Stephanie G. Mathis That’s at least what I thought in 2008 when I started my post-doctoral study of the genre. My white, middle-class perspective was that the salacious lyrics expressed machismo – a product of Brazil’s patriarchal culture. This type of music and the suggestive outfits and performance styles of the artists were, to me, an objectification of females that further subjugated them to male authority.
I could not have been further off base. By singing in the first-person about sex and street life, Rio’s funk female singers bring the harsh realities of Rio’s toughest neighborhoods to the mainstream and empower a new female artist generation.
The Rocinha neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro, where favela lives, inspires funk lyrics. Pilar Olivares/Reuters
Favela funk
I was at my first participant-observation session, attending a favela dance party, when I spotted the samba school rehearsal yard full of sound equipment. I heard a woman’s voice.
The group Gaiola Das Popozudas was playing, and Valesca was singing to the beat of an electronic drum.
It’s not a coincidence that I heard this sound on my first fieldwork day. There’s something I can learn from them, some personal certainty I need to deconstruct.
Valesca Popuzuda was the first Brazilian funk singer to publicly identify as a feminist. Circuito Fora do Eixo/flickr, CC BY-SA
In the early 1990s, funk music, which is a product of Brazil’s African Diaspora and has lyrics in Portuguese, began to be heard in Rio de Janeiro. In the last decade, many artists have adapted foreign songs by creating new lyrics rather than translating them.
The emergence of songwriting competitions at funk events led to the creation of MCs. They wrote lyrics about their childhood slums and expressed their love for other pastimes that were available to the poor black youths in Rio de Janeiro.
There were very few female performers in those days. Female artists of the 90s, like MC Cacau and other female idols, sang about love a lot when they performed.
MC Dandara was an important exception, a woman of color from the streets who achieved great success with her Rap de Benedita. This old-school song was about Benedita da Silveira, a favela native who was voted to Congress by the Workers’ Party. The mainstream media treated her with a lot of prejudice.
MC Dandara.
Dandara, even her stage name, was political. She was a woman warrior who was one the leaders of Brazil’s Quilombo dos Palmares runaway slavery settlement in the 18th Century. This organization grew to become an abolitionist group.
In the early 21st century, more and more women MCs began to appear on the scene. Deize Tigrona was a housemaid before she became a pioneering MC. She came from the City of God in Rio, one of the most notorious and dangerous favelas.
Her songs are erotic, but also humorous. Deize’s first hit was Injecao. A shot she receives at the doctor’s office is a ribald allusion to anal sex.
In the early 2000s, another City of God resident also found fame for singing about sex from the perspective of a woman. Tati Quebra Baraco, who was also black, challenged Brazilian beauty standards with her song I am ugly, but I have style/I could pay for a hotel room to accommodate a guy.
Funk goes feminist
Tati was one of the most influential women in funk. She affirmed fame, money, and power. Together with Deize, they ushered in feminist funk and influenced a new generation of female artists from the favelas.
Brazilian funk diva Tati Quebra-Barraco in 2005. Paolo Whitaker/Reuters
Valesca Popozuda was the first funk artist to declare herself a feminist publicly. Valesca is white and chose the stage name Popozuda, which means a woman who has a large behind. This physical characteristic is highly appreciated in Brazil.
Valesca is known for her explicit lyrics, which describe what she enjoys doing in bed, and not only with men.
Her songs, which show support for LGBTQ individuals, as well as other marginalised groups, are clearly political. In Sou Gay (I’m Gay), Valesca sings, I sweated, I kissed, I enjoyed, I came/I’m bi, I’m free, I’m tri, I’m gay.
The video for “I’m Gay” by ValescaPopuzuda.
Valesca is a symbol of grassroots feminism because she speaks out against all forms of prejudice. She has also raised issues that are important to the working class and poor women of Rio de Janeiro.
Larguei Meu Marido tells, for instance, the story of a woman leaving her abusive husband only to find that he wants her back because she is cheating on her (just as he did to her). When Valesca refers to herself as a slut on stage, the women in the audience go crazy.
Today, many female funk singers follow in the footsteps of these pioneering artists and sing about a wide variety of topics. Even so, there are still gender issues in the industry. Although women have made it as performers on stage, they are rare as DJs, producers, and entrepreneurs in the funk genre. Behind the scenes, men are in charge.
This will also change. These Brazilian women, who were raised in a society that was dominated by conservative Christian values and a patriarchal culture, have found the courage to shout to the world, “This pussy’s mine!” They translated the feminist slogan, My body, my choices, into the funk language.
