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By
Javi Hairston Who am I after having spent two months in São Paulo and three weeks in the Brazilian North and Northeast? Who am I now that I am going back to the United States? Who am I now that I have to visualize the after effects of the attacks of September 11 and begin my last semester of College before I graduate?
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Being White in Black BrazilBy
Havi Asch Upon arriving in Salvador, I experienced a feeling I have never had in my entire life. This feeling was about being in the minority. Before arriving in Salvador I had been informed of its abundance of Afro-Brazilian inhabitants and rich African culture. I had also heard Salvador referred by other students in our group as a “Mecca of Blackness.” When I got there I realized that it certainly was just that.
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Learning to Samba
Who are we now?
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By
Havi Asch After spending nearly 3 months here in Brazil, the question is, where am I now? I think that my identity has gone through several stages during my travels in Brazil. When I was living in São Paulo for 2 months and had a daily routine, I didn’t feel like a tourist. I felt like something in between a tourist and a native Brazilian. I felt like a visitor. But there is a distinct difference between a tourist and a visitor in my mind. A visitor is someone who is spending an extended amount of time in a foreign place, establishes some sort of daily routine, and feels somewhat integrated into the culture they are living in.
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New Places, New Entertainment: Lost and Found IdentitiesBy
Lauren Selchick I can’t help but compare my visit to Ouro Preto, Minas Gerais with my stay in São Paulo. Yes, each stay was for different amounts of time, but I feel that they still had very different effects on me. Being in Ouro Preto was quite a different experience than being in São Paulo. The cobblestone streets, steep hills, churches and rolling mountains that I explored for three days were nothing like the highly industrialized city I lived in for two months.
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“Morena, Morena”By
Javi Hairston After two months in São Paulo, the cat calls in the streets just roll off me. Instead, I ponder the various definitions of “morena” and the Brazilian racial discourse that accompanies it.
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