil's poor: "The favelado goes on being a 'marginal', and those which don't conform to this rule are the exception."

They are of course right that massive social exclusion continues in 21^st Century Brazil. Yet there are signs that the favela is starting to find its voice, or at least that the outside world is starting to listen. The 'marginal' now has his place in the mainstream.

 

Tom Phillips is a British journalist living in Rio de Janeiro. He writes for a variety of publications on politics and current affairs, as well as various aspects of the cultura brasileira. Tom can be reached on: tominrio@yahoo.co.uk and his articles can also be found at: www.leedsstudent.org.uk