Author: Eelco Couvreur
Photo credit: Marie Rouge, Pierre Zylstra
Linn da Quebrada, a Brazilian activist, rapper, actress and singer, uses her body as a political weapon. Her goal: to empower Brazil’s queer community with her witty song texts, as well as her productions and live shows that burst with her endless energy. She injects her political manifesto and call for sexual tolerance with a mix of funk carioca, vogue beats, hip hop and electronic music. ‘Tranny fag’, she calls herself, a witty reference to the insults trans people and homosexuals deal with on a daily basis.
Linn da Quebrada sings, yells, dances and raps with inspirational artistry. And although her performances may be confronting and subversive at times, she leads her revolution with a wide smile on her face. On Saturday, 21st September 2019, she performed at TodaysArt Festival.
Linn da Quebrada: ‘‘We’re currently living in a very complex political period. While our country is ruled by Bolsonaro, a person who is completely unprepared to do so, we have also made a lot of progress with our LGBTQIA+-community and black movement at the same time. For example, here in São Paulo, we recently got our first transvestic state deputy. What I realize is that our advances frighten the conservative system. Their representatives are spoiled and do not accept losing territory. This is why they attack us and the rights we fought for. They are trying to pull us back.
That is what Brazil is like at the moment: we face a scenario of political backlash that’s trying to disrupt our community. A scenario of a dispute between old traditions and the new contradictions that our bodies and lives present. So for me, living in Brazil today means being resistant, fighting for what is mine, and what is ours. Now, more than ever, it is important not to retreat and to keep moving forward. The regime trembles at our achievements and the movement we’re pushing for.”
All these spaces serve as a political weapon in this place and at this moment.
Linn da Quebrada
Linn da Quebrada gives shape to her ideas through protest, giving a physical shape to an otherwise intellectual fight. ‘‘Protesting gives us a dimension of movement and articulation, it helps us to see ourselves as a group and to understand that we have common goals. Those are the moments to connect with one another and think of new strategies. It’s how I started to realize how my body is increasingly becoming a battlefield, and how important it is that it has been conquering not only this space but several others as well. The TV show I have here in Brazil, my shows, the Bixa Travesty documentary; all these spaces serve as a political weapon in this place and at this moment.”
She is referring to a different term she used to name herself with: ‘bixa molotov’. She clarifies: ‘‘You can use your body as an explosive, a resistance, a battlefield and a weapon of war. That’s why I identified myself as a bixa molotov. But to be honest, I don’t know where I am in my identities catalogue today. I do believe that there is still some violence in me: Just as there are many other frequencies, there is also anger. And I believe in anger as a motor that can cause movement within this bankrupt social structure.”
On YouTube, there is a short documentary by DAZED magazine, in which Da Quebrada talks about the things that drive her. How she finds the motivation – even in the daily verbal and physical violence she experiences daily – to keep going. “I need this to be alive!” she exclaims confidently. “I’m talking about my shows, about my performances and my meetings with my audience. It’s from these meetings and the connection with my stage partners and audiences that I maintain my sanity. During my shows, I produce new forces. They function as healing spaces, in a way.”
She uses music as a political tool. She explains: “My desire is to be heard, and that’s why I started composing and singing. My music serves as a dialogue, which I use to invent new narratives.” She can make a living as an artist because she works extremely hard. “That’s mainly how I survive financially. I work with music, movies, television, and I know what’s necessary to sustain an artist’s life. And I mean, not just the whole ‘being in front of the spotlight thing’, but how to understand life as a work of art. Sometimes you have to live artistically to get around the system and survive.”
Does she follow any rules in order to survive as an artist? And does she have a motto she uses as a coping mechanism? “When I need to be less anxious and more present, I trust my body. Because I don’t only address sexuality and gender, I’m also talking about the body. By understanding my body materially, my territory and my shelter, I form a kind of rituals. They connect me to my body and give me strength, make me realize my powers, but also my weaknesses and limits. And when I blur these limits to conquer new spaces, I gain new strengths as well.”
