I’ve lived in São Paulo my whole life. I’ve seen the headlines foreigners read about Brazil—the Amazon burning, Carnival, Bolsonaro, Neymar, favelas, beaches. It’s always the same lens: either we’re an exotic paradise or a chaotic political mess.
But what I rarely see, especially in foreign media, is the Brazil I and so many of my fellow Brazilians experience day to day. The nuances. The internal contradictions. The battles that don’t make it to Instagram or CNN.
So I decided to write this article, not just from my perspective but drawing from conversations I’ve had with friends, family, activists, and taxi drivers. These are the things we all kind of know here, things that sit under the surface, but barely register outside Brazil.
Let me walk you through the layers of this country most people never see.
1. The Amazon isn’t just about trees. It’s about people being erased.
Yes, deforestation is real. And no, it’s not just about climate change. It’s about something more painful—the slow erasure of entire communities. Quilombolas, Indigenous peoples, riverine families. The Amazon has always been inhabited, but the way the world talks about it, you’d think it’s a giant empty green space under threat by loggers.
Take Marajó Island. It’s one of the biggest islands in the world, right in the Amazon Delta. It should be a place of pride. But what happens there? Cattle farming, land grabbing, and an almost total absence of basic services. The state neglects it. Most Brazilians outside the North don’t even know what life is like there.
The Amazon is a human rights crisis, not just an environmental one.
2. Rio’s not just dangerous because of gangs. It’s dangerous because of the people who are supposed to protect you.
Everyone knows Rio has violence. But when foreigners talk about it, it’s always about gangs and drugs. What they don’t realize is how deep the corruption goes—how entire neighborhoods are controlled by paramilitary militias, made up of former police and military officers.
These aren’t just criminals. They run businesses. They control votes. They decide which candidate wins local elections. They kill witnesses. They sell gas, cable TV, transport. They’re basically running a parallel state. Ask anyone from Zona Oeste, they’ll tell you who really runs the neighborhood. But it’s all hidden under a thick layer of silence and fear.
When Bolsonaro was president, his own family had alleged ties to these militias. That should have been an international scandal. Instead? Crickets.
3. The rise of evangelical power is changing everything.
I grew up Catholic, like many Brazilians. But the country has changed fast. Evangelical megachurches are now not just religious institutions—they’re political machines. They control media empires. They fund campaigns. They tell people who to vote for.
In some favelas, pastors are more powerful than the state. I’ve spoken to people who stopped getting healthcare from public clinics and started going to their church for herbal remedies and prayer. It’s not just belief. It’s survival.
And here’s the thing—foreigners often celebrate this as a form of vibrant faith or community strength. But for us, it’s much more complicated. It’s about control, power, manipulation. It’s also about class, about who has access to secular education and who doesn’t.
4. The Cerrado is disappearing faster than the Amazon—and nobody talks about it.
The Amazon gets the international spotlight, but here in Brazil, we know that the Cerrado is the real frontline of environmental destruction. It’s this sprawling savanna that covers much of central Brazil, home to unique ecosystems and countless communities.
It’s also ground zero for agribusiness expansion. Soy, cattle, sugar. Multinational companies move in, buy up land, push people out. Often illegally. Then, years later, courts retroactively legalize the theft.
The damage is massive—to the soil, the water, the people. But because the trees aren’t as iconic as the Amazon’s, the world doesn’t pay attention.
5. Slavery never really ended—it just evolved.
We like to say Brazil was the last country in the Americas to abolish slavery. But really, we just rebranded it. Modern slavery is alive here, especially in rural areas. Cattle ranches. Brick kilns. Domestic work.
There’s a government “dirty list” of companies caught using slave labor. It comes out regularly. And then… nothing. These companies often get away with it, or they just change names.
I once interviewed a woman who worked as a maid in São Paulo—no contract, no days off, slept on the floor, locked inside the house. She was 14 when she started. It took her years to even understand that what happened to her was illegal.
6. The Nordeste is stigmatized inside Brazil—even though it holds the soul of the country.
Here’s something that foreigners don’t realize: Brazil discriminates against itself. The Northeast—or Nordeste as we call it—is constantly belittled by people from the South and Southeast.
Accents are mocked. People are called lazy. They’re blamed for voting “wrong.” Even in the media, you rarely see Northeastern people unless it’s in the context of poverty or folklore. Never as thought leaders or protagonists.
And yet, the Nordeste is where so much of Brazil’s culture comes from. The music, the food, the resistance. It’s a living example of Afro-Brazilian strength and joy.
This regionalism is like a hidden caste system. And outsiders rarely pick up on it.
7. Femicide is a national epidemic.
You can feel it in the way women move here. There’s a tension in our steps, a fear in our night-time routines. And it’s not irrational. Brazil is one of the worst countries in the world for violence against women.
Every day, a woman is killed by someone she knew. We have laws like the Maria da Penha Law, meant to protect us. But enforcement is inconsistent. Women report threats and are told to come back after the violence happens.
I have a friend who was stalked by her ex. She went to the police with evidence. They told her to block him on WhatsApp.
And yet, foreign media still treats Brazil like a colorful party country. As if beneath the samba, there isn’t a very real, very deadly crisis happening.
These are just seven of the realities that shape our lives here. I could write another list of seven, and then another. Brazil is layered. It’s contradictory. It’s not just violence and beauty. It’s the way both intertwine, constantly.
When I talk to foreigners about this, some seem surprised. Others uncomfortable. But most have no idea.
And maybe that’s the point. Brazil isn’t easy to understand from the outside. You can’t Instagram your way into these truths. But if you care about the world—really care—then you can’t afford to keep getting Brazil wrong.
We’re not a story waiting to be told. We’re already telling it. The question is: who’s listening?
