Questões de Concurso Militar ITA 2023 para Vestibular - 1ª Fase

Read Your Way Through Salvador 

By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.

I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination. 

To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.

If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.

I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario Vargas Llosa. 

“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic, cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.

[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data de acesso: 01/09/2023.]

On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables, tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement: “More dignity, less bullshit”.

It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include “Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and “The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of feminist art at a nearby gallery.

“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred [pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement. Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.” 

South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive. “Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.

“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed to do was work hard and be good at my job.” 

Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health problems.

The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets. In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.

Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet, but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”

[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]