Transatlantic Crossings: Black Brazilian Feminisms and The Combahee River Collective
By Anastácia Flora Oliveira
Brazilian Portuguese to English translation by Évelin da Luz Rodrigues
For the latest installment for our Special Blog Issue, “50 Years of Combahee”, we are sharing remarks by Black Brazilian feminist photographer Anastácia Flora Oliveira from her speech during Black Women Radicals’ online event, “50 Years of Combahee: Honoring Demita Frazier and Barbara Smith.”
On May 22, 2024, Black Women Radicals hosted the online event, “50 Years of Combahee: Honoring Demita Frazier and Barbara Smith.” A radical Black feminist socialist organization active between 1974 and 1980, the Combahee River Collective and the Collective’s Statement has shaped generations of Black feminists in the U.S. and globally, and has expanded our frame of reference of power, interlocking oppressions, and Black feminist praxis and resistance.
The conversation featured two founding members of the Combahee River Collective, Demita Frazier and Barbara Smith, who offered insights on the 50th anniversary of the formation of the Combahee River Collective and the state and future of Black feminist politics and organizing. The conversation also featured Anastácia Flora Oliveira, Black Women Radicals' inaugural Dandara dos Palmares Internationalist Black Feminist Fellow, who spoke about the impact of Combahee as a Black lesbian feminist from the Recôncavo region of Bahia, Brazil.
Below are Anastácia Flora Oliveira’s remarks from the Zoom event.
Her speech was translated from Brazilian Portuguese to English by Évelin da Luz Rodrigues.
Hi, everyone! My name is Anastácia Flora. I am learning English. But sorry, now I will speak in Portuguese in my presentation. I would like to thank Black Women Radicals for the opportunity to be at this event to learn about the work of the Combahee River Collective. It's an honor to be alongside Demita Frazier and Barbara Smith, Black American feminists who have revolutionized–and are revolutionizing–in the United States and influencing other Black radical feminist movements around the world.
Before I start, I would like to talk about where I come from. I'm from Brazil, I'm from the Recôncavo of Bahia, I'm from São Félix. I situate myself where I come from because being from there affirms who I am. It is from this place that I build freedom routes. It is from this place that I see the world. I have every respect for this land and will always honor it.
Knowing who we are, even if the world denies us that right, was the first thing I learned from my elders, who didn't call themselves Black feminists, but acted like one.
Collage of Baianas from Brazil; the Combahee River Collective, and a map of the Recôncavo region of Bahia, Brazil. Collage by Jaimee A. Swift.
“If this movement is happening today and around the world, we must salute the radical movements of Black women that came before us, such as the movement led by Dandara dos Palmares during the period of slavery in Brazil and the Combahee Collective, which has been fighting since the 1960s to create new models of social transformation and for freedom in the lives and experiences of Black women.”
I'm a Black lesbian woman–"a sapatão"–photographer and image researcher. I'm the first scholar in the Dandara dos Palmares Scholarship Program. I'm part of the transnational organization, Atlantic Archives. I'm doing a master's degree in Ethnic and African Studies at the Federal University of Bahia. My research focuses on the photographic collections of Black families in the Recôncavo region of Bahia.
In Brazil, there is a song within the Black women's movements: "Companheira, help me. I can't walk alone, alone I walk well but with you I walk better". This is a song sung at many meetings and movements of Black women. Many of the meetings are held in homes or spaces that have been provided. These meetings discuss strategies and political articulations against violence, genocide, land invasion and other oppressions and conditions that are given to Black women and Black people in Brazil. If this movement is happening today and around the world, we must salute the radical movements of Black women that came before us, such as the movement led by Dandara dos Palmares during the period of slavery in Brazil and the Combahee Collective, which has been fighting since the 1960s to create new models of social transformation and for freedom in the lives and experiences of Black women.
I remember the first time I participated in the drafting of a letter of manifesto. In 2017, I participated in the second national meeting of young Black feminists. There were hundreds of young Black women from all over Brazil reflecting and articulating new possibilities for the well-being of the country's Black population. At the end of the meeting, we sat down and drew up a manifesto letter. I was reminded of this episode when I recently read the manifesto of the Combahee River Collective, which was recently translated here in Brazil. This is a manifesto of great reference for liberation struggles. After reading the Collective's manifesto, I reread the letter-manifesto of the meeting, and I would like to share it here because it also talks about how Dandara is an important ancestor that we evoke in our struggle movements in Brazil:
“We march so that this mobilization continues, tirelessly, for an end to racism, sexism, lesbian-bi-transphobia, the violence coming from the patriarchy that we suffer and against which we resist, inspired by Dandara and all of whom we are heirs.”
Screenshot of participants from the Zoom event, “50 Years of Combahee.” Left to right, top to bottom: Jaimee A. Swift, Évelin da Luz Rodrigues, Barbara Smith, Anastácia Flora Oliveira, Gloshanda Lawyer, and Demita Frazier.
For this reason, even though we are in different countries, we are Black feminists who claim and fight tirelessly for the right to be alive anywhere in the Diaspora that has suffered brutally from the colonial process. And we call on the strength of our ancestors to strengthen us and keep on claiming. This is how I learned and learn every day from Black feminist movements the importance of knowing our history and organizing collectively to fight oppression.
And that's why my perspective is directed by the way I see the world without cameras. When reflecting on photography and image construction, we cannot dissociate racial issues. It is through images that we are also radically constructing our own narratives. Black feminism has taught me the importance of the image and of constructing other visualities of ourselves, Black people in the diaspora.
“During the transatlantic crossing, just like our bodies, our image was stolen and fictionalized. Now is the time to seek it out and/or invent it. That’s why I understand the importance of photography for us Black people. I believe in the power of images. As Rosana Paulino, a Black Brazilian visual artist says: “Images heal images.”
I'm an image-seeker. I search persistently for the image. Beatriz Nascimento (1989), a Black Brazilian feminist intellectual, provoked us to think about how the process of enslavement gave us the experience of losing our image. Loss and lack are colonial strategies for de-structuring and dehumanizing black people. After all, what are we if not a colonial fiction? An invented image? Forgetfulness, lack of memory, not belonging have been imposed on us. But we have survived time, reinventing ourselves and fabricating new narratives of ourselves.
During the transatlantic crossing, just like our bodies, our image was stolen and fictionalized. Now is the time to seek it out and/or invent it. That's why I understand the importance of photography for us Black people. I believe in the power of images. As Rosana Paulino, a Black Brazilian visual artist says: "Images heal images".
Photography is a healing process. Photography is my way of talking about our lives, of bringing a different perspective to my place. To talk about photography is to think about memory. Photographs are the materiality of memories. There is a technique in photography called double exposure, where two or more photos are superimposed to form another image. I think that Diasporic Black memory is using a double exposure. We can't forget the memories of slavery and colonization that are still grainy in our existences, but we are superimposing other memories that emerge from the cracks, creating other possibilities. This is my duty as a photographer in the world.
Thank you!
About the author: Anastácia Flora Oliveira is a native of São Félix in the Recôncavo region in Bahia. She draws strength and identity from her roots, fueling her passion for photography and social activism. From a young age, Anastácia was captivated by the family photo album, meticulously cared for by her paternal grandmother, Mariínha, in recognition of its significance as a repository of cherished memories for their black family in the Recôncavo. Her grandfather, Demó, also played a role in shaping her love for photography through his enthusiasm for capturing moments and striking poses. Supported by her family's encouragement, Anastácia participated in two group exhibitions alongside renowned Bahian photographers during her teenage years. These experiences further ignited her interest in the art form. Pursuing her passion, she graduated with a degree in Social Sciences from the Federal University of Recôncavo da Bahia and also a Master's degree in Multidisciplinary Studies in Ethnic and African Studies at the university.