blogMatheus Zago2021-01-11T20:56:07+01:00

Beyond a car-centric world

by Jônatas Augusto Manzolli*

Reviewed by Matheus Lucas Hebling

“A developed country is not a place where the poor have cars. It’s where the rich use public transportation.” – Gustavo Petro, former mayor of Bogota and Currently president of Colombia.

We live in a car-centric world where vehicles often take precedence over people. However, the detrimental effects of this car-centric approach are becoming increasingly apparent. Inadequate bike lanes, pedestrian safety concerns, limited public transportation, and accessibility issues are some of the challenges that persist in many cities worldwide. This research note explores the need to rethink our commuting habits, redesign cities, and prioritize people over cars.

Shifting beyond electric cars

Electric cars are still cars. While transitioning to electric cars is crucial for reducing greenhouse gas emissions and improving air quality, more is needed to achieve sustainable transportation. We must go beyond individual vehicle choices and focus on reimagining commuting habits and city design. One approach is to promote mixed land use, creating neighborhoods near residential, commercial, and recreational spaces. For instance, the 15-minute city concept advocates that most daily necessities and services, such as work, shopping, education, healthcare, and leisure, should be easily reached by a 15-minute walk, bike ride, or public transit from any point in a city [1]. By reducing the need for long commutes, this approach minimizes dependence on private vehicles and encourages active mobility. City planners can prioritize the development of compact, walkable neighborhoods with access to public transportation, amenities, and green spaces. Additionally, integrating nature into urban environments by creating parks, green corridors, and gardens can enhance cities’ livability and sustainability.

Embracing an active lifestyle

As individuals, we can significantly impact sustainable transportation by embracing an active lifestyle and choosing to walk or bike whenever feasible. Walking and cycling are environmentally friendly and promote physical health and well-being [2]. By advocating for the creation of safe and convenient bike lanes, we can encourage more people to choose sustainable modes of transportation. Implementing dedicated bike lanes separated from vehicular traffic, installing bike-sharing stations, and establishing bike-friendly infrastructure can make walking and cycling more accessible and appealing for daily commuting and leisure activities.

Prioritizing public transportation and car-sharing services

It is crucial to prioritize public transportation and car-sharing services to reduce the number of private vehicles on the road and lower carbon footprints. Robust and efficient public transportation systems, including buses, trams, and trains, offer a sustainable alternative to individual car usage [3]. By choosing public transportation over private cars, we can alleviate traffic congestion, reduce emissions, and decrease the demand for parking spaces. Additionally, embracing car-sharing platforms encourages resource sharing, further reducing the environmental impact of transportation [4]. Governments and city planners should invest in accessible, efficient, affordable public transportation systems, ensuring adequate coverage and frequency to encourage widespread adoption.

The role of technology and innovation

Technology and innovation play a vital role in revolutionizing urban transportation. Autonomous or driverless buses and shuttles are emerging as promising solutions to enhance road safety and increase the efficiency of public transportation [5]. These vehicles can be programmed to follow optimal routes, maintain consistent speeds, and minimize traffic congestion. Furthermore, smart traffic management systems powered by artificial intelligence can optimize traffic flow, reduce bottlenecks, and improve the overall efficiency of transportation networks [6]. Efficient car-sharing platforms equipped with advanced booking systems and electric vehicle fleets offer convenient and sustainable mobility options for those who do not own cars. Additionally, digital platforms that provide real-time information on public transportation schedules, routes, and availability can empower commuters to make informed choices.

Creating pedestrianized areas

Can we make cities car-free? We are witnessing inspiring transformations in cities worldwide, as some have chosen to close their city centers to vehicles. By doing so, these cities prioritize pedestrians and create vibrant, people-friendly spaces. This approach not only enhances mobility but also revitalizes the urban landscape. With car-free zones, cities can provide ample space for pedestrians to walk, cycle, socialize, and enjoy their surroundings without the constant noise and pollution of cars. These pedestrian-friendly spaces improve the quality of life for residents and visitors and boost local economies by attracting more foot traffic to shops, cafes, and cultural venues [7].

A discussion about the Brazilian reality

All the points developed in this text are essential for achieving sustainable transportation in practice. However, every country faces different challenges, including cultural, policy, security, and developmental factors. In a country like the Netherlands, with its flat terrain and small cities, promoting the widespread use of bicycles appears to be the most straightforward option. In contrast, in many developing countries, the reality is quite different. In the specific case of Brazil, especially in large cities such as São Paulo (larger than Portugal, for instance), the challenges in achieving sustainable transportation go beyond urban planning, extending into public security constraints. In this scenario, the implementation of a comprehensive and robust public transportation system becomes crucial to improve the quality of life for citizens. A strategy that combines various modal systems, such as metro systems, light rail systems, and dedicated bus lanes (BRT), plays a pivotal role in city centers by alleviating congestion. Meanwhile, regions farther from the city centers can be served by smaller buses, active mobility options, and shared vehicles. One excellent example of larger city centers in Brazil is the BRT system implemented in the city of Bogotá, Colombia. Another noteworthy success story comes from the south of Brazil, in Curitiba, where the former mayor, Jaime Lerner, implemented the world’s first successful BRT system, serving as a case study for many cities worldwide [8]. Additionally, to reduce the number of personal vehicles in city centers, congestion taxes could be implemented in specific regions, a policy already in place in some European cities like London (UK) and Gothenburg (Sweden) [9]. Nonetheless, these policies must be supported by improvements in security to ensure that the population feels safe to travel whenever they want. The challenges are numerous, but only the pursuit of truly sustainable transportation may significantly enhance the overall quality of life for the population.

What is in for our future

Achieving sustainable transportation requires a holistic approach that addresses various aspects of urban living. By creating pedestrian-friendly spaces, embracing an active lifestyle, prioritizing public transportation and car-sharing services, and leveraging technology and innovation, we can pave the way for greener, healthier, and more livable cities for future generations. Through collective efforts and a shift in mindset, we can build a future where sustainable transportation is the norm, ensuring a better quality of life for both people and the planet. As individuals, we can make conscious choices to support sustainable transportation options. At the same time, governments and city planners must invest in infrastructure, policies, and initiatives that promote accessibility, efficiency, and environmental stewardship in urban transportation systems. Together, we can create a brighter, more sustainable future for our cities and their inhabitants.

[1] A. R. Khavarian-Garmsir, A. Sharifi, and A. Sadeghi, “The 15-minute city: Urban planning and design efforts toward creating sustainable neighborhoods,” Cities, vol. 132, p. 104101, Jan. 2023, doi: 10.1016/j.cities.2022.104101.
[2] N. Mueller et al., “Health impact assessment of active transportation: A systematic review,” Preventive Medicine, vol. 76, pp. 103–114, Jul. 2015, doi: 10.1016/j.ypmed.2015.04.010.
[3] M. Buchanan, “The benefits of public transport,” Nat. Phys., vol. 15, no. 9, Art. no. 9, Sep. 2019, doi 10.1038/s41567-019-0656-8.
[4] É. M. S. Ramos, C. J. Bergstad, A. Chicco, and M. Diana, “Mobility styles and car sharing use in Europe: attitudes, behaviors, motives and sustainability,” European Transport Research Review, vol. 12, no. 1, p. 13, Mar. 2020, doi: 10.1186/s12544-020-0402-4.
[5] R. Hall, “Self-driving buses to serve 14-mile Edinburgh route in UK first,” The Guardian, Apr. 04, 2023. Accessed: Oct. 24, 2023. [Online]. Available:
[6] S. Javaid, A. Sufian, S. Pervaiz, and M. Tanveer, “Smart traffic management system using Internet of Things,” in 2018 20th International Conference on Advanced Communication Technology (ICACT), Feb. 2018, pp. 393–398. doi: 10.23919/ICACT.2018.8323770.
[7] K. Pérez, M. Olabarria, D. Rojas-Rueda, E. Santamariña-Rubio, C. Borrell, and M. Nieuwenhuijsen, “The health and economic benefits of active transport policies in Barcelona,” Journal of Transport & Health, vol. 4, pp. 316–324, Mar. 2017, doi: 10.1016/j.jth.2017.01.001.
[8] M. E. L. Lambas, N. Giuffrida, M. Ignaccolo, and G. Inturri, “Comparison between bus rapid transit and light-rail transit systems: A multi-criteria decision analysis approach,” presented at the WIT Transactions on the Built Environment, 2018, pp. 143–154. doi: 10.2495/UT170131.
[9] “Congestion tax in Gothenburg – Transportstyrelsen.” Accessed: Oct. 24, 2023. [Online]. Available:

Jônatas Augusto Manzolli is a PhD candidate and a Researcher at INESC/University of Coimbra, Portugal.

Jônatas Augusto Manzolli (2023) "Beyond a car-centric world". Brazilian Research and Studies Blog. ISSN 2701-4924. ISSN 2701-4924nameVol. 3 Num. 1. available at:, accessed on: November 29, 2023.

November 13th, 2023|Categories: ISSN 2701-4924, Vol. 3 Num. 1|Tags: |

Resilience and Resistance: My Indigenous Anthem

by Iãkupa Apurinã* and Marcia Camargo**

Reviewed by Matheus Lucas Hebling

My red color from urucum, my ancestors scream their essence in me, I am born from the land, I am formed by the forest, resistance, I am, I am…
I am the voice that cries, “Stop killing,” I am the voice that cries, “Stop cutting down,” I am the voice that cries, “Respect my history, respect who I am…”
I am from the forest, I belong to this land, I am pure root, eeee
I am a warrior woman, I am a true woman, and no one lowers my nose.

I don’t want anything that isn’t mine; they’ve already taken the land that belonged to me. They want to make me into something I’m not, to change me from a rightful owner into an invader.
And my cry is…
Enough… enough of genocide.
Enough… enough of invasion.
Enough… enough of prejudice.
Enough… enough of denial.
Enough… enough…
I won’t give up my rights.
Enough…” (written and performed by Iãkupa Apurinã).

In this article, I explore the profound and poignant composition titled “Enough!” (original title: “Chega!”), which I penned as Iãkupa Apurinã. Through my lyrical journey, I weave together themes of identity, cultural heritage, and environmental conservation, channeling the collective voice of indigenous peoples worldwide. The song’s evocative verses touch upon the critical issues of land rights, deforestation, and the enduring struggle for respect and recognition. As I delve into the composition, I uncover the song’s symbolic resonance within the indigenous community and its broader implications for indigenous movements, environmental advocacy, and social justice.
This article not only analyzes the song’s lyrical depth but also explores its impact as a rallying cry for indigenous resilience and a call to action for a more equitable and sustainable future.

“Enough!” is more than just a song; it is a powerful anthem that encapsulates my spirit of resistance and resilience as an indigenous artist. Composed by me, Iãkupa Apurinã, deeply rooted in the Amazon rainforest, the song addresses pressing issues faced by indigenous peoples worldwide. Its verses echo the voices of those who have long fought for land rights, cultural preservation, and environmental conservation. This article offers a comprehensive analysis of the song’s lyrical and thematic elements, shedding light on its significance within the indigenous context and its broader implications for environmental advocacy and social justice. Lyrical Exploration: The song’s opening lines, “My red color from urucum, my ancestors scream their essence in me,” serve as a poignant reminder of the profound connection between indigenous peoples and their ancestral lands. The reference to urucum, a natural pigment derived from the annatto tree, symbolizes the indigenous identity deeply ingrained in the land. The lyrical journey continues as I proclaim, “I am born from the land, I am formed by the forest, resistance, I am, I am…”.

These verses celebrate the indomitable spirit of indigenous peoples, whose existence is inseparable from the natural world. The main chorus, “I am the voice that cries, ‘Stop killing,’ I am the voice that cries, ‘Stop cutting down,'” highlights the urgency of addressing critical issues such as deforestation and environmental degradation, which threaten indigenous territories and livelihoods. My song’s cry for respect, both indigenous history and individual identity, underscores the importance of acknowledging and valuing indigenous cultures and heritage. Resilience and Identity: “I am from the forest, I belong to this land, I am pure root, eeee” expresses the deep-rooted connection between indigenous communities and their ancestral territories. The reference to the purity of roots emphasizes the unbroken continuity of indigenous traditions and the strength derived from cultural heritage. The assertion, “I am a warrior woman, I am a true woman, and no one lowers my nose,” reflects the indomitable spirit and determination of indigenous women, who have historically played a pivotal role in defending their communities and cultures.

The song’s closing verses address the challenges faced by indigenous communities, including land dispossession and attempts to erode their cultural identity. The repeated chorus, “Enough… enough,” serves as a rallying cry for justice, as I proclaim, “I won’t give up my rights.”
“Enough!” is a deeply personal and impactful work, composed by me, Rosenir Fernandes de Souza, known in the iãkupa language as a “singing bird.” My identity as an Apurinã woman and a committed artist is reflected in the words of this song, which resonate not only with the struggles of indigenous peoples but also with the resilience, resistance, and determination of all those who seek justice, cultural preservation, and environmental protection.

Beyond my artistic expression, I have shared a glimpse of my multifaceted life, which encompasses my involvement with Rotary from District 4720, my active participation in Umiab (Union of Indigenous Women of the Brazilian Amazon), and the Craft Association of the Juruá Valley. Additionally, my academic journey in nursing and my role as an administrative manager in a healthcare unit for the Municipality of Rio Branco, Acre, highlight my commitment to the community and healthcare. I am also an active advocate for indigenous women in urban contexts, working tirelessly to support and empower their voices. Just as the song “Enough!” calls for respect and justice, my life and work are dedicated to these same principles, and music is just one of the many ways through which I express my identity and commitment.


I frequently use the maracá as an instrument during my singing. The Maracá is a truly special and profound instrument that transcends its musical function. For us, it represents much more than simple notes and rhythms; it is an artifact laden with spiritual significance and deep ancestral connections. While its sound guides us in the melodies and dances of our songs, the Maracá also plays a fundamental role in transforming the environment around us, granting us spiritual strength beyond words. In our traditions, music is much more than entertainment; it is a sacred tool that connects us with our ancestors, nature, and the divine. The Maracá acts as a portal to these spiritual dimensions, a channel through which we can invoke positive energies and send away any negative energies that may surround us. When we shake the Maracá, we feel a profound connection with our cultural and spiritual roots, and this connection strengthens us. Through the sound of the Maracá, we can purify our space, warding off all evils, negative energies, and obstacles that may be affecting us. It’s as if the Maracá were a spiritual shield, creating a protective aura around us. As the sound resonates, we feel inner harmony and spiritual peace that help us face life’s challenges.

Furthermore, the Maracá reminds us of the importance of preserving our traditions and sharing them with future generations. It’s a legacy that we pass on, a heritage that carries not only music but also spirituality, a connection with nature, and the strength of our culture. Therefore, the Maracá is more than just a simple instrument; it’s a link between the past and the present, between the material and the spiritual, and between the community and the divine. Our rituals and ceremonies are enriched by the sound of the Maracá, and the presence of this instrument is essential to remind us of the importance of keeping alive our beliefs, our traditions, and our connection with the spiritual world. In an increasingly hectic and challenging world, the Maracá is our spiritual refuge, our guide, and our guardian, strengthening us and warding off all evils that may come our way. In conclusion, “Chega!” (“Enough!”) is a reminder that music has the power to transcend linguistic and cultural barriers, uniting people in a shared quest for a fairer and more sustainable world. It is with this message of unity and resistance that I conclude this article, hoping that the words of this song, just like the sound of the Maracá echoing in our rituals, will continue to inspire positive actions towards a more equitable and inclusive future.

* Iãkupa Apurinã – My registered name is Rosenir Fernandes de Souza. My name in the (iãkupa) language means a singing bird. I am from the Apurinã people. I am a singer-songwriter. I am with Rotary from District 4720. I am a member of Umiab, the Union of Indigenous Women of the Brazilian Amazon. I am also part of the Craft Association of the Juruá Valley. I am an academic in nursing. I work as an administrative manager in a healthcare unit for the Municipality of Rio Branco in Acre. I am part of the women’s movement in my state, working to assist indigenous women in urban contexts.

** Marcia Camargo is a Science, Technology and Society PhD Candidate at Federal University of São Carlos and teacher and Visual Artist. Multidisciplinary Ethnographic Researcher with a decolonial collective perspective. Has kept a 10+ years partnership with the Pataxó indigenous community at Extreme South of Bahia, Brazil.

Iãkupa Apurinã and Marcia Camargo (2023) "Resilience and Resistance: My Indigenous Anthem". Brazilian Research and Studies Blog. ISSN 2701-4924. ISSN 2701-4924nameVol. 4 Num. 3. available at:, accessed on: November 29, 2023.

November 8th, 2023|Categories: ISSN 2701-4924, Vol. 4 Num. 3|Tags: |

Following the maracá and engendering “deotherization” in decolonial collaborative research

by Juliana Porsani, Bartira Fortes, Márcia Camargo, and Tamikuã Pataxó.

Reviewed by Matheus Lucas Hebling

It is impossible to capture, in written form, the sonours experience of the maracá, a sacred Indigenous percussion instrument, resonating throughout the Jaqueira Reserve in Brazil. Among other important moments, it is played during the AWÊ ritual (Campos Neves, 2010), accompanied by a chorus of alternating male and female voices in Patxohã – the Pataxó recovered language (Bomfim, 2017). Bare feet step strong on the ground, as the circle of bodies moves. The maracá is played frenetically and we, outsiders (tourists, researchers, “others”), are invited to join. We don’t know the lyrics, but we follow the maracá rhythm forming a single organic whole. For a moment, the AWÊ seems to have suspended pervasive social rifts that Brazilians are well familiar with. But after brief minutes, the sound of the maracá ceases, and the AWÊ ends.
I, the lead author of this text, am an early career, female, researcher with great interest in collaborating with Pataxó people involved in Indigenous tourism. The Pataxó Jaqueira Reserve is one of the pioneers Indigenous tourism initiatives in Brazil (Neves, 2021). My first trip to the Jaqueira Reserve was postponed one year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, which allowed me enough time to read and reflect upon my own positionality as a member of the settler community seeking to research with Indigenous peoples (Absolon & Willett, 2005; Becker, 1967; Kovach, 2010; Kwaymullina, 2016; Wilson, 2008). I was determined to centre their voices throughout the research process – co-creating the research with them instead of conducting research on them (Battiste, 2000; Held, 2019; Smith, 2021; Thambinathan & Kinsella, 2021; Walsh, 2023; Zavala, 2013). Prior to my arrival in January 2022, I established virtual communication with Pataxó individuals, including leaders in the Jaqueira Reserve, introduced myself and shared preliminary ideas.
Despite our previously exchanged messages, and our coming together in the AWÊ, my presence was met with scepticism and in various occasions I heard sentences such as “many like you came and left, and we don’t know a line of what they wrote”. Clearly, I occupied the place of the oppressor, white, settler, and inadvertently also of the privileged. But that was not all, I also occupied the place of the academic accomplice of colonial oppression. Science is not simply a means of world-discovery, but a practice of world-making, and mainstream Western science has a robust historical record of demeriting alternative ontologies, objectifying racialized bodies, and consequently asphyxiating “otherwise” ways of seeing, knowing, and acting (Césaire, 1972; Held, 2019). Consequently, and understandably, as explained by Smith in her seminal book (2021: 1), “research” has become “one of the dirtiest words in the Indigenous world’s vocabulary. When mentioned in many Indigenous contexts, it stirs up silence, it conjures up bad memories, it raises a smile that is knowing and distrustful”.
Given my combined settler and scholarly background, in several moments, the rift between the groups we embodied seemed uncrossable, and my collaborative intention, naïve. However, I would experience, the diametrically opposed positions historically inherited by us did not preclude our personal agencies. Furthermore, although indigeneity is fundamental in the strive against colonial oppression, positionalities are underpinned by additional, multiple, and intersectional experiences and identities (Hancock, 2007). As reminded by Harding (1992), agents of knowledge are not unitary or homogenous. Hence, although I descend from settlers and I make a livelihood from academic work, I am also a woman that was born and raised in relatively simple economic conditions; I have been a migrant under the care of a single mother in Brazil; and I am now also the mother of three small children. Oppression from combined economic and patriarchal structures is something I have regularly confronted and condemned. These experiences are imbricated in my combined personal/academic orientation, leading it in directions that fundamentally challenge Western patriarchy, capitalism’s insatiable appetite for profit and accumulation, along with its social and environmental injustices (Fraser, 2022; Moje, 2000; Walsh, 2023).
If I were to accept the obvious position of the “other” non-Indigenous academic, the rift between us would remain profound. As such, it would be difficult not to replicate the type of science that decolonial scholars and Indigenous peoples themselves denounce – i.e., science that detaches and distances subjects from objects, assigning primacy to the former’s presumed neutral perspective (Harding, 1992). In fact, the strive towards neutral and objective knowledge has been denounced as constituent of the Western, white, masculine desire to subjugate nature, women, and racialized bodies (Litfin, 1997). If I were to stand a chance of not replicating coloniality in my work, I knew that I had to set myself apart from academics that objectified, and consequently dehumanized Indigenous groups – I had to come closer to them and strive to “deotherize” myself.
“Deotherizing”, I came to understand, involves a dialogical process of coming together, and both listening and speaking. The AWÊ brought us together momentarily though daily. During it, I practiced following their Indigenous lead and rhythm, reverberated by the maracá. Outside the AWÊ, I listened attentively to all they were willing to share, not only about their tourism-related endeavors, but even more importantly, their views and everyday experiences. And, in every opportunity, I shared of myself, of my own everyday experiences and views (Absolon & Willett, 2005; Cahill, 2007).

Juliana Porsani. The AWÊ ritual in the Jaqueira Reserve (photo taken Jan. 17, 2021).

The AWÊ, orchestrated by the maracá was a daily reminder of the rightful owner of the space that I sought to enter. Little by little, intersections and communalities among us became apparent. The words “decolonial”, “justice”, and “environmental care” crosscut our vocabularies as we shared indignation as Brazilian citizens frustrated with the political scenario, as parents worried about the future and well-being of our children, as mothers struggling to conciliate “productive” and “reproductive” work, as humans concerned with escalating environmental and climate change.
Interestingly, this “deotherizing” process that is so important for proximity between “subjects” and “objects” – or for the deconstruction of these categories in the making of decolonial research – gets very little attention in the formal “methods” section of scientific papers. But “deotherizing” is a critical and complex process that may only begin when the recorder is turned off, when the sides are brought together under relaxed conditions, when conversations are informal, spontaneous, and taking unplanned directions. Through reciprocal dialogue, we can exchange experiences and views – and “may” start crossing the rift that originally set us apart, between subject and object, between opposites in each other’s eyes.
May is emphasized above because the process has no guarantees. First, “deotherizing” requires acknowledging that researchers (the presumably subjects of knowledge) are visible, embodied, socially located, and thus not “fundamentally different from objects of knowledge” (Harding, 1992: 452). Accordingly, it requires profound self-reflection about who we are as individuals, and what we stand for (Absolon & Willett, 2005). Second, following self-reflection and self-awareness, “deotherizing” relies upon the existence of communalities and intersections in experiences and views between the presumably different sides. In the current Brazilian context, it follows for example that supporters of extractivist industries that drive Indigenous territorial dispossession, supporters of proposed policies such as the “temporal milestone” (Libois & Silva, 2012), or adherents of meritocracy discourses that disregard structural inequalities, do not stand a chance of being “deotherized” through reciprocal dialogue with Indigenous groups. Such a realization has implications for the possibility of ethical cooperation between scholars that do not personally sympathize with the core causes defended by Indigenous groups, and the latter. Last, and relatedly, “deotherizing” requires that academics re-centre their transdisciplinary collaborative endeavours on previously marginalized Indigenous voices, respecting and following their tempo and agendas. Coming together in the AWÊ and following the maracá rhythm are valuable reminders of this latter condition.
I don’t seek to claim that this “deotherization” process is complete or fully realized in our research. Rather, my intention has been to reassert the possibility and potential of collaborative efforsts between individuals of diverse Indigenous backgrounds and academics of, not only, settler backrounds. The process, I have argued, relies on self-reflection, dialogue, the existence of intersections in experiences and views, an approach to science that deconstructs subjects and objects, and the prominence of Indigenous voices. When a researcher of any background is called “guerreiro/a” (“warrior” in Portuguese) by an Indigenous person, this may be an indication that in the latter’s eyes, there is a shared common battle. “Deotherization” is essential for the decolonization of knowledge within and beyond academia (Battiste 2001; Held 2019; Thambinathan & Kinsella, 2021; Walsh, 2023), and for the creation of alliances against persistent colonial oppression that imperils marginalized groups and cultures while posing an escalating threat to human and non-human life on a planetary scale.
I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the Pataxó people in the Jaqueira Reserve for welcoming me into their everyday lives, sharing their histories and perspectives, and contributing to expounding to the world their noteworthy endeavor within Indigenous tourism. My warmest thanks specially to Cacique Syratã Pataxó, Aspectur’s president Juari Braz Bomfim, the talented artist Oiti Pataxó, and the founders of the Jaqueira Reserve: sisters Nitynawã, Nayara, and Jandaya, and their families.

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* Juliana Porsani is an assistant professor at Tema M (Environmental Change), Linköping University, Sweden. She has a doctoral degree in Environmental Science from Södertörn University (Sweden), a Master degree in Geography from Stockholm University (Sweden), and a Bachelor’s degree in International Relations from São Paulo State University (Unesp, Brazil). Her research interests revolve around rural and gendered livelihoods, with particular attention to land/territorial rights of smallholders and Indigenous groups. In her work, she strives to embrace anti-oppressive methodologies and to merge research and praxis.

Juliana Porsani, Bartira Fortes, Marcia Camargo and Tamikuã Pataxó (2023) "Following the maracá and engendering “deotherization” in decolonial collaborative research". Brazilian Research and Studies Blog. ISSN 2701-4924. ISSN 2701-4924nameVol. 4 Num. 3. available at:, accessed on: November 29, 2023.

November 1st, 2023|Categories: ISSN 2701-4924, Vol. 4 Num. 3|Tags: |

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Brazilian Research and Studies Center

Campus Hubland Nord
Oswald-Külpe-Weg 84
97074 Würzburg
Raum 03.103

This Is A Custom Widget

This Sliding Bar can be switched on or off in theme options, and can take any widget you throw at it or even fill it with your custom HTML Code. Its perfect for grabbing the attention of your viewers. Choose between 1, 2, 3 or 4 columns, set the background color, widget divider color, activate transparency, a top border or fully disable it on desktop and mobile.

This Is A Custom Widget

This Sliding Bar can be switched on or off in theme options, and can take any widget you throw at it or even fill it with your custom HTML Code. Its perfect for grabbing the attention of your viewers. Choose between 1, 2, 3 or 4 columns, set the background color, widget divider color, activate transparency, a top border or fully disable it on desktop and mobile.
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